Written by Arcahan

"A sunny day like this", the leprechaun began, preparing to refill his pipe from a leather pouch that never seemed to run out of tobacco. "It brings something to my mind."

Gwyllion attempted to stifle a chuckle. She had known Wilbur only for a short period of time, but it had not taken her long to realize that whenever the wily old leprechaun said he was reminded of something, it meant that he was in mood for telling tales. And so, rolling over to her side and supporting her head with one hand, she lounged on the soft layer of moss and prepared to listen. For there was no mortal walking the face of the realms who told tales like a leprechaun could.

Finally satisfied with the contents of his pipe, Wilbur retied the strings of his pouch and carefully stored it away. By the time his hand re-emerged from his pocket, his pipe had ignited by its own accord and was now pushing out sweet smoke merrily like a miniature chimney. His bushy eyebrows drawing together into a frown, Wilbur huffed and puffed solemnly for a moment or two, savoring the first breaths of his favorite blend. Finally, however, he took the pipe from his mouth and began his tale:

"I reckon it was a century ago, maybe two. I forget the count of years, yet I do believe it was somewhere around the time your great-great-grandfather still walked these realms. At those days, there was a man called Dubal McGregor living in these parts. Not an unpleasant fellow, he nonetheless did have quite a taste for all things that glittered and gleamed and jingled merrily as he ran his hands through them. But then again, what human does not?"

At this point, Wilbur strayed from his story long enough to tip his green hat in Gwyllion's direction. "No offence intended, lassie."

"None taken", the young woman smiled.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes. One day, Dubal was on his way to inspect his fields. The weather was beautiful, the sky blue like the eyes of a young maiden and the sun shone brightly like the face of a happily gurgling baby. Wind gently rustled in the trees, birds twittered to each other in the air…"

"And Dubal was on his way to inspect his fields", Gwyllion reminded the leprechaun, gently steering him back to the point of the tale.

Wilbur cast her a reproachful glance. "Now, now, lass", he said and puffed his pipe importantly. "Let the tale-teller tell his story as he pleases, without interruptions."

"…And, ah, Dubal was on his way to inspect his fields. Now, to save himself some daylight, he decided to take a shortcut through a forested meadow. The clearing was filled with thistles in a full bloom, but Dubal was not afraid of barbs, for he wore stout boots. However, as he strode across the meadow, a faint sound caught his ear…"

Wilbur kept a dramatic pause, held out one finger and shook it three times: "…tap-tap-tap…" Then, drawing a puzzled mien across his face, he continued the tale:

"'What is that sound?' Dubal asked from himself, slowing down his steps. 'It sounds almost like a hammer!' Peering left and right, the good man strained his ears, trying to locate the source of this mysterious sound. Where could it -- ah, there…" At this point, Wilbur's face broke out into a triumphant smile, his eyes wide and intense as he gazed at the still unrevealed sight.

"There, between two great thistles, sat a tiny little man, green trousers, green tail-coat and a green hat on his head! The wee-man had a collection of cobbler's tools spread to the ground all around him. Sitting on a little root, he busied himself with a gold-buckled shoe and a tiny, tiny hammer. And it was that hammer that went against the bottom of the shoe to make the sound Dubal had heard… tap-tap-tap."

"Greed lit Dubal's eyes. The wee-man he saw was a leprechaun, and everyone knows that if you can catch a leprechaun, you can force him to reveal the location of a fabulous treasure. And hardly had this thought entered Dubal's mind when one-two! He had taken two mighty strides, and three! Scooped the poor little man into his great palm!"

"Poor Wilbur", Gwyllion muttered, her eyes twinkling.

Wilbur nodded his head enthusiastically. "Aye, poor Wilbur! Dubal was -- " The leprechaun almost choked into his own pipesmoke as he realized the slip of his tongue. Coughing, he cast a quick glance at Gwyllion with watering eyes. The young woman merely smiled triumphantly in return, and a moment later Wilbur, too, joined the mirth. "Aye, you caught me on that! Yes, the leprechaun in my tale is none other than 'Wily' Wilbur himself!"

Gwillion only nodded, not at all surprised by this revelation. There was no mortal walking the face of the realms who told tales like a leprechaun could, especially if the star of the tale was the leprechaun himself.

A moment later Wilbur finally succeeded at clearing his throat of excessive smoke and, after a calming breath or two, was ready to continue the tale:

"Alas, poor Wilbur indeed! Dubal was not an evil man, yet heavy-handed for sure! Even your rough handling, my lassie, felt like the mother's caresses to a new-born infant when compared to him! Dangled me from my leg, he did, and laughed directly to my face!"

"'Ha-ha!' he boomed, 'I have caught you now, little man! Tell me, where have you hidden your gold?'"

"'What gold?' poor Wilbur inquired in return. 'I be but a poor cobbler, half-a-shoe mender of the fey-folk! What makes you believe I could earn more than a copper penny or two with my work?'"

"'Don't try to fool me!' Dubal exclaimed and mercilessly shook the leprechaun. 'Your kind is well known for greed. (As if he had a right to say that to me!)You are the penny-pinchers of the fey-realm, and hoard your treasures when other faeries spend it in their revels! Now, tell me! Where is your gold?!"

