ShiningwingX: Finally a new update! It has been quite a while hasn't it? It should have been released a long time ago in truth, but while going through it I discovered a lot of things that I… really didn't like. I set to editing it to fix these things, and that ultimately evolved into pretty much rewriting the entire damned thing. I'm sorry it took so long, though I guess I say that EVERY time. At the very least it allowed me a good amount of brainstorming time, so now I know "pretty much" exactly how the next few chapters will play out. I won't make any promises about "quicker releases" because we all know how that usually turns out.

Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait.

Theme Music

A Faint Light Grasped In the Hand – Motoi Sakuraba (Eternal Sonata Soundtrack)

Into the Depths – Yasuhiro Yamanaka (The Last Remnant Soundtrack)

Raptamei Pi – E.S. Posthumous (Cartographer)

Chapter III: Óshvenyati

I hadn't counted the Cerévorn's strides this time. My mind had begun to wander shortly after we'd set for home. I imagine we will be met with much surprise when at last we return. My first kill – a fair milestone for any Jiràsved – and the spoils of that kill, a Marosk, the symbol of salvation and prosperity for our people. It is sure to draw the attention of the other Kokiri and I wonder how Saria will react when she learns of this. Doubtless, she will be proud and glad for a new story, as the tribe has had few of those of late. Indeed, I am sure the whole of Nieraki will be interested to hear the details of our hunt, and the felling of such a great and noble beast. As for Mido, I am certain he… no. There are some things that should not be thought about at a time like this.

Yet, I find myself unable to appreciate all that has happened. There is something missing… something that I feel I have to do before returning to all of them. Someone else… who deserves to know.

"What wrong, Link? Your first hunt. I thought you be happier." A hand rests upon my shoulder, and I turn toward its owner. Kyun's viridian eyes stare back through the gloom of the pod.

"It not that…" I say.

"Then…" He trails off, and his fingers move to his chin as he thinks. "Ah… You want see her, no? Want to tell her first?"

"Aye…" I reply simply

It took him only a moment to figure it out. Indeed of all the things on my mind since we began our return to the village, she has been at the forefront. I've not spoken to her in some time… and I am sure she would wish to know what has happened as well.

He says nothing more, but gives an emphatic nod before turning to the orange fairy at his side.

"Right." Jix says, understanding just as well as his charge. "I'll have Aranalk set you down. We will go ahead to the village and explain."

"Bàlinetôn." I say gratefully, as the fairy disappears through the gaps in the Cerévorn's pod. Seconds later, a familiar lurching sensation rocks my senses as we are lowered to the ground. The pod opens once again as Jix returns through the widening openings in the entangled branches.

"Go ahead." He says as the Cerévorn's limb retracts the last of its branch-like fingers. "We'll meet you above, so take what time you need."

Encouraged by my companions, I step down from the Cerévorn's arboreal palm, and proceed forward on my own. The familiar creaks and rustles of the Aranalk's movements grow steadily fainter as I distance myself from them. Normally, only a fool would walk alone upon the forest floor, but here is different from the rest of the wood… safer. A shroud of crimson lichen covers the earth, a stark contrast to the dense ferns, shrubs, and hanging vines elsewhere. From this, a cluster of thick trunks bursts forth. A few are larger and much taller than the rest, their thick boles extending much higher than their smaller kin. Of the latter, many are known to me. The broad-leafed hret, and ash colored olnak stand alongside the curve-branched cyca and barkless nasro, their countless many-colored leaves forming a thick curtain above, blocking all but the faintest streams of light. Not a single branch or leaf from the larger trees can be seen, for their own crowns extend higher still, beyond the sight of those below. These are the Tàreki, the homes of the Kokiri which themselves lie above the curtain of leaves.

In the center, rests the Adouindôklel: even from this distance the largest of the trunks is plainly visible amidst its brethren. A hundred Kokiri standing shoulder to shoulder would not match its girth, and it is many times taller besides. Its great roots peak above the ground in places, offering only hints of their true size and length. The remnants of a power once great lie heavy in the air about it, a memory as deep-seated and lasting as the old one it emanates from. Here again the Lenshæda is held at bay. This time by not light (for there is little of that here even compared to the rest of the forest), but from this very power.

It is here that our life within the trees began, it is said. When the Lenshæda first descended upon the forest, its spread was like an unquenchable fire. All it touched, it consumed: from the trees, to the beasts and the birds and even the earth itself. Any who breathed of its foul vapors were taken, and the Kokiri, it was feared, would not survive its hunger. In hopes of stemming the encroaching devastation, the Third Father, Adouindochinzel intervened. From his countless, endless roots, he spread his ancient power throughout the forest. The last pure regions and all those living within were filled with a touch of his essence, slowing the corruption if not halting it completely. Yet the damage had still been done. The vile mist that became known as the Lenshæda had spread throughout the entire forest. Though its rapid expansion had successfully been slowed, Syldré would never again be as it was, and those that were taken would never again be recovered. For the Lenshæda brought its own creatures; feral, and evil, with the same lust and hunger as the wretched haze from which they are born.

Though his immortal soul could never truly die and would one day grow anew, the great level of exertion from the Forest Father's attempt to save his realm would come at the cost of his body. He knew his time was nigh, but he would not leave his mortal vessel before ensuring that his children would be safe. And so he gave the Kokiri his final tasks. First, to take cuttings from his branches and plant them, that a new home for them would be grown, high above the evil haze where they would be safe. The second, to eat of the fruit grown within his crown that their bodies be changed to better suit this new home. And finally, from then on to lay rest to their fallen brethren at his feet so that the dead might know rest, and their spirits continue to protect this place when he no longer could.

It is an old story. One told very often amongst our people, though none remain who can say if it is true. Yet true or no the Kokiri even now honor wishes of the third. It is rare for the children of the forest to wilt, yet when they do it is here they come to take their final rest. As I venture further, the peaks of a number of small mounds come into view: each one nestled amongst the protective roots of the Adouindôklel. Beneath each rests a Kokiri who has taken their final sleep. Some are clustered together, whilst others sit apart, though none further than a few paces from the great bole.

Among them is a small group, different than the others somehow. While most of the mounds are placed haphazardly with no real cause for order, these nine are arranged in a way that could only be intentional. Six larger graves form the arc of an incomplete circle. The first, fourth, and fifth of these are each joined by an additional grave much smaller than themselves. I've seen them many times, and my eye and thoughts are always drawn to them when I come here. But… I know not who rests beneath them, nor what might merit such an odd change from the rest.

"A tale never told. A song never sung."

That was what Saria said one day when I asked. The sorrow in her voice when she spoke was… disarming. I nodded, and never spoke of it again. If it was enough to cause her such pain… I would rather endure ignorance than cause her that.

I turn my eyes and my thoughts away from them. The reason for my visit lies elsewhere within this sacred place.

My steps, once straight and sure, begin to shift and waver as I make my way through the crimson graves, taking care not to disturb the resting places of my adopted kin. I am used to such obstacles… in fact I might even say I am more comfortable like this. Weaving our way through the branches and leaves, never traveling in a straight line as we seek to outwit and out maneuver our quarry… such is the life of a Jiràsved. For me, this unsure ground feels more natural than the flattest of water-worn stones.

