by Alan Fisher
“Are you sure? I don’t remember having any whiskey there.” Eamonn shook his head as he spoke.
“No, I definitely remember because I used that whiskey to serve a few glasses at the end of the night. That’s why it was on the shelf, I put it there. Somebody was here, I'm not lying, it’s very strange.”
Eamonn walked over to the entrance. He pushed and pulled, jolting the door back and forth. It was bolted securely so he turned around.
“Okay, so what did this person look like?”
“He was young, slender, a little small with red hair.” As Aine described the lad she again felt a sense of familiarity.
“Right, first thing tomorrow I'll double lock the doors and windows, just in case, you can never be too careful,” Eamonn said turning back towards the entrance, scanning the old wooden door frame.
“I don't think that's necessary.” Aine continued, “He wasn’t threatening and didn't seem crazy. It’s a hard to explain feeling. Like you’ve met someone before but forgotten their name. You know when that happens? He was talking about someone called Ena, that Ena would come and explain something, and he also asked where his father was, that only made me more confused. Then in an instant he was gone. He vanished before my very eyes. I looked everywhere but he had disappeared.”
Eamonn rolled his eyes as he continued to prod away at the door. “And you say he wasn't crazy. I'll double lock everything just to be on the safe side. Did the dog not react?”
He pointed at the terrier sitting in the corner of the room. “It's your job to warn us of any intruders.” The dog stood and stared back, wagging his tall. Eamonn kneeled to pat his head and began to whisper, “I think Aine might’ve had a drop of whiskey herself.”
He then started collecting the final few bowls left on the table. “Come on, let's get finished here and go to bed. We've another busy day tomorrow.
Remember
T hree days and nights had passed since Ena last entered Fionn’s dream. Yet he continued to sit, staring out the window as all the vast knowledge of the world swirled in his mind. He bit down on his thumb, focusing his thoughts. Surely if he concentrated all his attention then he could devise a plan to capture Ena, once and for all. It was only a matter of time. Bran and Sceolan lay at his feet growling at anyone who dared open the door.
Diarmuid, another Fianna warrior and friend of Fionn, stood outside chatting to Oisin.
“What’s he doing in there? The high king is wondering why he hasn’t joined him for dinner again tonight.”
Oisin shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve no idea, and I dare not disturb him again. I pried his spear from the door yesterday and when I went inside Bran nearly took my hand off. Look, the way I see it, he’ll come around eventually, I'm going to wait it out.”
“But what’s he doing?”
“Just sitting, looking out the window.”
“So, what’ll I say to Cormac then? The high king is waiting for me to return with news of Fionn.”
“Tell him my father is deep in meditation, that he's evaluating a possible treat to the kingdom and carefully thinking on how best to proceed. That'll be fine, but reassure him all is well too, that Fionn will indeed join again another time.” Oisin had no idea what Fionn was really thinking about, still, he understood that whatever was keeping him so deep in thought was important and they needed to wait.
Diarmuid was about to leave when the door opened. Fionn appeared and spoke. “Saddle the horses, the three of us have an important task tonight.” He turned back into the room and closed the door. Oisin nodded at Diarmuid “Okay, let’s get a move on, we need to be ready to make tracks as soon as he’s down.”
“What'll I tell Cormac now?”
“Just do as I said, and hurry. I’ll meet you by the stables.” Oisin slapped Diarmuid on the back as he rushed off in the direction of the keep.
When Fionn emerged in the courtyard Oisin, and Diarmuid sat on their horses. Bran and Sceolan followed behind Fionn and ran straight out the gate.
“What’s the plan?” Diarmuid asked.
“Follow the hounds.” Fionn jumped on his horse and the three of them sped in pursuit.
After a few hours of hard riding they reached the edge of the great forest. The dogs had led them back to the last point where they had a solid lead on the person who helped Ena escape his cage. Once they arrived Bran and Sceolan circled around one another. Oisin realized what was going on and questioned Fionn.
“Father, the scent was lost, why are we back here?”
Fionn dismounted his horse and turned his back to the great forest. He planted his spear in the ground and stared ahead, wondering about each flickering light scattered over the vast countryside.
