#stars and fish hooks and shells and crabs and claws

[wizard-loving-wizard]

i didn't notice this at first but all of the earrings changed after episode 2

[zedecksiew]

Whalebone & Crabshell - Repost

Context: this story, “Whalebone & Crabshell”, was written around the time of the 2015 Rohingya refugee crisis.

It was first published on Projek Dialog. Then it was performed on BFM89.9. Then it was published again in Dark Mountain: Issue 9. 

Since Projek Dialog has gone through a redesign, obliterating the story’s paragraphing on that website, I’m re-posting “Whalebone & Crabshell” here, in full. Illustrations by Sharon Chin.

+

WHALEBONE & CRABSHELL by Zedeck Siew, with illustrations by Sharon Chin

This is how our land is laid:

Firstly, the domains of the Sultan -- may God ever extend his years -- the groves and fertile paddy-lands; the ports and isles and cities, where spice is sold and timber traded; mosques full of devotees; loyal citizens talking in civilised tongues.

O our Sultan, may he reign safe upon the throne!

And then, the sea, full of bounty -- but also of pirates, submerged giants, ghosts of wind and water; playground of the Lordly Dragon, and the great spirit Root-of-Creation, who lives in the navel of the ocean --

O grand Mother Ocean, who is female, therefore occasionally chained but never tamed.

And then there are the inlands and the uplands: in the jungle interior, upriver, full of hidden primates and uncivilised peoples.

Indeed, to be an inlander is to live lawlessly, as a fugitive from the Sultan's justice -- and uplanders are all revolutionaries and deviants anyway; they practice schismatic rites and prostrate themselves before idols.

O God save us!

#

Our Sultan -- God save him -- in his thirty-third year, having crushed the rebellion of his admirals, decided to demonstrate his piety by bringing order to all benighted places.

Thus the headwaters were choked with barges, and armies bore into the forest deeps.

The hillside crops burned, the hillfolk bandits were slaughtered; the hidden valleys echoed with the screams of women and dying mercy-cries in throat-some languages.

Finally all the hinterlands were pacified, and the inlanders captured; disarmed; rounded up; assembled together in a great field, where they knelt of their own accord, awestruck and shivering at the sight of the Sultan’s yellow-gold pavilion.

So the Sultan turned to his advisors, saying: “O wise councillors, grant me your wisdom, in turn granted by God! What should be done with this rabble?”

#

And the Admiral, with his sickle-spear, said:

“Slay them down to the youngest son, no mercy should be shown. Only then can we be sure!”

But the Treasurer, with his pen and parchment, said:

“There are a thousand families, times seven members on average, times five minutes per execution at the quickest, also accounting for the number of axes dulled, good trees felled to provide stakes, pints of blood that will poison the soil -- no, my Sultan! It costs too much!”

So the Vizier, whispering into the Sultan’s ear, said:

“Exile these people, drive them to the sea / they will drown quickly!

“What better fate for squatters, thieves who stole the interior / territories by right your patrimony?”

“Oh yes sir, I’ve got a curse for that,” said the Holy Sorcerer. “They’ll never come back, sir, they’ll never set foot on dry earth again. It’s a simple spell.”

#

Therefore the Sultan -- God bless him with wisdom -- commanded eviction.

And the traitors were given the rotting planks of their dissembled hovels, to use as rafts, and they were banished down the river, through the delta, and off and out to the open water.

Some, swimming back to shore, found the tide turned against them; the harder they paddled, the farther the coast receded. Soon they tired, unable to fight the Sorcerer’s magical decree.

And thus floated -- tossed to and fro, a flotilla of sorry creatures, forsaken by both men and God. 

At first there was a storm. Torrential rain beating the waves down; thunder and flashing; they were soaked to the bone, and to the bones of their boats also. Many drowned.

Afterwards they drifted. Becalmed for many days, their sweat dried into salt on their arms -- a meagre wealth, salt without rice; they were rich only with hunger, and thirst, and heatstroke; filth and illness.

Their shamans called for succour. But their idols were abandoned in the mountains, and too distant to hear.

#

Between them all there were nine coils of cord, and a single hook, previously used to fish in streams -- and its owner, sensing his importance, said: 

“With my hook I will catch food. Hey, if you will owe me your lives, I should be leader!”

But the man was mostly a catfisher; his skills did not apply where they were; anyway there were only beads and loose goose-feathers to use as bait. So he caught nothing. 

And during the night the some ruffians came. They stabbed him with splintered stakes; in the morning they said: “We have the fishhook. Therefore: we should be leaders.”

“Ho, hear us!” they said. “Our plan: segregation. Families first. Ours. And also: all who we see are strong. The weak: they should be sacrificed. We eat the meat off their limbs. Survival for the fittest!”

Naturally, the others were dismayed. “Abomination!” the wise-women said. Together they flung the murderers bodily overboard.

#

Then they came to an island of pirates.

And the pirates -- dashing though misguided warriors, their costumes tied with red ribbons, their belts studded with sea-ivory – said:

“These souls, fleeing the Sultan’s cruelty, sadly they cannot live with us. To live a life of piratical liberty, one must have sea-worth, able to court and cower before Mother Ocean.”

“In their souls they are uplanders. They have hill-shaped hearts. They can neither read star-charts nor savour the taste of spray. They’re simply not made that way!”

Having justified themselves, the pirates of the island prepared a care package -- a barrel of beer; a netful of fish; twelve blankets, folded, lowered by crane onto the outcasts’ largest raft. Along with a letter, saying:

“Ho there travellers! Unfortunately, you may not settle here. Sorry! Have these gifts, no strings attached, with our sympathies, and this whale-bone recorder,” 

-- at which point a flute fell out of the unfolded page -- 

“with which you might use to attract a dragon-spirit’s pity. Hopefully! Thank you. Please go.”  

#

Past the island there was another storm, worse than the first.

By now their vessels were broken, their drink-barrel empty; fish all gone; their blankets torn apart by fighting. 

With the lightning, some clambered onto their wives’ backs -- and stretching their arms up, ate quick ends by electricity. Others, less lucky, fell into the foam -- these were dragged under. Unable to swim, too weak to struggle, they drank their deaths slower.

Among those who remained, their last wise-woman was angry at the world and everything in it.

Putting the bone flute to her lips, she stood with her back straight; her feet, each on a different log; a single note was what she played:

Shrill, clear as a horn, louder than thunderous hammer-sounds.

And she sang: “O lords of wind and water, heartless creatures! Torture us no longer! Take our lives, let us die, we offer ourselves! A sacrifice! We do not ask for mercy. Vengeance only!”

There was no human reply -- but a rumbling answer. An inhuman growl, a surging tremor from under-sea.

#

A sphere burst the surface: the size of a moon; black and smooth -- not round, ovoid now, and mounted on a tower the colour of cream.

An eyestalk, looking down.

And another. And then claws: rising west and east, each pincer-point a mountain, big and blurry with distance.

It was he who is called Root-of-Creation -- old spirit, eldest of spawn -- who'd heard the shaman’s summons. He is father of crabs, and all crabs come from him; he is the largest. Moving in the depths, his great weight makes the sea levels rise, and the tides.

The exiles, witness to such a fearful sight, cowered in terror; and even their shaman, the brave, foolish woman -- she waited there, expecting to be swallowed.

Root-of-Creation held still for a while. The curve of his shell is the breadth of continents; and inasmuch as a country could look thoughtful, he took his time to deliberate.

And, having decided, he picked them up, all of them, and he placed them upon his back. 

#

Back to the first, to the Sultan’s domains -- in the ports, in the cities, there were many whispers:

That a great wave was coming; that it had wiped out the pirate-isles; that the far villages were swept away by flying swordfish, and merchant ships by constrictor-eels; that the mermaids were gone, strangled.

And bird- and gull-flocks were seen flapping over the palace. They were fleeing. The Treasurer, with his abacus, his feet soaked in salt-water, tallied costs -- 

“A thousand families with no homes, times seven members on average, times two silver pieces per head, bearing in mind the twenty warehouses damaged, the dozen docks destroyed, plus fifteen galleys shattered beyond repair.”

The Admiral was not at court; the Vizier’s mansion was found vacant. Both had sought asylum in an enemy state.

The Holy Sorcerer, water up to his waist, said:

“I’ve got nothing, sir. Have you seen the size of that thing? That’s Root-of-Creation, the crab-god, he’s a top-level creature. Sir, none of my spells are anywhere near his tier.”

#

Therefore our Sultan -- may God grant him speed to save his own skin -- ordered for the capital to empty. 

And the citizenry obeyed, going bare-breasted through the flood; on their heads they carried babies, wicker-basketfuls of brass pieces, precious embroidery; they sat on floating bed-frames, paddling with hoes and ladles.

But at the city gates traffic slowed and halted, for the palanquins of noble families took priority. So there was a crush, a panicked clamour.

O God save us! 

In the portside districts, those few still left to see saw the surf draw away. By the piers, the long-ships settled at the bottom of the bay, and listed. And behind them, in the distance, inexorably approaching:

Grand Mother Ocean, fashioned into a wall, many leagues wide and some leagues tall -- 

Her insides darkened by some shadow, monstrous and crustacean; crowned with froth, topped with wreckage, ridden by rejoicing figures --

Those terrible people, those uplanders! All criminals, wretched heathens, spiteful by nature; with feet cursed never to touch earth again -- regaining their hillside homelands by drowning them, offering all lands to the sea.

They have betrayed us! O God have mercy!

+++

This author’s note ran with the story, in Dark Mountain:

In 2015 the Rohingya people – described as one of the most persecuted minorities on Earth – fled Burmese oppression en masse, on boats. But the neighbouring governments of Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand vacillated. The owners of those boats were human traffickers. And these countries had no space left for refugees, of course. Of course.

So the Rohingya starved at sea. Malaysian citizens took to social media to express outrage at the unfolding humanitarian crisis. ‘How could we let this happen?’ But there was little action, and attention soon petered out.

I wrote Whalebone & Crabshell under a blanket of shame. It is not a story about the Rohingya. It is a story about me: how the reality of the Rohingya makes me feel powerless; how people like me – citizens of nation-states – tacitly condone and perpetuate the conditions that turn people into displaced persons.

The Rohingya are still trying to leave Burma. They are still dying: on boats, in jungle camps, in detention centres. But news about them doesn’t make headlines any more.

And these captions, alongside Sharon’s images:

1. The floral motif decorating the landmass in the first picture is a Thazin orchid, royal flower of Burma. The most prized come from mountains in Rakhine state, on the west of Burma bordering Bangladesh, which is also the traditional home of the Rohingya people.

2. The gilt borders feature the ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) emblem, where "stalks of padi in the centre of the Emblem represent the dream of ASEAN’s Founding Fathers [sic] for an ASEAN comprising all the countries in Southeast Asia, bound together in friendship and solidarity".

3. The crab god of the text is inspired by a Malay myth recorded in Skeat's "Malay Magic". The Pusat Tasek is a massive hole in the oceans' bottom. A gigantic crab dwells therein. It periodically leaves its home, and the volume of water its movements displace causes the rise and fall of the tides.

[ovmatt-blog]

Chapter 6. Urai Knight and the Tale of Dragon Bracelets

When we returned from a walk, which we really needed to digest the ice-cream cake we had stuffed ourselves with, the conference room had merged into semidarkness. Tin-Tin had been fumbling for a switch on the wall for several seconds, all in vain, and then, more to explain his failure, he mouthed, “It’s strange but the wall has become coarse… And the switch has vanished...”

Our legs sunk in sand and we stumbled on cobblestones. We were still crowding near the entrance, not venturing to move across the room, when suddenly the room was illuminated. Everyone gasped with surprise and astonishment. The bright stars, shining through the rare pink clouds in a saturated orange sky, were illuminating the walls of the room, which were studded with sparkling rubies, sapphires and diamonds. What we took for sand turned out to be golden dust and coins, and the stuff we were stumbling on were plates and goblets, helmets and shields, swords and other armour, all made of gold.

Then a man separated from the wall and said in a subdued voice, “Please, take your seats, and we will start the class…”

There were two rows of desks in the room and, while everyone got seated, I took a good look at the new tutor. He was tall and thin and his black shirt and trousers matched his raven-black hair. He had distinctive features – his eyes were of a soft luminous amber colour, lighting up his face. I'd never seen anything like that before. But I also noted that his oval face with its sunken cheeks and hooked nose looked emaciated.

After everyone had taken their seats and the gasps of delight calmed down, he began. “My name is Urai Knight, I am the Manager of the Gevellin department and today we will start the Magic fundamentals course with you.”

“The Gevellin department works as a consultancy on the return of lost or stolen artefacts and removing curses from them. By the way, by artefacts we mean jewels or simple objects, endowed with the magic power.”

He looked up at the class, “It is better to study by example, so we will find examples right now.” He swept along the rows, “some of you may possess artefacts in the form of jewellery, which you wear as amulets…”

Vlad, sitting near Camilla at the first desk, cut in, “I wear a snake fangs necklace. Mum says it protects me from evil spirits...”

“I suppose it won’t protect you from anything.” Urai passed the second desk, skipping both the multitude of silver chains hanging down from Letisia’s neck and sparkling with bright gems, fixed at different distances from each other, like planets are fixed in their orbits, and Gui’s fingers, each adorned with precious stone rings.

Once Urai had turned his back on them, Gui leant over his desk, craning his neck to keep in view Urai’s departing figure, and hastily whispered to Camilla, “In September the whole office will go on retreat to Bodrum – ”

Vlad and Camilla spoke at the same time: Vlad asked, “Bodrum? Where is it?” Camilla asked, “The whole office?”

Letisia started giggling foolishly, while Gui tried to answer both of them simultaneously, “It’s located 200 miles to the west of Antalya. All employees, consultants and staff from the London office are invited, except –”

Letisia’s face acquired a more intelligent expression and she asked, “What is a retreat?”

Vlad, Camilla and Gui looked at her, amazed. Camilla waved her away, “A yearly outing. To unwind.”

Gui added, “The company takes employees all over the world to chill out, enjoy the scenery, and build genuine friendships outside the office.”

“Really?” Letisia looked positively shocked.

“Yeah,” Gui clearly savoured the details, “I’ve heard, last year it was a deep-sea fishing expedition. The last night, they all gathered for the final feast with an open bar. And people said there were such wild dances that night that the creatures of the sea, drawn by the music, leapt onshore and also began to dance. And by midnight the shore was thick with oysters clacking their shells like castanets, crabs spinning on their claws, and shrimp beating time with their tails. And all manner of fish were jumping and plunging about to the music.”

Letisia giggled again, “I suppose that soon tables were laden with oysters, shrimp and crabs!”

Camilla waved her off as a nagging fly and asked Gui, “And what will happen in Bodrum?”

“It’s even difficult to imagine! The east half of the town has a long beach. Behind the beach are all the bars, restaurants, and night clubs.”

“Typical of Mediterranean resort towns,” Vlad smacked his lips.

“In the west half of the town the life revolves around a Yacht Club with shops catering mainly to those who have stepped off their boats.”

“Oh, I remember, Bodrum Castle is located on a rock between two harbours that separates both sides,” Camilla remarked pensively, “so, you haven’t finished what you were saying – all the employees are invited, except whom?”

“Ah, all except us!”

“Us??” Camilla and Vlad exclaimed in a chorus.

“The Managers decided we can’t be distracted from our studies!”

“Wha —?”

Before this precise moment, I was silently straining my ears in order not to miss their conversation, but at their genuine indignation I giggled like Letisia, and as they all stared at me, I said in a subdued voice, “Hey, swelled turkey-cocks, somebody has forgotten to invite you to the biggest party of the year? You can start sobbing right now or wait until tonight to cry into your pillows?” Everybody sniggered heartily. I turned my head back – Urai seemed to still be busy examining the prettiest rose bud, carved out of the yellow opaque amber, dandling at the green chiffon ribbon at Guiselle’s breast.

“Bang!” a spitball struck me right in the forehead – Vlad was rubbing his hands, a malicious smile on his lips.

“That’s it, it’s war,” whispered Tin-Tin.

