The End of the Rainbow

This seemed to be the end of the rainbow. It was hard to be sure. The small residual copse of conifers

diffracted the light like a surrealist kaleidoscope. The silence was almost tangible.

A pine marten fixed me with startled gaze then dived into the undergrowth.

“Have you an eye in your head or are you just plain stupid?”

The tiny voice came from somewhere below. I eventually located the source, and gasped.

Sitting cross-legged on top of a red and white-spotted toadstool was – a leprechaun!

The diminutive humanoid on the fly trap fungus was a sight to see. Dark green jacket and trousers

over a light green waistcoat. Black brogue shoes with silver buckles. A dark green stove pipe hat.

Piercing blue eyes, pointed ears, a fluffy white beard. Was this real?

“So you can see me now? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry,” I stammered. “You took my by surprise. I’m Kevin. What shall I call you?”

“Anything that beats your peat,” was the reply. “St. Patrick, Cuchullain, Bogfrog. You choose.”

I was still in shock. The creature relented.

“OK. I’m Sean. Sean O’Hare. Don’t laugh. It’s just a coincidence I’m bald on top. Tell me why

you’ve come to my patch of the bog.”

I took a deep breath. “I live on my own in a cabin a few miles back that way. I’m a sort of hermit, I

suppose. I like to have a good long walk every day. It’s good for my health, both physical and…”

“STOP! I don’t want to hear your life story. I’ve neither time nor interest. Why are you here?”

“I was following the rainbow, hoping to find the legendary prize,” I offered lamely, somewhat taken

aback.

The leprechaun snorted.

“Humans! Greedy and gullible. Destroying our planet while chasing easy pickings.”

The rebuke made me feel uncomfortable. Sean changed the mood..

“Look. Now you’re here. I wouldn’t say no to your help.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“My pal Seamus – Seamus Always – has fallen down a rabbit hole and can’t get out. I’ve tried to

help, but it’s no good.”

“I’ll do what I can. Show me.”

Sean slithered off the edge of the toadstool. I followed him towards the base of a nearby pine tree. I

lay flat, my face beside the large hole he indicated.

“Seamus. Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Pause.

“What’s it to you? Do you want to eat me?”

“Jaysus,” said Sean. “What a gombeen.”

Sean lay down beside me and shouted into the rabbit hole.

“Seamus. This human wants to get you out of the hole. Do what he asks.”

Pause.

“Human, d’you say? Sure, they destroy everything they touch. I’ll  stay here and take me chances,

thank you.”

Sean shook his head. He looked at me despairingly.

“Tell him I’m going to reach my arm into the hole. He should grab my hand,

hold on tight, and I’ll pull him out.”

Sean relayed my instructions. After another hesitation Seamus said he understood and would

cooperate. I pushed my right arm as far as possible into the hole. Nothing.

“I see your fingers waggling,” came from inside the rabbit hole. “I can’t reach them. Can you grow

your arm a bit longer?”

“In the name o’ the Mighty Murphy,” wheezed Sean. “Aren’t I blessed to have such a

bollix as best pal?”

Inspiration. I untied the long thick waist cord serving as my belt. I fed it into the hole and told

Seamus what was happening. Progress! There was tension at the end of the rope.

“I have it,” squealed Seamus

I rose to my knees, leaned back and pulled. Nothing gave.

“He’s stuck fast,” I panted.

“Be the hokey, noooo,” shrieked Seamus. “I’m going to be some bunny’s breakfast!”

I wasn’t giving up that easily. I planted both feet against the tree base. I heaved. Movement. Heaved

and heaved again. A sudden release of resistance confirmed success. I tumbled backwards,

knocking Sean to the ground behind me. A green-clad figure rocketed out of the opening, soared

over my head and landed bang on top of his pal.

I scrambled to my feet and surveyed the carnage on the ground. A tangle of tiny green arms, legs

and hats was trying hilariously to sort itself out, with shouted accusations and imprecations. Sean

was the first to free himself from the muddle, muttering and dusting himself down.

“Help! I’ve gone blind!” roared Seamus, to my eye virtually indistinguishable from the other

leprechaun.

“You prize eejit,” barked Sean, grasping his pal’s tall hat and pulling it up, clear of his eyes.

“Aah, that’s better,” said Seamus. “They’ve turned the lights on again.”

I chuckled to myself. This was comic entertainment worth buying a ticket for.

Sean approached, looking at me with new respect.

“My friend might thank you if he ever regains his senses and remembers his manners,” he said.

“I’ll say ‘thanks’ from both of us. This could have ended badly. We’re indebted to you. You came

here seeking a crock of gold. There is no such thing at the end of a rainbow. But I can reward you

with something much more precious.”

Sean walked behind the pine tree, beckoning me to follow. He pointed to the ground.

“Do you see it?” he asked.

I stared, unimpressed, at the clump of clover he indicated. He took a tiny fistful of the green foliage

and held it aloft.

“Shamrock,” he breathed, reverentially. “But not just any shamrock. One, two, three…four. Yes,

four! The legendary, magical four-leafed shamrock. The Holy Trinity, plus…the luck of the Irish.

Bend forwards.”

Scooping up some cuckoo spit with his other hand Sean stuck a sprig of the famously magical

shamrock on the front of my jacket.

“Guard it with your life,” he said. “If ever you need some extra special luck there’s yer man,” and he gave me a big wink.

                                                                                    *

The walk back to my cabin was exhilarating. What an adventure! What a tale to tell next time I

quaffed some stout in Cormack’s shebeen. Who said the Little People only existed in the minds of

fools and drunkards?

As I got closer to home my mood gradually changed. No one would believe me. They would think I

was mad, or a fantasist. Doubt beset me. Had it really happened? Was it just some bizarre

psychedelic experience? Perhaps the foraged mushrooms I ate for breakfast had unexpected

properties. But, I still had the shamrock. And, yes, it had…four leaves. I couldn’t put that down to

an overactive imagination.

I fumbled at my waist, seeking the key to the front door. I always kept it attached to my waist cord.

Why could I not find it? Then I remembered. I had removed the rope and dangled it down the rabbit

hole. Drat! My key was still on the ground in the pine stand, or, worse, at the bottom of the hole.

Think! What to do? Sean’s valedictory wink resurfaced in my consciousness. The shamrock. I

grasped it clumsily. It detached itself from my jacket and fell to the ground. No! Then something

truly magical happened. It rattled as it hit the concrete door step. A metallic “ting”. As I looked

down I saw my front door key. The shamrock was transformed.

 I picked up the key, let myself in, then sank into my battered leathered armchair. My thoughts were

whirling. I had to believe it. Today had changed forever how I would think about my world.