The Forest Temple
"The flow of time is always cruel . . . Its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it . . . A thing that doesn't change with time is a memory of younger days . . . ."
— Sheik, Ocarina of Time
— Sheik, Ocarina of Time
Picture Credit: http://qlockwork.deviantart.com/
The words of the above quote are incredibly potent for any understanding of reality and perception, and are especially necessary in a discussion of this region of Hyrule. This is the place of our Hero’s childhood, and, even though his travails and movements through time separate him from those he once knew, perhaps it has remained that way. Closest to him in youth was Saria, who was also chosen by fate for another special task; doubtless, their lived experiences differ greatly, and isolation from one another due to this has come between them, yet Sheik’s words speak of a form of timelessness kept alive by memory. Remembrance of the past engenders new love. This friendship, and this concept, finds a direct correlation in a remote village forgotten by time.
Kokiri Forest, also called the Fairy Woods, is of an idyllic past. It is a place of simplicity, and of a serene peace. Yet, also at work here are things more ancient and foul than the Kokiri themselves seem to fully realize. The village, a place of greenery, youthful tree-houses, and an enchanted air, is the first point on the road to the Sacred Forest Meadow and beyond, an area which holds some of the most sacrosanct locations in all of Hyrule. Nearby resides the Great Deku Tree, guardian of the region, and of those living within the village. The Kokiri are actually Hylians themselves, tracing "their roots back to a time when the Hylians were first developing their civilization, building cities and relying on a less natural way of life." Seeing this technological progress and separation, the Kokiri fled to the forest to create a community closely centered around the natural world. Within their self-imposed exile, the "Kokiri maintain almost no contact with the other peoples of Hyrule, though they are known among the Hylians, who often refer to them as 'forest fairies'." [1]
On a cliff overlooking the village is the portal to the Lost Woods. Few in Hyrule know what exists on the other side of the woods, and there are many admonitions against venturing into the forest. Those lost within the wood are irretrievably gone; whether they know their lives are forfeit, or if they go to some greater purpose, is unknown — the forest will take them all, young and the grown alike. [2] Those of the village, perpetually children, know this, but they do not understand it. The paradox, and the strange beauty of this paradox, is this: the Kokiri represent an unspoiled existence that seeks to mask entities and happenings of a fearful reality of which they seem wholly ignorant. It is this fact that makes such an actuality seem that much more sinister, that much more unfair, and that much more wrong.
On a cliff overlooking the village is the portal to the Lost Woods. Few in Hyrule know what exists on the other side of the woods, and there are many admonitions against venturing into the forest. Those lost within the wood are irretrievably gone; whether they know their lives are forfeit, or if they go to some greater purpose, is unknown — the forest will take them all, young and the grown alike. [2] Those of the village, perpetually children, know this, but they do not understand it. The paradox, and the strange beauty of this paradox, is this: the Kokiri represent an unspoiled existence that seeks to mask entities and happenings of a fearful reality of which they seem wholly ignorant. It is this fact that makes such an actuality seem that much more sinister, that much more unfair, and that much more wrong.
The forest is a labyrinth, seemingly a willing one, wherein shafts of sunlight pierce the canopy and Skull Kids are seen from afar, dancing to unknown melodies upon fallen trees. Safe passage through the woods enables one to reach the Sacred Forest Meadow, which is the anteregion to the Forest Temple itself. It is divided into several distinct areas: the small grassy location outside the gate, the maze within that makes up most of the meadow, and the temple entrance to the utmost north. The same enchantment is at work here, as well; the air is shrouded, and diminutive, unexplained objects navigate their way around in the shape of tiny ghost-lights. Saria seems to know of the deep connection to something that lives within the meadow. She explains that one can speak with the spirits of the forest, whatever they may be, simply by playing the ocarina on this hallowed ground.
Thus, before even reaching the Forest Temple, we are led through a succession of disturbing-yet-calming, corrupt-yet-pure, locales, terminating in an unknown and unknowable structure, covered in aged plants, and consumed by time.
Thus, before even reaching the Forest Temple, we are led through a succession of disturbing-yet-calming, corrupt-yet-pure, locales, terminating in an unknown and unknowable structure, covered in aged plants, and consumed by time.
