Author’s Notes: As much as I enjoy this chapter, it was a complete PAIN IN THE ASS to write. I had to keep switching on my N64 to load my OoT save file for the descriptions of the Forest Temple. Each time I thought I had everything, I stumbled onto something I couldn’t remember, and it was back to the old N64. I wanted to make absolutely sure the descriptions in my story were as consistent as possible with the in-game environments (the detailing written in my personal style, of course). Because after all, the Forest Temple wouldn’t have changed much between time periods—not in the structural sense, at least.

There are quite a few OoT references throughout the chapter (more so than the others), so I hope, for those of you who haven’t played in like, ten years, you don’t go “ugh, dur?” when you run into something you don’t recognize. So, I’m hoping this chapter will jog memories for most of you readers out there (though it could drive you nuts trying to frantically place what the hell it is I’m talking about).

Also, I apologize if the title seems lame. It was just the most appropriate thing I could think of, and you’ll see why after reading the chapter.

Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda © Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo.

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The Fires of Compromise
Chapter 6: Forest Temple
By Boggy

The smell hit him instantly. That vulgar mixture of humidity and rotting soil, permeating the entryway as his eyes scanned the surroundings for light. The halls were dim, the vine-encrusted walls and ceilings frightening, almost vicious in their elusive serenity. In every line, every texture, every darkened keyhole was a lingering “something” that stirred his inner memories. And for the moment, he was “Link” again, proud and tall, a sword and shield in hand, and an arousing uncertainty from an enemy behind closed doors.

Though he knew full well the monsters were gone—the Wolfos and Blue Bubbles—evaporated into nothingness with the “destruction” of Ganon. An estranged “peace” filled the air, an unsettling calm in the suppressed ugliness of the Temple’s beauty. This was now a place of sanctum, worship. He dared not draw his blade, for fear of invoking an unnamed deity’s wrath, lying dormant within the sacred hallows.

He coughed. His purpose was clear, but his senses clouded, his nose succumbing to that familiar stench. His limbs were weak, a kind of numbness only felt in the presence of evil, amplified by the concentrated energies of the Temple. He’d always shook them off in the past, always carried on… Why was it so difficult now? Was it his mind playing tricks? Was it the pained recollections of the wails and cries of the Temple’s song? He could hear them, even now. Something wicked and distant, pushing against his throat, strangling him.

Nausea overtook, bringing him to his knees. He coughed again, feeling the bile rise, but swallowed hard, ignoring the urge to release. It was not fear, but déjà vu. The overwhelming familiarity of it all—so twisted and terrible, yet wonderful and wanted—this was what he’d lived for.

Link bowed his head, clamping his eyes shut, whispering a silent prayer to his patron, Farore. When in doubt, he turned to the Goddess of Courage for strength. He envisioned her magnificent form, wrapped in light and cloth, the mystery of her eyes hidden beneath the pale viridian of her hair. She invaded his dreams, filled with guidance and understanding, compassion and warmth. His dreams of Zelda were passion and fire, friendship and desire. Both so real, it was as though he could reach out—hold them close, embrace the very fibers of their skin.

With renewed composure, Link rose to his feet. He breathed deep, searching the air for that offensive smell. It lingered still, but with less intensity, the wails too fading in the distance. Even the darkness lifted, the hall illuminated by a flickering torch. Strange, how it had escaped his attention previously.

Continuing on, he stepped through the doorway leading into the central hall. Even in its purified state, the room was unchanged. It served as a hub for the interlocking corridors and passageways of the Temple, and as an access station between top and bottom floors. In the past, or in all correctness, the future, Poes had prevented entry to the basement levels, disabling the lift via an assortment of deadly traps. Now that Saria overlooked the Temple, the lift was in working order, the traps removed, and the Poes at rest.

It was the first he’d seen of the Temple since his return. He’d contemplated visiting, not only the Forest Temple, but the others as well. Only, reliving those moments, those images stung. Something about the life he’d lived he just couldn’t shake. He kept telling himself it was for the good of the people, for the good of Hyrule. For the Princess. But bouncing back and forth between realities—it’d hit him hard.

…Why was he acting so selfishly?

