[wm] 118.6 - faery
NOTE: Hector is not_yet_gone and is used without permission, but heaps and gobs of love.
“Uhhhh…Lance? Lance, buddy?”
“Yeah, Hec?”
“Is…is that…I mean, are you…is that…”
“Yeah…that’s a leprechaun between my legs.”
“Well…I was gonna say ‘midget,’ but that works. I need more beer, where’s the tap! Barkeep! Er…pubkeep?...”
Lance burst out laughing, catching Hector’s arm before he could move away. A night of drinking and catching up had taken an unusual turn when the little man in green and gold had burst into the White Arms Pub, running like the Devil himself was chasing him. He was now crouched behind Lance, a hand planted on each calf with his white-blonde head sticking out between his knees to survey the room with wide, frightened dark eyes.
“Relax, it’s just Eamus.” He reassured Hector, peering down at the disheveled little leprechaun. He was sporting a beard as dark as his hair was light, gracing a youthful face streaked in dirt that matched his grimy forest green boots, jeans, and saffron-lined hoodie.
“So who’d ya piss off this time, huh?”
Eamus O’Leary shook his head to indicate he’d angered no one, a fact Lance doubted. With a sigh, Lance stooped to hoist the little three and a half foot man between his legs and up into the air with a hand beneath each armpit. He was heavy, but Lance was able to bear his weight pretty well. Carrying him over to the bar, Lance set him on a stool and bent so they were eye level.
“Introductions first...Hector Marshall , Eamus O’Leary, Em, meet Hec.”
Eamus waved with a bright smile and a grunt, then focused very hard on rummaging around in the pockets of his hoodie. Producing two large, heavy gold coins, he offered one to each man with the same sunny grin.
“I got no interest in yer pot of gold, but that’s a thoughtful gesture all the same.” He sighed, accepting the coin reluctantly, gesturing for Hector to do the same. “G’won…leprechauns don’t share their gold as a rule. It’s an insult not to accept.”
Hector took the coin, grinning as he flipped it. “Very cool! Th-”
Lance would have intervened, but Eamus beat him as he exploded in a sudden fit of wild yelling and grunting, waving his hands up and down in a ‘stop’ motion.
“Leprechauns are fey, and you never say ‘thank you’ to a faerie.” Lance explained off Hector’s wide eyed look. “If a faerie knows you owe ‘em one, they’ll call you on it, and that ain’t always a good thing.”
Hector looked between them in confusion. Eamus mimed slicing his throat in silent explanation.
“Oh. Ah…good? Th…er…that’s good to know.”
Eamus nodded approvingly, reaching into his pocket for another gold coin to slam on the bar.
“Drink! Drink!” he bellowed, laughing raucously.
Lance grinned, explaining once again. “Leprechauns don’t talk or use language like we know. They communicate with magic…Eamus and I grew up together, so he does the best he can, bein’ raised around here.”
Eventually the three men were seated at the bar with drinks paid for by Eamus’s gold coins, while he eventually climbed up on the bar and told his story in grunts, shouts, and pantomime.
“I think I get it… Russel Tower caught ya diggin’ in his flower beds again?” Lance finally guessed.
Eamus tapped his nose eagerly, making Lance cringe.
“Old local bully.” Lance grumbled for Hector’s benefit, shaking his head. “First met this little shit when Tower threatened to play football with him. We were seven, and Em was only two feet tall.”
“And he’s…been diggin’ in this guy’s flowers?”
“Leprechauns are scavengers, kinda like ravens and moles combined. They got sharp eyes, they’re strong as hell, and they’re greedy as hell. Fey gold’s what they mostly collect…they can’t help it.”
“You’re…telling me this little guy goes digging for gold.”
Lance nodded.
“In people’s flower beds?”
Eamus nodded, pulling another gold coin out of his pocket.
“Aaaand I’m guessin’ this Tower fella’s gonna come in here, all pissed off about his flowers, try to kick Em’s ass here…and we’re gonna have to stop him.”
This time both Lance and Eamus nodded in unison.
Hector blinked…then shrugged and downed the rest of his beer in one lengthy swallow. “I need to be way drunker ‘n this, then. Gimme another, barkeep…the midget’s buyin’.”
Lance opened his mouth to correct Hector, but stopped when Eamus turned to him and waved a hand to stop him.
Keeping his silence, Lance simply took another swig of his ale, propped his chin in his hand with an elbow on the bartop, and watched Eamus buy Hector another round as they waited for the appearance of the dragon that needed slaying.
