Link's Curse 11
chapter 11
Link held the sword he had just found high above his head, then swung it at the nearest moblin to him. That particular moblin was holding a short sword, even
shorter than then one Link had bought at the shop in Kakariko village. The moblins puny blade was no match against Link's more powerful weapon. Link sliced off
the moblins hand easily, and the soul less creature screamed in pain. The hand that had been severed had been the hand holding the short sword. Now hand and sword
lay on the ground beside the writhing moblin. Another moblin swung a large spiked club at Link, but the elf blocked the blow with his sword, even cutting the wood-
en club in two. The moblin shrieked in surprised. Link wasn't finished. He swung the sword again, cutting the unarmed moblin across the middle. It screamed and
disappeared into a green mist.
Some of the moblins were getting angrier, and tried harder to attack Link, while others became afraid and backed off or ran off back down the tree stump or into
the forest. This did not soften Link's resolve at all, though, and he kept fighting off the hord of moblins. A few times, he got cut or hit with swords and clubs,
but he kept attacking. No serious injuries. As they fought, something strange, almost supernatural, began to happen. As Link tired from the battle, it was as if
the sword itself, or some power controlling it, took over and did the fighting for Link. He found this almost as exhausting as using his own strength, but when it
came over the sword, he didn't resist. He allowed it to happen. As Link watched, half fighting and half surrendering to the power, two moblins would fall. Then
four. Then eight. Then sixteen. And on and on and on...
When the sword finally came to a rest, not one moblin was left standing. They had either all died, disappearing into vapor, or had fled. The few injured that
remained lying on the grass were too weak to move and too tired to care. Link proudly stuck the sword into the ground and grinned. "All in a day's work," he
sighed. He glanced down into the wooden treasure box and noticed there was something else inside. He took a closer look. It was a sheath for the sword. It even
had a leather strap on it so the user could carry it with them. Link snatched it up and pulled the sword out of the ground. He slid it into it's sheath and placed
the strap about his body. It hung from shoulder to waist. If this was indeed the sword of prophecy, he sure felt complete. He felt as if he could take on any enemy
now. No obstacle was too difficult for him, since he had this wonderful weapon with him. And with it, he turned and marched back through the opening in the trees
and was on his way.
King Icabod was beyond furious when Winky reported to him that Link had escaped and killed many of his moblin army. "How?!" he pondered, angrily. "I had the only
key! He must have used some kind of magic I know not about." After fuming for a while, the king flogged poor Winky. He had to take his anger out on someone, after
all, and his number one moblin usually was the one who took the abuse. After that, the king ate a hearty breakfast alone, then armed himself with his best weapons
and exited his domain from a different way out. After retrieving his best horse from the stables, be rode south, towards Kakariko village. He was a hooded cloak, as
it had begun to rain slightly. After riding for about and hour, he came to the north entrance of Kakariko and pulled his horse to a halt. He walked her to the back
of the tavern where there was a smaller stable to tie up horses for a price. Icabod tied up his horse and entered the tavern quietly. He tossed a blue rupee to the
bar keep and said in almost a whisper, "That's for my horse. She's tied up in the stable out back." The bar keeper nodded and took the rupee. "How are things,
Walter?" asked the bar keeper, eyeing the cloaked figure uneasily. "Same as always," lied Icabod. "Life is hard out there. It's not easy to earn an honest rupee.
I'll have the usual. Cold mead."
The bar keep nodded silently and set to work. Icabod, or Walter, walked to his usual spot by the fireplace. He sat down, pretending to show signs of weariness.
He really felt fine. But his secret was safe with him. Only he, his moblin minion, a few others working for him, and now the elf knew who he truly was. "That darn
elf," he thought to himself. "I'll catch him off guard when he returns here, then destroy him for good." He chuckled to himself. The bar keeper brought him his
cold mead, and 'Walter' paid him a green rupee. "It's my last one," Icabod lied. He had become very good at telling lies, and the bar keep bought it without quest-
ion. Icabod sipped at his drink. It was awful, as usual, but he had to keep playing the game to reach his goal.
Link was surprised at how much light was showing through the trees as he made his way along the forest path, the same path he had traveled earlier on his journey
. It wasn't nearly as cold now either. Last time there had been snow on the ground still. Now, he could see the dirt path and the grass and flowers to either
side of the path. He also noticed more fire flies, though with the sunlight shining through, he didn't need their help to see now. At one point, Link stopped by a
large apple tree and plucked three large apples. He ate them all right there where he stood. He was famished from one night without food. But since he had lost his
pack, he had no way to carry extra apples with him. He took two more and placed them in him pocket, then continued on his way. After about half an hour, he came to
the end of the forest path and back out into the small clearing. There, he found a rather gaunt gentleman carefully chopping away at a small fir tree with a silver
axe. Link was startled by the man, and almost cried out in sudden surprise, but managed not to. The wood cutter didn't seem to notice Link standing there in the
clearing. He was too preoccupied with his task. The man mumbled to himself under his breath, sounding a bit frustrated.
