{Taken from the half-decayed remains of the diary of the Hero of Time}

XXVI/VI/III

War had come once more to Hyrule. It seems, as the newly-appointed captain of Zelda's Royal Guard, a position which I had strongly objected to receiving, that it would be bound to erupt at some point. My Hylian army, resplendent in richly polished and freshly oiled plates, their chainmail clean and their tunics free from grime, against Ganondorf's supporters from the tribe of Gerudo, no armour except their lax, sand encrusted, battle stained garb. They, in their inadequate desert gear, would be an easy first opponent for me, as an inexperienced commander, considering their lack of proper armour, but nay... No indeed. They were worthy fighters, slashing stabbing and blocking with their poison-tipped scimitars. I lost many men to them, and as their leader, I had to hide my pain from them behind cold indifference. It broke me inside, even more than it had done to leave my wife alone at the Ranch with nobody to protect her and the horses. Every night I would wake in cold sweat, worrying that our home had been raided and our horses stolen. Everyone knew Lon Lon steeds were the best, strongest, most loyal companions any adventurer worth his salt could get.

XXVII/VI/III

Today's battle was a mess of a fight. My sloppy, tired troops against their overstrained desert women. Many lives were thrown away worthlessly, lives of both sides. I myself nearly lost a dear friend of mine, a lively young man named Wylld, a man who I'd known since we were both quite young. In fact, I met him on my way back from Termina. I'd burst out into Hyrule Field, practically dead with scars all over my body and a huge double helix sword strapped to my back, and he'd found me, led Epona back to his home and together, we recovered. A man with a loving family waiting for him to return. He had three daughters anxiously longing for him to come back. I myself had met them, helped choose their names. Saria, Cremia and Anju, and of course his beautiful wife Skie would all be worried about him... And it was all my fault. I was too slow to see the warrior sneak up behind him as he saved my hide again and again, until she separated his sword arm from his shoulder with a hiss and a squelch of gore spilling free. He screamed a scream of pure fury. I was grateful to him, single-handedly (Quite literally) turning the tide of the battle. With vision of red and swords of biting steel, the warrior women fell like poisoned rats, wave after wave falling to us. I didn't even notice the sword sticking hilt deep out of my abdomen until the fight was over. Adrenaline robbed, I collapsed on the field, or so I'm told by the medics. They also told me to stop writing and let myself sleep and heal. If you are reading this, my luminescent pearl, Malon, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm making it out of this alive. Goodbye.

{The diary ends here. The last few pages are covered in blood, and cannot be accessed}