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TOUCH OF THE NISEI
by John Burkitt, Ian Layton and David Morris
FOREWORD BY THE AUTHORS:
DEDICATION:
This work is dedicated to the memory of Jacques Yves Cousteau, 1911 - 1997. Conservationist, oceanographer, citizen of the world, friend to all life everywhere. May his light ever shine on us from the stars.
When I first heard the suggestion from Ian Layton that we do a story on Ela
It was fun while it lasted. In addition to the story line itself, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to work with Ian on something canon to the Chronicles of the Pride Lands. Dave and I had become very comfortable with each other’s style--Ian added a unique note to the theme that kept us on our toes. He has been a good friend to both of us, and I think I speak for Dave too that the experience has been fascinating.
-- John Burkitt, Nashville, Te
What is it about Ela
The time has finally come round for Ela
-- David Morris, Wilmington, North Carolina
Through the past few months, I have been through some bad times. From pressure at school, to my vehicle, and then to my computer, everything seemed to pile on me all at once. Throughout that time, I learned that I had many close friends, willing to do almost anything for me in my times of pain. Two of them, and among the closest, are John and Dave. I really don't know what I would have done without you two being there for me to talk to. Through all the Ugas jokes and bad puns, thank you.
Now about the story...I was on IRC one night when ideas started to be flung around by some people for an idea for another 'Chronicles' story. Someone mentioned Ela
Finally I give my thanks to the Disney corporation for making the movie which this series of stories is based on. For better or worse, ‘The Lion King’ has affected me far beyond what I ever thought possible for a mere movie.
-- Ian 'Rama' Layton, La Vergne, Te
CHAPTER: THE OUTCAST
The golden eye of N’ga stared at the sava
A lone lion made his way through the grass with the fearful, empty tread of the recently exiled. Now his fate rested on two points: the mercy of Aiheu and his own resourcefulness. His old friends, his family, and his familiar grounds were behind him, perhaps forever, and he sought out solace in a new begi
"Why didn’t I listen to Dad?" he said aloud. Rogue lions often talked to themselves for a while to fill the void--at least until they got used to doing without companionship. He looked back from where he came and let out a loud sigh as if the weight of the land was on his shoulders. “Why was I such an idiot??”
Only a week ago his life had been so simple. An heir apparent, he was used to respect and concessions. Everything had been fine a week ago, but those times seemed like a distant memory. Fewer days than he had toes? Could it be that short a time?
He had been given a commoner’s mantlement and sent out never to return. It was a shameful fate for one destined for greatness from his birth. The promise of his presentation was not kept, and he was alone and vulnerable. Sure he had stirred up the lionesses. But he had meant no harm by it. Many princes go through a phase of acting like a brat, a child wanting to test the limits set by his elders and have a little fun bending a few rules. The lionesses didn't mind too much when the young cub would come to them and demand things. 'He will grow out of it,' the king would assure them. ‘It is just a phase he’s going through.’ But he did not grow out of it. It got worse with age.
He had been warned. Warned that he would be sent away like the troublemaker Gamu. But the constant warnings had become a familiar part of his life, a background noise that got tuned out from constant repetition and no enforcement. A commoner’s mantlement would never REALLY befall him. At least that was what he used to think.
His mother had died giving birth to him. The thought of what she must have been like, and his father’s stories about her, filled him with awe. He loved the lioness he never knew as much as many cubs love their living mother. But to the other lionesses he had shown little respect. His father had tried to raise him differently, but he did not know how to cha
The King’s younger son Ababu was only five minutes younger, but he had no claim on the throne. Still, he had been properly trained by the lionesses, and they were demanding that he be the heir. “Five minutes younger, but years more mature! Either Ababu will be our next king or we’re out of here!”
The King had no choice, and he called a commoner’s mantlement for his former prince. With many bitter tears from father and son, and glares of satisfaction from most of the lionesses, the prince was sent away. That was only a few sunsets ago, and the young lion had experienced his first taste of the loneliness that would be his curse. When he could finally work past the anger and bitterness he felt, he took a long close look at his life, comparing himself to Ababu. He remembered all the times he’d snickered about his brother’s prim and proper behavior, calling him “stodgy” and “stuck-up.” He wished he’d been more stodgy and stuck-up.