Gui squeaked, “I thought we could ask Jess to get invitations, at least for us. Her father is close to–”

But his words were buried under the waves of spitballs our two camps were exchanging. Then something cold and heavy hit me. Jess! She was pelting us with snowballs she had taken out of her sleeve. Soon we were sitting in a snowdrift. But we were spared dishonourable capitulation by Urai who passed Ernie and Melwin, sitting at the last desk, and turned to Tin-Tin and Max, sitting across the passage. Before Urai could notice the snowdrift and hills of spitballs, all this stuff melted in the air. We all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nothing, nothing…,” Urai’s gaze finally rested on me. He pierced me with his burning amber eyes for approximately a minute, when suddenly he shifted his look… I followed his gaze, which rested on my neighbour’s neck, adorned with a fascinating necklace of black roses. “Black silver… No power, still fails slightly to be perfect…,” he snapped his fingers and – blue topaz roses alternated with the black ones. Urai conjured a hand mirror set in gold from the air and held it out to Diana, “It perfectly matches your eyes…”

Diana looked at her reflection and gasped with astonishment, but Urai had already turned away from her and approached the second desk, occupied by Leda and Leslie. The corner of his lips twitched. “Mmm, Leda Winegrain, I suppose. And this peculiar ring with two stones is your Mum’s gift, I guess,” he said, looking at the golden ring with two emeralds on her finger. “You are right,” a smile lit up Leda’s face. Leslie fidgeted in its blaze. For a second, Urai and Leda were staring into each other's eyes, then Urai said, “Well, I hope you will use it wisely,”

Not willing to observe the scene, I turned to my jolly neighbour, “Diana, where do you live?”

“My parents have bought me a two-bedroom apartment in London,” she answered in the most natural way.

Pressed down with envy, I gulped a lump in my throat and looked at Urai again. He stroked Leda’s tiny butterfly-shaped golden earrings with his greedy gaze and went ahead, to the first desk, occupied by Jessamine Gevellin and Laska Valentine. His glance fell at her simple iron ring. And then at once several things occurred. His pale face turned greyish and his eyes lit with a yellow flame. Black smoke whirled around the iron ring, making Jessamine squeal, “What you are doing, you…” Not having finished the sentence, aimed to indicate, who Urai in reality was, she dragged the ring from her finger and threw it onto the desk.

Though Urai was swift to put his hands behind his back, we saw that a simple golden ring on his finger started emitting white light in the form of a tiny disk of pure energy.

Then, simultaneously, the smoke and white light vanished. “The twin rings,” gasped Tin-Tin. “It is simply coincidence,” whispered Diana in reply.

Urai and Jessamine’s faces both twitched, hers – with rage, his – with hatred. A slight burn could be discerned on Urai’s finger, but still he showed no sign of pain. In an insinuating, catlike voice he asked Iceeye, pointing at the ring lying on the desk, “It looks like you are not in great need of this ring… So maybe I may take it for training purposes?”

Looking insulted, Jessamine answered with her most arrogant air, “Certainly, not. This is the property of the Gevellin family. My Mum gave it to me.”

“Avril Dayle,” Urai was more stating a fact, than asking a question.

“She is Avril Gevellin, Dayle is her maiden name,” Jessamine corrected him soberly. It was painful to look at Urai, so humiliated did he feel. “And my name is Jessamine Gevellin, but friends call me Jess…” she was calming down gradually, as the danger had gone and the smoke cleared away.

“I don’t care, what your name is,” Urai turned to her with a straight back.

“And will you care if I invite you to our manor for the celebration of my Dad’s purchase of an ancient golden locket?”

He froze for a moment, then paced further, having not replied.

“I’ve heard consultants call him Night Knight,” whispered Diana, following his back with her eyes.

“Whom?” wondered Tin-Tin.

“Urai,” Diana gave him a caustic look.

“And why?” Tin-Tin’s eyes became round.

“Maybe he is a sleepwalker?”

“Or adores working long hours?”

“Or hangs around in night clubs?”

“Or maybe he is so old that he fought in the Crusades?” Diana shrugged her shoulders.

Tin-Tin and I exchanged looks, clearly indicating this hypothesis was insane.

“And maybe, Diana,” Max yawned, “you just got stuck with him?” And immediately he snatched a silver helmet from the sandy floor and put it on so that Diana couldn’t hit him.

Meanwhile, with his gaze lingering on the faces of all those present, Urai said, “Well, it’s strange, but I hadn’t found any suitable artefact for training purposes among your ‘toys’… Then – ”

“And I have Dragon bracelets,” intervened Bastian, holding forth his arms with string-shaped golden bracelets, tinkling on his wrists, “Dad says it helps against Dragons.”

“Nothing helps against Dragons. But you got hold of the wrong end of the stick, having heard only bits and pieces of legends about the Dragons. Unverified information is evil in consultancy work. Okay, the topic is chosen, today’s class will be devoted to Dragons.”

With the wave of his hand he removed the back wall and … golden sand bordered green grass, and orange sky overflowed to dark blue one, bright stars twinkling in it.

“Come along,” said Urai and stepped on the grass. Everyone stood up and went to him. Standing on the velvety grass, I looked back – our precious chamber vanished and we were in open country.

“Where we are?” piped Bastian.

“This is the land of the Gwinedd Kingdom,” replied Urai, “If you don’t want to get cold, collect dry heather nearby…”

Soon the tongues of the fire licked the twigs with pieces of lamb, we were holding in our hands, sitting in the circle near the fire. Nobody could guess where Urai had got the food, and having ascertained that not one of us would starve, Urai started his tale.

 The Tale of Dragon Bracelets

 The incredible events that I want to tell you about, have been treated for a long time in the way, it was convenient for the interpreters to speculate on it. The story has been embroidered with new guesswork and then at last people could not tell the truth from the fable anymore and were lost in guesses, what has actually happened.

The time came for me to break my silence. I became an involuntary participant in these events and I want to tell you the true story as it unfolded before my eyes…

I was lying under the pellucid veil of dark-blue heaven. The sky was so low that it merely touched my face. It was a warm midsummer night with violet air so dense that it could be eaten, not breathed. The night was full of quiet rustling, sonorous chirr and rich singing. All day long I had been herding longhaired sheep on the grassy downs, scrambling my way along rocky paths. Now the sheep were sleeping in the steep meadow and I was lying in the grass carpet, the herbs tickling my face caressingly.

My fatigue and the torrid heat of the long summer day departed, subjecting me to the coolness and the slightest whiffs of the fresh night air. The long night and overall the whole life and the sheer Eternity were ahead of me. Such nights evoke reveries and call up dreams. And I was ready to fly away to the Fairyland of dreams on the wide velvet black wings of the Night, when suddenly a strange bright light appeared out of the corner of my eye.

The sky was clear that night, no cloud dared to obscure the newly-born crescent. Was it a shooting star? I raised slightly up, ready to make a wish and peered into the black vault of heaven – a blazing dot was rushing in the sky over the rocks, growing larger and brighter with every yard of its flight and soon its outlines loomed in the distance, taking the shape of a strange bird with an enormous wingspan that was ablaze.

But when it passed at great speed a hundred yards from me, its triangular outstretched wings cutting the air with a whistle, golden scales radiating heat and light and fire coiling in its fiery mouth, I clung fast to the grass, numb with fear, as the creature that I had supposed to be the firebird was none other than a great winged lizard aloft on the wind.

It went forth to the cold grey sea and, having reached the Сastle, set on the edge of the precipice overlooking the sea, vanished above it, having scattered into fiery sparks, which extinguished with hissing when they touched the ground at the end of their fiery flight. And then darkness fell again on the land of Gwynedd.

Scared and appalled by the sight of the lustrous monster, I recollected how often sheep disappeared from the herd in mysterious circumstances and all the tales and gossip about countless treasures of Llywelyn, the King, as it was he, who lived in the Castle with his wife and little son. People said that Llywelyn bathed in gold and his Treasury was a dome, hewn in the rock, piled high with gold and precious stones.

Then I could guess that the reason for his incalculable wealth was the Dragon, a loyal servant, who faithfully brought stolen gold to its master. I wondered what flagrant wickedness Llywelyn committed to repay the Dragon for his service? And had he ever repented? Full of dread, I rejoiced that I would never face the evil and wickedness in the Castle.

But this was not meant to be, as the Fates intervened in my life in the face of the Head of the Royal Guard, who showed up at the doorstep of my Father’s hut. “By order of the King! A hundred recruits will be conscripted to the Royal Guard today!”

I barely kissed my Mother and embraced my Father when I was kicked into the cart to join the other unfortunate wretches. We were taken away from our homes and dumped in the foreign Castle.

As we drove, we found plenty to talk about, and upon approaching the Castle, we gazed at its high walls with four towers, reaching high into the sky, facing the four corners of the Earth, and piercing the faintest clouds, sprinting to the West, with its points. The royal banners were waving freely in the breeze on their flagstaffs, reflecting themselves in the cool sparkling waters, running across the hill the Castle occupied, which was green as green could be the Eternal Spring.

Watchmen were looking out over the country through the narrow slits in the battlements, touched with the glorious light of the morning sun, to report the arrival of foreigners. Having noticed us, they shouted and cheered and pounded the stone floor of the Castle with their pikes to greet us.

Thus, my life in the Castle began. From dawn to dusk we were marched in rows across the cobbled courtyard to the sound of the voice of the Head of the Guards bellowing orders of the drill. We shot swift arrows at targets, fastened to hayricks, and leart how to fight with bright swords and sharp lances. But in my thoughts I was far away, wandering the grassy slopes of the mountains under the boundless sky, the bellies of clouds hanging right above me and listening to my slow talk to the sheep…

I sat at the cracked stone slabs, leaning my back against the cold stone wall. The night shift of the watchmen had just arrived to relive me, but there was no sleep in me and I stayed there, sitting near the brazier. I stretched my frozen fingers to the fire, warming myself.

“Bound here till midnight… Nasty business… I wish I slept in a soft bed now and was not stood here in the draught, chilly winds blowing through me…,” grumbled Joe into his beard, looking out through the slit, “pitch darkness… I guess, the Dragon himself would not make out the tip of its tail in such a murk.”

“Shut up, Joe,” snapped his lanky companion, “Do you want to bring us bad luck? We will all get into trouble if you invite the monster with your profane abuse.”

“And have you ever seen the Dragon near the Castle?” I threw out a feeler, not wishing to talk about my own experience, for fear of being labelled a blabbermouth.

The lanky guy, whose name was Snella, cast a gloomy glance at me and said in a hushed voice, “Look, Ordeah, let me choose the right words here – if you have any sense at all, you would not twaddle on about Dragons at every corner. Llywelyn takes it personally. The ancient legend says, some relationship (at the word “relationship” he lowered his voice to whisper) binds the royal family with the Dragons and that very long ago Llywelyn’s forefather did a favour to the Dragon and in return the Dragon promised to come to his or his heir’s aid should they ever find himself in mortal danger, either being overrun in a battle or starving to death. And in the end, the Dragon reassured him that as soon as he would be summoned, help would come and relief would be certain. Therefore, a golden-red Dragon is embroidered on the royal banners in silk – as he is the King’s patron.”

“And what favour did Llywelyn’s ancestor to the Dragon?” I inquired, casting a suspicious look at Snella.

“The old man didn’t bother to share this information with us, lad!” and they burst out laughing. When Snella recovered his breath he said, “These are only legends, lad! Do you really believe all these old wives' tales? The last thing we all need is a living Dragon! Bless us!”

I smiled at them, wondering deep down what on Earth was the King’s patron doing above the Castle, when I had seen him, as we were neither at war with anybody nor starving. A courtesy visit to enquire after Llywelyn’s health? Patrolling the territory to prevent armed attacks?

Busy with day-to-day duties, I soon began to forget my concerns about Dragons, as our service in the Guard was ordinary and routine.

Many times I got to see King Llywelyn. He was a stout red-haired man of medium height, thickset, with shoulders so broad that this was at once arresting the eyes of those, who faced him for the first time, and so strong that he could lift the bull into the air!

His wife, a fragile blond with enormous sky blue eyes, meek as those of a doe, was almost invisible in the Castle. But their son was a real imp, growing strong and courageous. Not once had we took him off from the turret where he perched himself as a cat and then dangled, uttering terrible cries that he would fall, and when brought to the ground, asking every one of us personally not to tell his father…

Once during my shift at the doors of the Prince’s bedchamber, I overheard his conversation with the King. I did not give any special attention to what I heard, but much later their words, having been reconsidered, shed light on many of the subsequent events.

“Papa, teach me how to …,” the excited voice of the boy broke and I didn’t catch the end of the phrase. “I am not sure you need this, Lerroy,” Llywelyn’s voice was coaxing, mild.

“But you cannot! You do not dare! You are not the only one! You can’t usurp the right…,” the prince’s voice rang with tears.

“You forget yourself, Prince! I will take the decision about your learning myself and you will obey it,” rose metallic notes in the King’s voice.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” whispered the boy. And the King left the chamber, without saying goodnight. When he passed me he clenched his fists so tight that his nails tore into his palms.

Still, the life in the Castle was peaceful and calm… until the night came that turned my life around…

I was keeping watch at the Treasury doors. The chimes struck twelve. Fighting drowsiness, I was peering into the darkness, edged with the dim ruddy light of solemn torches. Time hung heavy, endlessly. More than once I had been sinking into a doze, when at last a dull and subdued “Donn!” broke upon my ears, making me wake up with a start – the chimes struck “one”.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the setting, looking around attentively. Everything was quiet. Then suddenly a metallic “clank!” sounded from behind the Treasury doors!

Frightened that somebody must have stolen past me to the Treasury while I dozed, I bent and peeped into the keyhole … and then I became stupefied with terror and amazement… or maybe with amazement and terror. The red rock was towering in the cave, filling all the empty space with itself. With brilliant, shimmering gold colour, emitting golden glow… I could take a good look at the glossy jagged scales of an old acquaintance of mine – the Dragon!

The monstrous creature was bathing in the gold. Everything was blazing with unbearable heat, the gold was melting and the yellow-hot rivers of molten metal flowed along the golden hills. The Dragon tumbled on his back and started rolling on the gold like a foal, showing his pale undersides and inner thighs. Soon he was crusted with the scorching gold and precious stones as the gems glued to the molten substance. Turning right and left, the Dragon admired himself in the lake of molten gold underneath.

Then, he suddenly rolled over, helping himself up with his massive coiled tail, stood on all four legs, and his slanting golden eyes stared straight into my eyes. I was caught and before I dissolved in his oily gaze, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Dragon! Help! Dragon!”

In an instant glow went out and the Treasury was submerged into darkness. Still, I knew he was there, hiding in the dark, and, having drawn myself up, I went on screaming, “Help! Dragon! He’s robbing the Treasury!”

To my screams, a dozen guards came running from the corner, puffing and panting and jolting their pikes. I rushed to the Head of the Guards, waving my arms and pointing back at the Treasury door, and crying, “There… the Dragon�� in the Treasury, open the door! Quick, or he will run away with the help of his magic!” Tor, taken aback and confused, tried to calm me, when Llywelyn himself appeared from around the corner, dressed in leather trousers and a white short sleeveless shirt, “What's going on here? Who has caused this clamour?”

“Ordeah said he has seen the Dragon in the Treasury…” mumbled Tor, evidently not believing in what he was saying. “In the Treasury?” returned Llywelyn in a strange voice.

Taking no heed of possible accusations of peeking, I gibbered in haste, “Aye, I heard some noise and peeped through the keyhole! There he was! An enormous Dragon! If we delay, he will flee!”

“We should check his words, my Lord,” intervened Tor. Possibly, he took pity on me. There was a short pause. And then Llywelyn took out from under his shirt a small silver key hanging on a silver chain.

Following his movement, I glanced at his arms, bare, as his short shirt lacked sleeves, and noted that he wore golden bracelets on his wrists. However, a closer look revealed that these were not bracelets but golden strings, ingrown into the skin on his wrists! In great amazement I was staring at golden curlicues, flourishing upwards from the golden rings on his wrists to the crease of his elbow, resembling some fantastic floral tattoo…

Meanwhile, he put the key into the keyhole and turned. The door opened noiselessly. A dry, hot, stale air oozed to the gallery from the darkness, having been loosed. With lit torches, Llywelyn and Tor entered the Treasury.

The Gold… Gold in ingots, gold in coins and rods. Diamonds lay scattered among golden dust. Strings of milky pearls, dawn-pink in hue, twined round the circles of ancient golden shields, their mottos obliterated by centuries. The spikes of the crown, wrought of gold, came out from the pile of sparkling rubies, crunching under my feet. I stooped down and pulled it out of the precious waste by its spike. Heavy and cold round my arm, it cooled my palm. The red lights of torches were dancing around, casting bloody stains on the laced golden rings. Dunes of gold, dotted with sapphires, flashing out with dark-blue light, led to infinity as the edges of the cave were lost in the gloom…

I gazed and could not have enough. No stories from eye-witnesses, no words at all could prepare my mind for such a sight. I had almost forgotten about the Dragon and still… he was missing!

And I was not the only one who had noticed this as Llywelyn turned to me and shouted “Guards! Seize him and dump him out of the Castle! I will not tolerate a liar in my House!”