The rough bark of the Adouindôklel fills my vision with a myriad shapes and patterns as it extends beyond the sylvan pall. At this distance, I can see nothing beyond its impressive mass. I make my way slowly about the base of the massive trunk, and come in time upon one mound that is different from the rest. It is larger than the others, longer than any Kokiri is tall, and while most of the others are blanketed completely beneath the crimson moss, this one has naught but a thin veil. This lichen does not grow quickly, and it is easy to tell how long the grave has stood by the level of its growth. This one is quite recent by the standards of the Kokiri and unlike many of the others I know who is buried beneath it. Indeed, it is the one I came to see.

"Mother…" I say quietly.

This grave, not yet fully covered in scarlet warmth, belongs to her. Just as I am the only non-Kokiri who lives above, so too is she the only non-Kokiri who rests below. Saria tells me that it was her final wish that she might watch over me from the beyond and so, in keeping with the traditions of our people, she was given a place here.

"I… wanted see you." I begin awkwardly, feeling nervous simply standing before her. "Kyun say my Hyrulean better… You understand me, Mother? Saria teach much, but she Valísved so have much duties herself. You remember her? She say three seasons more, I speak like her. She speak good Hyrulean for Kokiri, but her strangetalk… It be good to speak more like Hyrulean. Less if I take strangetalk too."

I laugh lightly as I remember the girl, and her odd vocal habits. "You see today? I make Fajiràs. 'First hunt'. You see it? It marosk, Mother! Meat to feed half of village. Fur and horns for Cirènved to make with. I hope tribe be pleased. Of course, Kyun and Jix as much part of hunt as me. They go back to village to tell tribe… but I wanted tell you first, you see…"

I bend down, and place my hand on the lichen covering her grave. The soft blanket tickles my fingers playfully. "Y-you warm enough here, Mother? Has nibrekah grown thick enough? If not I…"

I sigh. I thought I might try speaking to her in Hyrulean. Perhaps she would understand me better like this but… all I seem to be doing is rambling about nothing in particular. I came to visit her… to speak with her, but now that I am here I know not what I should say. I thought perhaps if I simply started talking then eventually the words would just come naturally but even now I find it… difficult to put my feelings into words.

"I wish… I know you more." I say. "What you like? What you not like? Where we live? Who was Father? I… I not know any of this. What happen to you in Óshvenya that cause this? Could you not have stayed? Why did-"

I force myself silent. 'Why did you come here, only to die and leave me behind?' The selfish question disappears in my throat… I cannot bring myself to ask it.

I know little of the events surrounding my birth. All I know is what has been told to me by Saria, Kyun and a few others. None of the Kokiri know the full truth, and why would they? Isolated as we are within this everlasting wood, we know naught of the affairs beyond it. There was a war, that is all I know. She was a victim of it, and whatever happened lead her here. She was beyond saving by the time the Kokiri found her, but her final request was that I be spared. They brought her before Rohtànketzel I'm told, and there in his glade I was born… and she slept. I cannot feel regret for the circumstances surrounding my birth, for despite everything my life here has been good. But even still… at times like this, I wonder what my life might have been if she hadn't died. If we both returned to the outside world, what kind of person would I be?

I… miss her. It's strange. I never knew her. I don't remember her clothes or her hair, or even her face and voice. But… the memory is there. A warmth, all too brief. A love so great that she would trade her own life for mine. A lifetime of it… compressed into a single, fleeting moment. These things I remember. For all my short life, these are the memories I've held close to my heart.

"Forgive me. I not know why you come here… but feel that is reason I live now. For that, I thank you. I will… honor this life you give to me." I say to her finally. "Ashelivenyah… Mother."

With a heavy heart, I remove my hand from the moss-covered grave and stand once more. I let my eyes linger upon it for some time before reluctantly tearing them away. Returning the way I came, passing carefully about the graves of the Kokiri, I proceed back through the lichen-covered grove to where I had left my companions. By the time I return Kyun and Jix have already gone, but Aranalk still remains. I suppose he understood as well as they did, and has been patiently awaiting my return. He notices me almost immediately, and with no need for words lowers himself to the ground and offers his hand. I nod and climb aboard, allowing him to take me upward through the leaf curtain and back to the village.

It is mere moments before the Cerevorn's pod opens once more. Yet, in that short time I might have traversed half the forest for the changes it brings. Whereas the floor beneath the village was silent and filled with melancholy, the village itself is alive with activity. As I step from the Cerevorn's palm onto the terrace, the eyes of countless Kokiri turn to me. I feel somewhat sheepish beneath their gaze as I am unused to such attention. Until now, I have been little more than a second to Kyun using my sight and hearing to aid him in our hunts but now… I hadn't expected it to feel this different.

The body of the Marosk lays in the center of the terrace, some paces away from the gathering of small bodies flanked on all sides by iridescent bands of fairylight. It almost appears to be sleeping, the wound in its neck invisible beneath its argent mane.

"So you've returned." Jix, who seems to have been waiting for me states. "Finished your visit then?"

My gaze shifts from the fairy, to the crowd of staring Kokiri and back again. "You bring whole tribe?" I ask quizzically, ignoring his question.

"When they heard we'd brought low a Marosk, well…" He trails off with a shrug. "Besides, this is not just any hunt. 'Tis your first… you know what that means for a Jiràsved."

"Kinkuven…" I reply nervously.

"Aye, Kinkuven…"

The first great act in any Kokiri's life. It is a sacred moment… a time of transformation. For it is then that the Forest Father is said to impart his blessing upon the individual. It is that moment that they truly become one with the forest as a part of its great cycle of growth. It is the first thing that any Kokiri strives for, for only upon achieving Kinkuven is one considered a true member of the tribe. For Jirasved, this is the moment of their first kill – the result of many years of training and honing of the senses in order to best the strongest and most guileful denizens of our shared home.

And for me… that moment is now. The proof: the marosk that lies motionless nearby.

I'd nearly forgotten what that entailed for me as a member of the tribe. No, rather I'd been trying not to think too much on it. Nervousness and excitement, modesty and pride all battle for supremacy within my gut. Very soon, I will be fully recognized as one of the tribe… a true Kokiri despite my blood. I'll be given a Kokirian name, and be held in the same regard as Kyun and the other Jiràsved. With everything happening so suddenly, I simply do not know what to do with these feelings…

"Where Kyun?" I ask instead, hoping to avoid this line of conversation.

"Just there." Jix responds, pointing a diminutive finger in the direction of the crowd. "While we waited for you, he decided to have a bit of friendly conversation."

"What you…" The sentence dies the moment my eyes meet the one Kyun is speaking to. "Ivahnok…"

A Kokirian boy stands at the forefront of the crowd, his russet eyes glaring acrimoniously from within a plump but robust face. His dark orange hair is long and thick, tied into many braids which descend his back. The patterned grey and crimson band which encircles his head is of superior quality, a testament to the skill of whoever made it. A simple vest hangs from his shoulders, open to reveal a stout abdomen covered in firm muscles. Around his waist hangs a thick fur cloth tied at the hip, while tan leggings cover his legs, which are long and cause him to stand taller than all others present.