“It wasn’t lost, merely masked. From here we’ll find our answers. Can you not see, Oisin? Someone standing beside one of these fires holds the key to the information I need.” He turned to face Diarmuid and Oisin, then raised his hand and pointed back towards the open countryside. “I shall not be tortured at night as I rest. That sprite has haunted my dreams for the last time. Rest assured, tonight we will learn who helped Ena, then we'll set a trap so we can finally catch and kill that reckless little sprite.”
Diarmuid marched his horse over beside Fionn. “I’m with you as always, but there are many fires out there, where to first?”
Fionn plucked his spear from the ground and leaped back onto his horse.
“Bran and Sceolan led us here, but couldn’t take us any further. For the last few days I’ve turned this over and over in my mind. A scent can’t suddenly disappear, there is no way to destroy or mask a smell once one of my hounds have locked onto its odor. Magic must be at play, it’s the only explanation. So, the real question now is, why would Ena use magic?” Fionn paused for a moment as he gripped the reins of his horse. “He’s trying to keep us from someone. Someone I presume he cares about, and this was an effort to protect that person. Tonight, we’re going to find whomever that is, and squeeze until he shows his tiny head.”
“There are so many lights, it could take several nights to check them all,” Oisin replied.
“I don't care, if need be we go door to door, but let’s begin where most people are currently gathered.”
Fionn rode off in the direction of the cookhouse followed closely by Oisin and Diarmuid.
Meanwhile, Aine was rushing around the hall serving the many patrons who were in for supper, merrily drinking and chatting to themselves. No one seemed to notice Fionn’s arrival outside. This fact didn't escape Fionn's attention either as he quietly dismounted from his horse and whispered instructions to his men. “Diarmuid, you stand by the door and make sure no one causes any trouble. Oisin, you and I will make our way inside and start questioning people. Stay vigilant and follow my lead.”
Fionn then picked a stick from the ground and wrapped some hay for the horses around it’s tip. He reached for the whiskey flask on Diarmuid’s saddle and poured some over the hay. Oisin then took a flint from his pocket and struck it against the edge of his sword. Sparks landed on the hay which kindled. Fionn blew, fanning the flames. He marched through the door with the torch burning bright and fierce in his hand. Everyone stopped and turned in his direction. Fionn stood broad and tall in the doorway and spoke.
“Remain seated and listen to what I have to say. Several days ago, I set traps given to me by the high king himself to catch a mischievous leprechaun by the name of Ena. These traps are invisible to the naked eye and only lock when a sprite is nearby. We'd heard stories that he was seen in these parts so we laid them beside any fairy mounds we could find. One trap locked, now that would suggest we had him or another such creature. However, when we went back the next day, the trap was visible and the cage door was ajar. I’m here because I need to know who opened that trap.”
Upon hearing the leprechaun’s name, Aine compressed her lips and briefly rubbed her brow as Fionn took a few steps inside and continued.
“If you opened the cage and come forward n
ow all will be forgiven. Or perhaps you've noticed someone suspicious or something out of the ordinary, if so then let me know. Now is your chance to share any information. For if you hold back and your deception comes to light later, then you shall receive no such forgiveness. Now, does anyone have anything to say?”
Eamonn wondered why everyone had gone quiet in the hall and made his way out from the kitchen. He caught the end of Fionn’s speech and looked around the hall as he finished. Everyone was ducking down into their tables glancing back and forth at one another. He knew something needed to be said.
“Fionn, I'm not really sure what to say, you and your men have long been visitors here and we greatly appreciate your custom. Unfortunately, I've no idea about any magic cages. As for stuff out of the ordinary, well, my wife saw a young lad break in a few nights ago. Apparently, he stole a bottle of whiskey, but that’s the only thing I’ve heard about.”
As soon as Eamonn spoke Aine’s heart began to race, her breathe quickened as something triggered inside, a voice telling her to avoid talking about the stranger she encountered. Just as Fionn turned to question her in more detail, several other customers spoke also.
“Two of my goats went missing yesterday, but me and the young fellas found them wondering in the forest this morning,” said one old man with ale dribbling down his chin.