His only contact was Saria, whom he’d kept in touch with via Ocarina link. And even they had grown further apart. When was it last they spoke? Three months? Four months? Life plunged ahead, it seemed, and with it the yearning of younger, simpler, innocent days. In the end, everything was as Sheik had said.

Nothing was crueler than time. And nothing could be more heartbreaking.

A part of him was nervous. Would he look different to her? Older? Wiser? Would she even recognize him? He thought for a moment and figured she would. Hell, he hadn’t changed much. Still, it felt like an eternity since he’d last embraced this avenue of his past. In those times, Saria had been his only friend.

She knew he was here; of that Link was certain. Saria’s senses, those only a Sage could possess, were completely in-tune with the Temple. Her essence and the essence of the Temple were as one. If a door creaked or a branch rustled, she knew. Saria could hear a seedling take root, identify the bud before it bloomed, and predict the life span of any given organism in the gardens.

Her duties as guardian kept her confined to the Temple, trailing its energies in ontological transcendence. Though she appeared as real and “normal” as Link himself, and could manifest a “physical” form to communicate with the outside world. Yet she was never wholly separate, be it mind, body, or spirit, from the magics of the Temple.

Such were the blessing and curse of the Sage of the Forest.

Closing the door behind him, Link approached one of the four torches encircling the lift. The flame was a fluorescent sage, burning steadily and cool to the touch. With his left hand, he danced his fingers through the flicks, the leather of the glove neither singed nor scarred. The light created an orb of color surrounding the torch, reflected in the bright of his eyes. It was odorless, crackling with controlled intensity, without ash, soot, or smoke.

It was an eternal flame, its existence immune to the logics of the mortal plane.

His eyes adjusted to the light, searching its aura for what—he couldn’t say. But as he gazed aimlessly into the blaze, a shadow stretched from across the lift, the shape indiscernible as its tips merged with the darkness beyond the perimeter of the torch. He brought his arms waist side, following the shadow’s trail, stopping midpoint between the sage and its adjacent flame.

And there she was.

On the opposite side, centered between the remaining two torches, stood Saria. The sapphire flame danced against the emerald of her hair, her petite, Kokirin frame made smaller still by the openness of the Temple. And as she approached the lift, there was mystery in her eyes, a sagacious wonderment of the profound, the magic and wisdom of the world at her fingertips.

Link followed suit, stepping forward, placing a hand on either side of the lift. Saria did the same, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. They stared at one another through the beams, a hundred memories shared through their wordless exchange.

“Hello Link.”

There was a pause.

“Hello Saria.”

Her smile widened, something playful in her face. Link scrunched his brow in thought, tossing her a questioning look, but stopped when the amethyst flame beside her jerked.

…Why would it move so suddenly?

In an instant, the torches flared, lifting the darkness. Startled, Link’s gaze circled the room, absorbing the subtleties unveiled in the fire’s light—imperfections in the walls, markings etched in stone, vines seeping through the cracks of the Temple floor—before bringing his eyes to rest on Saria, hands at her back as she rocked to and fro.

She giggled, obviously making a show of her Sagely powers, the heaviness of the room thinned by the echoes of her laugh. He joined her merriment, both happy and relieved in the company of his old friend.

“You’re not the only one who can raise a fuss,” she teased.

She snapped her fingers, evening the flames, their ferocity reduced to crackling spits.

“But I understand you didn’t come for parlor tricks.”

Link’s expression darkened at the seriousness of her tone. …So she did know. Saria sensed what was happening in the world, the imbalance of the elements. Someone or something was unsettling the forest. His only hope now was that she could provide a solution, or at the very least, answers.

“So, how does it feel?”

“…Huh?” The question was awkward but forthright, catching him off-guard. He shot her a puzzling look.

“Here, in the Temple. In these ruins. It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? Three years?” Probingly, she asked again. “How does it feel?”

Link furrowed his brow, an uneasy feeling in his chest.

“Like I never left.”

Silence fell between them. Saria wanted so much to say something, to empathize, to offer him the understanding he deserved. But what could she say? Was there anything to say at this point? Did she truly understand his struggles, his uncertainties? Did he or could he ever understand hers in return?