He swung his axe and blade met wood. It made a dull thudding sound, not the sound Link had expected to hear from an axe blade trying to cut at a tree. The man
shook his head and sighed sadly. He tried again, suffering the same result. A dull thud. It appeared that the poor guy wasn't getting anywhere trying to cut down
the tree. There were only a few cut marks in the bark. "It's useless," said the man, lowering his axe and leaning on it. Link cleared his throat, and only then
did the fellow turn his head to notice the elf standing there. "Oh," he said, in a soft voice, "I didn't see you there, young lad. Where have you come from?"
"I have just escaped from wicked king Icabod's underground fortress," said Link, proudly. "You know, the one far north of here, swarming with moblins and other
hideous creatures." The wood cutter stared at Link for a moment looking puzzled, then nodded. "Yes," he said, "I believe I've heard of it. I stay away from such
areas. It's hard enough to feed myself and my family." Link turned his attention back to the tree. "What are you trying to do?" he asked, though he know the answer
already. "Isn't it obvious, boy?" said the wood cutter, "I am trying to cut down this tree to take home and use as kindling. But my axe seems to be very dull. How
will I ever get it cut down and home?" he asked, sadly. Link thought a moment, then, as if guided by some unseen force, he pulled out the sword of prophecy from
it's sheath and stepped towards the wood cutter and the small fir tree. At first, the wood cutter was taken aback. "I say young elf. Just what do you think you
are doing? Are you challenging me to a duel? I am not a fighting man by nature, but I will defend myself if need be..."
Link, beginning to understand what was happening, just ignored the wood cutter's worried threats and moved past the man and up the the tree. I one motion, he
swung his sword and cut the tree clean off, leaving only the stump remaining in the ground. Link was amazed by 'his' own work. The sword seemed to have a mind of
it's own. The wood cutter's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in shock. In moments, his shock had turned to joy. "You..." he stammered, "you cut the tree,
with your sword...! But, how?!" Link grinned. "It wasn't me," he said in an even tone. "But I saw YOU cut it with your own sword, my boy. Of course you did it. But,
won't you tell me how you did it?"
Link held the sword he had just found high above his head, then swung it at the nearest moblin to him. That particular moblin was holding a short sword, even
shorter than then one Link had bought at the shop in Kakariko village. The moblins puny blade was no match against Link's more powerful weapon. Link sliced off
the moblins hand easily, and the soul less creature screamed in pain. The hand that had been severed had been the hand holding the short sword. Now hand and sword
lay on the ground beside the writhing moblin. Another moblin swung a large spiked club at Link, but the elf blocked the blow with his sword, even cutting the wood-
en club in two. The moblin shrieked in surprised. Link wasn't finished. He swung the sword again, cutting the unarmed moblin across the middle. It screamed and
disappeared into a green mist.
Some of the moblins were getting angrier, and tried harder to attack Link, while others became afraid and backed off or ran off back down the tree stump or into
the forest. This did not soften Link's resolve at all, though, and he kept fighting off the hord of moblins. A few times, he got cut or hit with swords and clubs,
but he kept attacking. No serious injuries. As they fought, something strange, almost supernatural, began to happen. As Link tired from the battle, it was as if
the sword itself, or some power controlling it, took over and did the fighting for Link. He found this almost as exhausting as using his own strength, but when it
came over the sword, he didn't resist. He allowed it to happen. As Link watched, half fighting and half surrendering to the power, two moblins would fall. Then
four. Then eight. Then sixteen. And on and on and on...
When the sword finally came to a rest, not one moblin was left standing. They had either all died, disappearing into vapor, or had fled. The few injured that
remained lying on the grass were too weak to move and too tired to care. Link proudly stuck the sword into the ground and grinned. "All in a day's work," he
sighed. He glanced down into the wooden treasure box and noticed there was something else inside. He took a closer look. It was a sheath for the sword. It even
had a leather strap on it so the user could carry it with them. Link snatched it up and pulled the sword out of the ground. He slid it into it's sheath and placed
the strap about his body. It hung from shoulder to waist. If this was indeed the sword of prophecy, he sure felt complete. He felt as if he could take on any enemy
now. No obstacle was too difficult for him, since he had this wonderful weapon with him. And with it, he turned and marched back through the opening in the trees
and was on his way.
