I don't own the Legend of Zelda
Centuries passed. Time flowed rapidly like a river, ever changing, never still. Wars were fought, forests burned, towns built and heroes came and went; yet Ghirahim remained ignorant of all this, asleep in his mighty blade, long forgotten. His sleep was not a peaceful one, his spirit remained restless, it yearned to be awakened and wielded once more. Ivy snaked its way up the pedestal and curled around his handle. Wild foliage grew up around the clearing, but animals wouldn't dare approach it, sensing the evil presence there. So Ghirahim was alone, deprived of the company of a fellow life form. He seemed destined to stay this way for all eternity, until one day when a green clan boy happened to stumble across him.
Link had just returned the master sword to its rightful place in the Sacred Grove and had decided to go home for a well earned rest after his long adventure. However, he got lost very quickly. Nothing looked familiar to him in this maze of tree
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