The first glimpse of the temple is a forced one, seen from the ascent of the primary stairs from the meadow. A vine-covered tree can be seen vaguely through the strange haze, as can enormous walls of grey stone, closing off a courtyard and broken staircase. The stump upon which Saria used to sit, playing her ocarina, still remains. The walls are two stories in height, separated by a long cornice, under which are placed block modillions at regular intervals. The gateway into the temple is a normal post-and-lintel structure, with the lintel patterned, and more ornate. It is adorned purely with shapes — rectangles, triangles, and circles done symmetrically. The door is set between two pillars, bearing subtle broken-diamond motifs, etched in a darker grey upon the light-grey pillars. On the second story, the pillars become engaged pilasters, which continue to force the eye upward. Above the two stories, and their stringcourses, is an upward projection like that of a Classical Greek temple façade, with cornices, sunken pediment, and the aforementioned block modillions. Altogether, this is an archetypal building of the Western tradition.

Inside the actual temple, the feeling is immediately one of foreboding; it is dark, yet not openly hostile. The lighting is very dim, and the smaller courtyard inside has been sealed off from the sky. Trees grow within, but there is no light except for that entering from the meadow opening. Vines encase the walls, and the same motifs done in antiquated green-and-grey stone exist upon a smaller temple façade, as is found on the exterior. The lintel pattern is echoed in this room near the ceiling, writ large.
Walking the halls feels almost peaceful. The structure, enemies aside, seems inviting, yet in an unnerving way. Exploring its halls, wandering through the deep well system, and being struck in awe by the incredibly high walls and crenellations of its courtyards, one wonders what exactly this building is — who built it, and what it was used for. Some have conjectured that this structure was not meant as a place of worship, but as a place of residence. No statues lie within, nor are there explicit altars to some arboreal deity. Yet, it lies within one of the most sacred areas in all of Hyrule, nestled deep within the Lost Woods, and at the end of the Sacred Forest Meadow. There is a noticeable magic at work in the trees and glades, and the spirits of the forest are never far off. For these reasons, it seems unlikely that it should be a building completely isolated from some spiritual function. Regardless of usage, however, the reality remains unknown. What is known, however, is this: there exists a colossal edifice of dubious and perplexing origin and objective lying hidden in a forest, and it is vastly indifferent to our guesswork. Therein lies its allure.
Musically, we are haunted. The theme begins with the foundation of strange, wooden percussion, and then slowly builds into an ascending-and-descending metallic voice, languorous and melancholic. Next, the erratic flute comes out of nothing, and then decrescendos back into nothing, occasionally being paired with a disturbing synthesized voice. It is the musical manifestation of a disquieting wooded path.
This structure seems to have been designed with a clear plan in mind. While not perfectly symmetrical, each courtyard, hall, and room is echoed in near proportion on the opposite side of the complex. Central to it all is a large rotunda, with many indoor balconies and balustrades, all coated in ivy. This room is lofty, and the dome above is large, and ribbed, following in the all-too-familiar vein of Western architecture. It is multi-leveled to a high degree, and full of confusing passageways, secretive openings and nooks, and its rooms tell little of their functions. To detail the disconcerting nature of these rooms, we need only enumerate a few key aspects of this temple: most memorable from this temple is the twisted corridor, warping space and conception of reality; there is a room of rotating platforms, which rotate in a small pool of a red substance of unknown origin or composition; lastly, there is the room with the floor of a chessboard, which displays its own mystery and magic.
Walking the halls feels almost peaceful. The structure, enemies aside, seems inviting, yet in an unnerving way. Exploring its halls, wandering through the deep well system, and being struck in awe by the incredibly high walls and crenellations of its courtyards, one wonders what exactly this building is — who built it, and what it was used for. Some have conjectured that this structure was not meant as a place of worship, but as a place of residence. No statues lie within, nor are there explicit altars to some arboreal deity. Yet, it lies within one of the most sacred areas in all of Hyrule, nestled deep within the Lost Woods, and at the end of the Sacred Forest Meadow. There is a noticeable magic at work in the trees and glades, and the spirits of the forest are never far off. For these reasons, it seems unlikely that it should be a building completely isolated from some spiritual function. Regardless of usage, however, the reality remains unknown. What is known, however, is this: there exists a colossal edifice of dubious and perplexing origin and objective lying hidden in a forest, and it is vastly indifferent to our guesswork. Therein lies its allure.
