Okay, here's the start of yet another OoT-from-Sheik's-side story.

Roll with me here, okay?

Title: Shadow Born

Rating: T, for teen.

Summary: Ordered by Zelda to assist Link whenever and however he can, Sheik of the Sheik'ah finds himself partnered to a hero of legend.

His name is Link.

He is the Hero of Time.

If Hyrule is to be saved, he must succeed.

Those three things, a physical description seven years out of date and Her Highness' stories of their meetings were all I knew about this 'Link'. Hardly all the necessary information for a successful completion of the assignment. Sadly, there was not much more to be had. The Kokiri Forest was sealed away from the outside world by magic as old as Hyrule and no one would risk going there unless they had no regard for their own life or unless they were Sheik'ah under orders.

I had never been ordered to enter that place and so I remained nearly uninformed about this person, this Kokiri boy. It was disconcerting. My people had made his legend part of our duty for almost one thousand years, but we still knew so little. Now that he was finally here, I did not have more than a handful of facts about him. Information, that precious coin, was in such short supply. I was going to have to do this on my own; an unpleasant prospect.

It was night when the Hero came. Darkness had seeped into the desecrated town and hidden everything in black, which suited me perfectly as I never wanted any sort of confrontation taking place. There was, thankfully, nothing in the ruined town worth worrying about. Redeads and Poes are easily avoided. Lizalfoes, Stalfoes, Iron Knuckles, the human mercenaries he employed from time to time, Gerudo; those things were worth worrying about. The attention a clash could attract was worth worrying about. I was entering an area where the hammer of the Three was – quite literally – poised over my head.

I did not recognize the castle floating in the sky. That was… good. If he had kept it in its previous form, it would have been an even greater insult.

Dead things, twisted things, foul things, unclean things; they walked the streets and I slipped past them. Things that were once people lurked in the charred remains of what had once been the jewel of Hyrule. Did they remember what that place had looked like? I barely could.

So, he had stolen the castle and defiled the town. Why then did the Temple of Time stand inviolate and immaculate, hardly the worse for wear after seven years of neglect? Was it out of some twisted respect or reverence for the place where he had descended from the higher realm? Arrogance? I can believe that one, except it is not arrogance when it is the truth. The Black King thought himself a God King and no one had yet proved him wrong.

This one, this boy in green, would be the one to change that. So said Zelda Harkinian, my princess and master, and her foresight had never failed her yet.

The thought that this time might be that ominous 'yet' was calmly pushed away.

What will be, will be.

I entered the Temple of Time through the ruins of the market town and waited. I did not wait long. She had said it was the night and she was correct, as always. There was the static, hyper charged sensation of lightning about to strike and something like sunlight began gleaming down from the ceiling. There was no sun out, however, and even if there had been, it had not shined on that damned town for years.

It brightened, quickly becoming cuttingly intense and I shut my eyes. There was a knife in my hand, the end result of old habits. It amounted to nothing though. The light lasted for five beats of my heart and then faded as quickly as it came. When the light disappeared and I could look safely, there was a man standing on the dais of the Master Sword.

The Hero of Time.

Green tunic, red-gold hair, blue eyes and, after a moment, a small ball of white light drifted out from beneath his cap to hover in his personal space; that was Navi, the forest fairy.

So, it was he.

I was…

…I cannot find the words. How do you describe meeting a legend? Seeing for yourself that they are flesh and bone and blood?

He was no mythic figure, which is certainly the truth. The light faded, that searingly bright blue-white rushing vortex that had dropped him from the Sacred Realm, and what stepped out of the Goddesses' domain was a very mortal man. His first action after returning to the mortal world from a seven year absence was to look around wildly, stretching his gaze even up the high ceiling of the temple. Confusion was drawn all over his features.

It occurred to me just then that perhaps he no idea what had transpired. Perhaps he had lain hands on the blade as a child and then, suddenly, there he stood a man. Perhaps he would walk out of the temple and not understand why everything was bleak and dead. Perhaps he thought he had just only now entered the Sacred Realm and would set off in search of the Triforce.