While I stared in bewilderment at the King, they seized me and dragged me through the galleries, and the last thing I remember was the sight of Tor, taking the pike Llywelyn had leant against the wall, and yanking his hand away with a scream of pain – “It’s hot metal!” – and Llywelyn’s voice, growing fainter, as he withdrew, “It must have stood near the hearth…”

I was kicking and fighting to the end, which meant to the Castle gate, screaming, “I am not a liar! I am not a liar!” while I was taken forth. They kicked me off the drawbridge and the stars spun above me while I was snorting and spitting out the water, wallowing in the river…

It is a long time since then. I returned to my parents’ house and to my sheep. But at night, when I dreamt, it seemed to me that somebody was touching my shoulder with hot palms and I dreamt the Dragon, his fiery face having human traits, and I could not discern them, no matter how hard I tried. I woke up in a cold sweat from my own cries, shivering and miserable. And as night after night I awoke my elderly parents and my brothers and sisters, they forced me to relocate to an abandoned hut, hidden in a lonely glen leading to the sea.

There I spent my sleepless nights, sitting near the firelight and burning logs in the hearth. Muffling myself up in the blankets I met each dawn, pondering over and over the events that happened in the Castle... But then at last came the day that changed the course of my life…

Once before daybreak, a lookout, striking the great bell, summoned people to arms. In several minutes horns blew, echoing along the hills, sounding the charge. Assault! To arms! With blood rushing to my head, I grabbed my bow and arrows and ran out of the hut as I was, barefoot…

The water was boiling in the offing with multitude of drakkars. Dragon's head with bared sword-like fangs in their wide-opened jaws was protruding from the bow of each painted ship. The horizon was bloody with scarlet-coloured sails and banners. The Vikings! Hundreds of them! At the sound of drums, beating the stroke, they were pulling the oars wildly. Then the warriors from the Dragonships, closest to the coast, leapt to the shallow water and came on like a tide against a thousand Gwynedd defenders, already awaiting for them, condemned to death.

“That’ll be the deadly end of our mortal souls!” I whispered and ran into the rows of archers who were sending a shower of arrows at the Vikings, who still were knee-deep in water. That day took a deadly toll on the invaders. Soon dead bodies were floating on the sea, but the hurrying multitude continued flooding to the shore. They outnumbered us by ten to one, sowing deathly dread in our souls. The Vikings were setting battlefield to chaos, wielding their axes in their left hands and waving their swords with their right, hacking the foot who were slowly giving back. Then, with shrill battle cries, mounted warriors rushed forward to wage battle led by Llywelyn himself, half-risen in stirrup at a white stad. Soon Llywelyn and his bodyguards were forced into a tight ring, surrounded with furious foes. Riders were cutting the enemies heads with their swords, defending themselves on all sides. Llywelyn cried to the Vikings’ Cynig, “Ic þe offslea, Gutworm!” Attackers and defenders tied into a great knot. Tor was in the centre of that slaughterhouse. He was trying to shield Llywelyn with himself. We were losing the battle, defenders were growing scarce, while the Dragonships were constantly landing fresh reinforcements. Llywelyn then broke through the encirclement and galloped to the edge of the nearest wood, clearing the way for himself with his sword. His arm raised and dropped with the speed of lightning and the wake of slain foes followed on both sides of his path. The Gwynedd army gasped… And Tor, his face distorted with rage, sent the dagger to the back of the King, the betrayer, fleeing from the battlefield. But he missed and Llywelyn disappeared behind the trees.

And then gasped not the Gwineddites, who had lost any hope by that time, but the Vikings, as from behind the wood showed himself in all his might none other than … the Dragon!

Everyone froze in awe. In the shafts of the rising sun he appeared in shades from grey to bright scarlet to turn brilliant, dazzling gold. Flapping his golden wings, he soared, shielding the dawn, approaching the battlefield with great speed, and soon the black shadow of outstretched triangular wings covered us.

With vertical slits of its snake-like eyes he searched the shore where all actions were paralysed and hands, squeezing axes and bows and swords, came down. Flames sprang in his fiery jaws … and then without any warning he beat his great wings wildly and spouted terrific flames on the battlefield, withering everything and everyone with his breath of fire, with no distinction between Gwineddites and Vikings. Dreadful cries made a chill wind blow across my skin.

A hail of arrows pierced the air and bounced off the metal scales and fell to the ground. I was standing deaf in the turmoil of fighters, scattering and sweeping to the beach in a desperate effort to flee and save themselves, at the terrific explosions of the Dragon’s uproar.

Flap of the wings in the jets of fire… Circling in the air… Flap of the wings, baring the skin of membrane under the wing, connecting it to the armoured body… With rigid fingers I pulled the iron bolt out of the quiver… Flap of the wings… The string drawn back… I aimed… Wings going upward… the thud of my heart… Twang!

I lowered my bow and my head…

And then I stopped my ears with my palms, as with the heartrending shriek that followed, the trees bent in fright and the grass shrivelled and blackened.

You would ask me where I had taken the iron bolt from? I contrived the whole plan during those sleepless nights, when I had to think about something in order to escape fiery nightmares. One guy, whom I knew, was a smith. He didn’t ask questions…

The Dragon, lame in the left wing, flew low and heavy to the Castle. I watched his flight, unable to anticipate his moves. His behaviour seemed inexplicable. Where was he going to hide himself? But as if in reply to my thoughts, he reared up in the air with a stinging cri de cœur and fell on the northern Castle wall, smashing stone and crashing it to pieces.

Tor shouted at that Gwineddites that survived, “To the Castle! Save the Queen and the Prince!” and rushed up, spurring his horse… In a minute only his horse’s tail could be seen in the distance.

We burst into the central gallery, lit with the rising sun shafts, streaming freely through the broken wall. Llywelyn… There he lay, with his wide-opened eyes staring to the eternity and my iron bolt protruding from his left side, Tor kneeling near him…

My mind was deserted, no thoughts, no emotions. Dryly, Tor snapped, half-turning his head to us, standing at his back, “Take care of Queen Loreine and Prince Lerroy.”

One of the guards reported in an unconfident voice, “We have searched the whole Castle and have not discovered the least sign of the Queen and the Prince. They are missing, Sir!”

Tor whirled around, “What’s the rubbish you are ta… ” He cut himself halfway through his abuse, as something flashed in his eyes, “The Treasury! Check the Treasury!”

We did not need the tiny silver key, as the Treasury doors were swinging wide open, leading to the cave that was… absolutely deserted. The floor of dark smooth stone was pristine as if no speck of golden dust had ever touched it…

Everyone had gone long ago and I was still standing there, in the cave, pondering in the vicissitudes of fate, dignity and betrayal, triumph and defeat… When I was just about to leave, I caught the glimpse of some dot, glittering behind the door. I bent… it was a golden coin with a countenance of a slender red-coiled Dragon. Had Llywelyn taught his son to fly? I shut the door behind me.

The end

***

 My eyes were heavy, I was obsessed with an overwhelming urge to yawn in the same way as everyone else. We were watching fading fires where potatoes were being baked in their jackets under the coals, their tantalizing smell soaring in the air and enveloping us with their smoke. Throughout the story, I had that vague feeling of something familiar that I was overlooking, that I had forgotten a long time ago and could not recall…

“When it comes to Dragons, the stories start to seem tricky and complicated. But the truth usually lies on the surface, the only thing you need is just to grasp it,” pensively noted Urai. Then he rose, “Now it’s time I sent you to your homes…”

I got scared that Urai wouldn’t know that I was going to the hostel together with the guys and would send me to my auntie and that I would again spend the whole night on the train to London. I wanted to tell him about it but I felt suddenly dizzy and all thoughts slipped from my mind…

[glamorous-revenge]

Prank War

((Stepping away from current events but here is my submission for the @moana-party​ exchange! My prompt was from @lokifenokee​, who requested:

Tamatoa and Maui play pranks on each other.

Hope you enjoy!))

Tamatoa chuckled to himself as he dabbed his paintbrush into a nearby coconut shell. The young crab struggled a bit, since claws weren’t exactly suited for painting like this… But then again, making something that looked pretty wasn’t his aim here… He grinned as he looked up at his canvas: the sleeping face of a certain demigod. It had been covered in various swirls and markings… a fake tongue crudely drawn to look like it was hanging from his mouth… pupils drawn onto his eyelids to look in different directions… Truly a masterpiece already, but Tamatoa was determined to make it perfect before Maui woke up.

“This’ll show him,” he commented to himself as he drew large buck teeth.

Mini Maui raised an eyebrow from his spot on his host’s forearm. It took Tamatoa a while to notice, but the living tattoo was giving him a pretty impressive 'mom glare.’

“Hey, he started it! … I think… But he got me last month! It’s my turn!”

Mini Maui rolled his eyes, and his shoulders bounced with a silent but good-natured chuckle. He’d been stuck in the middle of this little prank war between Maui and Tamatoa for decades now. It had started out small, with sarcastic comments and little jokes at the others’ expense, but then the rivalry started to grow as the two got more competitive… Hiding gross things in the other’s food, popping out and startling the other… at one point Tamatoa stole Maui’s hook and leaves while he was out swimming.

That had been an interesting party.

Mini Maui moved toward Maui’s hand for a better look at the crab’s handiwork as Tamatoa continued painting… A dab here, a smudge there… Almost done! If the crab could just get one… more…

Suddenly, the sleeping demigod was engulfed in a flash of blinding blue light. Tamatoa screeched in alarm and scrambled backwards, only barely avoiding a set of wickedly sharp claws that swiped past his eyestalks. Maui was gone, and in his place towered a sloth monster from Lalotai! The markings on its mask flashed underneath a tangled mass of brown and black fur, and a shuddering, creaky battlecry rattled from somewhere underneath as it lunged forward.

The little crab continued fleeing backwards, but in his panic, Tamatoa didn’t notice a dip behind him, and tumbled as he lost his footing. He landed on his back in the algae-covered sand with a muffled thud, legs flailing uselessly, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t right himself in time.

The creature loomed over him, crashing its paws against the ground at Tamatoa’s sides, earning frightened yelps with each strike. It growled and lifted its mask to reveal rows of sharp teeth, and threads of drool dripped on the terrified crab’s face... It leaned in, ready to finish off its prey...

Then broke out into peals of laughter.

“Got ya!”

Tamatoa blinked, fear giving way to confusion before morphing into annoyance as he realized what just happened.

“It wasn’t funny, Maui!” Tamatoa scolded. “You scared me!”

“Seemed pretty funny to me, Crabcake.”

“I told you already, it’s TAMATOA!”

Maui just shrugged, and effortlessly flipped the crab back right-side-up with his foot. Tamatoa hissed and tried to pinch the demigod’s tendon, but as usual, Maui just sauntered out of reach, and with a light zap turned back into his default humanoid form.

“Come on, Crabcake, ya gotta admit I got ya good,” he went on with a twirl of his fish hook. “Your prank was good too... Not as great, of course... 7/10 tops, but next time maybe make sure I’m actually asleep before ya get started. Save ya the effort and embarrassment of bein’ out-pranked again.”

Tamatoa huffed and crossed his arms. “If you were awake the whole time, then why’d ya let me paint you in the first place?”

“Make ya think ya won,” He wiped a black smudge away from his cheek. “Plus, it made scaring you all the more rewarding.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Love ya too, kid.” Maui grinned in the smuggest possible way, and knelt down. “Here, let me help ya clean that algae off of your shell.”

But Tamatoa skittered away from his hands. “Leave me alone.”

“Crabcake, I’m just trying ta-”

“I said leave me alone!” the crab spat, and stormed off into the nearby underbrush, leaving the demigod by himself on the beach.

Stars shined like crystals in the dark night sky as Maui hummed to himself in his hammock... another day of doing heroic deeds for the humans had come and gone, and the demigod was getting ready for some well-deserved Z’s...

... Or he would be if a certain tattoo wasn’t literally prickling in irritation on his chest.

“Are ya STILL not speaking to me?”

Mini Maui glared at his host, and with a silent snap of his fingers, a little representation of a sad Tamatoa appeared at his side. He picked up the little crab in his arms, though never broke eye-contact with his larger self.

Maui frowned. “Alright, look... that prank was over a week ago. Lil’ Crabcake’s gotten over it by now. He’s a tough little monster, he’ll be fine.”

Mini Maui didn’t seem convinced. He gave Mini Tama a few reassuring pats before setting him down on the clear skin beside him, and the little crab tattoo disappeared in a cartoonish cloud of smoke. Question marks popped up around Mini Maui as the tattoo pantomimed searching over the hills and trees of Maui’s other tattoos.

He gave Maui another pointed look; confident that his message had come across.

... That was true enough, actually... Maui hadn’t seen Tamatoa at all since that scare. He figured he was off doing his own... whatever crabs do during the day... but then again, Tamatoa almost always popped up again around during mealtimes, and Maui hadn’t seen chitin or antenna of him at all recently. He knew he wasn’t molting either, because he had just done a month or two ago...

He hoped the young monster was okay...

“Alright,” he huffed as he bounced up from his hammock. “If you’re so worried about ‘im, we’ll go find Crabcake. Happy?”

Mini Maui clearly saw through his host’s attempt to hide his true concerns about this, but nodded as he returned to his spot on Maui’s pectoral. The demigod himself grabbed his hook and hefted it onto his shoulder.

“Let’s see... if I were a crab,” he mumbled to himself, “where would I be?”

... ... ...

Well, simple enough to find out!

He tightened his grip, and in a flash of light, reappeared as a small monster crab himself. Maui didn’t use this form as much, so he took a moment to figure out the abilities this crab body had to offer, but almost immediately, his heightened senses caught a powerful odor lingering through the jungle.

His sensitive antennae twitched and recoiled... Whatever it was smelled awful, and his face twisted in disgust.

“Yeesh... Crabcakes can smell anything, can’t he?” Maui muttered, thankful that he couldn’t smell like this normally. “If a bug died anywhere on this entire island, I could probably smell it from here.”

A buzzing in his armor signified that Mini Maui was getting impatient.

“Right, right... Doesn’t matter right now... Gotta find the kid.”

And as much as he hated the idea, that smell was probably his best bet. Coconut crabs were scavengers, after all, and Tamatoa had never been different in that respect. Why, he could remember a time when-

His claw shot forward as Mini Maui invisibly tugged him toward the path.

“Alright! Alright! I’m going!“

Maui marched out into the thick brush, head high as his antennae bobbed and weaved to follow the scent. The light of his campfire slowly disappeared behind him as he delved further into the dark jungle, until only the light of the moon and the stars prevented him from bumping into trees and tripping over rocks.

He raised his hook-marked claw to his mouth. “Crabcakes!” Maui yelled out. “Come on, kid, where are ya?”

But there was no reply. He called out a few more times as he searched on, and the smell was growing stronger and stronger with each passing step.

Something felt off about all of this, but Maui pushed it to the back of his mind.

“If this is about scarin’ ya before, I didn’t mean to spook ya that bad, alright? Come back to camp.”

Still nothing... This was getting ridiculous... The island wasn’t that big in the first place, so where had the little guy run off to?

“I’m sorry alright? Is that what you’re looking for ya little-”

His foot suddenly struck against something buried in the sand, and as whatever it was shifted, the smell practically slapped Maui in the face. He gagged as he staggered backwards.

“Ugh... gross! Guess I found whatever reeks...” he commented to himself, and with another flash he was back in his humanoid form. Thankfully the smell wasn’t nearly as bad now, but whatever it was, it still felt like there was a rotting fish shoved up Maui’s nose.

Maui leaned down and pushed away more earth to get a closer look... but as more was cleared away, the demigod froze.

“... Wh... what?”

Shaky hands reached down and carefully removed the object... Maui gulped and his blood ran cold. He didn’t want to believe his eyes, but he recognized i immediately.

An all too familiar crab... limp and lifeless in Maui’s grip.

“Wh.. N-no!”

He tapped Tamatoa’s shell, gently at first, but more desperately as he went on, but there wasn’t a single flicker of movement throughout the monster’s body.

He spun it to face him, practically shouting now as he dropped to his knees. “Crabcake, wake up! You can’t be... I-I mean I just-... You’ve only been on your own a week!”

Still no response.

Maui barely even registered the smell anymore, even as it hung around him now like a fog. One phrase kept screaming at the front of his mind, even drowning out his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

‘This is your fault.’

“... Maui...”

Again, the demigod froze, though a shiver shot right up his spine as a quiet voice called out to him.

“Maaaaaaauuuuiiiiiii...”

He looked up, just as a glowing figure stepped out of the surrounding undergrowth... One that looked just like his fallen friend. It stared at Maui unblinking, and slowly shuffled forward with a single claw outstretched.