King Icabod was beyond furious when Winky reported to him that Link had escaped and killed many of his moblin army. "How?!" he pondered, angrily. "I had the only
key! He must have used some kind of magic I know not about." After fuming for a while, the king flogged poor Winky. He had to take his anger out on someone, after
all, and his number one moblin usually was the one who took the abuse. After that, the king ate a hearty breakfast alone, then armed himself with his best weapons
and exited his domain from a different way out. After retrieving his best horse from the stables, be rode south, towards Kakariko village. He was a hooded cloak, as
it had begun to rain slightly. After riding for about and hour, he came to the north entrance of Kakariko and pulled his horse to a halt. He walked her to the back
of the tavern where there was a smaller stable to tie up horses for a price. Icabod tied up his horse and entered the tavern quietly. He tossed a blue rupee to the
bar keep and said in almost a whisper, "That's for my horse. She's tied up in the stable out back." The bar keeper nodded and took the rupee. "How are things,
Walter?" asked the bar keeper, eyeing the cloaked figure uneasily. "Same as always," lied Icabod. "Life is hard out there. It's not easy to earn an honest rupee.
I'll have the usual. Cold mead."
The bar keep nodded silently and set to work. Icabod, or Walter, walked to his usual spot by the fireplace. He sat down, pretending to show signs of weariness.
He really felt fine. But his secret was safe with him. Only he, his moblin minion, a few others working for him, and now the elf knew who he truly was. "That darn
elf," he thought to himself. "I'll catch him off guard when he returns here, then destroy him for good." He chuckled to himself. The bar keeper brought him his
cold mead, and 'Walter' paid him a green rupee. "It's my last one," Icabod lied. He had become very good at telling lies, and the bar keep bought it without quest-
ion. Icabod sipped at his drink. It was awful, as usual, but he had to keep playing the game to reach his goal.
Link was surprised at how much light was showing through the trees as he made his way along the forest path, the same path he had traveled earlier on his journey
. It wasn't nearly as cold now either. Last time there had been snow on the ground still. Now, he could see the dirt path and the grass and flowers to either
side of the path. He also noticed more fire flies, though with the sunlight shining through, he didn't need their help to see now. At one point, Link stopped by a
large apple tree and plucked three large apples. He ate them all right there where he stood. He was famished from one night without food. But since he had lost his
pack, he had no way to carry extra apples with him. He took two more and placed them in him pocket, then continued on his way. After about half an hour, he came to
the end of the forest path and back out into the small clearing. There, he found a rather gaunt gentleman carefully chopping away at a small fir tree with a silver
axe. Link was startled by the man, and almost cried out in sudden surprise, but managed not to. The wood cutter didn't seem to notice Link standing there in the
clearing. He was too preoccupied with his task. The man mumbled to himself under his breath, sounding a bit frustrated.
He swung his axe and blade met wood. It made a dull thudding sound, not the sound Link had expected to hear from an axe blade trying to cut at a tree. The man
shook his head and sighed sadly. He tried again, suffering the same result. A dull thud. It appeared that the poor guy wasn't getting anywhere trying to cut down
the tree. There were only a few cut marks in the bark. "It's useless," said the man, lowering his axe and leaning on it. Link cleared his throat, and only then
did the fellow turn his head to notice the elf standing there. "Oh," he said, in a soft voice, "I didn't see you there, young lad. Where have you come from?"
"I have just escaped from wicked king Icabod's underground fortress," said Link, proudly. "You know, the one far north of here, swarming with moblins and other
hideous creatures." The wood cutter stared at Link for a moment looking puzzled, then nodded. "Yes," he said, "I believe I've heard of it. I stay away from such
areas. It's hard enough to feed myself and my family." Link turned his attention back to the tree. "What are you trying to do?" he asked, though he know the answer
already. "Isn't it obvious, boy?" said the wood cutter, "I am trying to cut down this tree to take home and use as kindling. But my axe seems to be very dull. How
will I ever get it cut down and home?" he asked, sadly. Link thought a moment, then, as if guided by some unseen force, he pulled out the sword of prophecy from
it's sheath and stepped towards the wood cutter and the small fir tree. At first, the wood cutter was taken aback. "I say young elf. Just what do you think you
are doing? Are you challenging me to a duel? I am not a fighting man by nature, but I will defend myself if need be..."
Link, beginning to understand what was happening, just ignored the wood cutter's worried threats and moved past the man and up the the tree. I one motion, he
swung his sword and cut the tree clean off, leaving only the stump remaining in the ground. Link was amazed by 'his' own work. The sword seemed to have a mind of
it's own. The wood cutter's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in shock. In moments, his shock had turned to joy. "You..." he stammered, "you cut the tree,
with your sword...! But, how?!" Link grinned. "It wasn't me," he said in an even tone. "But I saw YOU cut it with your own sword, my boy. Of course you did it. But,
won't you tell me how you did it?"
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