The legend of Vinarine
On the gentle slopes of the picturesque hill of Meloni, across from the ancient village of Motovun, whispers travel on the wind, tales of wondrous women known as the Vinarine. As tall as wine barrels and born from the fiery breath of dragons, these mysterious beings were gifted with the wisdom of the wind and the strength of the earth. To them was entrusted a sacred duty: to protect the enchanted vine and guard the fertile valley of Motovun.
According to ancient lore, it was the dragons, those who once carved the ley lines of Istria, who shaped the Vinarine. They gave them a mission: to safeguard a golden vine that flourished on the hill Meloni, glowing with sunlight captured in its fruit. From it flowed a golden wine, luminous as the sun itself, a nectar that could heal all wounds, calm restless souls, and rekindle the strength in weary hearts.
The Vinarine lived hidden on the hill. Though neither warriors nor witches, their very presence radiated peace and protection. By night, as moonlight bathed the vines and the wind caressed the hills, the Vinarine would ascend the peak of Meloni. There, they would join in a circle and sing ancient melodies, their voices merging with the breath of the world. Their songs awakened the energy of the dragons and honored their celestial creators.
It was said that when the wind whistled through the hills, it was the breath of the dragons. The Vinarine listened with reverence, knowing the dragons watched over the land from the skies, just as they watched over the sacred vine below.
When danger loomed, the Vinarine and the dragons stood as one. One legend tells of a time when an invading army approached the valley. The Vinarine called upon the dragons to rise and breathe with all their might. At once, a dense fog enveloped the enemies, confusing them and sending them fleeing in terror.
But the Vinarine were not always alone in their struggles. One spring, a fierce storm felled trees across the paths to Meloni. The Vinarine summoned the mighty giant Veli Jože, who dwelled in the Motovun forests. With the strength of ten men, Jože cleared the fallen trunks and reopened the path to the sacred peak.
Jože adored the Vinarine, their brilliance, their laughter, their ancient wisdom. He came whenever they called. In return, the guardians gifted him a jug of their golden wine, which, as Jože claimed, made him even stronger than before.
Though rarely seen by the people of Motovun, the Vinarine shared a deep bond with the town. Every year, during the grape harvest, the villagers would leave offerings atop Meloni: a basket of fresh grapes and a jug of wine. In return, the Vinarine would bless the vineyards, ensuring a fruitful harvest and a prosperous year.
It is said that, in secret, the Vinarine would slip into the cellars of Motovun to taste the wines crafted by human hands. If a wine was found worthy of their refined taste, they would leave behind a gold coin beside the barrel - a mark of approval and a promise of abundance in the coming year.
But not all honored the Vinarine's gift.
A wealthy merchant from distant lands heard of the golden wine and was consumed with greed. He tricked Veli Jože, presenting him with a barrel of poor wine disguised as a gift from the Vinarine. While Jože drank, the merchant and his men climbed Meloni to steal the magical vine.
Sensing the danger, the Vinarine summoned the dragons once more. A thick, impenetrable fog descended on the mountain. But Jože, unaware of the treachery, began to feel weak, his strength fading from the bad wine. As he climbed, dizzy and dazed, he stumbled and fell, his massive body crashing to the earth. The force of his fall shook the land and broke the fog that had shielded the mountain.
The invaders now approached the summit. Faced with an unbearable choice, the Vinarine gathered in sorrow. To protect the sacred vine from falling into the hands of the wicked, they poured the last drops of the golden wine into the soil, destroying the enchanted plant forever.
From that day on, the golden vine vanished. Veli Jože retreated into the deep forests, burdened by his mistake. The Vinarine faded into the shadows, their forms no longer seen, but their spirit never left the valley.
Even now, Meloni is said to be wrapped in mystery, and the air still carries a faint scent of wine. When the wind dances through the hills, locals smile and whisper:
"The Vinarine are toasting with the dragons."
To this day, Istrian winemakers care deeply for their craft, ensuring that no bad wine ever touches their soil. And during harvest, it's said that some still find a gold coin among the vines, a sign that the Vinarine are watching.
And when the sun sinks low over the valley and a glass is raised in celebration, those who listen with open hearts may still feel their presence, a timeless bond between the land, the sky, and the people who love the wine.
