Pele and Hiiaka: A Myth From Hawaii

The bird-spies sent out by Pana-ewa brought back contradictory reports. The first pair reported that Hiiaka was being worsted. Soon after another pair, garbling the facts, said “Our people are lying down, but they are still alert and keep their eyes open. As for Hiiaka, she has fallen into a deep sleep.”

The situation was far from satisfactory and Pana-ewa despatched another pair of birds to reconnoitre and report. It was not yet morning and the night was dark; and they accordingly took the form of kukui1 trees, thinking thus to illuminate the scene of operations. The intelligence they brought was confounding: “Our people,” they said, “are all dead, save those who have the form of kukui trees. Hiiaka lies quietly sleeping in the road.”

This account, though strictly in accord with the facts, was so disconcerting to Pana-ewa that he burst forth in a rage, “Slaves, liars! you’re deceiving me. I’ll wring your necks!” and he reached out to execute his threat. The birds eluded him and found safety in flight.

Pana-ewa now saw that it was necessary to take the field in person at the head of his regular forces, composed of the Namú and Nawá. The disguise he chose for himself was that of an ohia-lehua tree. No sooner had he taken that form than he found himself unable to move hand or foot. A parasitic network of i-e-i-e embraced his body and a multitude of aërial roots anchored him to the spot. It was the craft of the sleeping girl that had done this. He had to content himself with the unwarlike guise of the kukui tree.

While Hiiaka slept, her faithful servitor Paú-o-pala’e kept open eye and detective ear to what was going on in the star-lit forest about them. At the first glimmering of dawn her keen sense felt rather than heard a murmurous rustle that broke the stillness and a movement, as if the forest itself were advancing and closing in upon them. This oncoming of the enemy was in such contrast to the onset of the yelping pack on the previous day as to be most impressive. The sound that touched her keen sense was not the joyous twitter and stir of nature preparing to greet a new day; it was rather the distant mutter of the storm, soon to be heard as the growl of the tempest, or the roar and snarl of an enraged menagerie of wild beasts.