Saria put her ocarina to her lips and gently played the lilting song of her childhood. It transported her to an earlier time, when she was a child, which was now, because she was a Kokiri, the race of children that do not grow up. The melody was soft and subtle. Its notes bounced around the trees and the little flying yellow things that were always around these parts glimmered and glittered in response. The magic of the forest was always enchanting, but it was something altogether new when Saria played her Song.

"Okay, now you try!" she said, handing her instrument to Link.

"But I've never played before," Link protested. He didn't even know how to hold it. An hour previous he had witnessed the slow death of the guardian Deku Tree. He alone had seen the wise old tree scream and screech and cry for help as it was consumed in the wizardry of an aging process so quick that it had become a hideous old husk of death and decay in moments. Link didn't know what to do. It was insane. This thriving old tree had blackened to a dead thing. The leaves crinkled and cracked and fell like insects, the bark dropped off in rotten clumps that stunk like death. Link witnessed it all, the groaning mournful gasps of a painful expiration. It was agonizing. It was horrific.

"That's okay! Teehee!" Saria giggled. "I'll teach you."

Link started sweating like he usually did when under pressure. He was not a musical kid and was not prepared for this. "I'm not so sure."

"That's okay! Teehee!" Saria giggled again. "You have to learn one of these days."

"Why?"

"It is your destiny, Link!" Saria reached out and helped Link hold the ocarina. "So. It's pretty simple. Hold the thing like this, then put your mouth like this, your hands like this, your fingers like this. Then, blow through the hole like this. Stand on your toes. Yes just like this. Now, move like this. Then, think some thoughts. Think about your thoughts. Consider your thoughts and what they mean. Think and ruminate. Obsess over them. This is the key to becoming an artist. You must think about every detail of every social interaction you ever had. What part did you play in their awkwardness? Why aren't they calling you back? Why are you who you are? What have you contributed to the world? What will you create that has not been created before? Entertain me god dammit. You owe me this. I demand it and I will have an opinion about it afterwards. Make me like it. What is original? What impact will you have? Will it have meaning? Will it resonate with strangers? Will it outlast you? Is it authentic? Why do you create art? Do you even enjoy it anymore? Do you like doing it? What is its purpose? Why do you move about with a purpose if you have not defined your purpose? Think about ALL this at once, every day, every waking moment. Let it consume you. Put these sentiments into the ocarina. Put them forth. Blow my son. BLOW INTO IT BLOW THE MUSIC INTO EXLSDIETENCE!~!!. For this is the joy of art."