Maui screeched, and dropped the body as he tried to retreat, but his foot caught on an exposed root, and he landed backwards with a heavy thud. The demigod could only watch in horror as the ghost-like creature hoisted itself onto the his stomach. Maui couldn’t get himself to move, and as the little crab got closer to his face, he clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut.

A claw caressed his cheek, and the ghost leaned in toward Maui’s ear...

“... Got ya!”

Maui’s eyes flew back open, and the crab on his chest burst out into uproarious laughter as he tumbled back into the sand.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

“Crabcake?” Maui blinked. “You’re alive!?”

“Of course I am!” Tamatoa smiled. “But I scared ya, didn’t I?”

A beat... A frown... then a furious growl.

“... KID, WHAT THE HELL!?”

Tamatoa yelped as Maui suddenly got up to his feet. The demigod’s cheeks burned bright maroon as he glared down at the monster.

“I thought you were DEAD!”

“But I wasn’t!” he smiled proudly. “I pranked you and you fell for it!”

“No! You crossed a line there! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!”

The little crab frowned, tilting his head like a confused puppy as he took a tentative step back. “You... You scared me last time... how is this different?”

“Because I thought you had DIED! Can’t you see that!? You had me worried sick and I-”

Maui suddenly stopped as Tamatoa let out a weak whimper... Right... he was shouting at the equivalent of a small child, wasn’t he? ... Granted one that was over half a century old and covered in chitin, but Tamatoa was still a little kid.

He took a deep breath through his nose and folded his hands together.

“... Because I was worried about you, kid... I thought for a second there that I’d never see you again, and... And I thought it was my fault... If something ever really happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Tamatoa blinked, but said nothing, so Maui continued.

“It’s just different, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“... Okay...” Tamatoa mumbled, muffling an embarrassed chirp as he lowered himself into the sand.

Maui felt a sharp slap against his chest. Mini Maui frowned at him, tapping his foot in a clear sign of disappointment before he gestured back to Tamatoa.

The kid hadn’t meant to scare him THAT badly, after all... He thought he was just playing along... And in retrospect, he must’ve put a ton of work into it... Maui couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen the little monster put that much effort into anything.

...

The demigod sighed again. No use making him feel any worse about it. Maybe he could turn this around.

“... So how’d you do it?”

Tamatoa’s antennae perked back up. “What?”

“How’d you pull off the prank? You must’ve been planning this for a while.” Maui picked up the decoy crab and held it out. “Like this... Is this one of your old molts?”

Tamatoa nodded and tapped the decoy’s hollow face. “Yeah. I kept this one the last time I shed my armor.”

“But... it smells like death... You’ve dragged your old shells around before and they never smelled THIS bad!”

“Oh! Here, I’ll show you!” He reached inside the old shell and pulled out a much smaller and very dead surface crab. “Caught it earlier this week,” he chuckled as he tossed it up and caught it in his jaws. “Wanted to make sure it was extra rotten and stinky so you’d find it,” he explained through a full mouth.

Ugh... Monster table manners... Go figure...

“Alright,” Maui tossed the shell aside, “but what about the glowing? How’d you pull that off?”

“Easy!” The crab grabbed a nearby leaf and wiped his face. The green glow was smeared away, save for his natural bioluminescent markings, and he held out the leaf to Maui. “Remember that algae I tripped in after you jumped at me? Turns out it glows at night. Made me look like a ghost!”

Tamatoa was beaming again. He was so proud of himself for finally scaring Maui back... And the demigod had to admit he was impressed, even if it had scared him half to death. He took a deep breath, and managed a laugh as he pulled the crab in close and affectionately noogied his head with a single knuckle.

“Well, Tamatoa,” he smirked. “I think it’s safe to say you won that round. Now never do it again.”

The young monster’s eyes sparkled even as he swatted Maui’s hand away. “You used my name!”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re still ‘Crabcake’ to me, kid... Speakin’ a which though, you must still be hungry... Can’t imagine that rotten crab tasted good.” He lifted Tamatoa onto his shoulder. “Let’s get you back to camp.”

“Mm-hmm!”

The little crab held on tightly, and rubbed his cheek against Maui’s as they wandered back to the clearing.

“Hey... If you think that was good, I can’t wait to show you my next prank!”

"... How about instead we call truce, kid?”

[pengychan]

Te Rerenga Wairua - Ch. 16

Title: Te Rerenga Wairua Summary: Found by the gods drifting at sea, Maui always assumed he had been thrown in it to drown. When that assumption is challenged, there is only one way to find closure: speaking to his long-departed family. But it’s never a smooth sail to the Underworld, and he’ll need help from a friend - plus a token that fell in the claws of an old enemy long ago. Characters: Maui, Moana, Tamatoa Rating: K Prologue and links to all chapters up so far here.

“… And so I thought, ‘wait a moment, I never checked out this place!’, and gave it a go. It looked like there was nothing, but then I noticed something shiny - I can see anything sparkling from a mile away - and further on there was this cave, with crystals everywhere–”

“How old are you?”

“… So of course I– Huh?” Tamatoa blinked, suddenly yanked out of his tale by the sudden and definitely unexpected question. “What does that have to do with anything? Have you been listening to me at all?”

Leaning down in the sand, hands folded behind his head and gaze fixed on the stars, Maui didn’t bother answering his question any more than Tamatoa had answered his. “Three thousand years?” he guessed instead.

“Er… About three and a half, I guess?” Tamatoa ventured, frowning. Come to think of it he’d been acting kind of odd during that visit, like his mind wasn’t really there.

Unaware of his thoughts, Maui let out a hum. “That’s about it for me, too.”

“That’s… nice, I guess? I’m pretty sure I was an only child, though, so if you think you have a long lost twin–” Tamatoa began, only to trail off when Maui laughed. It wasn’t the usual laugh, though; it was far less heartfelt, with a bitterness to it that didn’t escape him at all.

“Hah! I don’t think we look alike enough, but I might have had siblings, who knows? Kids my parents didn’t throw at sea,” he added before falling silent for a full minute. Tamatoa had enough sense not to say anything - he knew it was a sore spot, of course, how could it not be? - and Maui eventually resumed speaking. “If there were any, they’re long gone by now while I’ll keep on living forever, unless something kills me. Funny, isn’t it? If they’d kept me I’d have stayed human, and I’d be dead now. Human lives are so short.”

Nothing in his voice or posture suggested what he’d said was even remotely funny, and Tamatoa didn’t think it was very amusing, either.

If we’d stayed in Lalotai, his Gran’s voice echoed in his mind, you’d have died within days.

Except that his mother and grandmother had meant to save him. Maui’s mortal parents had wanted him gone. “… Are you all right, man?” Tamatoa found himself asking, settling down in the sand. He already knew that he was not, because that kind of talk wasn’t like Maui at all, but he didn’t know what else he could say. Maui shrugged, eyes still fixed on the sky above.

“Yeah. Just missed out on a couple of friends’ passing,” he said vaguely, then, “how long does your kind live?”

To be honest, Tamatoa wasn’t sure. The only other giant crab he’d ever really known was his grandmother; she hadn’t told him that detail, and he’d never really dared to ask her age. He only knew she’d been old, a great deal more than he was now, and likely still had a few more centuries or even thousands of years left in her when the underwater volcanic eruption had quite literally cooked her alive. It had made her easier to chew.

“Well, a lot longer than human, for sure,” he finally said. “Gran was a lot older than me. Like, at least three times as old? Would make sense, being my grandma and all. I’m pretty sure I’m young, man. You still have a lot of time to enjoy my presence,” he added with a grin, pointing at himself with a claw and causing Maui to snort out a laugh.

“I feel so lucky,” he muttered, and finally lifted himself up on his elbows to look at him, tearing his gaze off the sky. “So, you were saying how you got those crystals?”

“Huh? Oh! Right! So, I got to this cave…” Tamatoa resumed his tale with no small amount of relief, but knowing deep down that his audience wasn’t really interested. When Maui came up with the suicidal idea of sneaking past Hine-nui-te-pō to win immortality for mankind, not too long after that night, Tamatoa was plenty worried… but only slightly surprised.

***

“I still can’t believe she let us go. How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t. I just figured that she’d want to have a lost friend back more than anything else. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“… Fair enough,” Maui sighed, and turned to glance at Tamatoa, who was resting on the sand by the fire. His somber expression turned slightly graver. “Still no sign of waking up,” he muttered.

“But he’s not shifting anymore, so… I don’t think he’s in pain.”

“Yeah, thanks to Te Fiti. Even if he doesn’t make it, at least there’s that. He’s not hurting.”

“So he could just… not wake up?”

It was the same question Moana had wanted to ask, but it had come from someone else entirely. Pilifeai was halfway into the ocean, munching what looked much like the remains of a shark, though he didn’t come too close to the fire they had started to keep warm and cook themselves some fish. Maui replied to his question with a nod, through a mouthful of said fish.

“Pretty much. Te Fiti has done what she could, but even her powers are limited over those of another goddess. Whether he makes it or not is up to him now. Good news is that, if he does make it, he’ll be virtually immortal.”

Moana blinked. “… He’ll be what now?”

“Hey, you heard me. He would have literally survived the bite of death - that’s a big deal. I mean, if someone cuts his head or something, he will still die. But if he lives to tell this story, he won’t get any older than he is now.”

“So it’s basically death or immortality?”

“Yep. Crabby never really settled for the middle ground, did he? Go big or go home.”

Moana bit her lower lip, and reached to place a hand on Tamatoa’s back. Normally his heartbeat would have been impossible to detect through the shell, but with much of it gone she could press a couple of fingers on the soft tissue beneath - and sure enough there it was, slow but regular.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Silently begging for it not to stop, Moana kept her hand on his back - and within moments he felt the weight of someone else’s hand on her own shoulder. “We’ve done all we could,” Maui said, and she nodded.

“I know. I just… really hope he makes it.”

“Well, makes two of us. I was never much of a fan of friends dying,” Maui said, and the clear bitterness in his voice caused her to turn to him. He looked back at her with a brave attempt at a grin, but it turned into a grimace soon enough. “You know, dying is a thing lots of mortals do. Of old age if they’re lucky. But I don’t grow any older, so I’ve seen… more than a few people leaving.”

… Oh.

Moana hadn’t really paused to wonder why Maui had tried to win immortality for humans, enraging the Goddess of Death for the first time and nearly being killed himself in the process, but now it all made sense. Once grown and wielding the hook gifted to him by the gods, Maui had returned to men seeking their acceptance. He had received their adoration, and likely the friendship of many… but he couldn’t really be one of them, not anymore. He kept living on, and humans just didn’t. How many people Maui had considered his friends had died over the centuries and millennia, like she would one day?

If you do not free the messenger, Hine-nui-te-pō had said, your friend here will pay the price. Her life span is short; her soul will come to my realm one day, as you’re all too aware.

“That… must be difficult to watch,” Moana found herself saying, and Maui shrugged, scratching his cheek.

“Well, truth be told I wasn’t usually there,” he said slowly. “I’d drop by, go away for a time, and then when I went back next time, a few people were…” he made a vague gesture with his hand. “I didn’t let me bother me too much until, well. Ruihi and Vailele weren’t half bad -  Vailele even befriended a whale and learned about currents from it - that’s pretty amazing, I had to give him that,” he said, and gave the fire a distant smile. Moana said nothing, waiting for him to go ahead. He did, after a few moments of silence.

“You know, when you live eternally, you kinda see mortals growing up. Each time you visit they’re a bit older. Those two were inseparable since kids. I don’t think anyone in the village was surprised when he asked her to marry him. Or was it the other way around? You know, knowing them, it was probably the other way around. Anyway, they put off the wedding until I happened to drop by. They wanted me to be there, you know?”

Moana smiled. “That was really nice of them.”

“Yeah, it was. Fun party, too - lasted all night and we were all more than a little drunk the next day. Lots of fermented coconut milk. I am usually pretty proud of creating that tree, but that morning I was sort of regretting it,” he added, and gave a brief laugh before throwing another log into the fire. He paused for a moment, the harsh light of the flames making it impossible for Moana to miss his frown.

“I dropped by from time to time, sometimes even travelled with them,” he finally spoke again. “But as time passed, they were less likely to be at sea. Easier to find them home. They were getting old fast, but I didn’t really notice how fast. Until one time I was away for a few years - can’t remember what I’d been doing, probably helping out other villages, or hunting for treasure with Crabby, or something - and, when I dropped by their island, they just… weren’t there anymore. Their kids were, and they were all happy to see me, but– hey, wait, don’t cry! It’s been a long time and I’m over it, honest!”

Moana blinked. “But I’m… not?” she said. Sure, the tale had saddened her, but she wasn’t crying or… wait a moment, had someone just sniffled? But if she wasn’t crying, Maui wasn’t crying and Tamatoa was unconscious, who…?

“All right, lizard, are you serious now?”

Pilifeai straightened himself and began backtracking into the ocean, though not without another very obvious sniffle. “I got a barnacle in my eye!” he all but yelled before turning and diving back underwater, leaving Maui and Moana to silently stare at the ripples for several moments before Maui spoke up again.

“This is getting slightly out of hand,” he said, deadpanned, and Moana couldn’t hold back a snorting laugh.

“I think this got out of hand from the start,” she pointed out, causing Maui to chuckle as well and sit back on the sand. They shared a few moments of peaceful silence before she reached to put a hand on his arm. “For the record,” she said quietly, “I am planning to stay alive for as long as I can. And even afterwards, I can come looking for you,” she added. “If my grandmother can roam the ocean, then so will I.”

Maui stared at her for a few moments, then grinned and gave her shoulder a small bump. “I’ll be counting on that,” he said, and glanced down at Tamatoa’s sleeping form. “Plus, you’d also be able to find him and give him a piece of my mind if he dares die on us now.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be needed. Missing out the moment I hit you with my oar would be enough of a punishment.”

“Hah! And here I was hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

“Not a chance,” Moana replied, elbowing his side, and they shared a long, peaceful silence before settling down to sleep. When Tamatoa shifted slightly on the sand, unconsciously moving closer to the fire and to them, neither of them stirred.

***

“Uuuugh…”

It was a groan, more than the light of dawn on her eyelids, that caused Moana to awaken. There was no grogginess, no stage in-between sleep and awareness: she was asleep one moment and sitting up the next, her mind perfectly clear and that groan - the meaning of that groan - all she could ear. “Tamatoa!”

“Uh– what…?” Maui mumbled somewhere behind her, but Moana was hardly aware of his presence: she could only stare down at Tamatoa to see he was blinking against the light, and trying to pull himself up.

You’re all right, she almost said - then Tamatoa’s head fell back onto the sand with a whimper and words died in her throat, relief turning into dread. He was awake and aware, but he didn’t seem to be faring much better. He was still sick. He was still dying.

No. No, please. This can’t be happening. He’s come so far!

She was aware, dimly, of Maui’s hand on her shoulder while he knelt down next to her. Tamatoa stayed still, breath coming out in gasps, and Moana found herself unable to speak for a few moments. When she did, her voice was barely a whisper. “Tamatoa…?”

With what looked like a terrible effort, Tamatoa lifted his eyestalks just enough to look at them, antennae limp. “Human?” he rasped, blinking at her a couple of time. “Is that you?”

Trying her hardest to hold back tears, Moana forced herself to smile. “Of course it’s me. You didn’t think we’d leave you behind, did you?” she added, but Tamatoa seemed not to have even heard her. He leaned his head back down, spent, and closed his eyes.

“So, that was… that was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

“That was amazing, buddy,” Maui spoke up, his own voice strained. “The most amazing feat I’ve ever seen.”

Another few moments, more labored breathing, and Tamatoa called out again. “So, did you… did you like the song?”

Something ached in Moana’s chest, and it took all of her willpower to hold back a sob. Her vision blurred, and she had to wipe her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I loved the song,” she managed, her voice shaking. She reached down to place a hand on his back, to comfort him somehow.

Except that she never got to.

“Ha-ah! I knew it!”

What…?

Moana reared back, and so did Maui, when Tamatoa suddenly perked up and stood, pointing at them with a claw, all signs of distress gone. “I knew you liked the song! Took you forever to admit it, huh?”

Moana’s eyes shifted towards Maui, who looked back at her in stunned silence before they both slowly turned back to Tamatoa - who, seemingly unaware of their reactions, was still talking.

“… And of course I knew you’d loved it, because who wouldn’t love my voice? And I came up with such clever lyrics, too. It only irked me you wouldn’t just admit it already - I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d have almost thought you were trying to avoid the quest– hey, what– no! Hey! Put me down! Wait! WA–”

“Aaaaagh!”

Maui’s throw was nothing short of perfect. Tamatoa was flung through the air in a perfect arch, screaming all the way, and finally fell into the ocean with a loud splash - which was immediately followed by another as a huge scaly head suddenly popped out from underwater, much closer to the shore.