"'Y-y-y-y-y-es-s', poor Wilbur wailed in Dubal's crude handling. 'H-h-ave some mercy on a poor cobbler! Pp-put-t me down, and I will lead you to my g-g-gold, just p-p-lease, no more shaking!'"

"But Dubal was not so easily fooled. Glaring at the little man suspiciously, he growled: 'Swear by your honor, little man, that you will not lie about the location of your gold nor try to undo my efforts to retrieve it!'"

"'I swear!' poor Wilbur shouted, desperate and throwing his right hand up (or in this case, down, since he was hanging with his head towards the ground.) he swore his oath: 'By the great beard of Nicodemus and the cheek whiskers of Oberon himself, I swear I shall not lie to you about the location of my gold nor undo your efforts to retrieve it!'"

"The leprechaun had taken the oath, yet Dubal was still reluctant to trust the little fellow. After all, weren't leprechauns known to be also the most cunning of schemers in the fey-realms? Yet if he did not release Wilbur, the wee-man could not lead him to his gold… Thoughts clashed in master McGregor's head as he pondered this dilemma."

"The leprechaun, however, solved the situation by sighing with a heart-breaking voice: 'Ah, for centuries I have collected gold and gems to my great cauldron, and now you come and claim it all…'"

"These words were the final push for Dubal's greed for him to make up his mind. Slowly he eased the leprechaun to the ground and told him to lead on. 'But never forget that I will be watching you at all moments', the big man warned the wee-fellow ominously. 'Try something, and I will crush you under my sole like the little bug you are!'"

"'Oh, you can trust me!' Wilbur assured him, finally back on firm ground. 'When I once give my word, I will always keep it!'"

"And thus saying the little man began to lead on, walking between the thistles that were like great trees to someone as tiny as him. Dubal followed close behind, and true to his words, he never let his eyes to stray from the leprechaun. For it is also well known that once you have caught one of the green little men, you must never leave him from your sight. If you do, no matter how fleetingly, the leprechaun has the power to vanish into thin air, thus escaping from your clutches with utmost ease."

"Finally, after taking Dubal a long way across the meadow, Wilbur halted before one particularly handsome thistle. He turned to look up at the large man and pointed at the plant with a resigned gesture. 'Here is my gold', he announced, 'A full, black cauldron of it is buried four feet beneath this thistle here.'"

"Dubal scratched his head. 'Tell me', he pondered aloud, 'How can I get it underneath all this dirt?'"

"Wilbur shrugged innocently. 'Well now, good sir, let us keep things in order. I have kept my oath and led you to my gold. What do you want to do with it, that is none of my concern.' Thus saying the wee-man stepped behind the thistle and vanished from sight."

"Dubal trembled with fury. How could he have let that little man cheat him so? He could not move all this earth with his bare hands alone. Oh certainly, he could always go back to his house and fetch his trusty shovel, yet… This meadow was filled with as many thistles as there were stars dotting the night, and the one particular plant that hid the leprechaun's gold looked exactly like all the rest of them! If he left this place now, he could return with the shovel and dig and dig 'till he was nothing but grey bones and dust, and still he would not find a single coin of the faery's gold!"

"It was a hopeless dilemma, yet Dubal was not willing to give up. Greedy as he was, he swore he would find a way to outwit the leprechaun once and for all. Scratching his chin and rubbing his head, he thought and pondered, pondered and thought. As his mind strained and labored furiously over the problem, his big hand happened to stray down into his pocket. There, his fingers met a fiery red silk ribbon that he had been intending to give to his daughter for her birthday. His lips broke into a triumphant grin as he pulled the ribbon out and, crouching down, tied it around the thistle. 'It is good thing', he said aloud to the unseen leprechaun, 'that you also swore not to undo any of my efforts to find your gold! That means you cannot remove this ribbon either!'"

"And thus, chuckling to his own cleverness, master McGregor marched back to his house, certain that he had defeated the master trickster of the faery realms. Excitement lent wings to his feet, and in a moment he was already on his way back to the meadow. The shovel resting firmly on his shoulder, he whistled merrily as he came. His thoughts were already filled with the images of gleaming and glittering gold that jingled sweetly as it flowed through his fingers."

"When he came to the meadow, however… he stopped dead to his tracks, his mouth falling open, his eyes staring in disbelief…"

Again Wilbur kept a dramatic pause, his face mimicing the baffled mien he had just described.

"You had removed the ribbon after all?" Gwyllion guessed.

The leprechaun gave the young woman a very offended look. "Good meadows, lass, no!" he rebuked her gravely. "Even we faeries value honor. I swore an oath that I would not undo his efforts, and once 'Wily' Wilbur gives his word, he will always keep it!"

Gwyllion downright squirmed with anticipation. "Come now!" she urged gleefully, "Tell me, what did Dubal see?"

Wilbur winked and flashed her a merry grin. "Why, a red, silken ribbon flapping and billowing from the stalk of every single thistle in the meadow, of course!"