Musically, we are haunted. The theme begins with the foundation of strange, wooden percussion, and then slowly builds into an ascending-and-descending metallic voice, languorous and melancholic. Next, the erratic flute comes out of nothing, and then decrescendos back into nothing, occasionally being paired with a disturbing synthesized voice. It is the musical manifestation of a disquieting wooded path.
This structure seems to have been designed with a clear plan in mind. While not perfectly symmetrical, each courtyard, hall, and room is echoed in near proportion on the opposite side of the complex. Central to it all is a large rotunda, with many indoor balconies and balustrades, all coated in ivy. This room is lofty, and the dome above is large, and ribbed, following in the all-too-familiar vein of Western architecture. It is multi-leveled to a high degree, and full of confusing passageways, secretive openings and nooks, and its rooms tell little of their functions. To detail the disconcerting nature of these rooms, we need only enumerate a few key aspects of this temple: most memorable from this temple is the twisted corridor, warping space and conception of reality; there is a room of rotating platforms, which rotate in a small pool of a red substance of unknown origin or composition; lastly, there is the room with the floor of a chessboard, which displays its own mystery and magic.
The major motifs of the temple are largely sylvan. The doors appear to be of stained glass arboreal in colors (dark greens and other natural hues), and old wood or vines. The panels on the lower part of many walls are adorned with a decaying central flower, shoots, and leaves, as seen in the twisted hallway above. Deep red carpet lined with golden edgework is found throughout the temple, both in the central room, as well as in corridors and in front of various entrances and exits. Occasionally, pilasters are also gilded in this color, making the entire color scheme of the complex dark, especially with the passage of time. On the four torches found in the central chamber appear designs reminiscent both of leaves, and of spiders.
Perhaps now is a good time to discuss the things that lurk in the inner depths of the temple.
The beings within this temple are of death. Wraiths, skeletal warriors, the undead, and withered hands that follow shadow all reside in this place. The Poe Sisters, ancient priestesses of the temple, are a highlight of the dungeon; they are described both as being concentrated spirits of hatred, as well as being capable of forming a lingering attachment to the world. [3] While it is doubtful that these are the spirits about which Saria was speaking, this may offer a reason for the haunted, accursed present state of the temple. Mayhap they are the spirits of those who used to dwell within, or perhaps they appeared later, bringing about the present state of decay of the temple.
The creatures that inhabit the woods, the meadow, and the temple are all in a state of suspense — temporally, they are static. They suggest, as does everything in this region, a stranger aspect of time. Phantom Ganon, ripped from the void into life, the Poe Sisters, having formed their lingering attachment to this structure, and the Stalfos and Skull Kids, forever having lost both their way and themselves, all convey a sense of being caught in a liminal space. They are not alive in any conventional sense, but they also do not seem to die. What remains for them is an indeterminate span of time in which their states do not undergo change. The forest itself also mirrors this phenomenon. It is a place wherein no living beings dwell. It is the in-between. Most who enter will never see the other side, and those that reach it will likely never manage to escape. This area works to deter, to guard, and to ensnare.
Perhaps now is a good time to discuss the things that lurk in the inner depths of the temple.
The beings within this temple are of death. Wraiths, skeletal warriors, the undead, and withered hands that follow shadow all reside in this place. The Poe Sisters, ancient priestesses of the temple, are a highlight of the dungeon; they are described both as being concentrated spirits of hatred, as well as being capable of forming a lingering attachment to the world. [3] While it is doubtful that these are the spirits about which Saria was speaking, this may offer a reason for the haunted, accursed present state of the temple. Mayhap they are the spirits of those who used to dwell within, or perhaps they appeared later, bringing about the present state of decay of the temple.
The creatures that inhabit the woods, the meadow, and the temple are all in a state of suspense — temporally, they are static. They suggest, as does everything in this region, a stranger aspect of time. Phantom Ganon, ripped from the void into life, the Poe Sisters, having formed their lingering attachment to this structure, and the Stalfos and Skull Kids, forever having lost both their way and themselves, all convey a sense of being caught in a liminal space. They are not alive in any conventional sense, but they also do not seem to die. What remains for them is an indeterminate span of time in which their states do not undergo change. The forest itself also mirrors this phenomenon. It is a place wherein no living beings dwell. It is the in-between. Most who enter will never see the other side, and those that reach it will likely never manage to escape. This area works to deter, to guard, and to ensnare.