“Last night my dogs barked straight through till morning, non-stop, I’m sure it was a banshee,” said another who glanced around shaking his head at everyone sitting at his table.
Fionn paused to hear the other comments but didn’t respond; he simply turned back towards Aine. “Tell me more about this stranger.”
Aine’s lips curled and she rubbed her hands together excessively as Fionn stared over, waiting for a response.
“It was nothing, just a young lad, he meant no harm. I don’t think he would have anything to do with the leprechaun you mentioned though.”
Fionn’s eyes widened.
“Why do you feel he meant no harm? He broke in and stole whiskey. You didn’t feel threatened encountering such a person late at night?”
Aine was standing in the middle of the hall surrounded by many people, all of whom now stared at her, waiting to hear what she had to say.
“Em, I don’t know really, I was a little frightened at first I guess, but I felt he wasn’t here to hurt me. He just mumbled away, took the whiskey, and left.”
“Did he speak of anyone, Ena perhaps? Did he break through the door? How did he leave?”
Aine trembled and flustered as Fionn continued to question.
“I don’t recall him mentioning a name. I looked away and he was gone, I’m not sure how he got in or out to be honest. He vanished.”
Eamonn noticed that she was unsettled and spoke out also.
“I think he was a little crazy. He was calling her mother and after he took the whiskey he was gone. In fairness, it was late at night and we were both exhausted, but, apparently, he just vanished. Now I don’t believe that, yet I did check all the doors and windows, they were secured. I don’t know how he got in or out.”
Fionn nodded, he then turned and walked back towards the doorway with the torch still in hand. Before leaving he looked back and spoke again.
“Thank you for your time. If you hear of anything else, please come forward and let me know.”
As he left he whispered into Dirmuid’s ear and made his way outside, away from the building. Oisin followed closely behind him. As they left chatter began to grow louder and louder as people went back about their business. Fionn stood silent for a moment, biting on his thumb to confirm his suspicion. After a brief pause, he extended his arm backwards and tried to fling the torch towards the thatched roof of the cookhouse. Oisin rushed in and grabbed his arm preventing the throw.
“Father, what are you doing? These people have likely done nothing.”
“Get off my arm,” Fionn barked. “You go around the back, if anyone comes out that side bring them here. Make sure no one flees, and don't you dare doubt me again.”
Oisin bowed and shuffled off around the side of the building.
As he ran, Fionn flung the torch onto the roof. The cold night air carried a slight drizzle, but this didn't seem to have any effect on the fire which engulfed the roof after only a few seconds. Smoke billowed into the night sky as the blaze quickly ravaged through the cookhouse. Diarmuid braced himself as he began to hear the people inside coughing and warning each other about the fire.
Eamonn did what he could, emptying whatever buckets of water he had in the kitchen but it was all in vein. He couldn't contain the flames; his home, his livelihood was lost. He gritted his teeth and pulled a sword down from a display which hung on the wall. It sizzled as he gripped it in his hand.
“Everyone, quickly out! Leave your belongings behind and get out that door.” He made sure Aine wasn’t injured and together they bundled everyone out to safety.
As they made their way outside they saw Fionn standing tall staring back at them. Everyone seemed to gather in a circle away from the blaze wondering what on earth was going on. As Eamonn emerged from the flames he saw Fionn and realized it must have been he who set the fire.
“Why would you do this? We’ve long served you as best we could…Why would you burn our home and destroy our livelihood?” Eamonn knew he was no match for Fionn but still marched forward, demanding an answer, forgetting he still carried a blade in his hand.
Suddenly, Diarmuid struck him from behind with the butt of his shield and he dropped unconscious to the ground. Aine cried out and rushed over to check on her husband. He was out cold. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she kneeled beside him.
Diarmuid whipped Eamonn from of Aine’s arms and pulled out his sword. He brought the blade down touching Eamonn’s neck as Fionn began to shout at Aine.
“You lied. Tell me exactly what you know. Confess or I'll strike him down. By the gods, I swear to you now, I’ll take his head.”
The crowd gasped.