But no; he did know what had happened, if only in the barest sense. I knew this the moment the fairy flew up from his head and spoke, "Link… we're back in the Temple of Time. But have seven years really passed?"

Oh yes, small lady. They truly have.

He pulled something out from his pockets. His hand obscured it for a moment, but then I saw the object clearly. The Hero was holding a small slingshot, the kind that children play with. For a moment, I wondered why he had such a thing, but then I realized he must have carried it with him seven years earlier. As I saw it, the same hand that had likely fit perfectly around the slingshot's grip when he last pulled it out now made it appear weak and fragile.

His face gazed at the slingshot with blank incomprehension.

He seemed to be thinking, 'how could this be?'

Hero, you have slept long.

The fairy seemed to take it as hard as he did. "It looks like you won't be able to use some of the weapons you found as a kid anymore.…"

He had used it as a weapon? That was mildly impressive, something a Sheik'ah would do - turn an innocuous toy into an instrument of death.

He stared at it for a few moments longer and then slowly put it away. "Yeah, I guess not," he agreed.

His voice was not a man's, but it was not a boy's either. It was not the high pitched sound of a child, but had not yet fully deepened. Why had I expected otherwise?

The fairy moved, quick and skittish, circling around the Hero's head twice before coming to a stop in front of his face.

"Let's get out of here!"

I could not find fault with her for sounding upset. Because of who and what I am, I have never enjoyed setting foot in any temple or shrine to the Three even before the Black King rose to power. Now, seven years after that day, the Temple of Time had gained an ominous undertone to its serenity and seemed to house the proverbial calm before the storm. Whether it was the lack of light through the windows or the utter silence from outside, save the howling of the wind, the temple had become almost frightening to those two. Even I was feeling more disquieted within its halls and I have seen nightmares walking the world in flesh.

So, no, I did not blame them for wishing to leave.

What I did find fault for, what I found to be almost disgusting, was the fact that neither of them had taken the slightest notice of my presence.

It was unfair of me to expect it from the Hero, maybe, but that fairy should have been able to sense my presence, even if she could not actually see me. Had seven years been enough to rattle her wits? The eyes of a Sheik'ah can manipulate the mundane beings of this world easily enough, but one of the Fae should not be so oblivious and not that Fae in particular. Her negligence could cost the Hero his life and that was unforgivable.

So I stepped out from the shadows behind the pedestal and dropped all pretence of stealth, something I actually had to work for. To allow the sound of my boots hitting the floor, to allow the rasp of leather and cloth as I moved, to sheath the knife I had drawn not a minute before and present myself in plain sight to these strangers, who I could have killed a dozen times over, as someone who meant no harm; these things went against my grain and it near lifted the hair off my neck.

I will not give him any credit for realizing I was there after I allowed him to. Anyone would have heard my footsteps and any warrior with decent instincts would have sensed my presence. Even then, when I came to a stop before the pedestal, there was a moment when he hesitated. No doubt he was running through his options, but even that was too slow, too trusting. If I had been anyone else, anything else, I would not have given him that courtesy. If he did not understand that, I would have to teach him very quickly.

A heartbeat passed with him standing frozen, his back to me. The crest of the Hyrulian royal family, laid atop the steel of his shield, nearly glowed in the dark. It had been polished recently, but by who? Certainly not him.

Then the tense peace shattered and he drew the Master Sword.

In spite of his confusion, in spite of his weakness born from seven years of atrophy, there was a moment when he held the Sword of Evil's Bane straight and unflinching at my face.

And I knew fear.

The man I had seen was gone and in his place was a warrior, like me, but so very different.

Then his arm shook, the blade's point swayed off center, and he collapsed on one knee. His shield, which he had slung onto his right arm with the same blinding speed that he used to draw the Master Sword, was nearly dragging him to the floor. The blade itself was no better. He was holding onto the hilt as tightly as he could, I saw that clearly, but he literally could not bring it to bear on me, even on the floor as he was.

