Hello...I'm kinda new to this section. If you don't know me, great! Nice to meet you! Don't tell the FFIX people I'm here!
If you do know me....I'll be getting that chapter up soon! I promise! No lynching! Keep off the grass!
Anyhow, about this story.It's mostly based on OoT, although I'm gonna try to shove the other games in there somehow. Roughly at best, considering the complete lack of canon continuancy issues, but hey. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

DISCLAIMER: I own exactly 0 of the characters portrayed here and place names cited. If that changes, trust me, I'll let you know. All original content herein is copyrighted to the authoress.

At one time, I believed that if a Kokiri left the forest, he would grow up. But, no matter how hard you believe something, this will not make it true. The truth is Kokiri never grow up. The truth is I am not a Kokiri. That is why I had to leave the forest, and seek my destiny among the Hylians, the people like me. That is why I grew up.
Growing up is an ongoing process, beginning when one first discovers himself as a child. After he discovers himself, he discovers the world around him. Discovering the world changes him, shaping and molding his body and mind into a, supposedly, greater being. The child one discovers and the adult he becomes are not the same person. That's what growing up does. These seven or so years, I've grown up in many ways, natural and unnatural. Hell, I've even grown up twice.
I remember the child I was. I was a child of action. I believed that I could do anything; that I could make the world a better place if I only tried. I am now a man of action. I basically believe the same thing; winning every battle I've begun seems to have proven my beliefs correct. However, I am not a man of action for the same reasons that I was a child of action. As a child, I thought I could do anything. As an adult, I find there are things I cannot do so well. I therefore do not step far outside of my comfortable habits of going as I please, deciding right from wrong as I will, and answering aggression with superior aggression.
The other difference is I find I'm prone to reminiscing. Take this bread in my hand. It's stale and moldy; worth far, far less than I just paid for it. I really should take the tavern owner to task for selling it to me. I could get very sick from the spore growth on it; in fact some molds are outright deadly. Ah, hell.
I bit into my bread, and took a glance about the room as I chewed on the less than savory substance. I seemed to be getting less than savory looks to go with it, and I was pretty sure it wasn't because the other patrons knew that my bread was moldy.
No, that would be because I'm what they'd call a ranger: a wanderer who knows the secrets of the far lands and lives by the sword, and often can be employed for disreputable jobs. To be sure, if I were to identify myself as "Link" some of them may heighten their opinion, and a few might even respect me, but most would continue to think what they do. Even mercenaries can do good things when paid by the right people.
And even I have ceased to identify myself as a hero. Rather, I consider myself a professional dungeon crawler, for that is how I earn my bread and bed. True heroism does not bring much profit, not to devalue any of the rewards people have given me to show their gratitude. For my own sake, as well as every one else's, I prefer to keep any extreme acts against injustice I make to come from my desire to help people and not from any desire for money.
Alas, few understand this. I was even asked by someone if I considered myself generous for rescuing the princess for a lesser amount than the ransom; if I really thought that was a service to my king and country. I told him I hadn't gotten a reward, but he didn't believe me.
Indeed, heroism is a child's world. When I was a child, my deeds were widely accepted, for no one will question the innocent pure-heartedness of a child. But now I am old enough to have the hidden motives of an adult, and my deeds are now only accepted by children. Perhaps this is an injustice even I cannot rectify. Or perhaps heroism belongs in the world of children. I'm not saying that heroism is pointless once you reach a certain age—quite the contrary, for the Gorons still consider me their brother for what I did for them—I'm just saying that there is very little room for it in adult society.
Now that I'm thinking of it, where are heroes placed in society anyway? I mean aside from the ones that are dead. Ah, yes. The shining knight in the shining castle. The only time he's seen is when he proudly rides his shining horse through the crowded streets in his shining armor, waving and throwing shining rupees. I'm not certain who'd freak more from all that armor, Epona or myself? But seriously, adults create their heroes, and adults choose to buy into it, whether or not heroism was involved. At times I wonder, am I not handsome enough for people to buy into my own gallant goodness? But then I remember, I'm missing some other key ingredients, such as noble birth, and I suppose some chivalry wouldn't hurt, and my failure to join the Royal Guard seems to have destroyed my reputation.
So it goes. It wouldn't bother me much at all if little kids would stop asking me when I was going to marry Princess Zelda.
In fact, it would've bothered me much, much less if Impa hadn't sat down right across from me just as I was thinking that.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," said she.