“We told you the truth. A stranger visited us, only to suddenly disappear again taking some of our whiskey. I can't explain it.”
Fionn nodded at Diarmuid who raised his blade in the air.
“This is your last chance, remember or he dies.”
“I don’t know anymore… Wait, he did mention a name, he did mention Ena, that’s it, I swear.”
Diarmuid dropped the blade. Just before striking its mark Aine cried out one last time.
“Stop! We have a son. It was our son.”
ACT 2
A Leprechaun Life
“H
ey, stop throwing stuff. I don't find that the least bit funny.”
Ena laughed as he emerged into Foye. This is the bustling home to many leprechauns living on the north-east coast, hidden deep inside Sliabh Feá, or the Foye Mountain. This peak was named after Brian O'Feá, the Fairy King, who to this day rules over all Irish Leprechauns.
The cave wall Ena walked through led him directly into the middle of the infamously busy Ard Rí market. The scene was chaotic as leprechauns from all over plied their trades. Cobblers, gold smiths, blacksmiths, leather crafters, hat designers, musical instrument makers, tobacco farmers, pipe sellers, fish mongers, butchers, ale brewers, whiskey distillers and a variety of other street vendors hustled around day after day, and have done so for thousands of years. The market brims with activity as each little sprite, craftier than the next, barters and banters their days away.
Leprechauns are not immortal, but they do live a very long time. It's not really known for sure but likely anywhere between 5 000 to 10 000 years, depending of course on how much ale, whiskey and tobacco they go through. They live around gateways to Mag Mell which are commonly referred to as fairy mounds. These gateways are portals between this world and the next, and it is through these that the spirits of the deceased travel on their journey out of this world. It’s not known for sure but living beside these gateways and having this connection with the Otherworld coul
d be the source of all leprechaun supernatural powers and longevity.
Each has a specific trade, yet they don't really choose what craft they go into; it's generally passed down from generation to generation. So, every leprechaun takes great pride in whatever passion has been in their family for years. Also, since each family has dedicated thousands of years to just one trade, they've been very creative by infusing magic into their art also. The perfect example of this was the creation of the salmon of knowledge. Many years ago, one fish monger wanted to serve up a special gift to King Brian on his 6000th birthday; he gave one fish all the knowledge of the world using a spell, long kept secret in his family. While King Brian was impressed and very grateful for such a unique gift, he didn't care to gain such wisdom. He felt it would be cheating, that living and experiencing the world was the best way to learn, especially since leprechauns are lucky to live such long lives. So, he freed the salmon, letting it swim back into the wild where it eventually found its way to Fionn Mac Cumhail.
Ena’s family where renowned musical instrument makers and they had a small workshop where he lived on the edge of the Ard Ri market. Now he was on his way home. He’d been away for several days and since things had calmed down, he wanted to get back to work. He loved music and it was here, working and playing on many different magical instruments, that he found peace.
“I’ll get you back, young man. You mark my words.” Finnegas was an elderly whiskey distiller whose stall was right next to the entrance onto the market. It was Finnegas whom Ena was throwing the charcoal pebbles at through the wall. He was an old friend of the family and ever since Ena’s parents had disappeared he watched over him like an uncle. He was very old for a leprechaun, quickly approaching his 10 000th year. He could always be seen puffing on his pipe as tobacco smoke blew from his long grey beard. He’d generally have a mug of his own produce in his other hand also. The downfall of spending a leprechaun lifetime infusing magic with whiskey is that you generally need to taste a lot of your concoctions. As Finnegas got on in years he enjoyed the tasting aspect of his trade more so than the production. His brews became tremendously unpredictable, so much so that many younger and more adventurous leprechauns would come all the way to Foye seeking a Finnegas Whiskey. While the flavors and alcohol strength varied from batch to batch, so too were the magical elements infused. Ena would often joke that Finnegas deliberately took pleasure in creating such unpredictable blends. When he was younger Ena found this out the hard way; one batch was infused with a hiccup spell. It went down ever so smooth and sweet. It was that tasty he drank up the whole bottle in one sitting, only to hiccup continually for five straight years.