"Link?!"

The fairy was whirling around his shoulders, frantically calling his name. The Hero himself was still staring at me, but the blank look of do-or-die had faded from his face and now he was simply terrified. His breath came in great, heaving gasps and I saw his cheeks staining themselves bright red. He was trembling, but not with fear.

Not a minute after leaving the Sacred Realm and he was already exhausted.

I recall thinking, there are no words for this, but pathetic.

"I have been waiting for you, Hero of Time…."

Looking back, I can now see how that may have been misconstrued as malevolence. Had I taken a moment to think about things from their point of view, I confess that having a stranger step out of seemingly nowhere and say that he had been waiting for me would not be a quick way to gain my trust.

"'When evil rules all, an awakening voice from the Sacred Realm will call those destined to be Sages, who dwell in the five temples. One in a deep forest; one on a high mountain; one under a vast lake; one within the house of the dead; one within a goddess of the sand. Together with the Hero of Time, the awakened ones will bind the evil and return the light of peace to the land….'"

Those words had been drilled into me, along with many others, as a part of my heritage and duty. In many ways, they were as much a part of me as the armor and weapons I carried.

So too, perhaps, was the young man in front of me.

"This is the legend of the temples passed down by my people, the Sheik'ah."

And just like that, I had done the unthinkable and tossed away the last shreds of secrecy that guarded my identity. I had just met him and already he was making me break tradition after tradition, habit after habit.

If I had known then that it was only the beginning of such tendencies, I do believe I would have wanted to vomit.

"I am Sheik, a survivor of the Sheik'ah. I have been ordered to help you awaken the Sages."

"You… you're like Impa?" the Hero panted.

"Yes. She is a part of my tribe," I responded.

"Le… Lemme see your eyes," he forced out.

Was he truly that out of breath? Our impossible task had just risen a bit higher.

Even in the unearthly light that always seemed to shine around the pedestal, my cowl and hair still hid most of my face. I stepped forward two paces and knelt to be even with his face.

We are the Sheik'ah, the Shadow Folk. Even in our prime, when we numbered in the hundreds, we took care to remain hidden. Few knew we existed for certain, even less knew anything about us.

But through rumor and legend, everyone knew about our eyes.

He stared at them for four seconds – too long – and then looked away, his muscles finally relaxing.

"Okay. You're Sheik. So…." He looked up at me again and he seemed to be smaller, somehow.

"What now?"

I blinked, feeling confused. "Now we leave. You did not expect to stay here, did you?"

"Well, no, but," the Hero laughed uncomfortably and gestured around. "I'm not… feeling too great right now. I'm not sure I can walk very far."

"You must," I said simply.

I stood up and pulled him up along with me. His knees would not lock and he fell on top of me. Reflex, that old friend, kicked in hard and I had a knife in my left hand just as I braced him with my right.

That was twice now that this young man had made me draw a knife without actually presenting me with a threat. It was getting rather irritating.

"Stretch your legs," I said. "Walk slowly until you have the feel of them, but do not fall. We must leave immediately."

"Why? What's wrong?" the fairy asked.

I began walking towards the doors, towing the Hero behind me with one hand.

"Ganondorf is practically on top of us. Even on the slight chance that his creatures missed your arrival, he most certainly would not. Someone or something will be coming to examine what happened soon and we must not be here when they arrive."

"What?!" the fairy yelled. Her small, glowing body zoomed down and began darting and weaving around the Hero as she shouted encouragement and orders.

"Link, come on! Move it! We gotta go right now!"

"Navi, I heard him and I'm trying my best!" The Hero snapped back.

If that was his best, then I was going to have a serious problem getting him out of the market town. We were moving nearly at a crawl and behind me I could feel him swaying back and forth with each step. It would not do. We had to move faster.