A Fairy of deep violet follows in his wake, its own expression a stark contrast to that of its charge. A calm aura seems to radiate from his diminutive body as he hovers near the seething Kokiri. The radiance he exudes seems to dim in the wake of the larger being's ire. Like Jix, this Fairy too is garbed in quaint attire like that of small leaves. His hair is long and fine, and through his glow I can see an expression of worry upon his small face.

To many, the sight of the larger boy would be quite imposing even to the strongest of Jiràsved. However, Kyun meets his gaze without a hint of intimidation, responding with a grin laced with both humor and derision. The two notice me just then, first the larger and then the smaller. Just as their appearances could not be any different, so to could their reactions to my presence be likewise compared. Where as Kyun's eyes soften considerably, taking on a friendlier look, his opponent's scowl merely deepens.

"Diraketôn…" He greets me with the typical slur.

"Ha, Link!" Kyun says cheerfully. "Anas, anas! Val fait ràn!"

"Imariké Jun Mido… Yevron salônfel." I say with tired politeness.

It is difficult to hide my disdain for the larger boy, as Mido is frightfully good at drawing upon it. My attempts to do so seem in vain, as the polite greeting is met only with a further narrowing of the eyes. Or, perhaps it was the politeness itself that brought forth such his glare… I can never be certain. He approaches me slowly. Brown eyes gaze at me unblinking as he begins to circle around me like a predator sizing up its prey. I meet his gaze as best I can, not shrinking despite his imposing stature. I know Mido well enough to know that he seeks to intimidate me, and I am unwilling to allow him the pleasure.

"Linté… Dasinfel, Syldré yiel kosh!" Kyun mocks, drawing a glare from Mido that would shrink even the most vicious of Koldaréken.

A few of the Kokiri toward the front of the group shrink back a few paces upon hearing the ceró's poignant mockery of Mido's weight. Some of the bolder members of the group, or perhaps those who hold similar dislike for the surly Kokiri lift their voices in soft laughter. Mido's glare turns to them and they quickly fall silent. Yet the words, for all their mockery do hold a grain of truth that none, not even Mido himself could deny, for though Mido is quite strong, for a Kokiri he is also quite fat. His stomach, though somewhat belied by his already tremendous size, bulges outward in a way that contrasts to the rest of his build. Though all Kokiri hold rather healthy appetites, Mido's is far healthier than most and he often takes the greatest share of each meal for himself. To hear him tell it, his work as a Cirènved, a Maker, is what contributes to his large appetite. I see little more than an excuse.

Yet despite my deep dislike of the boy, it cannot be denied that Mido is certainly the strongest of the Kokiri. That alone is enough to merit him a level of respect among the rest of the tribe. Indeed, if it were any other Kokiri to voice themselves as freely as Kyun had, they would have witnessed such strength first hand and soon regretted it. Yet it was, and though Mido may be stronger than he, Kyun is far faster. He would never catch the agile hunter if he tried, and even if he did Kyun is like to simply slip away again before the first punch could land. I am sure Mido knows this for himself, as he remains where he stands and returns his attention to me. His large, russet eyes linger upon me for a time, blinking only rarely as his scrutiny continues. After suffering his gaze for a few seconds more he makes a noise between a sniff and a scoff and turns to Kyun.

"Cer?"

As expected, Mido begins with his usual derision. He spares me not even a glance, apparently feeling that a sweep of the arm in my general direction is acknowledgement enough. His question is directed at Kyun who stands a few paces away, grinning proudly at the larger boy's disbelief.

"Vai." Kyun says proudly, coming to my side and resting a hand on my shoulder. "Link fajiràs. Marosk."

"Nalnurinim." Mido retorts. "Sadôn dirakéton jiràs Kokiri ayliehvah…"

I see… so they were discussing the Marosk. I remain silent, unwilling to contribute to the tiresome exchange. I've long become inured to Mido's mockery, which usually consists of insulting my origins as a non-Kokiri if not insulting me directly. If I add my voice to the argument it will surely make the Cirènved even angrier. Though when it comes to me anger seems half of Mido's personality.

"Nurin." Kyun repeats. "Rien Marosk kosa… Link sreton jival.

"Hah!" Mido's chuckle is warped by his scorn. "Marosk. Kiran olnekten… Cer jiràs? Oua?"

"Jiràsved Jiràs…" Kyun retorts smugly, sweeping his arm haughtily over the bounty we'd brought back with us. "Sjonién, Mido?"

"Jiràsved jiràs?" He repeats. I can sense his displeasure though it does not show on his face. "Cirenved ciren. Cirenten josun del jiras? Dirakéton jiras Marosk lavres sretôn Kokiri-ciren. Fait Kokiri josun, tsôn dirakéton jiràs saën."

"Josun ulneval nalfait saën pitan." Kyun points out.

Mido replies predictably. "Pitan nalkiran nalfait saën josun."

So it begins… I watch with tired acceptance as the two Kokiri devolve into one of their classic arguments. 'Hunters hunt', 'makers make'. 'A tool is nothing without a good hand', 'the hand is weak without a good tool'. Such words are oft spoken between the two when they meet. As a Cirenved, Mido is one of those Kokiri who build and create and unlike the Jiràsved or Kinôsved his duties rarely see him outside the village. It is because of him and those like him that our village even exists. It is they who fashion the Tarèki into homes, they who build the bridges and sky vines that we may navigate, and they who forge the tools that all other Kokiri use for their own duties.

And indeed, Mido is one of their greatest. As much as I dislike him, that is a fact I cannot deny. It is little wonder then that he would hold the merits of a well made tool in such high regard, believing such things to be even more important than the one who holds it. Kyun believes the opposite, trusting to the skill and guile of the one who holds the tool rather than the tool itself. In this the two are always at odds, yet neither seem to fathom the simple irony that makes their dispute pointless. No amount of feuding can conceal the fact that they rely on each other as much as any other Kokiri. Just as the hand relies on the blade to make the kill, so too does the blade rely on the hand to guide it on its way. The Cirènved forge the tools with which the Jiràsved hunt. Likewise the Jiràsved provide the materials that the Cirènved use to create with.

I've never understood why they feel the need to argue over such a thing… Surely if I, who am not Kokiri born can reach such a conclusion, then they in their greater age and experience must also know this. I've confided in Kyun of this very thing many times in the past, and though he listens his meetings with Mido always end with this same argument. Perhaps the futility of it all is precisely why he continues it. Just another one of his games perhaps, but then again…

"Nahsfel, Mido?" (Your words, Mido?) The Jiràsved asks. The sudden change in his voice gives me pause. "Ràn Jiràs, marosk teldilon, Link jival. Pitancer, Josunfel nalsimaviron. Fajiràs;kinkuven, Mido… Link diraketôn nalrisah. Syldré laniscer, yielfel?"

I am taken aback by Kyun's words. Not a trace of the previous acrimony or derision is present in his voice now. For the first time, the hunter has relinquished his impish disposition that he has always carried with Mido. Now he looks the larger boy in the eye and makes his honest request from one Kokiri to another. Kyun must have known… The moment my blade sank into the Marosk's neck, he must have realized what it meant and planned for it. In his own unique way, Kyun is asking Mido to finally accept me as one of the tribe.