Finally, we arrive at the substructure. The elevator to the basement carries a sunburst design, surrounded by undulating vines; its columns are fluted, and the entire device is very ornate, likely reflecting its importance. The room below is an octagon, with many outflowing paths, passable only through the pushing of the walls themselves. The familiar, rich carpet is here, as well, yet in a dark blue. The boss door is one not before seen in this temple, being of blue and silver, and of simple design.
Beyond this portal resides Phantom Ganon, Evil Spirit from Beyond. Upon the floor in the center of the raised platform is the Triforce, surrounded by a ring of white, broken with angular cross-sections, and ringed with six golden triangles. This device is set upon a dark dodecahedron encircled by Hylian script, which simply reads: Triforce. The Triforce is repeated within the octagonal room eight times, correlating with the terminating points of each side of the octagon. The walls are of standard stone, separated by pilasters, but the artwork gracing them is most certainly notable. The paintings are of a meandering path, dead trees and grasses, dark skies, and an even darker castle. It is out of these that Phantom Ganon rides, once again following the theme of enemies waiting within paintings, as with the Poe Sisters. As stated before, a constant theme of this temple is liminality — things act as thresholds, or in-between spaces. These paintings perform exactly that function. They are not lifeless art, yet they are not quite of, or in, the world.
The Forest Temple displays a departed elegance, forgotten, and set apart from time. It engenders incredibly powerful sensations and feelings, and its glamour, as that is the most fitting word for it, charms, frightens, and sustains an appreciative and reluctant desire to venture into, witness, and understand it.
Beyond this portal resides Phantom Ganon, Evil Spirit from Beyond. Upon the floor in the center of the raised platform is the Triforce, surrounded by a ring of white, broken with angular cross-sections, and ringed with six golden triangles. This device is set upon a dark dodecahedron encircled by Hylian script, which simply reads: Triforce. The Triforce is repeated within the octagonal room eight times, correlating with the terminating points of each side of the octagon. The walls are of standard stone, separated by pilasters, but the artwork gracing them is most certainly notable. The paintings are of a meandering path, dead trees and grasses, dark skies, and an even darker castle. It is out of these that Phantom Ganon rides, once again following the theme of enemies waiting within paintings, as with the Poe Sisters. As stated before, a constant theme of this temple is liminality — things act as thresholds, or in-between spaces. These paintings perform exactly that function. They are not lifeless art, yet they are not quite of, or in, the world.
The Forest Temple displays a departed elegance, forgotten, and set apart from time. It engenders incredibly powerful sensations and feelings, and its glamour, as that is the most fitting word for it, charms, frightens, and sustains an appreciative and reluctant desire to venture into, witness, and understand it.
Addendum (Changes in the 3DS Version):
Most changes relevant to our discourse concern things upon the walls; patterns, motifs, and wall decorations are the most transformed by far. The Forest Temple is less-altered than other dungeons, but it holds many dissimilar embellishments. The colors are much more vibrant — the doors have readily-discernible hues, and offset the walls of the structure beautifully. Instead of the plain walls of the Nintendo 64 version, the walls within the 3DS release are decorated with highly artistic representations of varied plant life. While lintels throughout the edifice remain more-or-less the same, the posts are now adorned with rising vines, covered in leaves, and end with an unfurled tip. The new design of the Forest Medallion rests atop the first portal, having three instead of four crescent shapes.
The main rotunda holds the most drastic changes. The walls are paneled, with each panel containing either a relief of a fern, a leafed branch, or a close-up of a naked tree. Each post of the balustrade is made to be a plant growing from the ground, and the tops of railings take on the dark reds and blues of the older version, upon which rest a gold inlay of a lengthy, leafy vine.
Witnessing the substructure in the updated version highly changes one’s viewpoint of its purpose. The hallway to the room containing Phantom Ganon appears to be an art gallery. The barrel-vaulted ceiling is ribbed by cross-sections of stone, and the spaces between the arcade showcase paintings very impressionistic in nature. They are colorful abstractions of forest paths, tall, ancient trees, and one strange towered structure mirrored in a body of water. Their frames are gold, and are quite sumptuous. Each painting is roped off in a manner highly redolent of a museum, keeping distance between the viewer and the object being viewed, yet focusing the eyes upon the piece.
