Author’s note: When I revisited Chapter 1, I realised with horror that Link’s age was 13. Big mistake. It’s supposed to be 14. (I’m such a clod)

“Forgive my servants young one. They didn’t seem to listen when I told them a boy your age would be coming to live here.” The two were now walking down a carpeted corridor, with the servants trailing and despatching behind them. Link had to go at a fast rate to keep up with the lady’s brisk strides.
“It’s okay. I need to apologise to the butcher I kicked in the face too.”
“Don’t bother. They’re just servants after all. Now. First, one of the servants will show you to your room, another will get rid of your belongings, another will help you bath and will cut your fringe to the length it should be and then we shall organise about your schooling . . .”
“Wow wow wow wow! Slow down. Get rid of my stuff? You’ve got to be joking! Cut my hair? I would really appreciate it if you kept it this way and what in Farore’s name is a ‘school’?” Mistress Clarinda abruptly stopped, making Link almost trip over. She stared at the child in utter horror, making him want to fidget.
“You mean,” she seemed to have trouble with getting her words out, “you never had an education before?”
“Sure. I remember the alphabet off by heart, I can spell out a few words, I’m pretty confident on math but that would be pretty much it. I’ve never used a pen or a quill in my life. Except for drawing offcourse.” Clarinda was ready to faint.
“Excuse me child, but I have to go and deal with a few things. Rachel! Polan! Mala! You heard the instructions, take care of this boy for me.” They silently nodded and ushered Link away to his room. When they had turned a corner, the mistress leaned against the wall and exhaled.
“I just had to be drunk that night didn’t I?” Clarinda muttered to herself.

Link liked the maids straight away. They were friendly, nice and fun to talk to.
“Why does that lady want to get rid of my stuff?” Link asked. The three exchanged worried faces.
“I don’t mean to be rude or anything but the mistress wants everything that has got to do with peasants destroyed. Like your hat.” Mala replied; she had red hair and sparkling blue eyes that seemed to dance at the slightest joke.

“What’s wrong with my hat?” Polan answered the question.
“It’s a sign that show’s you’re a peasant.”
“Oh.” The conversation carried on in the same kind of manner. Link was finally able to convince the three that he can:
1) Throw away his stuff himself (But he intends to hide it instead)
2) Not have a hair cut (until it gets a little longer)
3) Not have a bath (until later in the day)

The room he was taken to was amazing (to him that is). There was a rather large bed, a desk, a wardrobe that covered most of a wall, a shelf of books and a veranda.
“What are you so amazed at?” Mala giggled. Link just stood and gaped at his new room like a gold fish.
“It’s not what I’m use to.” Rachel stepped to the wardrobe and pulled out something.
“Here are your new clothes that you have to wear from now on.” Link made a face.
“Please say that you’re joking.” He whined.
“Sorry. That’s the most simplest ones I can find.” Link swore five times under his breath. What he was looking at might as well have come out from hell. A frilly, loose; white shirt with a ridiculous collar (complete with a jewel broach), black glossy pants that opened up at the end, and a pair of brown shiny leather boots with a buckle on each side. The maids left the room for him to get changed. Some one please kill me was Link’s first thought before he got dressed.

When he had finished dressing himself he stepped out of his room only to be pulled back in by the three maids. They prompted him onto his desk and started doing his head, face and ear. By ear, they had noticed that he had his ears pierced, so they had decided to add something . . . dazzling, I guess.
“Let’s get that splodge off that eye brow of yours ey?” commented Polan. She dipped a cloth into steaming water and dapped it above his right eye. “Ow!” Link gasped,
“Polan, how silly of you. That wasn’t a splodge, it was a bruise.” Giggled Mala (who was combing his hair). Link winced and spoke, “Actually, it’s a birth mark.”
“Well then.” Scoffed Rachel (who was doing his ear), “Why did you cry out like a baby?”
“Cause hot water stings when it gets into eyes.” Laughed Link, “Did I really sound like a baby?”
“Actually no.” The maids giggled as they made the peasant boy’s face. “But I must say,” continued Polan, “Quite a strange birth mark. Why, it’s a perfect triangle!”
“Yeah. Turns out that the village I used to live got excited by thinking I was the next Destined Hero.” He lamely chuckled. He was wondering why he was explaining his embarrassing history to these complete strangers. I guess it’s because they’re nice.
“It would be quite pathetic when the Hero of Destiny moaned over hot water in his eyes.” Mentioned Rachel. The maids burst into giggling fits while Link blushed beet red with embarrassment. In minutes, he started to fidget and said,
“You know, you don’t really have to do this.”
“Too late for that,” Polan replied, “We’re almost finished and besides, it’s our job.”
“So quit your whining and let us do it.” Hissed Rachel. Link winced as she forcedly inserted his second earring.