Did they have anything in common at all anymore?

Her eyes wandered over his legs and torso, his adolescent form showing signs of the man he would one day become. It occurred to her, quite painfully, that as time passed, Link would continue to grow and age, while she, a Kokiri and Sage of the Forest, pressed onward, preserved by the magics of the Sacred Realm and her duties as the guardian of the Forest Temple.

Self-conscience, Link fidgeted under Saria’s piercing gaze, intimidated by the intensity in her face. He cleared his throat, snapping her back to reality. All at once she realized her folly, backing into the shadows to the hide the reddening of her cheeks.

Clumsily, she struck up idle conversation. Hopefully, she wouldn’t sound as embarrassed as she felt.

“You’re clothes,” she pointed. “You’re not wearing your Kokirin robes.”

Lowering his chin, Link tugged at the front of his shirt. “I outgrew them.”

“I could sew a new one for you!” she beamed, clasping her hands in excitement. “I don’t want to pat my own back here, but we Kokiri make excellent tailors. It’d be no trouble at all and I have nothing but time!” She smiled expectantly.

Link shook his head. “Thanks Saria, but no. I’d feel… strange wearing them.” He braced himself, knowing his next statement would sting. “I’m Hylian, Saria. I have always been Hylian.”

Saria flinched at his words. It was a gut-wrenching truth that separated their two worlds. His words hurt—her crestfallen expression said as much—but rang true. She brought her hands back behind her, eyes to the floor.

“What can I say…?” He mentally berated his insensitivity, clenching his fists. “I know I haven’t contacted you in… months. I’d always meant to, but time kept slipping away.” His words were heavy. “It’s so hard to keep track these days…”

Saria sniffed, her voice soft. “I know what you mean.”

“Please, Saria,” he pleaded, stepping forward. “I can’t explain it, I don’t have words for it, but Hyrule…” Link subconsciously rubbed his hand. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Saria hesitated a moment, peeling her eyes from the floor. Something indiscernible flashed in her face, a concern-filled grimace looking back at him.

She sighed.

“You’d better come with me.”

---

They rode the lift to the basement levels, her back facing Link in their silent descent. She’d been relaxed at first, at east. But now she fidgeted, nervously, worried and unnerved, her eyes bearing holes of anxiety into the stone walls. He sensed she was withholding, reluctant to unveil—or perhaps, confess—that which had brought him to her, their worlds once again entwined in chaos.

Was peace too much to hope for? Were they asking too much of life?

The lift came to an abrupt halt, its wooden base echoing against the concrete floors. With it parked, they were clear to continue on, but neither of them moved—or even breathed—an inch. Wary and slightly humbled, it was several seconds before either stepped forward from inside the lift, Link’s boots making contact with the carmine carpet.

The basement architecture was identical to the upper levels. The lift served as the basement’s centerpiece, branching out into five separate rooms, accented by decorative floor covering. The room facing Link was lined with cobalt carpeting, flecks of earth dotting the rich and otherwise flawless material. Its path was darker than the other four, and colder too. Link could feel it brushing against his arms and cheeks, his body shuddering involuntarily against the chill, that unnamed stench threatening to resurface from the recesses of his memories.

Saria mumbled something at his left, but his attention was fixated on the door at the end of the hall, towering menacingly even in the dimmed light. The door that he approached absently, as if in a trance, Saria trailing behind him worriedly. He’d never dreamed, in the three years since his return, he’d ever again step foot inside Phantom Ganon’s lair.

Only Saria physically shaking his shoulder seemed to break its spell, her tiny fingers pointing at and beyond the barrier of the door.

Its surface was cold. He brushed his hands against the metal, the door sliding upwards, disappearing into the frame and granting them access to the master chamber. Inside, the staircase spiraled to a plateau, rope fencing lining the circumference of the platform. Almost immediately, he noticed the pictures had changed—instead of the darkened path and castle, the images were filled with scenes from other areas of the Temple. One was a recreation of the gardens—the wooden bridge over the water, the vines crawling up the ancient pillars, corners of the moss-covered well peeking out from the edge of the court. He analyzed each, circling the room, nauseated by its panoramic view.