"Hi?" I said, trying not to let my mind race. Had Zelda been kidnapped again? Had Ganon found himself a new host already? Or someone else entirely? How much time did I have before all hell broke loose, and what ancient artifacts would I need to collect to prevent that?
"Why have you made yourself so difficult to track down?" she continued. Well, she seemed to be trying to be conversational, and not in much of a rush, so I supposed this was a good thing. I suppose I am rather hard to find, since for these past two years I've lived in and out of inns and have maybe visited my house once. It's an expensive lifestyle, but fortunes aren't hard to come by if you know where to look and you don't scare, um, ever.
"I just don't belong in those woods any more," I replied, examining the lichen-colored spots on my bread. They kind of reminded me of my old home, except for the stale smell. "I don't really belong anywhere. Hence, the wanderer's gig."
"I see," she nodded, looking quite content to just sit there. I guessed the world wasn't about to end anytime soon and picked at my finger for a spell. She still seemed happy to be sitting.
"Uh, did you want anything?" I asked, wondering if she had really been looking for me very long at all.
"Oh, no, I'll pay for myself," she shook her head politely, and then called for the waiter. That really wasn't what I had meant, but okay. I hadn't especially wanted to treat her. I waited until she was done ordering to try again.
"So…why were you looking for me?"
"I need to relay a message from Princess Zelda."
"She has a message for me?" I prodded, wondering why Impa was taking her sweet, sweet time.
"Yes, you see, she wishes to speak with you. I've come to ask you to come to the castle. You see, she would have come herself, and saved you a trip, but she can't very well leave the castle." That was almost disappointing, except for that key part: Zelda wanted to talk to me. Out of the blue.
"Did she say why?" I asked more, trying hard not to lean too far forward in my seat.
"No, not exactly. I believe it has something to do with some dreams she's been having." Ah, yes, dreams! Her prophetic ones… Not like my silly little daydreams. Well, that's what I get for letting my hopes soar too high. Okay, that's what I get for hoping.
"So, it's not urgent?"
"Well, she sent me," Impa looked rather offended. Great.
"I mean, a giant dragon isn't going to smash into the castle and send the surrounding area into an impenetrable blaze in a couple of hours, so I can sleep tonight in the bed I've already paid for?"
"Oh, quite," she nodded then thanked the waiter for the food he brought out. She was eating much better than me. Maybe I should look into that tomb in the cliff-face I was overhearing about yesterday. Impa continued talking: "Although Zelda is very anxious to see you, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't take too long." Don't word it that way, Impa…please?
"Okay," is what I said. She seemed rather intrigued with eating now, and didn't want to talk to me. I'd think she didn't like me, or something, but I know it's just her way. Besides, I doubt I'm much to talk to.
I rested my chin in my right hand and stared down at the back of my left for a while. Underneath the glove, there was the symbol of the Triforce etched into my hand, a mark I had acquired when the Triforce of Courage merged with me seven years ago. I hadn't noticed when it happened, and I really don't see what it did for me, unlike how the Triforce of Power had given Ganondorf incredible power and the Triforce of Wisdom had given Zelda incredible wisdom.
Zelda… It would be a great and copious task to count all the girls I've saved in my relatively short, though bizarre, lifetime. At least for someone like me, who's not geared towards numbers. Well, actually let me think…okay, somewhere in the 50s? 60s? Anyway, I'm stalling. The point is none of them have affected me quite like Zelda has. Which, ashamedly, is because I haven't affected her quite like I've affected the other ones. My helping the other ones has always meant the world to them. Now, Zelda has been involved in the majority of my rescue missions; the girl tends to get in trouble toting around something as powerful as the Triforce of Wisdom. Every time I rescued her, I felt like she was well on her way to getting the upper hand in the situation, and I was just a lucky break to get it under control quickly. Sometimes I get lucky and I'm a key part of her plans. But it sucks. I like her—I even like her a lot—for her resourcefulness and elegant cool-headedness. And that sharp, sharp tongue. Ack, I think I'm bleeding from just thinking about it! Oh wait, it's just ketchup. Now how did that get on my sleeve?
"I normally wipe a table down before I sit at it for that reason," said Impa. I looked up to see her handing me a handkerchief.
"Sounds like more trouble than it's worth," I replied, taking it from her and wiping my elbow.