“Wait, what was that? What did I miss?” Pilifeai demanded to know, but Maui entirely ignored him:  he just gave a satisfied huff.

“Well, that felt good,” he muttered, then turned to Moana. “I know, I know, I probably shouldn’t have–” he added, but he was cut off when Moana held up her hand.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said lightly. “He deserved it.”

***

“I really didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh yes, you did.”

“Well, you refused to tell me whether or not you liked that song and feedback is important, all right? So I thought–”

“Tamatoa?”

“What?”

“I can shrink you again if you don’t drop it now.”

The remark had the desired effect, if anything: Tamatoa, back to his usual size, finally shut his mouth - though he did look at her with something that looked awfully close to a pout. In the end he just turned to glance back over his shell, to survey the damage done. After a few moments of silence, he heaved out a sigh.

“Well, this shell is done for,” he muttered darkly, looking away. He didn’t say anything about the great deal of treasure he’d lost again, torn away along with chunks of shell and even flesh, but it was clear that was precisely what he was thinking about.

“Well, you can molt,” Maui pointed out. “And then you’ll have a brand new shell we can cover up with all of the treasure we’ll find at the Taniwha’s islands.”

Tamatoa scoffed. “What, am I supposed to thank you now?”

Maui lifted his hands. “Just pointing out the bright sides,” he said, and glanced at Moana, who crossed her arms and tapped a foot in wait. With a sigh, he turned back to Tamatoa. “By the way, uh… thanks. For trying to warn me, and… well, for taking one for the team.”

Under normal circumstances, Tamatoa would have taken the chance to gloat over Maui owing him - but those weren’t normal circumstances, and the sight of his mangled shell wasn’t helping matters. “I don’t like molting,” the giant crab muttered, a whiny quality to his voice. “It takes days for the new shell to harden. It’s all soft and squishy. I don’t like it.”

And it leaves you vulnerable, Maui thought. If that was the real problem, he couldn’t entirely blame him: he’d been hurt more in the past couple of weeks than he ever had been in millennia, after all. His torn limb must have been a walk in the park by comparison.

“You’re safe here. We’ll make sure nothing happens while you’re, as you put it, soft and squishy,” Maui promised, standing up, and threw the hook on his shoulder. “Not that I think you’re gonna need us as bodyguards. I mean, you’ve sort of beaten death, Crabcake. What can even threaten you anymore?”

Tamatoa glared at him and opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Slowly, his expression turned into one of bewilderment, like he was just realizing exactly what had happened. “Oh. That’s right. She bit me and I didn’t die,” he muttered, and turned to Moana with a wide grin. “Hah! Now that is amazing, isn’t it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I am still mad at your for the act you put up earlier, you know.”

Tamatoa’s face fell. “Aw, come on! It was just–”

“Go molt.”

“But–”

“Now.”

With a huff like that of a scolded kid who really doesn’t think he deserved the scolding in the first place, Tamatoa crossed his pincers. “Ugh. Fine. But you’ve got to leave.”

“… What?”

“And don’t look!”

Oh, Maui thought, right. He’d almost forgotten that molting was kind of a private matter. “Won’t look. Actually, we’ll be off to catch some fish,” he promised, putting an arm around Moana’s shoulders to lead her away. It would be for the best: from what he could recall, a giant crab molting involved some less than pleasant noises as the old shell was fractured to, not to mention the crunching sounds when said crab proceeded to eat it.

Because, as Tamatoa had said a million times before, his Gran hadn’t raised him to be wasteful.

***

“Hey, Crabcake–”

“Eeek!”

“Oh, come on! I’ve seen you molting befo– huh. Did you already eat all of the old shell?”

Half-hidden next to a huge, moss-covered boulder, Tamatoa shrugged. “I was hungry, man. And besides, a good chunk of it was gone,” he said, voice flat. He was resting his head on his claws, his antennae idly moving around a small pile of trinkets - all that he’d been able to scrape off his old shell’s remains, Maui supposed.

“… Right. Battling death burns calories, huh?” he found himself asking, rubbing the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. His gaze fell back on what little was left of the recovered treasure. “I’m, uh. Sorry about your stuff.”

Tamatoa gave him an apathetic look. “I should have told you about the hairpin sooner, huh?”

Maui sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Well, yeah. But I shouldn’t have gone off ahead like I did. I’d say we’re even when it comes to bad life choices,” he added, and tried to grin. Still, it died on his lips when his gaze fell on Tamatoa’s stump. “I’m also, well. Sorry for your leg.”

Tamatoa’s eyes flickered towards it, then turned back to the remains of his treasure. Some of it was still stained in dried, blue blood. “And I shouldn’t have attacked the humans, I guess,” he said flatly. “But they had so many shiny things, and I…” another pause, and he sighed. “Well, I’m back to square one anyway,” he added, and frowned down at the small heap of treasure before him. “It never really made me special, did it?”

Well. Took him long enough, but here we are.

“What, that heap of junk? Nope. You did,” Maui pointed out, leaning on his hook. “Are you just forgetting the part where you’ve literally stood up to the Goddess of Death, wounded her, and lived to tell the tale?” he asked, causing his antennae to perk up some. “Come on now, don’t make me go all Moana on you. What you did is the stuff legends are made of, and trinkets had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was all you.”

Tamatoa looked rather smug as Maui spoke, but that died down some when he glanced back at the remains of his hoard. It looked like losing it all over again was a sore spot regardless, but it was no surprise to Maui. He’d been there as well: when you spend millennia - most of your existence - defining your worth a certain way, it’s hard to shake it off even once you know better. Pep talks may help, but that kind of stuff took time. He still had plenty of crap to work through himself.

“You know, if that’s still not enough, I’m sure we’ll find plenty of shinies at the Taniwha’s island,” Maui pointed out. Tamatoa made a face.

“It won’t be enough. My shell is going to look hideous, man. I’m scarred and it’s gonna show even more when the shell hardens. I bet there will be cracks and– hey! Careful when climbing! I’m delicate!” he protested. Maui ignored him, and just hoisted himself up on his back - which did feel sort of squishy, to be honest - to take a look. Tamatoa’s skin was several shades lighter than the shell, but it would darken as it hardened. It was also scarred, sure, and that would definitely show on the new shell, probably causing fissures. But they were unlikely to be deep enough to reach skin, and that would make them easy to fill up.

“Pffft, this is nothing. The Taniwha’s gold will be enough to fix any cracks.”

“No it won’t. It can’t be enough to cover all–”

“I said fix them, not cover them.”

“Huh?”

“Just trust me on this one, Crabcake,” Maui said, jumping off and landing next to his head. “I’ll fix you up real good. You might even like your new shell better than the old one - it will show off your battle scars, and that is a story you’re gonna want to tell everyone about. Your story. Like my tattoos, I guess? It’s gonna be something you earned. Oh, by the way!” He grinned and took a step back, spreading his arms. “Notice anything different?”

Tamatoa squinted at him. “… Did you give a hair trim?”

“Nope! It’s– no, wait. Actually, yes,” Maui admitted, running a hand through said hair. His fingers paused for a moment on the hairpin still in it. “That too, just  to get rid of a few split ends. Thanks for noticing. Anything else?”

Tamatoa blinked at him. “Uuuh… I can’t think of– hey, wait a moment…” he said, gaze pausing on Maui’s torso. There, on the right side of his chest, one of his tattoos had changed back to what it had been before. Maui was no longer holding onto the sun on his own: there was a well-known figure back in the picture, helping him in the deed. His own.

“Looks familiar? I mean, you did help. I shouldn’t have taken you out of the narrative - these tattoos should tell all of my story, and not just the parts I want to show off. Oh, but I do want to show off this!” he added, turning to show his back and flexing his arms. “What do you think? I thought this was a fight worth telling about. Please, don’t let the muscles distract you too much.”

There was no comment on his muscles, of course, as there was no comment about the new tattoo on his lower back; Tamatoa was too surprised, Maui supposed. It showed Maui himself trapped under a boulder, a hand reaching out, as well as Moana with her arms lifted in an extreme attempt at protecting herself - but the real centerpiece of the tattoo was Tamatoa, holding off a very pissed Hine-nui-te-pō.

“So, uh. What do you think?”

No answer.

“… I think you’re pretty on-model, really, but if you’ve got changes to sugge–” Maui went on, only to trail off when he heard  the muffled but unmistakable sound of someone sniffling.

Well, who wouldn’t have known? Making monsters cry is even easier than beating them.

“Tell me you’re not crying,” Maui found himself saying, and as a response he got another very obvious sniffle as well as a predictable mumble on how something must have gotten in his eye. When Maui turned, Tamatoa was rubbing both eyes with the back of his claws.

“Must have been a piece of shell,” he muttered, and Maui immediately nodded. On his chest Mini Maui was wiping his eyes as well, with Mini Moana reaching over to pat his shoulder.

“Oh. Sure. A piece of shell,” Mau repeated. He didn’t bother asking if he’d liked the tattoo: the reaction had already told him everything. “So, uh. I’ll leave you alone now. Want me to bring over some fish while you get on hardening that shell? Moana and I caught some.”

Tamatoa immediately nodded, clearly relieved by the change of subject. “Oh. Sure. That would be nice,” he said, and paused for a moment. “… The human is not that mad, is she?”

Maui laughed. “For your little stunt earlier? Maybe a bit, but she won’t be for much longer. She was terrified you’d die on us. Just… never bring up that song again.”

“But she did like–” Tamatoa began, only to trail off when Maui raised an eyebrow. “All right. I won’t,” he said, and Maui grinned before bumping a fist on his claw.

“Now just get that shell ready, and we’ll be good to go. Free the Manaia, get some loot while we’re at it - it’s gonna be a child’s play, just like old times,” he added, and turned to leave.

“Hey, Maui?” Tamatoa called out. Maui paused, and glanced back at him over his shoulder. The giant crab hesitated before shrugging. “… I’m glad I didn’t eat you.”

Again, Maui couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Hah! You should be. I bet I taste horrible, with all of this ink,” he said, walking away. He heard Tamatoa chuckling at the comment and, most of all, he felt his gaze on the new tattoo on his back until the moment he turned the corner.

***

“Maui, your tattoo!”

His hands busy holding onto the rope to keep the sail in the right position, Maui replied without turning. “Which one? You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve done a bit of redecorating.”

Instead of replying, Moana reached to brush aside Maui’s hair, so that she could take a better look. She had seen his new one, depicting the fight at Cape Reinga, and of course she’d noticed Tamatoa was also back in the one on Maui’s chest, but until that moment she hadn’t realized something else had changed, the one on Maui’s upper back.

When she’d last seen it, it showed a long-haired woman throwing a child into the sea; simple as the design was, there had been a sense of heartlessness to it that had made it hard to breathe for a few moments when she’d first learned its meaning. But now the tattoo had changed: he woman’s hair was no longer long and flowing, but cropped short; she was not throwing the baby at sea, but rather gently laying him to rest on the waves, wrapped up in a knot of hair. It was still heartbreaking to look at, but in a different way. Moana traced the woman’s figure with a finger, and looked up to meet Maui’s eyes from over his shoulder.

“Well, Hine-nui-te-pō sort of confirmed I was stillborn until the ocean and the gods intervened, so… I figured it was time to correct a bit of history I always got wrong,” he added with a shrug, like it was no big deal. But of course it was - the biggest deal of them all. Moana poked outline of the baby on his skin, and smiled.

“She’s going to be so happy to meet you,” she said. Maui blinked at her for a moment before turning away just a bit too abruptly, clearing his throat.

“I’ll find out when I see her, I guess,” he muttered, reaching up to rub a forearm across his eyes. “Ugh. Salt water.”

Salt water. Sure.

“Hey, human!” Tamatoa’s voice rang out on their left. He’d emerged on a shallow patch of sea and was walking alongside the boat, head held just out of water. He’d refused to be shrunk again, and had travelled along with them by walking across the bottom of the sea.

“What is it?”

“Unless I’m wrong, and I never am, we’re about to get there,” he added, antennae flickering towards the horizon. Sure enough, the outline of the Taniwha’s islands was becoming more and more visible. “I sort of wonder how did they manage to best the Manaia of all beings. They’re powerful.”

“Must have tricked them,” Maui replied, throwing the fishhook over his shoulder. “Some sort of trap. There is no way those gremlins bested the Manaia in a fight, so they must have been caught by surprise. But no worries, we won’t be. We’ll go and clobber them before they can even try to think up some trick to pull.”

Tamatoa glanced at Moana. “You said you had a plan to get past Headless Guy Who Is Actually The Manaia. Mind to share, babe? Because I think I’ve taken enough beatings to last me a lifetime or two lately.”

Moana shrugged. “It’s a simple one. I distract it, and you go for the island.”

“… What, that’s all?”

Beside her, Maui shrugged. “What else do you need? The Manaia chases after her, we get on the island undisturbed. We ask nicely for the head. If that doesn’t work we trash their place, take the Manaia’s head, you help yourself to any treasure, and then we return the head to its owner.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.”

“What, afraid of the Taniwha now?”

“Wha– no!” Tamatoa protested, clearly immensely offended by the mere suggestion. “Of course not! I mean that it doesn’t sound safe for the human. That thing is strong, remember? Held off both of us, and almost did me in when I tried to get  past it on my own. If it catches you, you’re done for.”

Moana grinned, leaning against the mast. “But first, it would have to catch me,” she said. “And it won’t even come close. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I maneuvered my way past Te Ka; I can outrun this one, too.”

Tamatoa opened his mouth to say something else, but someone got there first.

“Wait a moment, does that mean you’re splitting up? Am I supposed to pick what to watch?” Pilifeai protested, head popping out from underwater. That gained him a few unimpressed looks.

“Yeah, we sort of forgot to tailor our plan for your convenience,” Maui said drily. “But no worries, you won’t need to pick, because you’re not coming anywhere near the island. Can’t risk you getting the Manaia all the way to us while we’re busy recovering their head. On the other hand, you got yourself a first-row seat to watch the chase.”

“Wha–”

“Iti haere.”

Pilifeai indignant protests at being shrunk again was covered by a laugh. Tamatoa reached to pick him up from the sea with a pincer, holding him before his eyes, and grinned. “You know, I like you a lot better when you’re tiny,” he told him before glancing at Moana. “You sure I can’t eat him?”

“Absolutely. Just leave him with me.”

“Ugh. Fine,” he muttered, unceremoniously dropping Pilifeai down on the boat. The lizard immediately squirmed back his paws and glared daggers at Moana, who gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but we can’t risk you interfering. No worries, I’ll get you back your size once this is over with.”

“If this boat and everyone on it survives it,” the lizard snorted.

“Get praying, then,” Moana said lightly, and grabbed the rudder before turning to Maui and nodding. “I’m good to go. Move for the main island when the Manaia comes after me.”

“Will do. Lead them to a good long chase,” Maui said, and lifted his hook. “Crabcake, you just follow me. Chee-hoo!”

As Maui’s shark form disappeared under the waves, Tamatoa turned to glance at her one more time. “You sure you’ll be fine, babe?”

“Positive. Have fun raiding that island,” Moana added. On other circumstances she may have suggested a less aggressive approach, but she found she had little sympathy for beings willing to enslave another the way they had done with the Manaia. Unaware of her thoughts, Tamatoa grinned back.

“Oh, you bet we’ll be having fun,” he said, and disappeared underwater to go after Maui. Moana turned back towards the Taniwha’s island, reaching to take a hold of the sail.

“Well, so will I. Ready to go?”

In the hold, Heihei let out a distinctive ‘bwook’. Pua went to sit at the front of the ship, rigid like a warrior steadying himself for a fight. Pilifeai, on the other hand, sighed and flopped down on a rolled-up rope.

“I suppose there would be no point in telling you I can be more useful at full size, would there?”

“Nope. We’re not going to fight it, hust keep it running around like a headless chicken.”

“Bwaaak!”

“… Right. Sorry!”

“Hah! Headless! I see what you did there,” Pilifeai laughed, and sighed. “For the record, I’d be leaving this instant if you weren’t the only one who can turn me back my size. If we die doing this, I’ll spend all of eternity in the Underworld repeating that I’d told you so.”

“Noted,” Moana said, not precisely worried at the thought. After all, she was confident she could outrun the Manaia without too much trouble. And if she couldn’t, Hine-nui-te-pō’s threat to make her afterlife unbearable was slightly more concerning than anything a giant lizard could do or say.

***

“Aren’t you even a bit concerned?”

“Nope. Nice to see you are, though.”

“She’s just a human on a boat, up against a deity!”

“You know, the sooner you stop underestimating that human on a boat, the sooner you can stop feeling stupid when she invariably proves you wrong.”

“But–”

“No, really. Take it as friendly advice.”