I turn my attention back to the larger boy. He appears as surprised as I am about this new development. The anger has left his face entirely, replaced by an unreadable chimera of emotions. He is at odds with himself on what to do, that much is clear. He has been forced to weigh his hatred of me against his own honor as a Kokiri. Like a rodent in a snare, Kyun has him trapped. But with this choice he has also given him the means to free himself. A silence falls over the once clamorous village. Even the chorus of birdsong that unceasingly serenades our treebound homeseems far away now. All eyes have turned to Mido… they know full well the weight of this decision, and how it will impact him.

"Ulné…" Mido says quietly. So quiet that I can barely hear him. When he speaks again his voice is once again full of disdain. "Ulné, Ulnévah! Nalanisim dirakéton cès Kokiri!"

"Mido…" the violet fairy, who until now had remained silent speaks his charges name.

"Dirakétonfel! Ulnévah Kokiri!" I recoil as the Kokiri's wrath finds focus upon me, the sudden furious outburst catching me off guard.

I am not certain what reaction I had expected from the maker, but it was not this. His brown eyes blaze with hatred. An unquenchable fire rages behind them, threatening to break free at any moment and consume me at the slightest provocation. I open my mouth to speak but no words form. Disquiet and uncertainty stay my tongue. If Mido was ever one of friendly disposition it was before my time, but even still I've never seen him this angry. Its source is invisible to me… and I fear one false word might shatter the dam holding his rage at bay, unleashing it upon me in a way much more physical than a simple glare.

"Sien vamahl onakonfel?!" Kyun lashes out, stepping between me and the infuriated Cirenved, a bulwark that redirects his anger.

"Morivekcer ran!" Mido shouts. "Tsôn Syldré laniscer, nalyielim!"

Destroy us? What is he-

"Nalkalvafel valísfel!" I can hear Kyun's own anger reaching its peak.

"Kalvaim valísim, kalvafel! Kelmardùn mirdaldùn, Kyun! Kahlfel bevyn oyati? Oua mita Kokiri yiel naldilon insel rienfel vaiarin?!"

"Link nalcès Rhalsiyal!" Kyun shouts, finally loosing himself to his own anger.

I hear the words… I know them, yet I am unable to understand. Rhalsiyal… Sorrow-bringer? This is the first time I've heard such a name uttered within the tribe. Even in the innumerable tales the Kokiri share, even in the stories of our ancestors I have never heard of this. Mido compares me to this thing… why? And his voice… something other than simple rage colors it now. Is it fear… or pain? Why… does he speak like that?

I feel the gazes of both Kokiri and Fairy turn to me. My back prickles as each new pair of eyes transfixes upon it. Their voices have lowered to little more than hushed murmurings: attempts to hide their words from me, from Mido and Kyun, and even from each other. Yet some underestimate the sensitivity of my Hylian ears, and I catch a few of the words. Some utter prayers to the forest, as if the words spoken between the two Kokiri are anathema to the entire tribe. Some seem in agreement with Kyun, finding Mido's accusations unreasonable and unfair. Their trust in him – and in turn, in me – warms my heart. Less so in the case of others, who like Mido look at me with suspicion and wariness, if not outright hatred.

"Nalillin… Sita divretillen?" Mido asks. "Susivelfel cer set jivalcer ràn?

Kyun's fists clench at his side, the only sign of his reaction from where I stand. Mido's words concern me greatly… he speaks of death and of me its bringer. He speaks as one who has seen such a thing before. Kyun stands against him, defending me but even his presence does little to quell the uncertainty that has begun to fester within my heart. I know what happens to outsiders who become lost within our forest. I know what unspeakable horrors the Lenshæda inflicts upon them. But I've always thought myself different… for three and sixty seasons I've lived here, beneath the shadows of the leaves and among the branches as one with the Kokiri. I've felt no ill effects from the Lenshæda. Saria calls it the blessing of the Father, a sign that the Forest sees me as a part of it. But is that wrong? Am I too, destined for such a fate? Will I one day be the cause of suffering for the very people who have raised and cared for me?

"Jivalfel ran fait cer? Tun cer ahnsifel nivallin?" He continues, though his words sound far away now. "Jinim valísfel fait cer idré koldar;nahsan."

"That is enough." A voice, feminine and familiar saves me from the abyss of doubt.

The words it speaks are Hyrulean: that very same language Mido's venomous tongue just condemned. Such simple words, though they've all the power of a magical incantation, dowsing the ever-rising flames of tension beneath a calming stream of unseen waters. All at once, the three of us turn our attention to whence the voice had come. Voices quiet and the countless heads of both Kokiri and Fairy turn to one amongst their number as yet unseen by our eyes. Even they, who were merely watchers are compelled by its soft insistence. Bodies part like a bed of grass split through by a narrow wind as the Kokiri make way for the speaker.

"Saria?" Both ceró speak the name in unison as a Kokirian girl steps out from the ocean of earthen bodies and winged lights.

The ferà bares the same child-like resemblance of all Kokiri, though even among us she holds a uniqueness that distinguishes her from others of our ilk. For though most Kokiri bare hair of a color akin to the earth, such as Kyun's brown, or the dark orange of Mido, she is the only one among us whose hair instead resembles the leaves. Straight viridian locks trail along her neck like blades of fine grass, ending just below her shoulders. A blossom of pure white extends from them, held within the elegant headband which crowns her. The petals dance just to the right of her eyes which radiate wisdom from within their blue depths. A wealth of knowledge lies beyond them, learned and remembered over centuries of life despite her young appearance. A green dress garbs her, hugging her small body like an emerald blanket. The asymmetrical garment falls lower down her right side than her left, making it appear outlandish when compared to the simple garb of other Kokiri, yet it is cut in such a way that would still allow for easy movement amongst the trees. Her feet, meanwhile are unshod save for two simple anklets, formed to a shape not unlike that which adorns her head.

A viridian Fairy hovers at her side, the light from its body outshining those of its kin who shimmer in an iridescent band around the heads of the villagers. Its true body is almost imperceptible through the glow, but looking closely, the form of a girl hovering within can be made out. Not unlike Jix or Kavédin – the violet fairy who serves as Mido's unfortunate companion – the color of her skin and hair matches that of her glow. Yet the glow itself obscures aught else about her, as if concealing a beautiful secret behind a luminescent curtain. Cerelise is her name, and she has been Saria's companion for many centuries… since a time before many of the current Kokiri stepped forth from the Bloom.

"Who then does Mido believe taught them that, 'evil language' as he calls it?" The speaker turns her attention to Mido. Her voice is calm though I detect a hint of irritation in the words.

"Saria…" Mido repeats, his tongue failing him as he regards the pretty Kokiri and her Fairy companion. "Im…"

"Make no excuses. Did Mido come merely to patronize Link and Kyun upon their return? Or perhaps insulting Saria was Mido's intent?" Saria interrupts sternly, her odd pattern of speech prevailing despite her use of the foreign tongue. Mido merely stares, his words stolen by the small Kokiri. "Speak, Cirénved! Mido may choose not to speak the Hyrulean language, but Saria knows that he at least understands it."

