A/N - In this brief anecdote, you will only catch a glimpse of a possible tale of our green clad hero, taking a slightly different angle than the common Legend of Zelda adventure. I'm not sure if i want to write out a whole story with this Link (even though i think he's awesome), but if this short insight to my ideas gets enough praise, i will most definitely put his adventure on this website for y'all.

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As the ferns on the forest floor swayed in a gentle breeze, uneven footsteps could be heard. As the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the massive redwoods and painted golden streaks in the dusty air, ragged breath could be heard. As drips of scarlet liquid tainted the dead leaves, the birds could be heard chirping overhead.

The young man knew that he had to get as far away as possible, but he was running out of strength and the bloody wound in his side did nothing but weaken him further and further. After all he had survived, this couldn't be where he gave up, this couldn't be where he would fail. He owed a debt to his comrades, and he had to press on, but it was growing more difficult by the second as his head felt lighter and lighter. He glanced behind himself and saw the trail of blood that he was leaving.

Fool, he thought to himself. They'll find you before the next dawn. He clutched at his side in a futile attempt to stem the flow of the precious red fluid, but it just wouldn't cease. Each step became a challenge as his body began to shut down. He couldn't allow himself to succumb; he wouldn't allow himself to succumb. He gritted his teeth and took another step. The trees weren't very close together in this area of the woods, so he didn't have trouble weaving in and out of them, but then he noticed that the tree immediately in front of him blurred, seeming to float into two trees, then back to one. His vision swam, and the world seemed to spin around him. He stumbled and crashed to the forest floor, crushing a fern or two.

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The full moon shone brightly through the trees and bathed the dead leaves and ferns in a faint blue light. Hoof beats thundered by the chirruping crickets. The dark steeds pounded between the trees, carrying riders clad in flowing black robes. Each rider wore a menacing broadsword sheathed across its back. The three dark riders urged their black horses on through the night, knowing that they were nearly upon their prey.

Then there he was, sprawled out on the forest floor face down, a pool of blood collected beneath his left side. One of the riders threw back his hood to reveal a pale face with snow white hair that reached nearly to his shoulders. A heavy scar ran from his forehead, between his eyes, across the bridge of his nose, and down to his jaw. His eyes were blood red and his ears were long and pointed.

"It's a good thing that his wound left a trail of blood for us, otherwise we never would have found him in these cursed woods," he muttered disdainfully. "The poor fool would never have made it to his friends in time anyway," he continued. A deep chuckle emanated from the darkness beneath the hood of one of the pale rider's companions.

"I stuck him good," the third one said flatly. The red eyed rider dismounted his dark steed and pulled his heavy broadsword from its sheath on his back.

"The King will be pleased with our work, gentlemen. I'll harvest his head." The man raised the blade in preparation to bring it down upon the back of the unconscious young man's neck, but then a wicked hiss interrupted him and his head whipped back. The other two riders watched in disbelief as their partner thudded to the dust, an arrow embedded in his forehead, still quivering. They both drew their swords and turned their mounts in the direction that the arrow came, but their was no one there. Mist had descended upon the woods during the night, acting as a dull light bulb for the eerie moonlight.

"Show yourself, coward!" the deep voice from the blackness beneath the hood would have been enough to cow any mortal man.

"I am a coward, and yet you would ride with three fully grown men to find a defenseless boy and decapitate him in while he's unconscious?" the calm voice floated to them through the mist.

"We follow orders given by our master." the other stated simply. This voice was more gravelly, but less deep. "Come, let's see you fight us like a man!" A few moments of silence passed by. The two riders glanced at each other in uncertainty.

"As you wish," but the voice was now behind the two riders, from the direction of the young man lying unconscious. The two riders wheeled their horses around to face the voice once more.

"Quit your sorcery and show yourself, you sniveling rat." the deep voice growled. Then a figure was striding toward them out of the mist, and stopped on the other side of the boy. They could not see its form well, due to the long, loose cloak which hung from its shoulders. Its head, like theirs, was completely concealed in a deep hood. The figure knelt by the form of the young man and two fingers shot out of the cloak, feeling the throat for a pulse. He rose to his feet, and stepped in front of the prone figure.