“She almost died at Cape Reinga.”

“She was not on a boat.”

“… That is actually a good point. No, wait! There was a moment before that, when some rocks fell and–”

“Relax, Crabcake. There are no falling rocks here and no strong currents. She’ll do just fine,” Maui replied, perched on Tamatoa’s shell. He kept his gaze fixed on the boat sailing some distance away. She was almost near the spot where they’d been when the headless guardian had first attacked them, so any moment now… any moment…

The ocean next to the boat suddenly seemed to rise in a tidal wave, and Moana was reacting to it before the surface even broke: she immediately steered her boat in an almost complete U-turn and, when the headless warrior emerged to strike out at her, its hand hit nothing but water. It had missed, and Moana was already sailing away from it - fast enough to be out of reach, close enough to encourage the chase. And chase it did, turning its back to the main island… and to them.

“All right, it took the bait. Let’s go.”

It was a fast swim from their vantage point to the main island. As Tamatoa stepped on the sand, Maui turned to check the situation. Moana was still ahead of the Manaia, and she was also leading them behind the small island they had spent a night on - entirely shielding them from sight. Not bad, Maui thought, not bad at all.

“All right, let’s make this quick,” Maui said, throwing the hook over his shoulder. “We ask them politely, they decline, we take what we need by force and leave.”

Tamatoa tilted his head on one side. “Why are you so sure they’ll decline? I mean, they know who you are, and they’re on the small side. They could just take a look at us and decide the only smart thing to do is surrender,” he added, causing Maui to shrug.

“I’m doubtful but hey, I have been proven wrong before. Here’s your chance to find out.”

“Huh?” Tamatoa looked ahead to see what Maui had already seen: a bunch of Taniwha - slightly larger than humans, skin covered in scales, unblinking reptilian eyes  - staring back at them from the vegetation. They must have come to see what was going on when they’d heard their guardian being awakened and, if the spears in their hands were anything to go by, they had come prepared to take on any intruder who’d managed to get past the Manaia.

Well, good luck with that.

Maui smiled, and spread his arms. “Good morning there. We’re here for the Manaia’s head, and for the treasure we know you have taken at the Vault. We’re going to give both back to their legitimate owners. My friend here,” he added, gesturing towards Tamatoa, “thinks you’re smart enough to know when to quit, so how about you do just that? Surrender, hand us what we want, and no one gets hurt. Well, unless the Manaia turns on your once freed. Which would be justified, by the way, after a thousand years or so of servitude, but I don’t think I’m the best person to lecture you into not messing with deities. If you surrender, pack up and leave as quickly as possible, the Manaia might even decide not to come after–”

He was cut off by a barrage of furious hissing, and a wall of spears being raised against them, tips glistening in the sun. Maui raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Tamatoa. He was looking down at the spears he may as well have used as toothpicks, clearly unimpressed. His gaze shifted to Maui.

“… Are they serious?”

“Yep. Told you they weren’t smart enough,” Maui said, and lifted his hook, ready for the fight. It was going to be a short one, and the outcome was obvious, but at least they had tried to be polite about it.

***

[Back to Chapter 15]

[On to Chapter 17]

[davidaolson]

We took the water taxi from the dock at the end of the next door pier to the ferry in San Pedro then ferried to Caye Caulker. We are not a big fan of the ferry system mainly because we are always be stuck in the lower section which does not provide a vantage point where the shades of turquoise are easily studied, where the wind can rub its fingers through my ever whiter hair. Most seats are in the belly of the beast where there are few windows. And because we are shoehorned sardines, there is little space to maneuver for a better view. It feels claustrophobic.

Our return ride, our final ferry ride, was infinitely better. We were able to wrangle two seats on the top and watch the green shores of Caye Caulker fade into oblivion and the palm-lined shores of Ambergris Caye appear magically on the Northern horizon. See the horizon stretch from yesterday into tomorrow, into the soul of a lone rainbow hanging onto Earth’s edge in the East and a gray wall of never experienced rain in the distant West.

Roots, rock, reggae, dis a reggae music Play I some music, dis a reggae music…

The vibe on Caulker is a far cry more mellow than the relatively bustling San Pedro which is a slow crawl compared to sweet home Chicago. I specifically wore my Che Guevara shirt, his head in silhouette against a military green background, for this part of our vacation. Rebel. Rebel. It received an early compliment. I think I may need to purchase similar shirts for Brotha Marley, Uncle Ho, Cousin Vladimir, Papa Villa, Tante Joan d’Arc, Señor Bolivar, Jefes Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull, Friar Martin Luther, Uncle Martin King, Great Aunty Rosa, Mr. X, Viva Zapata, ¡Viva la Revolución! …I think you can see where my heart lies…

Anyway, the Caulker feels reggae…dis a reggae music…from the moment one disembarks the ferry. The island sends relaxed out relaxed vibes that appear to be floating within life. Maybe, floating on the spirit wings of the Ganja bird…I don’t know. But the vibe is one lovish…

One Love! One Heart! Let’s get together and feel all right…

One Love Bench on Caye Caulker

Everyone we encountered was friendly and chillaxed. It is a place I could see me whiling away the years of my youth when I was young and living close to, if not over to the edge of sanity. How about the Winters of my retirement? Not sure. I’ve taken to enjoying solitude and don’t see that possible in this very small village but it is definitely a great place for a lunch and an afternoon.

One of our first activities was to hole up in a restaurant hanging over the ocean, a restaurant with a cover but otherwise open to the sea breezes and gentle waters and puffy clouds lazing their way across the impeccable sky. In the North, a dozen or so Magnificent Frigate Birds hung in the sky, all facing into the wind, barely moving as if they were tethered to a child’s mobile hanging over a crib. They almost lulled me to sleep.

The Frigate is brownish black with a deeply forked tail. I envied their ability to float in tranquility. Frigates are considered good omens as their presence means land is near. I felt lucky to be at this place at this time in my life. We ate close to noon and were almost finished eating the fresh fish when a catamaran dumped a load of tourists all who tried to squeeze into the eatery quickly destroying the tranquility. We hurried out. I like to be around people…generally in moderation. I also enjoy silence…

People talking without speaking People hearing without listening…

When I think of silence, I don’t envisage absence of sound. For me, silence is defined by the absence of human-generated noise be it the human voice which can trill emotion beyond the bounds of human thought, be it a jackhammer chewing away in the heart of downtown Chicago in the twilight before the masses have emerged from their hives to pollinate the financial flowers perfuming global commerce.

For me, silence includes the choir of nature, the low croak of Gecko hunting insects by the light of the waxing Moon, the rustle of leaves when a flock of Pelicans launches into the morning sky after a night sleeping safely in the trees, the gentle scraping of Fiddler Crab hauling its shell across a sandy beach at night seen when I walked out with a bottle of wine to sit in the poetry of the ocean, the song of the orange Sun inching o’er the horizon, the light scratch of Iguana’s claws scurrying over rocks before it sucks in a juicy fly or hurries to a hideout when spooked by the shadow of Hawk on the prowl. The iguana moves in staccato bursts punctuated by long stays in the musical score playing in the background of its life.

For me, silence is the place I find myself, if not find, then converse with my inner voice, scratch away at my defenses in an attempt to understand the beast within until, that is, Monkey gets antsy and interjects without raising his paw to be called upon in an orderly fashion. He sticks a needle in my ass to get my attention. As he frequently did in Caye Caulker.

Folks won’t find us now because Mister Satch and Mister Cros We gone fishin’…

Caye Caulker is run down as if the town was succumbing to neglect. Or it was rooted in the hippie vibe more concerned with the present moment than the tomorrow which never comes. Zen existence. Many buildings are on stilts to keep the residents dry during the hurricane season when waters can surge and cover the low lying island. A number of buildings were broken. Many were little more than concrete shells. Poverty. Surprising?

I seem to be always surprised by poverty which is strange considering there are many more poor than there are not poor. The rundown nature of the island may be why accommodations tend to clock in at half or less that of Ambergris Caye where we were staying. It could also be why so many youths choose to congregate here where bars line up side by side on the main streets. Youth and alcohol…fun and dangerous…dangerous fun…bars in Caulker open early. I don’t drink before 5pm…

Jewelry particularly earrings and necklaces on a street vendor’s table is a bait my wife can’t pass up. It’s her shiny penny, her pink pony. Where I see a hook, she sees yummy morsels to add to her eclectic collection. When choosing, she selects for rare beauty. It is my job to negotiate the final price so the barb doesn’t set too deep in our tender wallets. I paid higher than normal because some profits went to the local women creating a cottage industry to help them sustain and grow. The woman we purchased from told us of a place on the island to see Tarpon and seahorses and gave us a free map of the tiny island. Glad my wife took the bait.

Tarpon In Tarpon Bay

We followed the map with less luck than I would have expected. That was ok because while on Caye Caulker, I planned on taking Monkey walk for a long walk on a very short pier and pushing him into the drink for a few hours of peace. What I wasn’t planning on was a heat that was punishing, a humidity making my balls swampy, while searching for the appropriate length pier. I was beginning to think we wouldn’t get lucky when we walked along a dilapidated, twisty pier through a shaded, almost spooky mangrove opening to a bay teeming with tarpon.

Tarpon are a sportfish that can grow up to 280 pounds (127 kilos) and 8 feet(2.5 meters) long. These Tarpon were schooling in about three feet deep. None were the 280-pound monsters but there were a few in the vicinity of 50+ pounds, prime game for a fisherman such as myself. They are edible but not delectable so most are thrown back. I was itching to pull out a rod and reel and try my hand but today was not the day I would get to fish. This is one of the few places Monkey and I aligned today. Nor would I fish the entire trip as it cost $250 for a half day of guided fishing which is to steep for my tastes.

I’ve been around for a long, long year Stole many a man’s soul to waste And I was ’round when Jesus Christ Had his moment of doubt and pain Made damn sure that Pilate Washed his hands and sealed his fate…

Mi esposá opted to purchase feeder fish from the Belizean woman manning the shack at the end of the pier. 5 Belizean dollars for 10 dead fish to hold a few inches above the water, dead fish to entice the monsters to break through the surface and suck in an offering. She a high priestess offering sacramental communion to the devotee. The trick is to hold the fish between two fingers with the palm open so the fish doesn’t also inhale the hand although the mouth is big enough to suck in the hand and half the arm.

High Priestess Offering Sacramental Communion to the Congregation

        After watching her feed a few, I decided to join in the fun but with a twist. I figured it could be a great way to wash my hands of Monkey once and for all. I wrapped Monkey tightly around a tantalizing feeder fish and dangled it a few inches above water counting the seconds until Tarpon swallowed Monkey for absorption in his gullet or puke him far out in the deep blue sea where he would drown. Either way, I would finally have Monkey off my weary back. Freedom! Just one fish away.

Pelican

But, not a Tarpon jumped. Not a one. I touched the water with Monkey Fish, still nothing. It was as if the little fucker hypnotized Tarpon. They even quit leaping for the fish my wife offered. Frustrated, I tossed fish into the air and let it plop into the water where it was gobbled up almost as soon as it hit the surface. It is amazing how fast the behemoths can move when motivated. Unfortunately, Monkey was not part of the meal. He crawled up my arm, into my ear, and tucked himself deep into my subconscious where he remained hidden quietly for a few hours. I think he finally figured out I was serious about existing in and only in the moment.

Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars…

Three kayakers pulled into the bay to marvel at the Tarpon. They spoke a combination of French and near accent-free English. The blond, almost as pasty as me, hopped into the water, waded with the fish who swam safely distanced from her pallid glow. Tarpon has sandpaper teeth instead of needles or spikes meaning they can do little damage with their mouths to human flesh.

Kayakers in Tarpon Bay

Tarpon kept a safe distance parrying with a flick of the tail all her attempts to ‘pet’ one of them. Predators don’t grow large without developing street smarts in abundance. She settled for a few selfies featuring Tarpon in the background. When the woman climbed back into her kayak, two halves of a pale moon separated by a thin, black partially eaten thread shown bright as the raging sun. Her bikini was little more than a thong with ruffles at the waist.

We walked around town for a couple of more hours in the glaring sun. My wife added to her golden glow while the little of me exposed to the sun mimicked the pink inside of a conch shell which, by the way, are quite tasty.

We walked to one of the few resorts on the island which is much different than the many resorts lining the shores of our island. There was a small seahorse farm with yellow, black, and brown seahorses hiding in the weeds. We mostly saw them when their tales were wrapped around a blade of seagrass and they sat idle.

I am amazed at the number of midday drinkers mainlining alcohol into their systems. And it was not young kids. These were adults, some retirement aged drinking their day away. One woman looking to be 60ish but that could have been from the ravages of alcohol was so drunk she had to walk carefully to the bar for her sixteen-ounce refill. I had a Mai Tai…it’s always 5pm somewhere.

It wasn’t our scene so we moseyed in the general direction of the dock to await the ferry. A short downpour, they tend to be brief on the island lasting no more than fifteen minutes, forced us onto a bar porch for a short rest before completing our trek. We arrived at the dock early meaning we were in the front of the line. And we finally were able to sit on the upper deck of the ferry. Definitely not Uecker seats this time.

And we were excited to go back because San Pedro is home to the best Chicken and Rice or Pork and Rice we have ever eaten. It is on par with Jerk Chicken from the kettles of Jamaican beaches. We planned to buy enough food for a couple of meals…

To be continued….

Caye Caulker, Long Walking Monkey on A Short Pier: A Week in Belize, Part 4 We took the water taxi from the dock at the end of the next door pier to the ferry in San Pedro then ferried to Caye Caulker.

[pengychan]

Te Rerenga Wairua - Ch. 12

Title: Te Rerenga Wairua Summary: Found by the gods drifting at sea, Maui always assumed he had been thrown in it to drown. When that assumption is challenged, there is only one way to find closure: speaking to his long-departed family. But it’s never a smooth sail to the Underworld, and he’ll need help from a friend - plus a token that fell in the claws of an old enemy long ago. Characters: Maui, Moana, Tamatoa Rating: K Prologue and links to all chapters up so far here.

A/N: Well. We all knew this was coming.

Also, the whole Giant Headless Warrior Guy thing is based on the fact that, in an early version of Moana, Tamatoa was supposed to be a giant headless warrior from an Oceanic myth. I tried and failed to know more about said myth, and eventually decided to borrow him for the fic because hey, why not.

***

Losing his fishhook had felt all the world like losing a limb.

When the gods had created it and given it to him to mark his passage to adulthood - he’d been a boy barely grown, really, but so very certain he was ready to carve his way in the world and so damn  insistent  about it than even Tagaloa had to give in - Maui had felt  whole.

Before, he’d been an abandoned boy the Ocean and the gods had taken pity on and gifted with immortality; with that in his hand, however, he was so much more. He was  Maui  - shapeshifter, demigod of wind and sea. He was powerful. He was strong. He had the power to  to accomplish feats humans could only dream of, and the humans he returned: he had been a weak and powerless newborn when he’d been thrown into the sea to drown, but certainly humans would love him now that he could do so much for them, wouldn’t they?

They would, and they  did.  For centuries to come, and then for thousands of years, Maui’s name became as well known as the name of the good winds, of the good currents that brought voyagers home, as the stars in the night sky. He was their hero, the one who did more for them than any of the gods ever had.

He lifted the sky for them. He pulled island out of the oceans for them. He harnessed winds, he slowed down the sun, he gifted them the secret to make fire for themselves so that they would no longer need to approach volcanoes for flames. He gave them the coconut tree, an endless source of food, for the days their nets failed to catch enough fish; he fought monsters for them, to keep them from harm.

Until the day he’d failed them, because he had failed to realize which monster he should guard them from. And then he’d failed them again, when he’d believed a warning would be enough to keep Tamatoa from striking again and he’d turned out to be so, so wrong.

But maybe he’d been wrong all along. He’d thought he could protect humans from all harm, but the truth was that he could not: there were so many dangers, too many, and he couldn’t be everywhere at once. His power alone was not enough: humans should have the means to protect themselves when he couldn’t help, a power of their own. And Maui thought he knew precisely  where  he could find it. He knew how to reach it, too, and how to get away quickly - he had thought of everything.

Except of the part where a shrieking demon of earth and fire would appear out of nowhere and strike him right out of the sky, of course. He’d failed to account for that bit, and he’d paid for it dearly: stuck in a deserted island, the heart of Te Fiti and his fishhook both gone. Without the familiar weight of the fishhook in his hand, without the power to shapeshift, he was as good as maimed. Crippled. Powerless, as he’d been as a newborn.

And, as time passed - days, months, years, centuries - without anybody coming for him, Maui knew he’d been abandoned yet again, or forgotten, despite everything he’d done for humans. After all, what worth did he have to them now that he was powerless? None, that was it. He could do nothing now. He  was  nothing.

