Once upon a time, before the world held us elves and sprites and nymphs, there was only a large world and Mother. Nymphs and sprites came when Mother had wept, flooding the planet with her lonely sorrows, bringing life to the parched trees and planes of the area. Of these beautiful spots came even more gorgeous beings. Mother, however, wanted her own children. She grew lonely without anyone to watch and love.
Eventually, Mother had four children, Human, Elf, Deer, and Cow. She, who had lost all her previous children, was most protective of her newborns. Although the other sprites and nymphs warned her not to be so protective, Mother could not listen. She kept them hidden in a most plentiful valley, coddling them, protecting them from pain and fear. Not even a scraped knee was allowed for these creatures who could do no wrong in her eyes. The four children got along perfectly well, too, not a single dispute lasting long.
One day, when they were still young, during another one of their childish games, they stumbled on some rocks, leading down to a little nook. They skipped down the path, happy and laughing till they saw the rows and rows of stones. Each stopped dead in horror to look at these stones and mounds of earth. A cemetery. One that they knew, from the magic boiling in their blood, contained thousands of their brothers and sisters, returned to magic before they could enjoy the beauty of living.
Cow, the most emotional of them all, wanted to remember them all. All of these poor souls who departed before their memories could linger. But before they could look at their names, Mother appeared, pulling her children out of the graveyard and back to their valley, the only place they had ever known. Human, who had always longed for more, was livid.
How dare Mother hide their kin from them? How dare she steal the few memories of their family and pretend she was all they had? Mother refused to answer the pleading children’s questions, however, and sent them straight to bed. Deer, most curious of them all, wished to go back to see their siblings. Not wanting to let Deer go alone, the four of them decided to head out while Mother slept.
Elf, the quietest and most reserved of them all, snuck into Mother’s room, where she lay sleeping, unaware of the treasonous thoughts creeping into the young children’s minds. Elf quietly swiped Mother’s matchbox and lantern, both forbidden by Mother’s law, labeled dangerous and not for the young, inexperienced things they are.
Human, being the most daring and bold of the group, took a swipe at the matchstick and lit the match in a single strike. Pleased with himself, he showed his creation to the others, beaming. However, the child, not knowing any better, held his hand too close to the flickering flame, yelped in surprise as the red waves crashed onto his chocolate skin, branding him with a crimson colored mark, bringing the most unimaginable pain. You and I would not have felt this pain, as we as children have felt the odd sensations of scraped knees and cut cheeks. But these four who have never felt pain nor fear, were overwhelmed with confusion and doubt about this new element of life.
Human, blinking tears from his eyes, dropped the match in the lantern, and the four set out into the night. It did not take them long to find the same spot as before, where Cow took the lantern to the first stone.
Phoenix, it read, fiery as ever. Centaur, the next said, ride on. Unicorn, the most magical of them all. Mermaid, the girl with an ocean of heart. Griffin, who will fly in the stars forevermore.
With each headstone, their anger grew. Mother had selfishly hoarded the memories of all her past children, leaving them forgotten to everyone else. Each child, upset and angry, decided to run away. They walked past the gravestones, looking at all of them, imagining who they were and who they could have been.
At the end, the children met a fork in the road. There were four paths. One of bramble, one of grapes, one of mist and one of trees. Each child chose a different path, as each wished for a different life. Elf, the modest and reserved child he was, wished for more secrecy. Deer, a happy and joyful thing, wanted a life of freedom to do as she wished. Cow, who was motherly, wanted children of her own. And Human wanted to forget. Forget everything that has happened and start anew.
And so Elf chose the path of mist, forging on to a wild and wonderful land of magic and mystery. He chose to remember his past and told it to his children, who passed it on and on and on and on, and now I am telling it to you, the next generation.
Deer chose the path of trees, to the spacious and leafy and green clearings she had always imagined. She frolicked and enjoyed her life, and eventually when she had her own kids, she chose not to tell her children of what she had been put through, believing that her children should not be weighed down, for they only live once.
Cow chose the path of brambles, as she wished to save her siblings from a path of pain and suffering. She pushed her way through the thorns, the rough objects tearing into her skin, forcing deep red drops of blood to the surface of her skin. But her blood would not go to waste. Each drop that hit the ground transformed into animals that would soon populate our planet. Cow eventually got past the thorns to a clearing where each of her children had gathered to stay with her as she died from her wounds. She never got to tell them her story, but each of them recognised her as their Mother, and so she happily returned to magic, now recognised as Mother Cow.
Human chose the path of grapes, and found use for them too. Being clever and initiative, Human turned grapes into wine, drinking to forget the past. He made a home, created things to entertain himself, and lived greedily, only looking out for himself.
Human eventually forgot about Cow and Deer, and began to hunt them and their children, forgetting how they were his own kin, using their bodies for meat and clothing. But something about Elf and his other siblings, the ones he never knew, stuck in his head, no matter how much he drank. So when he had kids, he, ever the storyteller, told them of creatures unlike any others. Flaming phoenixes and galloping centaurs and magical unicorns and water-dwelling mermaids and flying griffins, and of course, the inhumanly beautiful elves.
Humans and the animals lost their connection to magic, but us elves have managed to hold on. And that is how the world remains. The animals are forever escaping the humans, and the elves are hiding this story until the world is ready to listen.