The Legend of Elwika

By Amanda Pizzolatto (Rated G)

On the world of Dasaille there are several races, the telchines, the humanoid neuri, the gargoyles, the lutins, the Mimallones, the alkonosts, the sirens, and the slumbering parcheyi. But this story is a tale from the Mimallones, passed down from generation to generation. Mimallones have a strong connection to music and think it far more precious than gold and jewels. Their ear tips curve in a way similar to the bass clef and the tallest stands at no more than five feet. Besides that, they look no different than a human with thick curls and eyes that come in every shade of the rainbow. Their skin colors vary, depending on which part of Dasaille they live. These Mimallones in particular live on an island, somewhat isolated from the rest of the world, and are currently celebrating their favorite, week-long holiday of Haivani, a celebration of music. Though the days are longer and warmer, they always have a campfire going every night to sit around and swap tales. Speaking of, see that handsome Mimallone who just stood up, the one with the graying temples and piercing blue eyes? Looks like he’s ready to begin. Let’s listen in.

“Come gather around the campfire, children, if you want a story!” 

“A story! Yay!” Children’s voices rose in a clamor over each other in excitement as they rushed towards the campfire. “Tell us a story, Makaio, tell us a story!” 

“Tell us a good one!” one boy shouted. 

Makaio’s eyes sparkled as a grin spread on his face. “I see Pali here has a very specific request.” 

Another boy wrinkled his nose. “It’s not that specific. You do know a few good stories.” 

Makaio gasped and pressed his hand to his heart in mock pain. “I only know a few good stories? How rude! Maybe you’d rather a better storyteller.”

“No, Makaio, we want you!” They all turned towards Pali and shot him a glare. 

Makaio clicked his tongue. “Now now, none of that, I was merely teasing you. Pali wants a good story, a good story we shall have. Do you all have your sticks, ube, and pineapples?” 

The children held up the sticks and bowls of food and replied with a resounding, “Yes!” 

“Well, sit down and start grilling them while I tell the story!” A commotion broke out as kids dashed around the campfire, trying to find a good spot to sit down. After a couple minutes of chaos, everyone had found a seat and had begun grilling their ube over the campfire. When things had finally quieted down, Makaio cleared his throat. “Well now, let’s see … a good story … hmm.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Aha, I’ve got it! Many, many years ago, there was a cave guarded by eleven sharks…” 

“No, tell us the story of Elwika!” shouted the little girl. 

“Yes, Elwika!” shouted another. Soon the entire group had chimed in. “Tell us about Elwika! Elwika! Elwika!” 

“But you wanted a good story!” replied Makaio as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“Elwika is a good story,” quipped Pali. 

Makaio tsked. “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?” 

Pali crossed his arms. “Because we thought you knew it was the last day of Haivani and hadn’t told us the story of Elwika yet.” 

Makaio chuckled. “So it is. Far be it from me to break tradition. Elwika it is!” 

The children cheered and scooted a tad closer to hear every word. 

Makaio’s grin grew wider as he cleared his throat, and began the tale. “Many, many years ago, on the island of Ha’apehe, lived a man, his wife, and their only child, Elwika. Elwika’s father had a very successful pineapple farm and could not wait until Elwika was old enough to pass it on along to him. However, Elwika had other dreams, the sailing, adventuring kind. As such, he was constantly trying to get out of learning about pineapples and get into learning about the sea. It was a constant battle between father and son, with the father wanting to teach about pineapples while the son wanted to learn about the sea. Whenever he could, Elwika would leave his farm to watch, and eventually begin to help the fishermen and learn all about how a ship works. His father would find out, take him back home, and lock him into his room until he would apologize. This went on for quite some time, until the year Elwika turned sixteen.”

The children gasped. Makaio continued. “When Haivani came around and every sixteen-year-old had gotten their song and instrument, except for Elwika, everyone was worried. Never before in the history of the mimallones did anyone not have their song or instrument when their sixteenth Haivani came around. They figured to wait and see if Elwika was just later than usual, but by the time his twentieth Haivani came around, his family and friends were becoming very, very anxious. Elwika, though, saw it for the opportunity it was, the chance to travel the world. He explained that the only reason he could think of for his lack of instrument and song was that he had not yet been exposed to them. This made the most sense, and a boat was made for him. He left on his twenty-first birthday … and was never heard from again. At least, his parents never heard from him again. But others brought tales of Elwika back to them. His song had come to him not long after leaving his home island, but his instrument turned out to be trickier. Not that he complained, he just kept on looking, and kept on traveling, and quite enjoying it. His kindness was felt wherever he went. One woman who visited his home informed his parents that he had helped her patch up things with her parents. Another revealed that he helped her find her one true love. But he is best known for constantly helping Mimallones find their instruments and songs, since it took him so long to find his. But he finally did find his instrument, a guitar, and eventually, a wife. Though he did settle down, he took to traveling every year around Haivani. Thus the legend of Elwika began, claiming that he returns every year during Haivani to bring instruments, songs, and presents to everyone. Speaking of, I do believe it is our turn for a visit.” Makaio glanced over the kids’s heads and smiled.

The distinct sound of guitar strings being strummed startled the kids, as a young adult came into view with a guitar in his hands. Behind him, a little boat full of trinkets waited at the shore. He strummed the guitar some more and began chanting a Haivani hymn. 

“Elwika,” whispered the children. Pali glanced at Makaio. He winked.