"You want to fight like men?" He asked the riders. Though they had always been elite in the service of the King, the quiet calmness that this forest dweller displayed now was unnerving, and coupled with his swift, silent movement from in front of them to behind them, their confidence was caused to waver. But then momentarily, the gravelly voiced rider's cockiness returned and he spurred his dark steed toward the slight figure between him and the boy. Before he reached the man however, the mysterious forest dweller pulled something from behind his back inside his cloak and hurled it at the ground between them. A blinding flash attacked the rider's red retinas and his black horse whinnied and altered course, missing the prone boy by inches. "Let us fight," the man's voice returned, once again from behind them.

Both riders whirled their dark steeds around once more and watched as the man threw back his hood. The first thing both riders noticed were his eyes. One an intensely piercing blue, the other a dead white, with a deep scar running from his forehead, over it, and down under his facial hair. After they wrenched their eyes off his, they saw his short, unkempt beard. Still blonde, the facial hair had begun to entertain flecks of silver. His blonde hair was cropped short and messy. The grizzled man stood before them without fear. His long pointed ears—similar to theirs—were pierced with minuscule blue rings. Then he removed his cloak and flung it to the side. He wore a forest green tunic with canvas trousers underneath. A mail hauberk could be seen hiding beneath the tunic. He reached behind his back and drew a sword from its scabbard. The blade seemed to glow with its own light. The handle was wrapped in purple leather and the purple crosspiece flared out like a pair of wings.

The riders balked, recognizing their foe. "The Hero of the Goddess…" the gravelly voice whispered in disbelief.

A wicked grin came over the Hero's face, twisting his scar. "So I haven't been completely forgotten then."

"He's old. There's no way he is still capable of his former battlefield prowess. We will dispatch him together, finish the boy, and return to the King." The deep voice sounded sure of itself. Then he dismounted is fire-eyed steed and raised a hand in the air. "Besides," he continued, "we have the power of the Fury." A golden ball of light began to steadily grow above his hand. "Hero, meet what we like to call Hand Lightning." And he hurled it over hand at the grizzled man. In the blink of an eye, the Master Sword whipped across the path of the electricity, sending it back toward the black riders. The ball of light collided with the gravelly voiced rider, who was blown off his feet and flew through the air. He was stopped by the firm trunk of a tall redwood. He fell to the ground and lay supine, still convulsing from the power of the magic Hand Lightning. His sightless red eyes seemed to scan the tree tops.

"Servant of evil, meet what I like to call the Master Sword."

Though the Hero couldn't see it, the dark rider's face bore an expression of horror. He regained his composure though, and without displaying any emotion, he said: "Hero, you are old and weak, and I will crush you beneath the weight of my great sword, Rythzandor."

"We'll see about that."

The black rider hesitated. "Wait, before I end you, let me properly introduce myself. I am Vanondorf, son of the rightful King of the Surface. But you can just call me Vanon." The evil prince then removed his cloak, revealing dark, grayish green skin and red-orange hair. Beneath his bright eyebrows were two flaming eyes. An evil grin slid onto his features. He drew Rythzandor from its huge sheath and held it double handed. Then he advanced on the Hero.

The two warriors drew near to one another, and Vanondorf lifted his blade into the air and brought it down on the Hero. The grizzled old champion caught it at an angle with his indestructible shield however and the great sword glanced off and thudded into the dead leaves. In one fluid motion, the Hero spun around and swung his blade down at Vanondorf's neck. The Master Sword cleaved clean through Vanon's body inches above his shoulders with hardly an instant's hesitation.

The evil head and its fiery hair slid from the rest of its body, and found its resting place on the ground. Vanon's body fountained red briefly, resting on Rythzandor, still standing. The Hero planted the Master Sword firmly in the soft ground and removed it, cleaning off the blood that tainted it. With a fancy twirl, he replaced it in its ornate purple and gold scabbard. He slung his shield onto his back and and walked casually by the stiff body.

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A/N - So, there's the beginning, please garner the courage to leave a review so that i know what people think of my idea for an older yet still incredibly tough Link battering baddies, thanks for reading it!