"You can prevent things like this from happening if you do," she looked at me like I was some sort of moron. I looked around on the table. Yep, there was a smear of ketchup towards the outer edge of the table. I made a mental note to avoid it and tossed the handkerchief back to Impa.
"As I said, more trouble than it's worth."
"You won't even call the waiter to wipe it up?" she looked at me in disbelief.
"Should I?" I asked, dropping my head back into my hand and trying to make myself believe that Impa was actually arguing with me over some spilt ketchup. Her hand twitched, and then she attacked the poor little smear with a deadly fury. I think the table was injured as well from the furious wiping.
"I can't believe how lazy you are," she muttered as she did this. "I'd think you'd take a few cautionary steps at least to avoid washing your clothes."
"Too…much…forethought…Mind pressure high above normal! Hit the deck!" Of course, she may have had a point. I had barely even put any effort into making fun of her. She glared at me, using one of those weird gazes that seem to see straight through you. I knew exactly what she was thinking: How did this guy manage to save the world? He's pathetic! "I've had a long day," I explained. "Plus I've got a long trip ahead of me. There's gonna be a lot more stuff to wash out when I get to Hyrule Castle."
"Ketchup stains don't come out easily," she started to finish her food. Maybe she was mad because I wasn't intimidated by her. Heh. I closed my eyes and chilled a bit. I had no desire to talk about ketchup stains with anyone, much less one who picked on me about it. But she continued once she had swallowed: "I suppose you were even too lazy to exchange your bread." Now that's creepy.
"What of it?" I said, trying to sound disinterested rather than alarmed. Fruitlessly, probably. She was a Sheikah after all, and Zelda's personal servant and bodyguard at that, so there was probably nothing I could hide from her.
"Good grief." She was probably shaking her head, but I didn't bother to open my eyes to see. Huh, maybe I should take some initiative and go upstairs to bed. That would throw her down a bit, you know? So I decided to turn in, even though it wasn't all that late. It was better than sitting there and listening to The Great Impa.
"You staying here tonight?" I asked conversationally as I started gathering my gear.
"No, are you?" she raised an eyebrow at me.
"I already said I was—"
"I thought I might've changed your mind."
"…I figured I'd turn in early and get a good start tomorrow." Bitch. Actually, if I get up at the crack of dawn—yeech—I could raid that tomb for funds with little hassle. It probably won't be much, but traveling requires rupees, and I'm low on them.
"I'll see you in a week or so, then," she said getting up. There is no getting past that woman. "Take care. Of your clothes." She left the building. Maybe she thought she was being funny. Whatever; now she was gone, so I could go crash in peace. I made my way up the stairs to do so.
The room was absolutely crappy. The bed was on the opposite wall from the door—a good five feet away—and maybe had a foot between its foot and the wall. There was a rather broken rocking chair in the empty corner farthest from the door, which had what looked like the remnants of wallpaper behind it. The ceiling had a sharp-angled slope to it, which started just below where the top of the mattress was and ended up maybe four inches above the top of the door. No window. At least they had left the lantern on the wall on so I could at least see how bad it was. How thoughtful.
I sighed and began setting my equipment against the wall, hiding the more dangerous stuff under the very broken chair. One of its rockers was actually missing, now that I got a better view of it. I stepped out of my boots and slid them against the wall as well. I stripped down to my underwear and threw my ketchup-stained clothing on the chair. It kinda looked like it belonged there. I blew out the lantern and slid under the covers. I've slept in many beds, which should make me something of a bed expert, so take my word for it when I say this one was no good. I guess I could have dealt with the itchy blankets if I hadn't also been trying to deal with those four particular springs that were trying to implant themselves into my back. The pillow wasn't quite heaven either, and I didn't want to try to place what it smelled like. The smell was bad enough without my knowing where it came from. Better than the floor? …Yep. I'd have to get dressed again if I was going to try to sleep on that floor. Besides, don't termites bite?
Misery comes and goes, and goes more quickly if you stop thinking about it. That's the nice thing about thinking: you can change any situation you're in by A) thinking it out, B) thinking around it, or C) not thinking about it. Although my back was still gonna be sore in the morning. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about Zelda. She wanted to see me.
I know I should've stopped meditating on that thought already, but it's awfully hard to do so when I'm trying to sleep and I'm not tired. However, lying in the darkness long enough is always going to get me to sleep soon enough. I've yet to experience the exception.

Yeah...Link is open to some interpretation, if you ask me. He's a lot of fun to write this way...
Anyhow, let me know what you think.