The crowd of onlookers, both Kokiri and Fairy alike fall silent as Saria questions the much larger boy. Varying levels of confusion mark them, for there are those who unlike Mido do not understand the language of the outside world. Yet all are rendered silent, watching as the larger Kokiri struggles for a response. I too find myself at a loss for words, seeing how easily the green haired ferà had subdued him. Perhaps it would be comical if not for the events that lead to it.

For but an instant, the large Kokiri falters beneath Saria's penetrating gaze. His shoulders slacken and I sense some of the anger leave him, but that instant is all he allows. The next moment the ceró seems to regain some image of his previous composure, though rather this image is truth or façade I cannot say, for his eyes are turned from me. Nevertheless, it appears his ire has left him at least for now. The weak embers of frustration are all that remains of the fire from before. Saria succeeded Kyun, or certainly I could not.

"Nàlsimaviron…" (No matter) Mido says simply after a moment before turning his head back to us, or more to the point, at me. "Saën Jiràs… Diraketôn…" (fine hunt… outsider.)

The slur leaves his lips a final time and he begins to move toward the crowd of Kokiri. His path takes him within a few feet of where Kyun and I stand. He turns and spits, a glob of saliva leaving his lips and scattering itself upon the wood a few inches from our feet. I sense Kyun begin to move at my side: like a fish to a worm, the brown haired boy takes his rival's bait. But I am quicker to react and block his path with my arm. Saria's intervention helped to speed my recovery from the maker's verbal onslaught enough to know what my friend intended to do. I turn my eyes to the boy at my right and shake my head softly, a silent request carried within the gesture. Kyun gazes at me for a few seconds before his face softens, and he nods in acquiescence. Mido shan't have the last laugh today.

I turn back to Mido, ignoring his glare and meeting it with feigned impassivity. In reality, I still feel shaken by his words, unsure of myself… but I will not allow him to know that. Mido grunts in slight disappointment before turning and leaving the way he came. A low murmur ripples through the crowd of Kokiri and Fairy onlookers as they part, making way for Mido as he passes through. Within moments he disappears beyond the throng of villagers.

"I… am sorry." Kavédin says quietly, his faded glow flickering slightly.

No matter his own feelings, Kavédin is still Mido's companion and he is as loyal to him as any other Fae. I give him a silent nod, gladdened that he would even offer that much. His glow seems to brighten at that, and he turns away, gossamer wings fluttering rapidly as he flies after his charge.

Saria's face seems to soften slightly as the two make their exit, though the expression of displeasure has yet to leave her face.

"Mido…" She begins with a sigh. "One day, Saria prays he will rise above that sad memory and move forward."

"Rhalsiyal…" I repeat the name slowly. The eyes each of my friends snap toward me the instant the word leaves my lips.

"Link… That was-" Kyun begins, but Saria stops him.

"No Kyun… It has been long since the suffering we Kokiri faced at the hands of that person. We've chosen not to speak of it, but no one can deny that its shadow still hangs over us even now. Mido is proof of that… and Kyun too." A grim understanding kills whatever protests the Jiràsved might have made. He lowers his head solemnly, gripped by a regret that I cannot understand. "But Link… Link deserves to know what happened. Kyun said himself… Link has been accepted by the forest. It is time Saria and Kyun did the same."

She stares meaningfully at the Jirasved, wise blue eyes meeting clouded greens. He answers with a resigned nod. It is an expression I've never seen from the merry hunter, normally one of such unshakable cheer that it is contagious. Yet now, all of that cheer has been stripped from him. I feel a strange unfamiliarity with the boy I've known from as far back as memory allows… the boy who raised me, and trained me in the ways of the hunt. And not just him, but all of them – their regret and sorrow, borne of an unknown source paints them with its strangeness. Jix and Cerelise hover near their charges, their radiance fading as if in response to their emotions. Saria tries hard to keep a strong countenance but I can see behind her blue eyes that she is crying. A weight bears down upon my shoulders simply from standing within their presence, and an unfathomable sadness gnaws at my heart. What could possibly have happened to create such a powerful aura of remorse?

"You right… Link is Kokiri now." Kyun says finally. "Should know reason for Mido's words. But not here. We deliver Marosk first, then tell. Less eyes, less ears."

"I agree." Cerelise says, glancing slightly to the crowd of Kokiri. Our conversation could not have been loud enough to reach them, but Mido's tirade most certainly had. "'Tis a difficult enough thing to speak of without audience. Let us be quick."

Even as one who has known no other people save the Kokiri, it always amazes me to see the levels of strength contained within their small bodies. Somehow we manage to successfully carry the Marosk through to the western edges of the village. Here a Taréki stands, straight and tall like its brethren that serve as our homes. Yet this particular Taréki is home to no Kokiri, but instead to that which sustains us. The entrance stands open like a gaping maw ready to receive its newest meal. We oblige it, hoisting the beast from our weary shoulders and into the cavernous wooden trunk. It tumbles upon the wood once, twice before settling among the piles of smaller creatures resting within. Inside it is cool, and rife with the same protective essence that shelters our village. The Marosk will be safe there, until which time as its flesh might feed, its fur and mane warm, and its horns provide medicine or adornment for the tribe.

I stand and stretch my limbs. Even with more bodies to carry it, the beast still proved a trial to move. For a moment, I am grateful that its weight has finally been lifted from my shoulders. The next, I am reminded of the other burden that still remains there. Though they try to hide it, Kyun, Saria, and the two fairies must be feeling the same. It is easier for me, I am sure… for I know not what it is that haunts them so, though what little I can discern on my own is enough to lower my spirits.

Taking only as much time as is polite, we see off the other Kokiri who had helped us deliver the Marosk. The argument upon the terrace, while still fresh in our own minds by now seems all but forgotten to theirs: an unimportant footnote within a much grander tale. They seem eager to stay, to hear of our hunt and how we managed to bring low such a beast. Yet even Kyun, ever one with a fondness for stories knows that now is not the time. We leave them with the promise of a story over the sweet-burning flames of Faorln. To this, they are enthusiastic, and so hurry away to the Adouindôklel, eager to partake in the morning's feast with the added flavor of a good tale.

At last only Saria, Kyun, Jix, Cerelise and I remain. Crestfallen expressions mar the faces of the two Kokiri. Kyun's eyes turn from me the moment I meet them, as if some guilt prevents him from holding my gaze. Saria watches him, concerned. She looks much better than he at the moment but I still sense the lingering sadness beneath her fair features. It is little different for the two fairies. Their once radiant glows have grown dim, drawing from the emotions of their charges and reflecting them like fading beacons. Cerelise's glow has faded considerably, and I can now see the diminutive green girl who hovers beneath, yet she still radiates a level of power that all Fae possess. Jix on the other hand, looks positively weak. The orange sprite's aura has faded to almost nothing. Only the faintest traces of ochreous light remain about him now and in his expression is a precise mirror of Kyun's.

