“Incompetent pipsqueak!” The Leprechaun king yelled angrily and stomped his foot and several leprechauns vanished with a puff of smoke. A sorry looking leprechaun stood before the king. His wet clothes were torn, his face was red from boiling water and he had a large bruise on his face from hitting a tree. The King pointed his finger and stomped his foot. Sparks flew and the leprechaun vanished with a squeak.
“Sire, if you vanish many more there will be none left to rule,” said the old, thin leprechaun, stroking his white beard. His pointy blue hat was bent and faded. The Leprechaun king stood and puffed out his chest.
“But wise old man, they are not fit to rule. They cannot defeat a girl and her flea bus.” He rubbed his belly and frowned. “We need an army. Yes,” The patted his large belly and began nodding.
“Gather all the troops!” he ordered.
“What troops?” the old man asked calmly. The king frowned again. “Sire. If we send leprechauns off in numbers then we truly will be noticed. Is that not what we are trying to avoid?”
The king grunted but did not answer.
“There are any number of magical creatures who would like to make trouble for us.” The old leprechaun gently spoke.
“Remember when the fairy of St Michael’s church set your throne on fire. The humans came with their fire trucks and flashing lights. We had to hide for days. And I still think some saw us. Oh, sire. If one of us is caught and we grant a wish. Word will spread. We will be hunted.”
The king bowed his head and sighed.
“We have to do this quietly and quickly. Do we not have such a leprechaun. One who has shown his cunning before?” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he nodded to the king.
“But he has retired. He has earned his tree. He lives in the forest now. It is leprechaun law we do not ask ...”
“Unless the kingdom itself is under threat.”
The king straightened up his back and shoulders and nodded.
“Yes, then. There is one that is worthy. One that knows the taste of victory. Bring me Vanquar the big footed. The only worthy leprechaun left in this kingdom.”
Several small leprechauns ran out of the hall chattering, down the stone steps, and out into the field.
“Vanquar,” they called. They split up into different directions. One went to the creek, another to the meadows. Others ran into the forest and scattered amongst the bushes and trees. All the while they called “Vanquar! Vanquar!” in little high pitched voices.
High up in a tall tree perched a small tree house. And in it, looking out a window to the forest below stood a leprechaun larger than the others. His hands were bigger, as was his head and shoulders. He looked very powerful, like he could pick up a human, even though they were twice his size. But his hair was greying and his blue hat faded.
“Who’s calling my name?” he bellowed from the tree tops. Below the little leprechauns stopped running about and ran to the base of the tree.
“Oh Vanquar the big footed. Will you come down?”
“No. I have earned my tree. Go before I stomp my foot and make very bad and embarrassing things happen to you all.” He raised his left foot as a threat.
“But it is...”
“Begone!” he shouted and raised his foot higher, his eyes wide and menacing.
“... for the king!”
“I said ...” he was about to stomp his foot then he froze. His face lit up with pride.
“The king? He needs the services of the great Vanquar? But I have earned my tree. Unless. Yes, the kingdom. The kingdom needs the great Vanquar.”
Vanquar stomped his larger left foot and a boom rang out through the forest. The leprechauns at the base of the tree fell to the ground and covered their ears. Slowly they looked up to see what had happened and gave a fright to see Vanquar was standing amongst them. He was a little taller than they. He peered at them with steely grey eyes while stroking his grey beard.
“Oh Vanquar,” one said. “That mighty left foot of yours will be put to the test. What until you hear what the king has for you.” Vanquar held up a hand to silence the leprechaun.
“I don’t want to hear this from unimportant little things such as yourself. I speak only to the King.”
Vanquar the big footed strode out of the forest, across the fields and into the King’s hall. He had an unusual walk because his left foot was larger than his right. But he did not mind because his big foot was the one used for casting spells.
“I am here, my king.” Vanquar knelt before the king.
“Ah, Vanquar the big footed,” the King had glee back in his eyes. “This is a task worthy of your great boot. You are our last hope.”
“Of course. I understand. That is why I have left my tree. What is it, my lord? Have the rats invaded the royal potato stores at Doffoffoffenden?” the king shook his head. “Have the evil moths of Wardrobedar eaten the magical cloak of the queen?”
“No,” said the king. “Much worse. You know of Pillosh, the oafish?” Vanquar nodded.
“I was expecting more, sire. But, no matter. Do you wish for me to make him an ornament for the fish pond? I do so look forward to this task.” The king rubbed his chin.
“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe later. But not now. The small oaf granted the verbo spell on a dog.” “Easily done my lord,” Vanquar raised his chin in triumph of a task he could easily handle. “Tell me where this flea bus is and ...”
“Australia.”
The confident expression on Vanquar’s face left quickly. He rocked on his heels like he was about to fall backwards.
“Where, my lord? Austria?” His voice was thin and weak.
“Oh you wished. No. On the other side of the world, Vanquar. Are you up to the challenge?” Vanquar swallowed because this throat was drying.
“What, sire, if the great Vanqar is inflicted with homesickness?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the king. “That won’t happen. You will cast the spell and return in good time.” Vanquar nodded, not trusting his voice to sound confident again.