Who Do You Think You Are?
by Frodo

Who are we? Aside from the ragged scraps of lies that we cling to, calling them the truth, we know little about who we are. We may live our whole lives without knowing who we truly are. Which is in our best interests, for the emotional strain could very well destroy our feeble minds. Unfortunately, not all of us are lucky enough to live a life without facing the lie we live ...

They called him Link. They revered him as a hero. All was good. That was, until the day that the dreams began. They started out innocently enough, but all dreams are that way. They lure us in with thoughts pleasing to our weary minds, then trap us in tangled webs of nightmares. Such dreams plagued the hero.

Who are you? It was a simple enough question, and it masked the malice that the dreams always held. Link witnessed as all his glorious accomplishments were whisked by his subconscious mind. He would bask in the glow of warmth he felt. After all, he had saved Hyrule from the evil hordes of Ganon.

However, the dreams seldom dwelt on those pleasant thoughts. He was suddenly robbed of the chance to bask in his glory, for soon he was whisked to view his other feats, those of cowardice, of anger, of greed. He watched in horror as he ran from Saria. He watched as the Deku Tree died, and all he did was watch. He watched as millions of other images flashed in front of his feeble mind.

Then suddenly, he would awake, his sweat-drenched form held in Zelda's loving arms. He would stare at her face as she whispered words of comfort to him, and he would loose sight of the dreamsā message in self-pity.

So, Link, the glorious Hero of Hyrule, was confronted every night. And every night, he would loose the message intended for him in a wave of self-pity.

Months past and still he was haunted by the dreams. He became a ghost of his former self, his hair unkempt, his face gaunt, dark circles forming under his eyes, a few nights stubble always coated his face. Few who did not know him would even recognize him as their glorious hero, simply because he no longer lived up to their expectations.

Each day he would kneel before the altar in the Temple of Time and pray to whatever gods there were that his suffering would end. But each night, he was again visited by the nightmares, and they only got worse.

He began to loose faith, but his prayers were to be answered. One night, he watched as visions of horror were again shown to him as he struggled to awaken. But he could not escape into reality and his lover's waiting arms. He was forced to watch scene after horrible scene was played before his eyes. He cried out in agony. Then, the dream took a turn for the worse.

The figure was made of the darkest shadow, and it would not stay in any fixed form. It kept shifting from one horrifying figure to another. Link tried to turn and run, but he found his feet rooted to the ethereal ground. He stared in horror as the shadow approached him. He saw every pained expression it took for its momentary form figures trapped in a moment of pain, or anguish. With one of its shadowy hands, it grabbed Link's chin, forcing him to stare deep into its pain- filled eyes.

When it spoke, its voice was like a million voices crying out in pain at once. "Welcome to my world," it hissed, still forcing Link to gaze deeply into its eyes.

"What do you want with me?" Link screamed, his voice sounding raw as if he had cried out for hours without end.

"What does anyone want with a murderer?" the beast asked. "I want to show you the endless pain you have inflicted upon others."

"I'm not a murderer! I am a hero!" Link cried, anger giving an edge to his voice.

"The truths you pitiful beings hold dear rest all together to much on a certain point of view," the thing said, its voice dripping with contempt. "You have killed, and therefore you have committed murder."

"That truth also depends on a certain point of view," Link cried, his anger giving rise to a new strength.

The beast laughed, an awful sound, akin to the cry that animals make in their last few seconds of life. "It does not. In my world things are shown as they truly are. There is no lie about the glories of war, the nobility of killing thousands, as you have done."

"They were simply monsters."

"As are you. However, I plan to treat you with more respect for life than you did those you have killed."

Suddenly, Link felt a **** to the back of his ethereal head, and darkness consumed his mind.

For the first time in months, he found himself drifting off into a pleasant dream, one of an island. He dreamed of himself as a giant whale with wings, and fancifully called himself the Wind Fish. He dreamed of a maid named Marin and her father Tarin. He dreamed of a village of animals, and a woman who kept Bow-wows as pets. He dreamed of monsters that roamed the island, and of a nightmarish creature that commanded them. He dreamed of a hero, looking much like himself, who freed the island of the black evil, who freed the Wind Fish of his dream, and plunged him into oblivion.

Zelda cried, sobs racking her slim form. Her lover had fallen asleep. He would not be awakened. Yet there was something about the peaceful expression on his face that left her feeling that much better. For in death he would have the peace that he had so craved in life...