Without the hook, I am nothing.

***

“They told him he was  what ?”

“A waste. Can you lower your voice? I can hear you just fine.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just… why would  anybody  say something like that to someone else?”

“Giant crabs weren’t known for their social skills or tact, you know. They did have a tendency to say whatever went through their mind, which usually wasn’t a lot. It might have had something to do with their extinction, come to think of it.”

Moana sighed, and turned towards the beach. Pilifeai had gone right back into the ocean, but with the Ponaturi unable to leave the caves during the day they were in no rush to sail away from the island - and Tamatoa in particular seemed to have no intention to move at all. He was sprawled at the shore, looking at his reflection in the water and humming to himself what sounded like a rather depressing tune even from a distance. “He’s taking it really badly, huh?”

“Yeah, worse than I’d have thought. He didn’t even eat the bodies,” Maui muttered. For a moment Moana thought he was trying to make light of the situation, but he looked perfectly serious. She took a mental note to never ask in detail about giant crab habits when it came to dealing with the dead, and turned back to Tamatoa instead. She tried to imagine for a moment what it had to be like - believing to be the last of his species, finding out it wasn’t true, receiving nothing but demeaning comments from his kind and then finding himself the only one left  again,  all in a matter of a few hours. She found she couldn’t: it was just too far from anything she’d ever experienced.

“Maybe you should talk to him?”

Maui’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. “Huh? Me?”

A shrug. “Well, why not? You’re the crab whisperer. Or monster whisperer. Or goddess-turned-destructive-demon whisperer. Whatever you want to call it, you’re better at this kind of thing than I could ever be. I’d probably just say all the wrong things.”

Well, Moana thought, at least on that one point, he wasn’t wrong. She glanced back at Tamatoa, and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, and walked up to him slowly. He may very well not want to talk, in which case she’d leave him alone for a while longer, but at least she had to try. The more she approached, the clearer the words Tamatoa was gloomily singing to himself became.

“I’m too shiny, I’m the sunrise on the surface of the sea. Look at me, you see, I’m so shiny…”

“Hey.”

Her voice caused him to trail off and fall silent. He didn’t move at all except for his eyestalks, which turned towards her just slightly. He gave her an apathetic look before resting his chin down on his claws. “… Hey,” he muttered, voice flat. “I take it Maui told you. Must have loved getting his payback.”

“He didn’t mean to get any payback and you know it,” Moana pointed out, sitting on the sand and putting a hand on his claw. “We’re just worried.”

“If you try telling me something your grandma would say, I swear I’m gonna vomit.”

“I won’t. What would  yours  say?”

Tamatoa’s shell rose and fell in a massive shrug. “That I shouldn’t give a second thought about anything others do or say, probably. That was her answer to everything,” he said flatly.

“Well, then maybe you should listen–”

“Not to  you,  I won’t,” Tamatoa cut her off, sulking. “Let’s be real, this kind of crap is easy for you two to babble about, isn’t it? Taken in by the gods. Chosen by the ocean. I had to go and try to make myself special on my own. No one ever  chose  me.”

Moana shook her head. “That’s not true. Someone did.”

That caused Tamatoa to roll his eyes. “Oh, yes. My mother. Who was an idiot, by the way. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“That’s what they said. And you just  believe  them? What about your grandmother - do you think she was an idiot, too?”

That seemed to hit a nerve, because Tamatoa tensed up. There were a few moments of silence before he scowled, entirely avoiding her question. “Couldn’t those two just stay alive for  one  more night? If they’d seen me with more treasure, they’d have changed their mind about me.”

If what Pilifeai had told her about giant crabs was anything to go by that was not the case - if anything, it would have probably just made them think he was a complete oddball. But telling him so would do him no good, and she decided against it. “Well, it was their loss, wasn’t it?”

An eyestalk turned back towards her, antennae perking up just a fraction. “Was it?”

Moana rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding?  Of course  it was.”

“They thought I was a waste–”

“Well, they were wrong. Whose judgment would you trust, your grandmother’s, or that of two old hags who didn’t even know you?” she asked, and smiled a bit when his antennae twitched, perking up some more. “Speaking from personal experience, I can tell you that grandmothers have this annoying habit of being right most of the time. She and your mother had a choice between the home of their ancestors and giving you a chance, and they chose  you.  They thought you were worth it. I think they had the right idea, and so does Maui. We have  seen  what you can do. Those two back there just had no clue.”

Tamatoa blinked at her a couple of times, as though absorbing the information, then finally lifted his head. “Well,  of course  they had the right idea,” he said haughtily, like he never had a single doubt about it, and Moana mentally patted herself on the back. “It’s just annoying that they didn’t realize it, you know?”

Moana shrugged. “Well, since they were so unpleasant, they didn’t really  deserve  to see all of this, did they?” she added, gesturing towards Tamatoa’s glittering shell. He followed her gaze, and his expression finally broke into a grin.

“Hah! True enough. Why should they  get  to see something so shiny? They probably had no taste, anyway.”

“See, that’s the spirit,” Moana said, and glanced up at Tamatoa’s shell. “So, what’s the story behind these?”

“Huh?”

“Your treasure. You said you know all of it like the back of your claw. Mind to tell me more?”

Tamatoa seemed amused. “Trying to get me to talk about my treasure now?”

“Yep. In song form or not.”

That finally got something out of him that resembled a laugh. “Hah! I’ll have to pass. Not that I wouldn’t love to put my amazing voice to some use, but I don’t improvise, you know - this kind of thing’s got to be rehearsed.”

With a terrible effort not to laugh at the thought of Tamatoa rehearsing his musical number in his lair in case anybody wandered in it, Moana let her gaze shift to his shell again - and it paused on something that seemed to stand out from the rest: a greenstone the same color as the heart of Te Fiti, but carved in a figure-of-eight, serpent-like shape, with a bird’s beak in the upper half. “What is that?”

Tamatoa turned his eyestalks to follow her gaze. “Oh, that? It’s a carving of the Manaia.”

“The Manaia?”

“Yeah, this being who used to be a messenger between the world of the living and that of the dead. They kind of disappeared about a thousand years ago, though. No one knows where they went. Shame, because it looks like we could use their help, since Maui’s plan to get into the Underworld isn’t even a plan. Anyway, that’s a pretty stone, but just a stone. Oh, but that lamp right next to it? That’s another story altogether! So, I was not too far away from Cape Reinga, looking for this shipwreck I’d heard about…”

***

Maui had absolutely no clue what Moana had even told him, but by the time they sailed off Tamatoa seemed in good spirits and surprisingly cooperative, hardly even protesting when it was time to shrink him so that he could travel with them by boat. He didn’t even ask again to eat the chicken or the pig, though Maui suspected that was mostly due to his snack back in Manawa-Tane: he just lay down at the front of the boat, and seemed to be rather enjoying the breeze and sprays of water.

“I just told him the truth,” Moana said with a shrug at the quizzical glance Maui gave him while Tamatoa was out of earshot. “That whatever they said wasn’t worth a thought.”

As far as Maui could tell, that was a message Tamatoa had been getting for a long time – not least from his grandmother – without it actually getting through his thick head. That Moana had succeeded where everyone else had failed was remarkable, but at that point Maui expected nothing less of her. So he laughed. “And that’s why  you’re  the crab whisperer,” he said, and turned to call out to Tamatoa. “So, the Taniwha! Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, and few of them good,” Tamatoa muttered, and glanced at Moana. “Maybe she should stay away. They have a thing for human women. Not a good sort of thing,” he added. Maui shrugged when Moana’s gaze shifted on him.

“They’re treacherous bastards. They look kinda like men, kinda like reptiles–“

“It’s more three quarter reptile,” Tamatoa cut him off. “Scales, tails and all. They have arms, but that’s where the resemblance ends. They’re even uglier than you humans,” he added, only to pause when Moana raised an eyebrow. He frowned for a moment, then blinked.  “Oh, wait! That's  not  a nice thing to say, right?”

… Well, look at that, he was learning. Maui supposed that being on the receiving end of that kind of careless talk had helped. Not that he thought Moana especially cared about judgment on her looks coming from a giant crab, but still. Predictably enough, Moana shrugged and just steered the boat. “It’s okay. I’m more concerned about the Taniwha. I am still coming with you,” she added, trying down one of the ropes. “But I must know what we’re facing first.”

“Humanoid reptiles,” Maui said, sitting down and grabbing a coconut. He cracked it open easily against his knee, kept one half and handed the other to Tamatoa. “Nasty bastards, a bigger than the Ponaturi. Bigger than most humans, really. As Tamatoa mentioned they’re not one of the best things a human woman could meet, so–”

“Spear with me at all times.”

“You got it.”

Tamatoa bristled. “Won’t let them come close enough to make you use it. Right, Maui?”

Truth be told Maui was sort on counting on watching Moana kick some Taniwha butt, because he’d seen what she could do, but she was still one human while they were a demigod with shapeshifting powers and a giant crab monster, so he supposed it would be best to be on the safe side and not let it come to that. “You bet. They live in this island a couple of days of navigation from here, and the currents there are quite bad. They stay near dangerous currents so that they can attack whoever shipwrecks. We’ll need to be careful when we approach the island.”

“Yeah, and also mind the giant headless warrior guy,” Tamatoa said thought a mouthful of coconut. Moana’s eyebrows went up to her hairline.

“Giant headless warrior?” she repeated, but this time all Maui could give her was a look of confusion to match her own.

“… I’ve got nothing,” he admitted, and turned to Tamatoa. “What giant headless warrior?”

“What, are you blind or– oooh, wait! Right, by the time it appeared you were already stuck… wherever you were stuck. It actually got there around you messed everything up,” he added, and took another bite from the coconut.

Maui decided to ignore the jab and just focused on the issue at hand. “So, what about this guy?” he asked. Tamatoa chewed and swallowed before replying.

“It’s just what it sounds like. A giant headless warrior, with spear and all, guarding the Taniwha’s islands and attacking whoever comes close. Ships or otherwise. It just stands up from the bottom of the sea and is made of… stone, or something. I didn’t get close enough to get a good look. The Taniwha had nothing I wanted at that point and I didn’t need trouble. Oh, also it’s headless. Hence why it’s the Headless Warrior Guy.”

“Original,” Maui said drily. “Any idea where it comes from?”

“Nope,” Tamatoa replied with a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. Word is that the Taniwha have its head, though, and that’s why it follows their orders and patrols their coasts.”

“So we’re gonna have to fight it to get to the island.”

Tamatoa shrugged. “Or the human can shrink it,” he said, nodding to Moana. “Seems easier.”

Maui made a face. “But far less fun.”

“Hey, she can turn it to full size after we get my treasure back, and then we can fight it,” Tamatoa pointed out, causing Maui to grin. He hadn’t thought about it at all.

“That’s a very good poin–”

“What if we recover its head instead?” Moana spoke up, causing both of them to turn and glance at her like she’d just grown a second head of her own. She shrugged. “Well, if that is how they control it, it might be worth taking the head as well when we take the treasure, if we find it. If we give it back to its owner, it will have no reason to keep guarding them.”

Maui thought about it for a few moments, then grinned and turned to look at Tamatoa. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think? Because what I’m thinking now are variants on jokes about losing one’s head and how I can work them into a song.”

“… That, too. But most of all, it could turn against the Taniwha when they lose control over it. I know  I  would be pissed if someone made me work as their patrol guy for a thousand years,” Maui pointed out, and Tamatoa’s expression immediately brightened.

“Oh! That would be fun! Yes, I like your idea, human!”

Moana crossed her arms. “You know, it was more a matter of doing the right thing by freeing it than having it beating the crap out of the Taniwha.”

“Well, why not both?”

“What he said. Let’s do both.”

“But—”

“It’s two on one, babe!”

“Bwoook!”

“Three on one,” Tamatoa corrected himself with a satisfied look at the latch leading to the hold. Moana sighed, and glanced down at Pua. The pig looked up at her, and then went to stand beside her, looking warily at Tamatoa. The crab huffed and crossed his pincers. “Three on two. We still win. Besides, it’s up to the guy what it does once it gets its head back.”

“It could attack us again,” Maui commented, unable keep a hopeful note out of his voice, and gave a sheepish grin at Moana’s raised eyebrow. It was very easy to guess what she was thinking: how he’d almost drowned after the Kakamora gained the upper hand in the fight he’d thrown himself into. “Sorry, can’t help it. A fish can’t change its scales.”

“Unlike me,” Tamatoa pointed out. “I can change my shell if I need to.”

“That was a figure of speech, Crabby.”

A shrug. “I know. Just thought I’d draw attention to my shell, in case– wait, what are you–”

“Turning you off,” Maui replied, and reached down to scratch the spot between Tamatoa’s eyestalks before the crab could pull away. Just like when Moana had done it, Tamatoa went still after the first scratch, everything about him - eyestalks, antennae, pincers, limbs  - going entirely limp. His protest turned into a few slurred words that sounded a lot like ‘I hate you’ before his eyes fell shut and he just lay down on the floor, snoring lightly. Maui grinned, pulling his hand back. “Have I already said I wish I’d known this trick for a few thousand years ago?”

“Yes. Consider it my thanks for teaching me how to sail,” Moana said, causing him to laugh.

“Hah! A fair trade,” he said, and went to help Moana counterbalance the boat - but not before moving Tamatoa a little more to the centre of it, to make sure he wouldn’t fall into the ocean at a sudden roll of the boat.

***

When they came within sight of the small group of islands the Taniwha lived in, a storm was brewing to the west. Moana estimated that it would be on them within the hour, and Maui’s conclusion was precisely the same: going straight for the Taniwha would be a seriously bad idea, because it could result in getting stuck on the island until the storm had passed, or worse yet being locked in a fight with a giant headless warrior when it came. It would be best to stop somewhere else, wait for the storm to be over with, and then move again.

"How about there?” Moana asked, gesturing to their left. There was a tiny island some distance away from the others, showing no sign of being inhabited. It was very small and far from ideal, but there seemed to be a cave and it would make a decent place to stay dry and keep the boat ashore during the storm.

Maui nodded. “It looks good to me,” he conceded. “The Taniwha live on the southern side of their island anyway, unless something has changed. They’re unlikely to see us staying there. Heard that, Crabcake?” he added, turning back.

Tamatoa had demanded Moana to turn him back his usual size as soon as they were close enough to the islands. The sea was shallow enough for him to talk with most of his upper body above the water, and he’d claimed he wanted to stretch his legs – though Moana suspected he wanted to take a look at the bottom of the ocean to see if he could find any stray piece of treasure. So far, he seemed to be having no luck.

“Yes, yes, you’ll be on the island,” he muttered with a shrug. “I’ll get there later. I’ll take a look around meanwhile.”

“Don’t get too close to the main island,” Maui reminded him. “Last thing we need is having to fight this giant headless warrior in the middle of a storm.“

"Hah! Don’t worry. Even if I stumbled into it, I’m sure I could handle– HEY!”

His last words were covered by his own cry, by the huge splash as he was suddenly dragged underwater, by the loud groan of stone sliding against stone. The sudden wave caused by his fall caused the boat to rock violently, and Moana could barely manage to keep it straight, one arm shooting out to grab Pua before he could fall into the sea. Something emerged from the bottom of the ocean, something huge that had been lying in wait until someone – Tamatoa – had stepped close enough to be grabbed.

Above them stood what looked like a gigantic headless statue, twice as tall as Tamatoa - except that it wasn’t just a statue, on account of the fact it was moving. It had thrown Tamatoa entirely off-balance, and all Moana could see of the crab in the churning water were legs uselessly kicking up in the air, the rest of him upside down and submerged. The headless warrior stood before him,  on  him, one foot on his abdomen to keep him down; it did not even flinch when one of Tamatoa’s claws closed on its leg, the stone not even scratched. It just lifted a huge, long spear high above his head, tip gleaming in the sunlight, ready to bring it down on his trapped foe.

“Maui!” she cried out over Pua’s terrified squeals, struggling to keep the boat from capsizing, unable to let go of the ropes long enough to even use her bracelet. But she didn’t need to: Maui had seen everything as well, and he wouldn’t just stand by to watch.

“You get the boat away from here!” he called out, and leaped. It was an impressive leap, something that almost looked like flying, and with a cry he brought his hook down against the stone spear. It was a terrible blow, the kind that could shatter mountain peaks, but the spear didn’t shatter. Still, the blow had been enough: it was knocked aside, and the huge being holding it was thrown off- balance.

With a groan of stone grinding on stone, the headless warrior took several steps back not to fall – which in turn gave Tamatoa enough time to get up. For a moment Moana feared he’d be unable to, that he’d stay stuck on his back and vulnerable, but being in the water seemed to help. Within instants Tamatoa was back upright, claws raised and looking extremely displeased to say the very least.