"It is time… Link knew something about the Kokiri and Fairies." Saria says. "It is something we of Nieraki choose not to speak of, for its memory is painful to us. There is no lesson, no triumph or gloried sacrifice within this tale. Only a bitter reminder of the darkest moment our people have ever Link continues to prove himself each day that he is one of us. What he did today speaks truly of that. Because of that, Link deserves to share in our sorrows as well as our triumphs... and no sorrow has cut at our peoples more than this one."

"This what Kyun and Mido speak of?" I ask, lifting a brow. Even though I'd reached the conclusion, I still cannot make sense of it. "Rhalsiyal… this tale speak of it?"

"Mido speak only lies…" Kyun says quietly. "Link is Kokiri. Link not Rhalsiyal… I not believe it."

"Mido spoke out of line, that is true. But Mido's words were not without reason." Saria says, her eyes linger on the hunter for a moment. "Mido was not always Cirenved… Mido was once Jiràsved. Mido and Kyun were once close friends. Saria might even say they were as close as Kyun and Link are now."

I am taken aback by the revelation. I'd known that Mido used to be a Jiràsved, but I never imagined that he and Kyun even tolerated one another, let alone considered each other friends. I've always known Mido to be a scornful, insulting, and generally unpleasant Kokiri, so it is difficult for me to imagine him as anything other than that.

"That time gone now…" Kyun says quietly. "Mido… he change. I not think he ever change back."

"You changed too, Kyun." Jix says honestly, looking at his companion seriously. "So did I. Who wouldn't after living through something like that?"

"'Twas many seasons ago," Saria explains. "Long before Link came to Nieraki, yet to we Kokiri whose memories are as long as our history it was quite recent. We lived then as we do now, high above where the Lenshæda cannot reach us. Yet as now there were times that required us to brave the forest and its perils. So it was when we received word of an outsider who had wandered into our forest from lands beyond. A number of us left the village upon hearing this. Our only wish was to see the stranger safely returned to whence he came, lest the mist consume him as it had others before. Kyun and Mido were among their number."

It is in no way uncommon for outsiders to stumble upon our sylvan home, drawn in by the Lenshæda beckoning them from beyond the Vanàlok. Once ensnared, they wander aimlessly, loosing themselves within the tangling vines, towering trees, and roiling violet mist that makes up our home. The Kokiri are driven by a compulsion to seek these lost souls and return them to where they belong. It is a compulsion that goes beyond simple pity or compassion for the unfortunate, but is instead something deeper, more integral to their natures. It may be the will of Rohtànketzel guiding them, or perhaps their natural desire to oppose the unnatural Lenshæda. As a Hylian, I myself do not feel it, and I doubt even the Kokiri themselves truly understand it.

"But this outsider… he was not like the others." Saria continues. "For he was not drawn unconsciously by the Lenshæda as most are… he came of his own will."

"Why one do that?" I ask incredulously. "Syldré dangerous even for ones who live here. More for outsider."

"But come he did." She affirms. "Saria knows of the desires of those who live outside the forest. They are not content with what nature provides for them, but seek always for what they do not have. It was the same for this one… and he was convinced that what he desired could be found here in our home. Saria wonders if it was worth the sacrifice. No… rather it existed or not, it could not have been worth what was lost. Both to us… and to that one."

She pauses, and her face darkens with sorrow. Her eyes grow distant as she relives the painful memory that has for so long been kept buried within the deepest recesses of her mind. Cerelise flutters over to her charge, and places a tiny hand against the green-haired girl's cheek. The small act seems to bring her back to the present, and her eyes fall upon the concerned fae. Her lips curl into a sad smile, and she nods.

"Ah… Saria seems to have gotten ahead of herself…" She says. Cerelise's intervention seems to have given her the strength to speak again. "Aye, this outsider came of his own will. Perhaps it was because of this that he retained his mind upon entering the forest… or perhaps the Lenshæda simply knew that there was no need to ensnare him. By the time our friends found him, he was clear of mind and fully conscious to where he was. He seemed… glad for it even.

"At the time, the Kokiri and Fairies who came to meet him did not understand this. It is nearly unheard of for any being not borne of the forest to willfully seek this place. Just as we of the forest fear to venture into the outside world, those who inhabit it fear to tread here. Even those who do quickly regret it and seek to leave. But this one was different. He was drawn to something… and he was fully convinced that it might be found here. Our people were confused… despite their pleas and warnings he refused to turn back and instead he only went on. Each step took him deeper into the mist, and with each step their concern for him grew.

"It was not long before Outsider began to show the signs… though he refused to admit them, he could not hide it from his own body. The Kokiri and Fairies knew it as well. The poison had already begun to affect him. And the deeper he traveled the worse he became. Yet the man was persistent… he refused to give in. Even as the poison continued to eat away at his body and mind he marched ever further toward his doom."

She pauses, allowing me to process what I've heard. I know the signs… the symptoms of the Lenshæda's poison. The longer the afflicted remains in the forest, under the hold of its vile mist the more they suffer. It attacks them from within and without, slowly devouring them, like a gluttonous beast.

"Our people refused to abandon him to his fate. They followed, their entreaties becoming more desperate by the moment, for they all knew what awaited him. And yet… each time they were ignored. Even their unhindered Voices were not strong enough to compel him to abandon his fool's errand. He walked on, despite the pleas of those who would help him. He walked on, even as his body began to fail. What was it that drove him? To endure such suffering for something that may not, and likely did not exist."

"But… even if his determination was unfaltering, his body was not. Despite his conviction, the poison eventually overcame him. He collapsed, writhing beneath the mist. Crimson poured from his mouth, eyes and body. One hand clutched his chest as if trying to still his racing heart but the other… the other simply reached out toward the trees, grasping for something his blinded eyes could not see."

She pauses and a sigh parts her lips like a breath of wind through two delicate leaves. "That was when he fell still. All of the Kokiri and Fairies thought he had died. They gathered around him, hoping to at least perform the Lankelmaer to rest his spirit. They hoped, perhaps that Outsider might find what he sought in his next life. But he…"

"Edahmah!" A loud noise, a sharp impact on hollowed wood, and the voice that accompanies it.

Kyun stands with his head lowered and his arm extended. His clinched fist presses against a nearby Tarèki, driving trembling knuckles against the unyielding wood. The Jiràsved's eyes are lowered, staring at the ligneous floor beneath his feet. His bared teeth tremble within his mouth like a dam struggling to hold back an overflowing river of anguish. He does not seem to notice the veins of viridian blood trailing from his balled hands. Nor does he notice the four pairs of eyes that have turned to him, and that we have…

"Nalsusivelim!" He cries, emotion cracking his voice. "Nalkilesalim…"

"Kyun…" Saria is at the Jiràsved's side in an instant, and the fairies and I are not far behind. "Kyun mustn't blame himself. Their deaths were tragic, Saria knows this well… but there was nothing Kyun could have done. Kyun knows this… just as well as Saria, and the whole of Nieraki knows. So please… do not darken their spirits with further guilt."

