****after book XI, before book XII of "The Odyssey"****

We sailed back to the Island of Aiaia,






as Dawn with finger tips of rose lit our path.
A steady wind from the heavenly gods,
carried us to the island,
in hopes of burying young Elpenor’s body.











But the blue-maned god who makes the islands tremble
sent our ship lurching forward,
and we tumbled from the large, musky ship
into the depths of the cold, dark sea.







Upon resurfacing,
we saw the remains of our destroyed ship float by.
Sadness and despair filled the salty ocean breeze.




Seeing a small island near,
I ordered my men to swim there.
We would meet on the shore,
and I would devise a plan.

I arrived on the soft, sandy shore
awaiting the crew.









I was not certain how many had survived the wrath
of the blue-maned god who makes the islands tremble.

Like a mighty falcon
releasing its prey from its claws,
so to did the ocean free my men from its grasp,
thrusting them heavily onto the shore.
Five good men had been lost to the god of the sea.

We scavenged the shore
in search of native islanders.
We saw no one.
We heard nothing.

Odysseus paused, took a sip of Phaiakian wine, and continued.

I led my men inland in search of a small village.
After walking until the sun reached its zenith,
a magnificent palace made of white marble, adorned with gold,
rose into view.
Two kind servants led us in.

The king and queen sat on their
thrones of mirrored crystal
at the end of the great white hall.

Queen Zena spoke first:

‘Desperate travelers of the wide open sea.
You have landed upon the island of Istoria.
Many a wanderer lands here.
Now explain yourselves.’

Speaking softly, I replied:

‘Glorious daughter of Akakios,
Queen Zena,
We were sailing to Aiaia to bury the body
of a young shipmate,
and then planned on returning home,
to far off Ithaka.
But the blue-maned god who makes the islands tremble,
destroyed our ship.
We have nothing.
Our musty ship ruined,
our stomachs nearly empty,
our souls longing for home.’

King Hypatos responded:

‘My queen and I will help you.
We shall provide you with a speedy ship,
with food, barrels of wine,
gifts beyond your desires,
and send you on your way.
But only if we receive a precious and valuable gift
in return.’

Our ship, our belongings,
everything had been destroyed.
We had nothing to give.

We stepped away from the royal thrones,
And huddled together,
Desperately developing a plan.
Eurylokhos counseled that we build our own ship on the island and flee.
He did not trust the king and queen.
Other crew members sat on the floor in despair.

Suddenly I heard Athena’s kind and wise voice.

‘Stories. Stories. Stories.’

A beautiful story,
Was the only gift I could give.

‘King Zena and King Hypatos.
My gift to you is a beautiful story.
You will beg for more and be moved to tears.’

King Hypatos replied in disdain:

‘Stories?
We despise stories.
Stories are worthless.
My father outlawed storytelling on this island years ago.’

I pleaded with the king:

‘I have the power to tell
immortal tales.
Please listen.’

And so I told a tale
of love, loneliness, and despair,
of a man who battled in the Trojan War,
who left his family and beloved wife behind for many years,
and witnessed the death of his fellow comrades.
When the war ended, he began the treacherous journey home,
only to face the wrath of gods and monsters.
When he finally arrived home,
enemies had destroyed his palace.
His beloved wife,
whom he had longed for to lay by his side,
was killed by the greedy monsters
as they fought over her
and hoped to win her love.

Loud wails could be heard
from King Hypatos and Queen Zena.
The queen had collapsed into her husband’s arms
and they wept,
overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the words.

The queen exclaimed:

‘Odysseus,
your powers of storytelling
have persuaded us.
I have never wept
as I have today.
You will receive our speediest ship,
wine the color of rubies,
the most delicious food,
and crates overflowing with silver and gold.’

We thanked the king and queen
and they sent us on our way.

And so it was that the people on Istoria
were allowed to tell stories again.
The king and queen cherished the power of storytelling
for as long as they lived.
And the legend of the stranger who came to Istoria,
Lived on forever.