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A note after another, they built a powerful melody, flowing out of the organ’s windpipes. Ganondorf played with vigor, letting his instincts guide his fingers to the next chord.
That is until the distinct creak of the throne room’s doors pierced through the organ’s song and along with it the warlock’s concentration. Slowly, he let his hands move away from the organ’s keys and onto his thighs, as he turned around to sneer down at the foolish soul that dared interrupt him.
Standing a few feet away from the entrance, a…strange character in a brown leather jacket stared back at him with a manic expression on his face and a disturbing gleam in his eyes. This, however, was not the most peculiar of the intruder’s trait; his skin was purple and, on his forehead, sat a green, star-like object with a strange face of its own.
However bizarre this individual was, Ganon did not let his tone falter. “Who dares interrupt me?” The figure stayed quiet; his buggy eyes unflinching. “Well?” The wizard urged, determined to remain unaffected by the other man’s strange character.
“Hrello, Gaunnundorf.” The intruder finally said. His lips did not twitch as he spoke.
Ganondorf felt disturbance crawl through him but ignored it. “E-excuse me?”
“Gaunnundorf.” The figure said once more, reaching a hand to his belt. Ganondorf tensed, awaiting the intruder to reach for a weapon but was disappointed as he pulled out a scroll of paper. Slowly, the man unwrapped the yellowed paper and held it open for the warlock to see its content. “Burff Wurrioh.” He said, shoving the scrool forward in emphasis.
On the yellowed surface of the scroll, amongst small stains of that seemed grease, a picture of a man with a wide face and a sculpted frame was artfully inked. He wore a sort of cap and a jacket with torn sleeves, showing off his muscular arms.
Ganondorf stretched his lips to a thin line in confusion. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked. Once more, the intruder said nothing. “Explain yourself!” The gerudo demanded, itching his hand towards his belt, where his sword hung.
However, his hand passed through air where its hilt should had been. Peering down, he realised with stupefaction that his sword wasn’t event there at all. Scanning around desperately to find his weapon, he grew more frustrated noticing he had not left it anywhere around the organ.
“Gaunnundorf.” The gerudo whipped around to face the strange individual still planted in front of the throne room’s door. To his shock, his sword was right there in the stranger’s hand.
“You!” The warlock growled accusingly. “What is the meaning of all of this!?” He exclaimed, unbothered to filter his rage.
The stranger remained unchanged “Burff Wurrioh.” He simply said, emphasising to the drawing of the muscular man.
“What is ‘Burff Wurrioh’!?” Ganondorf yelled in reply. “In fact, how did you even get past my guards- “he silenced himself as the other man nodded once, then closed the scroll. Slowly, the stranger then dropped the warlock’s sword onto the ground, turned around and walked out without a word.
The Gerudo stared at the door, nonplussed. He opened his wouth, intent on ordering the strange being to come back at once, but, as the seconds went by, he concluded he did not, in fact, want him to come back.
Closing his mouth, he took a deep breath. He slowly walked down to the main floor of the throne room to retrieve his sword and decided he would go to bed early today and hope the few more hours of sleep would help him forget what he had just witnessed.