Deaths… for some reason I feel as if I should place more consideration on that word and the implications that come with it. But more than that, I notice something else. Saria… the way she lightly places her hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes as she speaks. It is a simple action, but there is a strange complexity to it. The position of her fingers, the intensity of her gaze, the tone of her voice. It all seems almost… perfect. As if that simple gesture has been repeated, practiced, and refined until it became something more than itself. I remember the confrontation with Mido earlier. Something similar happened then. Saria's words… her voice alone had been enough to quell the growing tension between Mido and Kyun. With just a few simple words, she pacified both them and the entire village and prevented what may have devolved into violence. It is not the first time she had done that either… every time Kyun and Mido seem on the verge of conflict it is she who stops them. Every time the same way… practiced and perfected until it became an art.

"Forgive… Saria." Kyun says, calm returning to his voice. "Only wish… there more I could do."

"Saria knows…" She says compassionately. "Will Kyun be well?"

"Aye." He replies with a slow nod. "Just… need to be alone for time."

"'Tis all right. Saria understands."

I've known them both for as long as I've existed. I've held a bond with each of them… the two Kokiri closer to my heart than all others. They raised me, taught me, and cared for me each and every day. To me, they are the closest thing I have to a family. And yet… I realize at this moment that it does not even begin to compare to the bond that exists between the two of them. They have lived together, laughed and cried together, sang together far longer than I've even existed. The notion fills me with a strange sense of happiness and sadness both. I know they care for me as well, as I do for them… yet when faced with a bond centuries old, how can I compare?

Kyun holds her gaze for a moment before turning way. As he lowers his hand from the tree, a few droplets of blood fall from his fingers, staining the wood below.

"Wait, Kyun." I call out. He stops, and turns to regard me as I walk over to him.

I am not Kokiri, not by birth at any rate and I may not have the same bond that the two of them share but this, at least is something I can do. Confusion crosses his eyes as I carefully take his hand, but it quickly fades into comprehension as he finally notices the blood. Reaching into a pouch on my belt, I pull out a small strip cloth and wind the thin fabric tightly around his knuckles. He cringes slightly from the pressure, but holds his hand steady while I bind the wound. I examine my handiwork for a moment, securing the fabric with a tight knot. There… it won't come undone any time soon like that.

"Should do for now." I say casually. "Go to Kinósved later."

"I will." He says gratefully. "Thank you, Link."

He turns to leave once again and we are left to stare at his back as he crosses one of the small bridges leading away from us. Upon reaching the other side he turns again and leans himself against another of the towering sentinels that make up our home. His eyes turn to the curtain of leaves above and he stares at the thin rays of light streaming through. One of them caresses the scar on his cheek. I wonder what he must be thinking about now… is he still lamenting what he could not prevent? Or did Saria's compassion assuage even deeper wounds that his mind has now turned to brighter things?

"It is harder for Kyun…" Saria says after a moment. "Kyun was there. Everything that happened… Kyun was a part of it. As was Mido."

"You there too?" I broach the obvious question.

"No… But Link knows how we Kokiri possess the ability to share our memories with others. Saria saw it all through Kyun's." She shudders slightly and I can tell she is wishing she hadn't.

"You not need do same for me." I say understandingly. I know well the strength of emotion that comes with sharing hearts with a Kokiri. "Words enough… I not have you relive it more than now."

"Thank you for understanding, Link. Then Saria shall continue like this." She says gratefully. "Outsider had not died from the Lenshæda. He was quick to rise again, changed from the poison. It was the first time… these days it is well known what the Lenshæda can do. But before that day, it had only killed. It never… changed. Our people had no way of knowing, and no way to prepare for what was to come. Two Kokiri and one fairy were killed before he even rose to his feet. The rest stood against him, but the creature he became was greater than any normal Koldaréken. Not even all of the Kokiri and Fairies working as one could master him. Eventually of the eight Kokiri who had left the village, only two remained: Mido and Kyun. Three fairies had perished as well. Link has seen them before, many times..."

Six Kokiri and three fairies... I have indeed.

"Graves beneath village..."

"Aye... Link has walked among them many times, and Saria knows he has wished to know them." She affirms. "Kyun… might have joined the dead that day. It was Mido who saved his life."

"Mido?" I repeat.

"Aye. Kyun was weak from the fight. The beast sensed that weakness and focused his murderous gaze on him, but in doing so he was blind to all else. One of Mido's arms was crushed early in the battle, but he still had strength enough in the other to hurl a tomahawk at the distracted beast. The desperate attack worked… the axe buried itself into its spine. His cry… it was the most chilling, unnatural thing Saria has ever heard."

"Mido killed?"

The Valísved shakes her head. "That creature's tenacity was a strong as the man from whom it was born. Even with all the wounds it suffered, and all the pain it endured it would not fall. It fled deep into the forest and vanished. All that remained were Kyun, Mido, and the fairies that had escaped the creature's wrath. Around them were the bodies of those who had been murdered by the man who became a monster.

"It is our belief that when any creature dies, their spirit returns to the forest to one day be reborn, but what comfort could that possibly give to one who had just witnessed his kin slaughtered by the very one they had attempted to save? So it was for Mido. He was never the same after that day. His crushed arm ensured he would never hunt again. But the greatest wound he suffered was not to his body. The kindness he'd once held in his heart died along with his companions. He became cold to all, and came to hate all who entered from Outside. So he has remained hundreds of seasons.

"That creature… It stalks beneath darkened boughs even now, deep within those places that once belonged to nature but do no longer. Kokiri and Fairies call the beast Rhalsiyal, the bringer of sorrow, for that is what he gave to us: a sorrow deeper than any wound that has lingered over us to this day."

Saria falls silent once more, closing her solemn eyes as if attempting to shut away the painful memory. The gentle rustling of the leaves becomes like a dirge to my ears and cheery birdsong devolves into a chorus of ethereal, mournful voices. In the distance, countless voices can be heard. Kokiri and fairies talking merrily amongst themselves, regaling each other with tales and feasting upon the savory victuals provided by the forest. Yet the alluring scents and the exertion from the hunt no longer draw the desire for food. Grim expressions and faded fairylight chase the hunger from me like an unwanted guest.

Cerelise rests gently upon her charge's shoulder, saying nothing, while Jix alights himself onto mine for the present. Neither fae seems keen on flying, and their vibrant glows have diminished such that one might almost mistake them for insects at a distance, rather than the magical beings they are.

The tale ingrains itself into my mind, the fate of the Kokiri and Fairies who rest beneath those nine graves... the nine whose tale I have mused over for many seasons. Where once I merely witnessed their sorrow from a distance, I now find myself close enough to feel it. Mido has suffered much at the hands of an outsider much like myself. He'd seen the deaths of many who dwell within the forest, some perhaps who he might have once called friends… and it changed him. Yet, I'd never even tried to know. I've seen him always as naught but an intolerant fool who cared only for himself, and held no regard for anyone else, be they Kokiri, Fairy, Outsider, or otherwise. Perhaps he still is… but I now know the reason. I remind him of all he has lost. Perhaps I remind them all.

"Think not of such things." Saria says, and I turn back to her, noticing that her thoughtful gaze is now fixed upon me. "Link was questioning himself again, yes? Saria can tell."

"Saria and Kyun, Jix and Cerelise. Kokiri saved my life. All raised, taught me over many seasons. Even after…" I hesitate. "I… hurt you too?"

Saria parts her lips to respond, but before any sound is able to leave them, another voice rings out.

