A story for St. Patrick’s Day
In the emerald hills of Ireland, where the morning dew glistens like scattered diamonds and the air still carries the faintest scent of magic, there was a place hidden from the eyes of man. Amongst the ancient oaks and nestled within the grassy glens, lived two leprechaun brothers named Fergus and Torrin.
Their days were filled with whimsical adventures, chasing rainbows, and guarding their pots of gold with a bold, yet gleeful sense of duty. On one glorious morning, just as the sun began to shine, they found their home visited by a stranger who would challenge their faith.
It began with a curious glint in the early glow of day, a shimmering presence that flitted upon the breeze, beckoning the brothers forward with an irresistible curiosity. Fergus was quick to take the lead as they merrily explored the new trail. It wasn’t long until the two leprechauns found themselves in a clearing unlike any they had ever seen.
There, standing amidst the swirling mist, was the devil himself, adorned in crimson robes and a sly grin playing upon his lips. His eyes, like smoldering coals, pierced through the glamours of protection surrounding the two brothers, causing both Fergus and Torrin to tremble.
The devil’s voice was smooth as polished stone, yet dark as onyx. “Do you know what has happened to your people?” he inquired, his words hanging in the air above the leprechauns like a dark cloud full of volcanic ash.
Torrin’s bushy eyebrows furrowed with worry. He looked over to his brother who seemed equally as puzzled by the devil’s question. For all their mischief and merriment, they had never contemplated the fate of their kin beyond the lush hills that concealed their home.
“We… we’re not sure,” Torrin stammered, his voice shaking slightly, “What do you mean?”
The devil’s grin widened, revealing sharp rows of gleaming teeth that were stained red. “My dear little friends,” he whispered, his tone dripping with intrigue, “there are things needed to be seen, in order for them to be believed. Fear not, for I am here to show you truth.”
With a flick of his hand, the devil conjured an ethereal flame that danced above his pointed fingernails. As the flames twisted, images began to materialize within their depths, revealing a tale of lost wonder and woe. It was a story well known to the leprechaun brothers.
“Would you look at that,” jested Fergus. “He wants to educate us on the intricate histories of The Green.” The leprechaun laughed loudly until he felt his brother’s elbow nudge him hard in the side.
“Gaze upon what your people have done,” said the devil. “Humanity has squandered your sacrifice. Your gifts mean nothing. Man has smothered creativity and wonder. Look at how they guzzle their beer and make mockery of your ways. They dye rivers green, worship false idols in grand stadiums, and have put your faces on the boxes of breakfast cereal.”
“Can you blame them,” asked Torrin. “It’s no secret what you’ve done to the world. These good people just need a break from your shenanigans.”
“I didn’t make them dull,” said the devil. “Besides, isn’t it humorous what they’ve done with the legend of Saint Patrick? There never were any serpents in Ireland.”
“And such is the way of things,” said Fergus with a shrug. “Traditions and stories grow stronger than hate. We of the old ways endure. Bitterness be damned.”
The devil chuckled at the little leprechauns.
“I kind of like us being associated with happiness,” remarked Fergus. “Let them have their wine and wishes.”
“Most of Avalon above, and certainly all of Avalon below, despise the decisions you’ve made during the schism. You think three little wishes and a cauldron of gold can undo all the harm humanity has done?
“I don’t think that,” said Fergus. “I believe it.”
“Wishing isn’t a sin,” agreed the devil. “Would you like to know what I believe in?”
Fergus and Torrin exchanged amused glances. Despite the seriousness of the situation, they couldn’t help but feel a spark of mischief stirring within their hearts.
“Not particularly,” said Torrin.
“No, brother. Let’s hear him out. We might learn something important.” Fergus quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm.
The devil’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “You dare mock me?” he growled, the flames blazing furiously in response to his rising temper. “Do you not recall who saved you from extinction? You should fall on your knees and give thanks that I chose to be merciful.”
Torrin stifled a chuckle, elbowing his brother playfully. “Seems like this devil has nothing better to do with his time than spend it with the wee folk.
Fergus shrugged again, his grin widening. “Come now, old devil. We leprechauns may be small, but we’re not ones to take tales at face value, especially from the likes of you.”
“If there’s anyone who knows how to spin a tale, it’s us. We’ve been at it longer than you,” teased Torrin.
The devil’s expression twisted into a mixture of anger and amusement. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but admire the audacity of the two leprechauns standing before him. There was a resilience in their defiance, a stubbornness that reminded him of another fable, one of proud angels and banishment.
“Very well,” the devil conceded, his voice echoing with a begrudging respect. “If mockery and games are what you seek, then mockery and games you shall receive. Mark my words, little friends, there is a prize to be won this day. Will you be cocky enough to accept my challenge?”
“We’ll play your game,” said Torrin with a wink.”But, first you must answer something for me.”
“Go on then,” agreed the devil, “Ask your question.”
“Why aren’t you wearing any green?”
The devil fumed impatiently.
“Especially on this day,” said Fergus. “It means we can hurt you.”
The devil yelped as the leprechaun quickly reached out and pinched him on the arm. He didn’t like the pain. He hadn’t expected to have his own tactics used against him.
“Begone old Scratch,” shouted Torrin. “Go back to your prison. We have no need of you!”
With a flourish of his cloak, the devil vanished in a puff smoke, leaving the two brothers standing in a cloud that stunk of brimstone. Fergus stroked his beard and began to laugh heartily. Torrin however shook his head sorrowfully from side to side.
“What is it brother? We must celebrate! We beat the devil at his own game,” boasted Fergus. “Let us return home and tell everyone of our deed!”
“Don’t you see what happened here today? We didn’t outsmart the devil. He let us think we won.”
Peter R. Talley 