#five years!

Skate the Onion is FIVE YEARS OLD! Here's a throwback to the headline that started it all.

i’m very glad it wasn’t. ❤️

Link knew the sounds before he saw what was happening. He was just passing by some ruins north of Ash Swamp when he heard someone hollering. He urged his temporary mount to a faster trot, and as he came close, using the too-slow, gentle horse’s back as a boost, he scrambled up a dilapidated wall for a better view, which he assimilated in an instant. Just ahead was a man in an odd assortment of leather armor and homespun. With a fine steel sword in one hand and the misshapen, charred remains of a shield in the other, he was facing a decayed guardian. His face was grim, as if he knew he was going to die, but he stood his ground and shouted at the guardian again as if he hoped he could frighten it out of its circuitry, even if he hadn’t a chance.

“What are you doing?!” Link yelled at him from atop the ruinous wall.

The dangerous thrum of the guardian’s machinery turned his blood to ice and at the same time filled his mind with a buzz as if with electricity. He hardly had to think about what he was doing because he’d done it countless times; he leaped from his high perch, drew his bow and let fly with a blue-tipped arrow, all in one fluid, rapid movement. His aim, after days, hours, weeks and months of practice, after many errors and mishaps and near escapes, was true, striking the half-rusted shell of a guardian directly in its cerulean eye.

With malice oozing from its gears and shafts, the ancient machine shut down for good. Link’s heartbeat wasn’t back to normal yet as he shouldered his bow and turned to the traveler he’d just rescued from certain death, ready to give him an earful for putting himself in such danger. The incident had brought back memories of another brave soul defending the one he loved and was sworn to protect from just such an attack. The angry words, however, died ere they reached his tongue.

For a moment, the man had stood staring at the mechanical menace as it whirred and died. Then he sheathed his sword, having some difficulty in maneuvering it into the scabbard with a shaking hand, and then turned and moved away on spongy legs. There was another remnant of a house long since destroyed, and it was at the inside corner of this that he crouched. Link had followed his movement and then suddenly realized why the man had so valiantly stood up to the guardian. There, half lying, half sitting against the crumbling wall, her thin hand reaching up and clutching at her husband’s, was a woman.

The two only had eyes for each other, with the man holding his wife with both hands and assuring her that the danger was past. She wept softly and attempted feebly to remove his singed gauntlet. She fumbled with the laces and then he caught her fingers in his own.

“It’s nothing, dear. Don’t strain yourself,” he murmured huskily. “I’ll have it seen to after we find shelter.”

“But it must…hurt you terribly,” she protested with a sob. “I think…I have some ointment in my bag…”

Link stepped closer, his boot crunching on gravel and soil, but the couple didn’t even seem to know he existed. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~