"No."

It is distant, but risen so that we might hear it through the veil of gloom which surrounds us. Saria's gaze and mine turn as one in the direction of the speaker. Our eyes fall upon Kyun. The Jiràsved leans still against his trunk a few paces ahead. He'd scarcely moved since Saria began speaking again. His eyes remained always on the heavenly light that illuminates the dim wood. Yet I now notice that his left ear is turned curiously in our direction. He'd been listening. Though he said no words, and gave no corrections if any he had to give, he'd heard every word spoken between us.

"No pain." He says again, pushing himself from the thick wooden pillar and turning to approach us. "I see same as Mido saw. I remember as well as Mido remember. I… might be same as him now. Is because of Link, that not."

"At time, I felt same as Mido. Wondered if Kokiri place to help outsider… If Mido right to turn his back. But then Link came, showed me truth. In Rhalsiyal, I see evil, foolishness of Óshvenya. In Link, I see innocence, and good. Bad in Outsiders, just like bad in Syldré, but also good." He paused and his eyes soften as he givens a genuine smile. "Mido choose hatred but Link stop others from following. Link stop me… from following."

I remain silent for a long time. I know not how to respond to the Kokiri's words. He had spoken in such a way that I could not rightly deny them… but neither can I merely accept them after all I've been told. Does his heart truly agree with his voice? I know that the Kokiri are not quick to forget pain and sorrow, even if they wish to. And his pain, and the pain of the entire village was great indeed, so great that it remains even now. It has lingered, much like my own sorrow when my blade met the flesh of the Marosk, but deeper, darker, and fuller than anything I've felt even now, in my knowing. They've hidden, no, controlled it for so long, but still it remains now as it always has. Knowing this, how can I merely accept his words? Though they be from a friend.

"He's not the only one, I'm sure you know." Jix chimes in, raising from my shoulder with a flutter of his gossamer wings, and returning to his charge. His glow seems brighter now… "I saw it all too. I was prepared to lay down my own life alongside Kyun that day. If I couldn't protect him when he needed it, then I could not call myself a Fairy. That did not happen, as you can see. We survived for a reason, and now we know what that reason was. It was so we could try again… to give another a chance at life. That person happened to be you. 'Tis too convenient to be simple coincidence."

"I pray that one day, Mido too might see this himself." Cerelise agrees. "I should like to see him once more as the kind hearted Kokiri he once was… and that poor Kavédin will once again meet the companion with whom he parted that day."

"A fallen tree may never again touch the sky…" Saria say solemnly. "Yet… perhaps a seed from its branches might one day rise to do so."

"Saria speak true." Kyun agrees, the grin returning to his face.

I muse on that for a moment. It sounds… nice.

"Aye. That be good."

"That is enough talk of this." Cerelise says. "Unhappy pasts aside, all of us here are alive and well. I feel that is cause enough to be glad."

"Well said, dear Cerelise." Saria says with a gentle smile. "Saria would like to hear of happier things. What of the Jiràs-lim and the Marosk? How did only three Jiràsved manage to hunt such a beast?"

"Ah, now that is a tale I think all three of us would be very happy to tell." Jix says proudly.

"Aye, but will not tell here." Kyun says. "Adouindóklel… We all hungry. Food first, stories later."

To that, all are agreed. The gloom that had surrounded us in the wake of painful memories breaks like a cool fog giving way to the rays of morning. Saria, Cerelise, and I – The three who had remained on the other side of the small bridge – make our way over to the Tàreki Kyun had used as his resting place. He greets us with his characteristic grin and Jix bobs gladly at his side. I am relieved to see that my friend's high spirits restored… as well as his desire for food. My own stomach rumbles quietly as if in agreement to the Kokiri's declaration. Hunger, it seems has returned to us all, and we welcome it for it is proof that life still burns within us. Kyun falls into step along side us as we begin to make our way through the winding bridges of our home, eager join the feast that awaits.

ShiningwingX: Finally I have this thing released! This chapter is a source of great ambivalence for me. I'm glad to have it done and released after all this time, and I'm pleased enough with how it turned out. However, that doesn't change the fact that I had to rewrite the entire thing from start to finish at least once, and sometimes multiple times in a few sections. Its basically an exposition chapter but nothing seemed to go right for some reason. There was an old version, but it was riddled with unnecessary pieces, and things that didn't work with the rest of the story so I had to keep changing it over and over until it did.

It's the first time I've written out a long winded exchange between two characters in a fictional language (and probably the ONLY time it will happen, at least for a good long while). It was difficult to write, though its getting easier now that I have a general structure for the language. However… I wonder if the context clues in Link's narration were enough that my readers could 'get' what they were talking about. I'm trying to stay away from any sort of translation conventions (such as 'saying' they're speaking in this unknown language but it being written in English anyway) because I feel it's more immersive to create it and USE it. However, I can understand the language, being the one who created it. My readers don't have that advantage.

So, I want to ask. Were the context clues enough so that you all could somewhat understand what they were talking about? Or was it simply confusing? If the latter, do any writers among you who may have dealt with this before know of a way I can make this work (I doubt 'subtitling' is possible in literature) or should I just bite the bullet and stick with the translation conventions while sprinkling the language here and there?

Anyway that's the question I pose to my reviewers. Now, as for the footnotes.

1. The title of this chapter is Óshvenyati, which means "Outsiders". Mido calls Link Diraketôn, which means roughly the same thing but carries more derogatory connotations.

2. With the grave scene, I wanted to reveal a little bit about the circumstances surrounding Link's birth, as well as give him a more characterization. I hope I succeeded.

3. Kinkuven is a sort of 'coming of age' thing for the people of Nieraki. However, it's a fairly simple one that is meant to come 'naturally' when the Kokiri is ready. Fairies rarely undergo anything like it because they are more timeless, and even fewer of them are born than Kokiri. The Marosk was an impressive hunt for Link's first but it would have been just the same if he'd hunted a small bird or rodent.

4. The reason Link didn't have much part in the argument outside of narration is due to his personality. He isn't good at speaking his mind, and he has a very strong dislike for unreasonable conflict. He's more 'caught in the middle' than anything else.

5. On Link's age. Ismirra has five seasons, so that makes Link a little over half way into his twelfth year.

6. Saria is the eldest of the Kokiri by far, and is probably the closest thing they have to a leader. Her role, Valísved, translates to "Speaker" but is more closely related to "Teacher".

7. As a poison, the Lenshæda functions as something between a corrosive acid and a mutagen so the symptoms are pretty gruesome. This chapter gives some ideas, and the next couple of chapters will explore it a bit more, but I'll write out a detailed explanation of what it does on the lore site.

8. The "unhindered voices" that Saria speaks of isn't mere purple prose. The Kokiri normally mask their true voices when speaking normally because of the power contained within them. Their voices are something akin to a siren's song; producing a profound effect on the senses of those around them.

9. In a way, Kyun and Mido are two sides of the same character. Mido embodies what Kyun might have been if he followed the same path. Likewise, Mido might have been what Kyun is now if the opposite occurred.

Well that's that, FINALLY.

Please share your reviews… and please don't hurt me for taking so long.