Eianna's Tale

Eianna spread her hands out into the air, catching the nourishing light. She had many hands, just like her brothers and sisters. And just like them, she sometimes made her hands fall away, once they became too weak and useless. Her species had thrived on this planet for almost four hundred million years. They have reached their utmost evolutionary goal - to grow, take nourishment and reproduce with minimal effort. The unwritten law of biological least resistance states that the most evolved being is one that can grow and nurture itself effortlessly. Eianna and her kind had achieved that. Unlike other creatures on the planet, they didn’t need to hunt or forage. Eianna’s folk took what they needed from the air, earth, and water. All they had to do was to put their hands up to the sun and grow. The other beings had to toil daily, gathering berries and killing small animals to survive. The creatures were dirty and wretched, with tangled fur and dirty feet. Eianna pitied them. She sang them songs sometimes.

“Why do you sing to them? They can’t hear us.” Eino, her brother, asked one day

“They will.”

“How?”

Eianna waved her hands up to the air and hummed dreamily.

“I feel it. I hear… I see… One day, one of them will come here looking for berries, and she’ll feel a tingle behind her ears. She will look around, but there will be no one there. And then - she’ll hear me.”

“They are animals. They can’t hear our kind,” Eino protested.

“One day… they will.” 

Eianna had her favorite floor dwellers. The ones who could understand her songs better than others. The curious ones. Just like she had predicted, they came and listened to her songs. They also sang back to her sometimes. They even asked her questions. And the most talented ones talked with her. She told them stories about the ancient past, and they thirsted for more. A friendship began to form between Eianna and the floor dwellers. They had no one else to guide them. There was one young girl who visited often and always asked for more stories. She had tangled orange hair, different from the other in her tribe. She had freckles and eyes the color of moss. One day, she came to Eianna and sat down on the ground. Eianna welcomed her.

"Tell me about the ancient rules," the girl said to Eianna.

"There are big rules and tiny rules. Big lies and tiny lies. There are more important rules and less important rules" Eianna said to the girl, "I'll tell you a story. It happened in a coastal village, many ages ago. Whenever the storm came, if you knocked on the window, the waves would answer back with a voice."

"Was it a real voice or a voice in their head?"

"A real voice. Everyone in the house could hear it. But then one day the storm was so big it flooded the city. People knocked on the windows desperately, but the waves laughed at them, or didn't answer at all. And the lesson is this: live well with the spirits of nature, while there's still peace."

"Did the flood kill everyone?"

"No, not all perished. But they never built back what had been destroyed."

The girl stared at Eianna with her eyes wide open. She didn't know it yet, but she'd become the wisewoman of her tribe.

Eianna grew stronger, bigger, and wiser every year. She became much taller than her brothers and sisters. But there was one problem. Eianna’s old hands kept piling up all around her. Her body could only move very, very slowly. Movement was simply something she didn’t for survival. She shared her worries with Eino.

“They’re listening to your songs. Sing them songs of fire,” Eino said to her. Eianna had no lungs, but if she did, she’d gasp in horror. 

“Have you gone mad?” she asked, “It would be the end of us.”

“We give them shelter. They won’t... they can’t hurt us. They’ll pick up the parts that no longer serve us. They will clean our home. You’ll see." And Eianna sang them songs. Songs of fire and warmth and sizzling meat. Songs about faces gathered around it, staring into orange flames. Songs about how they'd take refuge inside a cozy dome of light, safe from the pitch black, screaming darkness. 

Autumn came, and Eianna’s hair started falling out in droves. One cold autumn morning, a message came through. 

“You need to stop what you’re doing, both of you,” the message said. “I’ve seen what could come out of this fire. Sharp things they’ll use to attack and hurt us.” The message came from Aiek - one of the elders. Eianna laughed, and the wind picked up, stirring her hair. 

“The floor dwellers? Look at them with their soft hands. They’re good for pruning, picking, and preening. Poor things. Sometimes, they prick themselves on thimbleberry thorns and cry out with pain. Our bodies are different. Our bodies are rigid and hard.”

“They are weak and wretched. Anyone can see that. But I’ve seen the front of time and what they’ll do. They’ll put earth into the fire and make things. Stronger than our flesh. Sharp and painful,” an answer came through the web of many feet. 

“Earth into fire? What sort of nonsense is this?” Eianna scoffed.

“Not just any earth. Special kind of earth dug out from under the mountain!”

“You are talking of things that are simply impossible.”

“Do not underestimate them. Fate is resourceful.”

“I cannot imagine how they could hurt us.”

“Don’t sing to them, child. I beg you,” Aiko said finally. But Eianna didn’t listen. She sang to the creatures about the things they could do. And the floor dwellers indeed came and began gathering Eianna’s used limbs to warm themselves by the fire. With the fire came clay pots for water, and with the clay pots came metal, and with metal came war on Eianna's folk.

Eianna was the first. She was the first songtree.