Kong language

Taigu felt tongue-tied in her presence. “Yes. No. Um, I mean we don’t own them, you know. Zantu, I mean, we don’t own the Kongs. They — I don’t know how to put it exactly. They’re like partners to us. A young Kong bonds with a Zan. We learn from each other — a Zan bonds with a Kong for life. We even speak with them.”
“I know that,” Malana said scornfully. “You have a secret language that no one else can hear.”
“Um, no, people can hear it,” Taigu corrected. “But unless you’re a Zan, it won’t mean anything. And no Kong would listen to you even if you learned the language, because there has to be the bond, you know, between a Zan and a Kong.”
“Say something in the language, then,” Malana said.
“Malana,” the Pendonjira warned, “that is bad manners. What would you do if a Zan or a Kai asked you to repeat the list of sleeping herbs?”
Malana looked irked, but she said nothing.
“I don’t mind,” Taigu said. He thought a moment and then spoke the peculiar language he used with Khaan, with clicks, whistles, hums, and grunts. “That would be a way of telling Khaan that he is a good Kong and deserves a reward,” he explained.
Malana’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a language? It sounds almost like music.”
“It is a kind of music,” Taigu agreed. “But if I said exactly the same thing to my father’s Kong, it wouldn’t mean much to him. He’d understand that I meant to be kind and that I was praising him, maybe, but that’s all. Every Zan’s Kong gets the full meaning only from his own Zan. The reverse is also true: there are sounds and gestures that every Kong’s Zan understands when others can’t. I can’t explain it any more than that.”


King Kong of Skull Island: Exodus Chapter 5