ALL NEW PARTS

FREE INSTANT PORN!! There, now I have your attention this is my first long ever fan fic (well in writing, or typing, anyway). I'd like if you would review this 'coz I can't make it better WITH OUT FEED BACK!! But I do hope you enjoy it. I'll try and answer your comments (if you want me too that is). So in the words of Pink, let's get this party started!! A/N

P.S Any of you who had read this before may notice some changes, some major big changes, don't worry roughly same storyline just better ideas of express them.

Also this -the voice inside my head- means the character is thinking.

WARNING: There may be (Or most likely) be spelling errors and so called grammar problem (most grammar problems are poetic licence) don't blame me, blame the 'C' grades I got in English at high school (also blame the IT fast typing lessons I had, yes they teach how to type but not coherently!). These problems though DO NOT degrade the story's wealth, depth or storyline, don't believe me huh? Read the reviews. Enjoy.

**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Link or any other of the Nintendo characters based in this story. They are property of Nintendo.

*****

The blustery chilling wind blew through the gaps of the sturdy old oak trees. Broken lime green leaves fluttered on the icy open wind, trapped in the movements of the forceful air. It was a beautiful mid spring night as the moon rose high in the bitter cold air, it cast a perfect glow on the ground beneath, the dew droplets on the tree tops glistened in it's radiance.

The clapping of hoofs could be heard echoing into the hours of darkness. A muscular black stallion cantered up the wandering passageway with dead wood and overgrown branches stretched across the muddy path. The swirling steam from its breath evaporated into the bitter night, its glossy coat reflected the eerie light of the huge moon. It's powerful leg trampling the ground beneath. The frost fall and sparkled but there was no snow. On it's back a dark bundle fluttered in its wind. The rider's slim hand grasped for the leather reins when it slipped from its grip. The black rider pulled harshly on the stallions' reins when the pair of tall wooden gates came within sight. The horse reared its body to a stop and neighed in than exhaust of hot air. The slim looming figure leapt of it's back. The rotten wood coated in lime moss creaked on its rusted orange hinges.

It was the bewitching hour, the hour of the dead. A chilling sight that spread into the dark woods of desolate graves. The tombs and headstones inside the yard were left to ruin; tilted, inscriptions worn away, crumbling away to nothing. Amble weeds, daisies and crab grass grew up around them. It had been a long time since anyone had cared for them since Dampe's demise. Among these old graves was one new and fresh. At the gates of death a lean dark figure stood in ore. She scampered through the tall grass and muddy puddles, quick and soft steps. She eyed the grounds nervously. It was rumoured that dark spirits nestled in these areas; soulkeepers or poes. The dark figure paused before the new grave shrouded in a dark hooded cloak. A gust of wind ruffled her dress from underneath. The young women knelt before the tombstone. In the past few months it had become dusty but the stone was still polished. She lifted the hood to bare her radiant beauty. Her crimson ragged fringe lay of her deep emerald green eyes. A curl of steam slipped by her full lips. A slender hand crept of the black velvet and wiped the dust off to reveal the inscription. She read it and shook her head and sighed in disbelief; she feared the rumours were true. It read,

(You could probably call that the prologue, now here's the story)

The crisp grass crunched under his feet, well what was left of it. The dense oak wood had stopped some of the snow but the frost and ice made it hard walking. His lips had turned blue from the cold, he huddled himself inside a brown cape as he hiked sideways on a slope with the hood over his head. That way no could see his mournful expression of bitterness, sorrow and sieving anger. The forest around him had turn into a winter wonderland, he could still hear some bird singing such as robins and other sorts. He struggled with each step; the cold was getting to him. He had lost all feeling in his hands, numb with cold and a thousand cold daggers jabbing him up his arms. His toes were the only part that was okay, the thick leather and metal caps stopped the frost from biting. He had to leave Epona, his trusted stead, to her own devices half a mile back thus making his journey harder. The cold hilt of his sword caused more strain against his skin through the fine fabric.

A gust of wind blew from behind and made him shudder. He slipped on a patch of ice and collapsed down the slope and smacked his head on a tree truck. When he finally came to he lay on the floor for a minute staring at the roots of the tree and began to pick himself up slowly. Journey's back were always the hardest just like on Koholint Island, that was torture, and it didn't help that his esteem was low. Link brushed himself with his gloved hands and adjusted to the new throbbing pain in the back of his left leg. He saw sight of the battered bridge posts through some dead branches and dying weeds. He picked up his bag, it was made of harsh sacking material and was rough against him but it held all his important things. Items that he had collected along his travels such as tokens of friendship and deep affection.

He grabbed a small dagger from inside his boot and cut down the branches with force. Link stepped into the piercing blue white light. When his eyes finally focussed he saw the bridge stretched across the chasm swinging violently in the strong wind with some planks coming loose. His whole body loosen in disarray as hope faded.

-I never get a break-.

Ohh's and ahh's. Will Link cross the bridge? Who is the mystery woman? And why is Link *gulp* dead? Find out in the episode of ... oh sorry, I got carried away there too much DBZ. So want did you think? Read on if you dare BWAHAHAHAHAHA!! A/N