I stepped back and slid my shoulders beneath the arm of the hand I held. The Hero blinked incomprehensibly at me and then yelped when I stepped forward, dragging him with me.

"Move your legs," I said when he nearly dragged us both down to the floor with his immobility.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Moving you as best I can," I snapped, finally beginning to lose my patience. "We need to leave now and you are taking too long."

Mercifully, he did not protest further and began shuffling his legs as best he could to match my pace. We were still moving at a turtle's pace as we exited the Temple of Time and stepped out into the night.

That was the one moment when he froze utterly and became a living statue. He stopped breathing for a moment – with his chest pressed against mine, I could feel the very beating of his heart – and something like a whine gurgled out of his mouth. His eyes, vacant like a scared child's, locked onto mine.

"What is this?" the Hero moaned.

"Move," I ordered. When his legs stayed still, I pressed forward anyway. Half led and half carried, he had no choice but to follow me.

"What is this?" the Hero asked again, his voice louder. "This isn't the town, is it?"

"Be silent," I replied. "Noise draws attention."

There was nothing waiting for us in temple's gardens. That only made my tension rise. We reached the fence that surrounded the grounds and it rose further. A hole had been ripped across our reality, such as our world had not seen in seven years. Anyone and anything with the slightest arcane sense would have felt it across the entire continent, perhaps even further, and yet nothing had appeared to bar our way. One of the bearers of the Triforce, the essence of the Goddesses, was not ten miles from our position and yet he did not come. The elders say death comes from the shadows behind, but that was not Ganondorf's way. He destroyed anything that crossed him with the brute force of a storm, but no such disaster had befallen us by the time I boosted the Hero over the temple fence and vaulted after him. It was as though no one and nothing had sensed anything amiss, which of course meant something was deeply wrong.

My original plan had been to take the Hero through the market square itself. It was the fastest way out of the town and the wide open space would allow for better fighting when the inevitable horde descended on us. His condition upon emerging from the Sacred Realm and the disturbing lack of a horde changed that. He clearly was not in any condition to fight or sprint, which ruled out the market square. Even on the best of days, there were Redeads waiting to paralyze and devour the unwary. I could not count on the Hero being able to evade their gaze and grip when he could not so much as walk without staggering from side to side like a drunkard. Additionally, the feeling of a trap slowly closing around my neck made me want the small, shadowed back alleys of the town; those were conditions that I favored, things that would make it easier to protect the Hero or escape our foes, if need be.

We crept through those alleys, the Hero, the fairy and I, treating every small rustle as though an army were about to burst from the shadows. The fairy was, at first, a concern to me. Her bright light would draw the gaze of many potential threats, but that in itself was soon turned to our advantage. I asked her to fly ahead of us, lighting the way and drawing out any threats. By some miracle, nothing truly dangerous crossed our path. Two Redeads and a Poe were all that we saw that night, and only the second Redead forced a confrontation. Before that, we found ways of bypassing the threats while the fairy made a lure of herself, bobbing ahead of them to keep their attention. The Redead we could not evade I eliminated from afar and waited to see if anything would crawl free from the darkness to eat its flesh. Nothing did. Not long after that, we reached the town walls.

The cobblestones of the street had been torn up around the gutter years before, probably by one of my own, to form a quick entrance to the sewer system beneath. The tunnels were smaller than I was tall, forcing me to hunch over as I walked. The Hero, who was taller than I, was even worse off. He was forced to keep both hands on either side of the tunnel for balance as he shuffled behind me, both of us following the fairy's light as she floated towards the dimly lit circle that marked the area where the tunnel opened into a drainage ditch. Slime, mud formed over a period of years and stagnant water splashed around our feet as we went. The bars that had once blocked the mouth of the tunnel had been filed off, very likely by the same enterprising individual who had made that rough opening into the sewer. I did not know for sure who had done it, but I was thankful that they had informed Impa of its existence. Had I not had a vague remembrance of her words regarding that particular passage into and out of the town, leaving with the Hero would likely have been much more difficult.