Muse: Lance Dulac
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 784
“Uhhhh…Lance? Lance, buddy?”
“Yeah, Hec?”
“Is…is that…I mean, are you…is that…”
“Yeah…that’s a leprechaun between my legs.”
“Well…I was gonna say ‘midget,’ but that works. I need more beer, where’s the tap! Barkeep! Er…pubkeep?...”
Lance burst out laughing, catching Hector’s arm before he could move away. A night of drinking and catching up had taken an unusual turn when the little man in green and gold had burst into the White Arms Pub, running like the Devil himself was chasing him. He was now crouched behind Lance, a hand planted on each calf with his white-blonde head sticking out between his knees to survey the room with wide, frightened dark eyes.
“Relax, it’s just Eamus.” He reassured Hector, peering down at the disheveled little leprechaun. He was sporting a beard as dark as his hair was light, gracing a youthful face streaked in dirt that matched his grimy forest green boots, jeans, and saffron-lined hoodie.
“So who’d ya piss off this time, huh?”
Eamus O’Leary shook his head to indicate he’d angered no one, a fact Lance doubted. With a sigh, Lance stooped to hoist the little three and a half foot man between his legs and up into the air with a hand beneath each armpit. He was heavy, but Lance was able to bear his weight pretty well. Carrying him over to the bar, Lance set him on a stool and bent so they were eye level.
“Introductions first...Hector Marshall , Eamus O’Leary, Em, meet Hec.”
Eamus waved with a bright smile and a grunt, then focused very hard on rummaging around in the pockets of his hoodie. Producing two large, heavy gold coins, he offered one to each man with the same sunny grin.
“I got no interest in yer pot of gold, but that’s a thoughtful gesture all the same.” He sighed, accepting the coin reluctantly, gesturing for Hector to do the same. “G’won…leprechauns don’t share their gold as a rule. It’s an insult not to accept.”
Hector took the coin, grinning as he flipped it. “Very cool! Th-”
Lance would have intervened, but Eamus beat him as he exploded in a sudden fit of wild yelling and grunting, waving his hands up and down in a ‘stop’ motion.
“Leprechauns are fey, and you never say ‘thank you’ to a faerie.” Lance explained off Hector’s wide eyed look. “If a faerie knows you owe ‘em one, they’ll call you on it, and that ain’t always a good thing.”
Hector looked between them in confusion. Eamus mimed slicing his throat in silent explanation.
“Oh. Ah…good? Th…er…that’s good to know.”
Eamus nodded approvingly, reaching into his pocket for another gold coin to slam on the bar.
“Drink! Drink!” he bellowed, laughing raucously.
Lance grinned, explaining once again. “Leprechauns don’t talk or use language like we know. They communicate with magic…Eamus and I grew up together, so he does the best he can, bein’ raised around here.”
Eventually the three men were seated at the bar with drinks paid for by Eamus’s gold coins, while he eventually climbed up on the bar and told his story in grunts, shouts, and pantomime.
“I think I get it… Russel Tower caught ya diggin’ in his flower beds again?” Lance finally guessed.
Eamus tapped his nose eagerly, making Lance cringe.
“Old local bully.” Lance grumbled for Hector’s benefit, shaking his head. “First met this little shit when Tower threatened to play football with him. We were seven, and Em was only two feet tall.”
“And he’s…been diggin’ in this guy’s flowers?”
“Leprechauns are scavengers, kinda like ravens and moles combined. They got sharp eyes, they’re strong as hell, and they’re greedy as hell. Fey gold’s what they mostly collect…they can’t help it.”
“You’re…telling me this little guy goes digging for gold.”
Lance nodded.
“In people’s flower beds?”
Eamus nodded, pulling another gold coin out of his pocket.
“Aaaand I’m guessin’ this Tower fella’s gonna come in here, all pissed off about his flowers, try to kick Em’s ass here…and we’re gonna have to stop him.”
This time both Lance and Eamus nodded in unison.
Hector blinked…then shrugged and downed the rest of his beer in one lengthy swallow. “I need to be way drunker ‘n this, then. Gimme another, barkeep…the midget’s buyin’.”
Lance opened his mouth to correct Hector, but stopped when Eamus turned to him and waved a hand to stop him.
Keeping his silence, Lance simply took another swig of his ale, propped his chin in his hand with an elbow on the bartop, and watched Eamus buy Hector another round as they waited for the appearance of the dragon that needed slaying.
Muse: Lance Dulac
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 784