"I'll be needin' a pint of ale and many more, Brian O'Casey, and I'll be needin' one of yer rooms; I'll not be goin 'home this evil night."
Shannon O'Dare's skin was as pale and damp as the underside of a hop-toad. Piercing green eyes beneath thick black brows bulged from their sockets as he gulped the cool ale and slammed the empty mug back onto the weathered bar. Shannon was a man known for his story telling and for his tall tales.
"Shannon, you look like you been chased here by the Devil himself. I'm rememberin' that you and Sean Dahill were fishin' down at Cloonee Lakes. Did old Sean catch himself a sea monster and get eaten by it? You look bad enough for it to have gotten a bite of you, too. "
The bar resounded with laughter. Shannon gulped another pint of dark ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Pulling a chair near the fire, he stared one-by-one at the men in the smoky tavern until they all grew quiet. "Mark my words, friends, Sean is courting Evil ,itself on the moors tonight. No God-fearing man ought to walk the mists until the sun eats up the fog and shines on emerald grass again. "
" We were fishing from shore this afternoon when Sean reached into the dark water and pulled out a flat stone with a hole clean through. Sean smiled that smile he gets when the Devil is in him; the sun shone off those auburn curls, making him look like an ornery schoolboy. He peered at me through the stone and said, "This is my fortune I'm holdin' in my hand. On the morrow, I'll be the richest man in all of Eire."
"It might have been a fairy stone that Sean had found, but it weren't worth a farthing, lleast not in the way that Sean thought. I'll ne'er forget the words he spoke while he frolicked on the shore.
"Tonight's the full moon, me friend, and there's a ring of henbane on the hill yonder. This fairy stone will let me see the little people dancing in the moonlight. I'll catchf a leprechaun in this fishing net, and make him take me to his cache of gold. No little person can hide from the power of a fairy stone."
"Sean Dahill," I told him, shakin' my finger at him, "no leprechaun will ever tell you where he's hidden his gold; why then he'd lose his magical powers. They're a tricky lot, the little people; you best not anger them, else they turn their magic against you. That stone won't keep you safe from the fury of a leprechaun. Now you toss that silly rock back into the water 'fore you lose yer life and perhaps yer soul as well."
"Sean was fairly dancing an Irish jig and spinning round in circles. "Shannon, my friend, tomorrow mornin' the sun will be shinin' on the richest bloke in all of Ireland."
"To be sure, it will, Sean, but it'll not be you that feels its warmth." Then old Sean climbed up the hill, and sat on a stump like a fool, waiting for the moonlight. I'll never forget seein' him sittin' there while the sun set behind him, shinin' through his hair like a copper halo. "Now I know better'n tangling with the fairy folk,, and with the sun going down, I knew I'd never make it home 'fore dark, so I ran here as fast as my legs would carry me to wait until morning."
Shannon drained his third mug, and picked up the next, when a shrieking, ghostly wail filled the air; the wail moaned on and on so that all who heard it felt their hair stand on end. Suddenly the wailing stopped, and the men all held their breath, afraid to break the utter silence. Every head in the room turned towards the door, wondering if the Devil himself were going to come in.
At last, Shannon raised his newly filled mug and cut the silence,, "'Tis the banshee keening for Sean Dahill." He looked down and a tear slid from the corner of his eye. "Drink a toast to Sean Dahill, my friend and fool. He thought he could fight the little people; God rest his soul!"
