The Kingdom

The Kingdom

Good day. My name is Shay and although this may be hard for you to believe, I am indeed a Leprechaun. I live in the east coast of Ireland and, due to tragic circumstances, I am forced to communicate with you. Trapped and tricked by devious mini-mortals, I have had to promise to recount tales to you from my world.

Our Tale Begins
Manus 1
Manus 2
Security Council
The Trap Effects Only
The Trap - Pipe of Prophecy

I live in the east of Ireland. Faerie folk live underground all over Ireland in what are known by local mortals as ‘faerie forts’. I live in an enormous faerie mound, Hawthorn Central, the capital city for all magic folk. Our city is not unlike a vast human settlement except thronged with all different types of faerie folk. It is, in fact, the busiest faerie kingdom in the world.

There are a few different entrances but the main entrance is at the base of an ancient tree, which is over four thousand years old. Donal, an elf with mismatched ears, checks visitors in and out, and has done so for the past 172 years…

Leprechauns live all around the country of Ireland, which is divided into five provinces (Ulster, Leinster, Meath, Munster and Connaught). For identification purposes, Leprechauns who live in the West of Ireland (Connaught), often wear special rain jackets because of the rainy weather so they are easy to spot – if you know how…

St Patrick’s Day.

I never wear green clothes. Some human idiot made up that story. Any leprechaun of wealth and importance wears red coats and trousers to their knees. Stocking colours vary. My velvet jacket has seven gold buttons in a row and the fine tailoring of my ruby-red jacket is the exquisite work of Manus, my tailor, for over half a century. The intricate gold stitching, hand sown, is done in Orla’s workshop by…

My portrait was painted with Pearse, a grumpy whiskey distiller from County Cork at last year’s Whurling Championship. This particular Leprechaun owes me two bottles of his Sherkin whiskey. I intend to reveal his image to mortals in my next story, Shay in San Francisco if he doesn’t pay up…

St Patrick’s Day.

I HATE miniature mortals. We never interact with mortals, and to be perfectly honest, we have a very low opinion of you. You have absolutely no ability to perform any magic at all, not even the basics.   A miniature faerie could defeat a hundred mortals with a mere swish of a wand. So, understandably, I have little regard for any mortal.

Of all human mortals, the miniature versions, (mini-mortals) are the ones I detest the most. Horrendous is the only word that comes to mind… I run an extremely profitable gold-lending business, and these noisy creatures often disturb my most important financial transactions as they run riot over my home. To be frank, the very worst of it is that some still believe in faerie folk and have been known to set a trap for one. Thankfully, rumour has it that as mini-mortals develop into fully grown mortals their imagination shrinks…

St Patrick’s Day.

There are a few entrances to our faerie world at the base of ancient Hawthorn trees, which sit above the natural access to our underground world. They should never, ever, ever be interfered with.

What occurs to me is that you may not actually know what a faerie tree looks like and what its function is. So, for your own safety, it would be best to familiarise yourself with faerie trees. Have the good sense to leave them well alone. Over the years calamities have befallen humans who have destroyed faerie trees: these are documented with commissioned studies of our main portals in St Patricks Day

Appearance to every Leprechaun and all faerie folk for that matter is very, very important. ‘Always look your very best’ is my motto. My hair, a glistening golden-auburn colour, is always styled in a coiff to the right. My own personal assistant, Gwendolina, would never allow me out my door in Elder Avenue without my hair perfectly styled. I am, despite attempts by a certain Leprechaun (Kieran) from Donegal, the leading gold lender in our land. Indeed, I look much younger and vastly different from the awful caricatures you have been led to believe…

Formalities over, let me begin with my first tale, St. Patrick’s Day… how it all started…