The boss door features nine distinct panels, dark red and rich blue, each of which bears the design of ascending, crawling vines, golden and writhing. The farthest room has new frames upon the paintings, darker trim on the corners of the hexagonal chamber, and a clerestory above. The stained glass of the windows is white and blue, featuring crops rising from a pale ground. The area in which the boss fight occurs is also reminiscent of a viewing platform — roped off from the six paintings in the room — which corroborates the image of the basement as a curatorial storage house, focused solely upon art.
Most changes relevant to our discourse concern things upon the walls; patterns, motifs, and wall decorations are the most transformed by far. The Forest Temple is less-altered than other dungeons, but it holds many dissimilar embellishments. The colors are much more vibrant — the doors have readily-discernible hues, and offset the walls of the structure beautifully. Instead of the plain walls of the Nintendo 64 version, the walls within the 3DS release are decorated with highly artistic representations of varied plant life. While lintels throughout the edifice remain more-or-less the same, the posts are now adorned with rising vines, covered in leaves, and end with an unfurled tip. The new design of the Forest Medallion rests atop the first portal, having three instead of four crescent shapes.
The main rotunda holds the most drastic changes. The walls are paneled, with each panel containing either a relief of a fern, a leafed branch, or a close-up of a naked tree. Each post of the balustrade is made to be a plant growing from the ground, and the tops of railings take on the dark reds and blues of the older version, upon which rest a gold inlay of a lengthy, leafy vine.
Witnessing the substructure in the updated version highly changes one’s viewpoint of its purpose. The hallway to the room containing Phantom Ganon appears to be an art gallery. The barrel-vaulted ceiling is ribbed by cross-sections of stone, and the spaces between the arcade showcase paintings very impressionistic in nature. They are colorful abstractions of forest paths, tall, ancient trees, and one strange towered structure mirrored in a body of water. Their frames are gold, and are quite sumptuous. Each painting is roped off in a manner highly redolent of a museum, keeping distance between the viewer and the object being viewed, yet focusing the eyes upon the piece.
The boss door features nine distinct panels, dark red and rich blue, each of which bears the design of ascending, crawling vines, golden and writhing. The farthest room has new frames upon the paintings, darker trim on the corners of the hexagonal chamber, and a clerestory above. The stained glass of the windows is white and blue, featuring crops rising from a pale ground. The area in which the boss fight occurs is also reminiscent of a viewing platform — roped off from the six paintings in the room — which corroborates the image of the basement as a curatorial storage house, focused solely upon art.
Works Cited:
[1] “Historical Records: The Different Races.” The Legend of Zelda — Encyclopedia, by Keaton C. White and Tanaka Shinʼichirō, Dark Horse Comics, 2018, p. 50.
[2] "Hylians who wander into the Lost Woods turn into monsters: adults into Stalfos and children into Skull Kids." On a related note, the Kokiri cannot venture outside the Kokiri Forest into larger Hyrule, as doing so would take them outside the range of the Great Deku Tree's power; thus, like those who leave the realm of Elfland in The King of Elfland's Daughter, they will be caught in the flow of time, bound, like all mortals, to aging and death. Eventually this comes to pass, when the "Sage of Forest revives and the child of the Deku Tree is born, they become able to venture outside of the forest they had been confined to for so long." We must assume, then, that those who choose to leave are subject to the fate of all mortals.
Ibid.
[3] Ibid., 149.
[1] “Historical Records: The Different Races.” The Legend of Zelda — Encyclopedia, by Keaton C. White and Tanaka Shinʼichirō, Dark Horse Comics, 2018, p. 50.
[2] "Hylians who wander into the Lost Woods turn into monsters: adults into Stalfos and children into Skull Kids." On a related note, the Kokiri cannot venture outside the Kokiri Forest into larger Hyrule, as doing so would take them outside the range of the Great Deku Tree's power; thus, like those who leave the realm of Elfland in The King of Elfland's Daughter, they will be caught in the flow of time, bound, like all mortals, to aging and death. Eventually this comes to pass, when the "Sage of Forest revives and the child of the Deku Tree is born, they become able to venture outside of the forest they had been confined to for so long." We must assume, then, that those who choose to leave are subject to the fate of all mortals.
Ibid.
[3] Ibid., 149.