The Leprechaun's Apprentice

Luck and science are mutually beneficial. Fantasy flash fiction.

Hikes through the dense woods of Michigan’s upper peninsula were an afternoon routine that provided Connor Devlin a respite from his laboratory duties. While he was enamored by the wolf scat he studied under a microscope, it was his real hope to monitor a pack in the wild under close observation. He considered the possibility that he would encounter other animals off the beaten trail, but never a Leprechaun.

Being of scientific mind, Connor decided it best to first observe, so as to eliminate the possibility he was going insane. Moving from California’s bright, warm embrace to the often seasonally depressing northern parts of Michigan may have caused a mental breakdown. When the magic door appeared in the hollow of a large, bleak, red maple tree, and the Leprechaun dragged out a pot of gold, Connor knew the only next course of action was to introduce himself.

“Are you a Leprechaun?” Connor asked.

The creature startled, then let out a sigh of resignation.

“I am. So, what of it?” the Leprechaun asked.

“I thought so, but you’re not quite what I expected.”

This was true enough. While the fantastical being stood approximately three feet tall, he was not clothed in bright green attire with a sunny disposition. Instead, he was rather haggard, his orange-red hair and beard dirty and unkempt, hands stained with shoe polish, and his overcoat, vest and knee-high pants were a worn Burgundy. Although given their age there was a strong possibility the threads had once been a more pleasant shade. His hat and buckled shoes were black and faded.

“You humans think you know everything. Appearances aside, I am what I say I am,” the Leprechaun grumbled.

“Well, as legend goes, I found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Doesn’t that mean it’s mine now?” Connor asked.

“Do you see a rainbow, my boy? Neither do I. Besides, I work for a living and have earned my keep, to which you have no rights. What do you do besides take up space and sneak up on unsuspecting woodland folk?”

“What if I were to capture you? Does that not guarantee me three wishes?”

The Leprechaun opened his overcoat to reveal a menacing dagger eight inches long, sheathed in a leather scabbard that hung from his belt.

“Just you try it, sir, and you’ll find yourself dangling off the end of my blade.” the Leprechaun said.

“Yes, well, I was never one for violence. Let’s forget that idea. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you earn the gold?”

“A man’s money is his own business, but if you must know I work as a shoe cobbler. Your lot got one thing right — we’re the best cobblers in our realm and yours!”

“So why not a bank?”

“Banks are run by goblins! A stingy and dishonest lot.”

Knowing that he was being outwitted, and with nothing to show for the experience, Connor was running out of things to say. In time he would question the incident, eventually convincing himself it was all in his imagination and then finally forget it altogether as the result of some curious brain malady. Then it struck him as only it could a scientist that his greatest contribution may not come through his study of wolves, but the study of folklore.

“If you’ve made your living so well as a cobbler, then perhaps I’ve been wrong all these years regarding my choice of profession, and for that matter my choice of realities. Would you be interested in an apprentice?” Connor asked.

“Let me see your palms.”

Connor put out his palms, tendering an invisible offering.

“Meh, you haven’t worked a day in your life! A hammer to the thumb, or a needle through the finger and you’ll be crying like a wee baby,” the Leprechaun said.

“What have you got to lose? If I’m a failure you can feed me to a dragon. If I’m a success, you’ll be known far and wide as the only Leprechaun with the requisite skills and experience to train a human. How about some fame to go with your fortune?”

The Leprechaun pondered the proposal for a brief moment, rubbing his scraggly beard and eyeing Connor with suspicion. A smirk crept across his face, and he appeared amenable to the idea.

“So be it!” the Leprechaun said.

“Wonderful!” Connor said.

“Crossing over requires an ample amount of fairy dust. I suppose I’ve got enough for someone of your girth. Your first trip is usually a rough ride, a little disorienting that is,” the Leprechaun said while pulling a purple silk pouch from his pocket.

“I understand,” Connor said. “About that dragon thing, I was just teasing of course.”

The Leprechaun grabbed a handful of dust from the pouch and tossed it over Connor, causing him to wheeze and then let out a gigantic sneeze before becoming lightheaded. He heard the Leprechaun’s reply before passing out completely.

“A deal is a deal, my boy. While I can almost guarantee your success, my pet dragon, Hugo, will undoubtedly hope for a different outcome.”

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Dear Reader: You meet a Leprechaun in the woods. I dare say it would be worth the risk of being eaten by a dragon in order to become his apprentice. What do you think?