I dropped out of the tunnel and slid down to the moat that had once surrounded the south end of Castle Town with clean water. By the time the Hero fell into it, the waters were fouled and barely moving. Scum coated the top of the water and a vile stench filled the air. I knew that Ganondorf sometimes threw the bones and flesh of those he killed over the walls of the town and, doubtless, I was swimming over those remains as they rotted beneath my feet.

Behind me, the Hero was flailing and gagging pitifully every other second. The fairy was bobbing gently in front of him, whispering encouragement to his ears. It was only the work of a few short strokes to reach the other end of the moat for me. One heave and I was out of the stagnant water, dripping onto the dried, dead grass that sprouted as far as the eye could see. Turning to check on the progress of my charge, I found him only halfway across the water. His movements were weak and slow; his mouth and nose dipped beneath the surface often as he failed to keep his head up.

Pathetic.

He managed a few more dismal strokes and those, thankfully, brought him within my grabbing range. I seized his wrist and pulled, hauling him halfway out of the water and no further. Between his waterlogged clothes and his weapons, he was too heavy to lift without use of my legs. As he sputtered like a fish (not an inappropriate thought, as I had yanked him out of the water like one), I gathered my legs beneath me and grabbed hold of the bandolier holding the Master Sword to his back. Then I pulled.

This time, he left the water entirely, dirty liquid coming in streams from every inch of him. If I smelled as terrible as he, any trackers sent after us would be able to follow our trail, even were they blind and deaf. And he just lay there; the Hero of Time, our prophesized savior, shaking and groaning like a newborn horse who has tried to walk for the first time.

Something was waking in me, something sharp and hot. It centered in my gut and spread like sap to my arms, my legs, my fingers, my toes; I itched to do something, though I did not know what.

"Get up," I said. No, ordered.

He groaned and rolled over onto his belly. His arms and legs shuffled feebly, but he did not rise.

"Get. Up," I repeated, a razor edge added to my voice. At the time, I did not recall ever speaking like that, ever feeling like that, before in my life. Looking back now, I know different. But then, don't we all try to forget the things that we do not like?

"I can't," the Hero moaned.

Something in me twisted and I was hauling him up by the back of his tunic before he could protest. He leaned against me like an uprooted tree; all weight and no balance. The fairy buzzed agitatedly in front of us, her glow ruining my night sight and her ramblings helping no one.

"Be silent," I said. "If you want to help, then ensure we are not walking into a trap. We cannot stay here and it will be a long walk before we reach our destination."

The fairy hovered in front of me for a long moment and then flittered away. Unkind mutterings trailed in her wake, most of the holding the words 'Sheikah' and 'jerk'.

Floating fool, I thought. I neither need nor want your good opinion.

I placed one foot forward and dragged the Hero along with me. And another. And another. After thirty yards, he seemed to find his second wind (such as it was) and began stumbling along as best he could to lighten his burden on me. Each step brought us further from the battered walls of Castle Town and closer to the rocky hills that lay between it and Kakariko Village.

Those hills wrapped around the north, east and most of the west of Castle Town. They were nearly impossible to navigate on foot and, at the time, they were our best bet towards reaching Kakariko without notice. My tribe had been using them for centuries, long before Ganondorf was even born, and although I knew he had sent Gerudo scouts to investigate and navigate the hills in the years since his takeover, I also knew that they had not one-tenth the understanding of them as I did. As barren as they were, monsters would find no sustenance and would surely starve. It was only the undead that we had to fear within them.

Beside me, the Hero huffed with each breath and weighed heavily on my shoulder. The thought that he would collapse before we arrived crossed my mind and I discarded it. I would drag him if need be. This boy, whatever I thought of him, was the one who could kill Ganondorf and end his reign. If he was weak now, I would simply have to make him strong.

And once we arrived at my hiding place, it would be as good of a time as any to start.