Something else was different too. In the middle of the room was a pedestal, made of an archaic stone resembling that of the other décor of the Temple. It too was covered in vines and moss stretching up from its base. But the top was empty. Whatever the stand had been holding previously was missing.

Saria watched as Link moved about, absorbing the similarities and differences, tracing the unnamed expression that followed his movements across the room. He did a three-sixty of his surroundings, before coming to rest on Saria, a look of devotion and enthrallment in her eyes. A blush crept to her cheeks when she realized he had once again caught her gaze. And again she was grateful for the poor light, masking her embarrassment as he stood to face her.

But this time, she would not back away.

“That’s new.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stand.

“It’s used to hold the Spiritual Stone,” she explained. “The Kokiri’s Emerald.”

After resetting time and restoring Hyrule, the Sages agreed that keeping the Spiritual Stones at the Temple of Time was too dangerous a risk. The Stones together held the power to unlock the Door of Time, and open the path to the Sacred Realm. At the idea of unleashing Ganon, the Stones were immediately separated, and returned to their original caretakers. The Spiritual Stone of the Forest was given to Saria, the Spiritual Stone of Fire to Darunia, and the Spiritual Stone of Water to Ruto, for safekeeping. Link was never told what became of the Spiritual Stones, only that they were “in good hands,” and to “never again seek the power of the Goddesses.” It never occurred to him that they were stored in their elemental counterpart Temples.

“I keep the Spiritual Stone here, at the centermost point of the Temple,” she continued. “In the basement level, surrounded by stone and earth on all sides—it’s the safest place.”

Link absently scratched his cheek, tilting his head to one side. “So…if you keep it here, where is it now?”

Shamefully, Saria bowed her head, a hand just brushing the sides of her brow. She held it there, guilt-stricken, before leveling her gaze with Link’s.

“…I tried calling you, Link. I did.” Her voice cracked. “But I…” She stopped, emotion catching in her throat.

“Saria…?”

“I don’t know how it happened,” she shivered, “or who could have taken it. But please believe me—I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days!”

“It’s gone?!”

Saria gave a feeble nod, sniffling hard.

“But when…?”

“It went missing a few days ago.”

She shook her head, raising her hands in disbelief. “I check it everyday, religiously. It’s always right here, in this very spot.” She stamped her hands on either side of the stand. “No one’s been inside the Temple; no one but me. …It’s not like anyone could walk out with it!” she wailed. “I don’t know where it could be—I can’t sense it anywhere! It’s like it just up and…vanished into thin air!”

Her hands fell at her sides.

“Please forgive me, Link.”

Link said nothing, his brain buzzing a mile a minute. He kept repeating it in his head. The Spiritual Stone was gone… The Spiritual Stone was gone…

Where the hell could it have went?

He crossed his arms, tapping the toe of his boot against his heel. Saria was on the verge of tears, her eyes glued to the floor.

“Are you sure no one’s been inside the Temple?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Saria exclaimed. “The only visitors I have are the Kokiri, and they never go beyond the front steps.”

With Saria’s duties as the Sage of the Forest, she could never return to Kokiri Village. To justify her absence, Saria, in a physical form, told the Kokiri that the Great Deku Tree had summoned her, appointing her with the task of protecting the Temple in the event of his death. It wasn’t a lie, not completely, but she hated deceiving their trusting, innocent minds.

“They visit me—the Know-It-All-Brothers, the Twins, Mido. But only out front. They’re too frightened to go inside.”

“And you tried contacting me, but couldn’t?”

Saria sniffled again, reaching into her pouch to reveal a broken ocarina.

“My Fairy Ocarina is broken. I don’t know how it happened…” She swallowed, hard. “Please Link, I’m an absolute mess. What’s going on?”

The Spiritual Stone was gone, and her ocarina smashed. Link was a little overwhelmed, but he felt her uncertainty and saw the distress in her eyes. He needed to be strong…for both of them.

Link gave her a sympathizing, but reassuring look. “Don’t worry, Saria. It’ll be alright. We’ll figure out what to do.” He smiled, feeling energized by the challenge. “And I know exactly where to begin!”

Saria looked up, wiping a tear from her eye. “You do?”

Link nodded. “Zelda.”