Link made his first mental note: Never mess with Rachel.

It was when they had finished and permitted Link to stand when he noticed a door sized mirror on the other side of the desk. When he looked at himself, his mind went blank. His wavy blonde hair had miraculously become clean and was shining with a non-greasy radiance and here and there, was a few sneaky snips. His triangular birthmark was still hidden under his fringe, which relieved him tremendously. His pointy ears were adorned with small golden rings, threaded with two or three red beads. His face was amazingly clean. Even Link couldn’t remember the last time he washed his face with soap. One of the maids had slipped a silver chain around his waist and it dangled with brilliance. One thing was for sure. He looked amazing. Almost . . . handsome.
“What?” mocked Mala, “Not what you’re used to?”
“Yeah.” He gulped.

But he still wanted someone to kill him.

“I think it’ll be time for lunch. Come on, let’s get down, shall we?” Polan opened the door for Link to walk through. She even extended a hand to show what she meant. But Link still didn’t get it.
“Uh . . . why isn’t anybody moving?” he questioned. They three sighed in unison and in exasperation. Why they even bothered they didn’t know. Throwing all formalities away, Rachel slumped onto his chair and groaned. Be fore she begun explaining, Polan hastily shut the door, just encase any one passing by wouldn’t see.
“Alright. Here’s the deal. Since the Mistress adopted you, you automatically become the ‘boss’”, Rachel emphasized the word boss with a pair of bunny ears with two fingers. “So what ever we do to you, it’s either because it’s the mistress’s bidding or your bidding. Understand?” Link gave a ‘sort-of’ sign with his hand, “So what ever we do in your presence like walk, talk, eat, drink, breath, we have to do it with your permission or at least behind you. Now you understand?” Link nodded
“Yeah. This is going to take me a while to get used to. Maybe never. This is going to be one hell of a life style. And I don’t mean that in a fun way.” He sighed. Mala watched Link scratch the back of his head with intrigue. Why didn’t this boy enjoy being rich? From now on, he didn’t have to work, do errands, get growled at, live in poor conditions and he had the luxury of doing most of the things he had dreamed of doing. She would have swapped into his position without hesitation.
“So,” Link started awkwardly, “I walk, you follow, but lead me at the same time?” and pointed towards the door. Polan gave him thumbs up.
“You catch on quickly.” As Link wandered out the door, he muttered to himself
“I’m starting to worry if I’m learning fast enough”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Most people would say that if Farore, Din and Nayru, with their powers combined, hit a lightening bolt at you, you’d be cursed till the end of eternity. Link would have thought it a blessing if that happened right there and then. He was in the dining room with his foster mother, eating lunch. The room was the size of our modern two-car garage with a big table for ten plonked in the middle. The red walls were decorated with fine tapestries and the purple carpet underneath was soft as cotton. The high windows let in much light, giving a place a welcoming mood. Unfortunately for Link, the mood of the place wasn’t as welcoming as he hoped. He didn’t have much of an appetite because he had already eaten his lunch on the hay, but just to be polite, he ate. Link took the opportunity to look at his adoptive mother carefully. Grey wavy hair done in a bun, strict uncaring grey eyes, hawklike nose and a pointy chin. Link reminded himself that it was rude to stare so he tried to finish his eggs, bread, cheese and beef. Knife and fork clattered on the other side of the table, signalling the lady had finished eating. Mala took away the mistresses plate and walked past Link
“Shall I take that for you?” she asked. Link gratefully gave her the half filled plate and stopped himself from heaving a huge sigh.
“Now,” the mistress begun, “I’m afraid I have a tight schedule today, so I will recite yours before I go. In ten minutes, you shall go to school. Come back promptly and when you come back, one of the servants will help you with your schoolwork. When you have finished, there will be music lessons, writing lessons, singing lessons and art lessons. You will have another bath, eat dinner, do you teeth and straight to bed. Good day.” With that Clarinda Igbo hurriedly strode out the door. Link stared at the door she just exited with horror. He hit his head on the table three times, hoping beyond hope that this was a dream. He begged with all his heart that the cursing lightening bolt would strike him.

It never happened.

The three maids rushed him back to his room to perfume on him. Why? So they could get rid of his smell of hay. When they had finished, Mala had whispered to him,
“Welcome to your new family lifestyle.”