“You could handle it, huh?” Maui called out, half laughing, a moment before turning into a hawk in mid-air and attacking the headless warrior again. The being was forced to step back again, and raise the spear in defense.

“Hey, you were beaten by the Kakamora!” Tamatoa protested, causing Maui to laugh again.

“Then we’re even! C'mon, help me out! You woke it up, help me put it back to sleep!”

“Oh. Right! Coming!”

They both were on the headless guardian a moment later, but Moana didn’t get to see much of the fight: she focused entirely on getting as far away as possible, to the small island they had spotted earlier. It was a struggle, the fight raising waves that threatened to overturn her boat, but she managed to finally get far enough to keep it steady, and turned to look.

Back in the Vault, when they had fought together against the demon she’d accidentally turned into a giant, the battle had been rather spectacular but also rather short: they had gained the upper hand right away. But now Moana could tell that things were different, the huge headless warrior holding its own, easily matching Maui’s blows and seemingly unaffected by Tamatoa’s claws. It didn’t seem to be gaining the upper hand, either, but it wasn’t giving an inch and the storm was approaching quickly.

Well guys, you had your fun. Got to end it now.

Moana lifted her hand, the one with the bracelet, and pointed it towards the giant. “Iti haere!” she cried out.

Nothing happened.

“… Huh?” Moana blinked, looking down at the bracelet. Why hadn’t it worked? Had she pointed wrong? No, she was sure her fingers was pointed straight at–

A painfully loud screech snapped her form her thoughts, causing her to look up again. Maui had shifted into his hawk form and was flying up and up towards the sun, away from the headless warrior and from… wait, where  was  Tamatoa?

The stone guardian seemed to be wondering precisely the same thing, for it stopped trying to strike Maui with his spear - how could it even see him without a head? - and tried to turn, spear raised. Moana could barely see something, a golden gleam right below the water, and she guessed Tamatoa had burrowed in the bottom of the ocean just one moment before Maui shrieked again, and  struck.

He fell from the sky like an arrow, sunlight turning his feathers golden, almost too fast for Moana’s eye to follow… and definitely too fast for his foe to brace itself, or lift its weapon. Maui turned back at the very last instant, and struck the giant on its barnacle-encrusted chest with his hook, and all of his might.

It was not enough to injure the warrior, but it was enough to knock it back. It tried to keep standing, to step back and regain its footing, but it immediately tripped on something right behind it - something that rose up from underwater the next moment, knocking it entirely off its feet and into the churning sea.

Tamatoa.

“HAH! How do  you  like that?” the giant crab called out, but he didn’t stay to gloat: instead he moved quickly away from the stone being as it thrashed in the attempt to get up. “Don’t stand there, babe - got to get to the island!”

“But Maui–”

“He’s gonna keep it busy. C’mon, before it sees where we’re going!”

Moana did as she was told, not without first glancing back to see Maui, once again in his hawk form, was flying right above his struggling enemy. She could have sworn the hawk had winked at her the moment before turning into a whale and fall crashing down on the headless warrior, lifting up a wall of ocean water.

***

“Are you  sure  it didn’t see you getting here?”

“I told you, I turned into a fish and just swam here. It was still trying to get up after the whale treatment, anyway. And besides, it would already be here if it knew.”

“Maybe we got far enough for it to lose interest altogether.”

“Here’s hoping. We really don’t need to be fighting the guy out there with this storm going on.”

“I still think the fire was a bad idea. What if Headless Guy sees it?”

“It can’t see anything without a head or eyes, Crabby. It felt our presence somehow, and it could fight, but I really doubt it can see anything the way we do. Besides,  some  of us need to keep warm.”

“Right, right,” Tamatoa muttered, settling down in the back of the cave. It had turned out to be surprisingly large, enough for him to stand in and take a few steps. It was a bit of a tight fit, especially with Maui, the human and her pets huddled in front of the fire, but it would do. Sure, he didn’t  need  to be there - he could as well take shelter from the storm underwater - but he’d prefer to stick with them, for time being. He stayed still, listening to the wind picking up outside, the crashing waves and pounding rain. In the distance, there was thunder. “Do you think the storm is going to last for long?”

“Naah, it will be gone by the morning. Let’s just wait here.”

“I thought the Ocean was your buddy, human. Can’t it just stop the storm? Oh, or take down Headless Guy for us?”

“That’s… not how it works.”

“Some jerk you’ve got as a friend, then.”

“Relax, Crabcake. We won’t need the Ocean’s help to kick its butt.”

The human frowned slightly. “Are you sure there is no way to avoid it? It seemed to be giving you a lot of trouble,” she added, and glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist. “I wonder why it didn’t work…”

Maui shrugged. “You probably didn’t point it straight at it. It was moving, the boat was rocking… easy to get the aim wrong,” he said, and put another log in the fire. “You’ll get to try again tomorrow, at any rate. And if it doesn’t work, then Crabcake and I will just try harder to get it out of the way.”

Truth be told, Tamatoa wasn’t sure he could try beating it any harder than he already had: he’d given his best in the earlier fight and, even with Maui fighting alongside him, they had barely managed to incapacitate that thing for enough time to get away before the storm began. If the fight had carried on… he wasn’t as confident as Maui on the outcome.

“Or we could move on to look for the treasure elsewhere,” he suggested, and shifted a bit when Maui and Moana looked at him, exchanged a glance and then turned right back at him. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m scared or anything–”

“Of course not,” Maui said, just a bit too flatly.

“… But we could look elsewhere first to find the rest of the treasure?”

Maui shook his head. “I’d rather check the Taniwha’s island while we’re here. We don’t have many other leads at the moment. None at all, really. They were seen trading with Lalotai monsters at the Vault, so they could be the ones who have the hairpin.”

Oh. The hairpin.

“Right,” Tamatoa found himself saying. Truth be told, he’d completely forgotten about that stupid hairpin, and back at in Manawa-Tane… hey, wait a moment… ! “Hey, you didn’t bring it up at all in Manawa-Tane!” Tamatoa pointed out. “Didn’t even ask about it!”

Maui shrugged. “I looked and there was nothing that looked like a hairpin in the bunch. No real point in asking when I already knew the answer.”

Because it wasn’t there,  Tamatoa thought.  The Ponaturi didn’t have it. The Taniwha don’t have it. I do.

There was a pang of something in his chest, and he couldn’t really define it, but it was enough to make him turn back to his missing leg. The hairpin was there, hidden in a tiny gap between his carapace and what was left of the limb. It had been there all along - the thing Maui wanted the most, the thing the human had risked her life to help him get. The only bargaining chip he had to get them to help getting his treasure back.

Tamatoa’s eyes shifted back to Maui and the human, who were now trying to stifle laughter while they watched the chicken try to swallow a stone. Maybe, he reasoned, he didn’t need to keep holding onto it anymore. It was an ugly old thing anyway, and… and they would help him get the rest of his treasure even if he handed it over, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t have at the start, so he had been  right  in keeping it, but now maybe they’d help him regardless. No, of course they would. The human  definitely  would.

With their attention elsewhere, Tamatoa reached with one claw to pull the hairpin out of its hiding place.  I just realized it was among the Ponaturi’s stuff,  he would say. They would believe him, because of course they would - they trusted him, didn’t they? - and then they–

The crack of thunder boomed through the sky, shaking the earth itself, and that it was all it took. With a startled gasp, Tamatoa flinched… and lost his grip on the hairpin. It fell on the ground and, before he could even think of trying to catch it, it half-bounced, half-rolled across the stone floor - coming to rest in plain sight, a scant inch away from Maui’s foot.

***

“And so I was thinking, if the chicken came first– huh?”

It was a weak gleam of burnished gold in firelight that caught Maui’s eye. When he trailed off and looked down, he wasn’t too surprised to see something shiny next to him: of course, at some point, some of the shinies on Tamatoa’s shell would fall off. He still wasn’t entirely sure how the crab made them stick to his shell; it had never occurred him to ask.

And right there and then, it didn’t occur to him that there could be anything special about that tiny object. He didn’t even pay much attention to it: he just picked it up and called out. “Hey, careful there. No point in picking up all of your stuff if you start losing it piece by–”

“THAT’S NOT MINE!” Tamatoa blurted out, causing him to trail off. Maui blinked, glancing back at him. He was staring at him with the wide-eyed look of a cornered animal, and that confused him even more.

Had he not panicked, Maui would have just handed it back to him without a second look. But he  did  panic, and that changed everything.

“What are you talking about? It’s got to be yours. Didn’t it just fall off?”

Tamatoa worked his jaw for a moment, then he grinned - the most forced grin Maui had ever seen on his face. What was up with him all of a sudden? “YES! I mean– yes, of course it’s mine! Haha! Just, uh, got confused for a moment. Just hand it over and–”

“Wait.”

It was just one word, but it was spoken like an order. It caused Maui to still and Tamatoa to cringe, letting out a small strangled noise when Moana gently took the trinket from Maui’s hand. She held it up in the light of the fire, causing Maui to really pay attention to it for the first time. That was when he finally realized it wasn’t  just  a trinket. It was a hairpin - very old, very brittle, and not one he’d seen before. But he was sure he’d checked every single one–

Wait. Wait just a moment.

Maui tore his gaze away from the hairpin to look at Tamatoa, who seemed to be trying his best to shrink under his gaze. Realization dawned on him just as Moana spoke slowly, with the voice of someone who’s hoping against hope to be proven wrong but already knows it won’t be the case.

“… This is it, isn’t it?” she asked, looking up at Tamatoa. Her voice was barely audible through the sounds of the storm and, in the flickering light of the flames, hurt seemed etched in her every feature. Maui could only watch, feeling as though he’d been encased in ice. “How long have you had it?”

Tamatoa blinked quickly, and his eyes darted to the cave’s entrance as though he was trying to figure out if he could make a run for it. He could lie, deny that was the hairpin they were looking for, Maui knew; he could say he had just found it. But what would be the point? His reaction had already told them, loud and clear, all they needed to know.

“I… not long, honest! I… just since… I was gonna tell you, I…huh. Hey, what’s with the leaking? Human…?”

Moana stared back at him in silence, the hairpin in her hand and tears running down her face - the very picture of betrayal. That, more than the revelation itself, was what caused the ice encasing Maui’s mind to shatter. The cold dread and incredulity replaced by wonderfully familiar fury, he grabbed his hook and stood.

She trusted you. We trusted you. How could I make the same mistake again? How could I let her make it?

“YOU LIED!” Maui roared, stepping forward, the fishhook held right in his hand. “You had it all along!”

Tamatoa winced, but he tried to snap back. “You would have just taken it if I told you! You know you would have! I had already lost enough–”

“You  stole it  from my mother!”

“Maui?” Moana called out, standing up and trying to get in the way, but Maui didn’t hear her, hardly saw her. He moved her aside with a swipe of his arm, eyes fixed on Tamatoa - who, on the other hand, was quickly running out of room to retreat: the next instant, his rear was pressed against the wall of the cave. Huge claws were lifted up, but it was obvious that he knew perfectly how few chances he had to take on that fight and win. Of course he knew. They had been there before, and Maui had taken his leg.

Now maybe he’d take his head.

“Look, it was  your  fault that I lost my— Wait, wait, can we just– I would have told you–” Tamatoa blabbered, panic clearly starting to sink in. “Human? Human, say something!”

“Maui, please–” she tried, but Maui was beyond hearing her. He could feel blood rushing in his ears, anger thudding into his skull. All that time, he could have simply gone to Cape Reinga and summoned his mother. His family. He could have talked to them, and instead…!

“All this time, you  lied  to us!”

“No! I mean, I guess there was a tiny bit of omission there–”

“I saved your life, and YOU MADE US RISK OUR OWN JUST TO GET SOME GOLD BACK!” he screamed, and lifted his hook, ready to land a blow, all of his strength behind it. He would shatter his shell, he would obliterate that lying, slimy bast–

“I HAD NO CHOICE!” Tamatoa shrieked, claws reaching up to cover his head and eyes squeezing shut. “You don’t get it! I  had  to get my treasure back! I  can’t  be without it!”

Without the hook, I am nothing!

Maui’s fishhook froze in mid-air. He was aware, dimly, of the sounds of the storm outside; of Moana’s voice calling his name, of the weight of her hand on his back. But it all seemed so very distant, and even his anger was now beyond his reach. All of a sudden, Maui just felt  tired.  He drew in a long breath and lowered his fishhook, slowly. He turned, and held out a hand; Moana put the hairpin on it without another word.

Behind him, Tamatoa let one eye peer out from beneath a raised claw. “So, uh… we’re cool, right? You have the hairpin and look, I even polished– hey, wait, WAIT!” he protested, flinching back. There was simply no way Moana’s wooden oar striking him could possibly hurt him, but he still yelped when she let out a cry and struck him. “What’s gotten into–?”

“WHY?” Moana cut him off, lifting the oar again. She was scowling, but even so tears were still running down her face. “Why did you do it?”

“I told you, I needed you to help me find my treasure and–”

“We would have helped you regardless!”

“I know! I mean, no– I  didn’t  know! As in, I know now, but I didn’t  before,  you see?” Tamatoa babbled. “Look, can you… can you stop leaking? No harm’s done, babe, you have the hairpin and– hey! C’mon!” he protested when Moana let out another cry and struck him again and again with the oar.

“I. Can’t.  Believe  you!” she snapped, each word followed by a blow. “I thought you were– uuugh!” The oar fell with a clatter, and Moana reached to wipe her face with both hands. “I was such an idiot,” she growled, causing Tamatoa to blink down at her in clear confusion.

“No you’re not! I told you you’re the smart o–”

“I don’t  care  what you said,” she cut him off. Her voice shook for a moment, and the turned away, arms wrapped around herself as though she was cold. “I should have seen this coming. I was wrong about you. I’m done believing a single  word  you say.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I was just about to give you the hairpin!”

A scoff. “Oh,  sure  you were,” she muttered, refusing to turn.

“Honest! Look, I could have destroyed it–”

“So we’re supposed to  thank  you now?”

“No! I mean, that would be nice, but you don’t have to. It was a misunderstanding, all right?”

No answer.

“Hello? Did you hear– Oh, I see, you’re pretending not to hear me! Very mature! Maui, you tell her she’s overreac–”

“Enough.”

One word from Maui was enough to make Tamatoa suddenly fall silent and flinch back, as though reminded that Maui had just as many reasons as her, if not more, to be furious. And he was furious all right - just a cold sort of anger he was unfamiliar with, mixed with something else entirely that wasn’t too far away from sadness.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Maui said, his voice tight, “if you don’t want to lose yet  another  limb, you will leave now.”

“But–”

“I said  now,  bottom-feeder,” Maui snapped, causing Tamatoa to fall silent and his lost expression to turn into a scowl. “You know where the rest of your treasure is. That’s all you care about, isn’t it? So go get it. Or leave it where it is, return to Lalotai - I don’t  care  what you do. But whatever your next step is, you do it alone. Our ways part now. We’re going where we should have headed from the start.”

Tamatoa’s scowl deepened. “So what now, you go to Cape Reinga with that ugly hairpin and drag the human with you?”

“I’m dragging her nowhere. She can choose whether to come or go home. ”

“You know she’ll come with you, so much for being smart! You’re going to get yourselves killed - great way to get into the Underworld,” Tamatoa snapped, taking a step forward. “There is no way you can get past Hine-nui-te-pō, and you know it! You tried and failed, and she’ll  kill you  this time!”

“That is none of your concern,” Maui said sharply. “Or am I supposed to believe you care about what happens to us, after what  you  made us go through needlessly?”

That hit a nerve, causing Tamatoa to flinch back. “I… well, I…” he babbled, only to fall silent when Maui lifted his hook to point towards the cave’s entrance, where the storm raged.

“Leave.”

For a moment, Tamatoa didn’t say a word: he just kept still, eyes shifting from Maui to Moana. She was sitting now, still giving him her back, her pet pig in her arms. “Moana?” he tried again, his voice oddly small. She tensed, but didn’t or turn or answer, and Tamatoa turned back to Maui. Finally, he set his jaw and scowled.

“Fine. Get yourselves killed and see if I care,” he snapped, lifting a pincer to point it at them. “I’ll get my treasure back and throw a party in Lalotai and  you  won’t be invited because you’ll both be dead!” he added, and finally stomped out of the cave, narrowly avoiding to step on Maui in the process. Maui turned away with, saying nothing.

Neither him nor Moana turned to watch him leave, and they both missed his hesitation, the way he turned back to look at them for just one moment before he scowled again and marched out, alone, into the storm.

***

[Back to Chapter 11]

[On to Chapter 13]