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Irish solitary fairies are famously reclusive. As a loyal and honest customer, Shàonǚ has rare privileges to enter a leprechaun's workshop.
Original story by:
CS_Bernard
THE SHREW GRUNTED as he hunched over at his work table. His wrinkly muzzle held a pair of gold rimmed pince-nez glasses in place as he tilted his head back to stare down through the lenses for clearer focus. He examined the boot on the cobbler’s peg and thought about which sort of stitch pattern he would use to affix the leather to the sole. A quick knock-knock at his door caused him to sit up straighter, turn his head to the door, and frown. For a moment he pretended to not be home. Yet he could not help himself and finally snapped, “What!? Who’s there!? What do ye want!?”
“Mr. McAllister? It’s me!” a familiar female mouse voice piped up.
The shrew’s countenance changed immediately and his head to raise slightly higher. His eyes brightened slightly. “Ah! Shauna, me girl! Come in, come in! Let me get the door!”
The shrew hopped from his stool and waddled up to the door of his small den. He was delighted to open the door and looked up to find his Manchu mouse acquaintance. Shàonǚ stood there with a smile on her face and a basket on her arm. “I’ve brought you some work if you don’t mind, Mr. McAllister.”
The shrew stroked his chin. He noted the basket and the pair of boots in it. He then glanced up to her, but before he could speak, he saw she had already pulled a gold coin from her pocket and smiled down to him. His eyes twinkled and he waved a cheery finger at her, “Aye, a good customer ye always are, m’dear. Come in, come in!”
The shrew soon made the mouse at home. He was an old, old bachelor and his home was essentially a cobbler’s shop that he coincidentally inhabited. He sat in a wooden rocking chair for himself and a stool for his guest. McAllister’s home was one of the few places where Shàonǚ felt considerably, if relatively speaking, “taller.”
The 91-centimeter shrew rocked in his chair with a cup of some tea the mouse had also brought, “Ah, me girl ye would’a made a foyne housewife, if’n ye don’ mind me sayin’.”
The visitor sighed slightly and sent a bit of steam adrift from her tea cup, “Thank you, Mr. McAllister, but I’m afraid that such things are long past my interest.”
“Ah, t’is a shame…” He mused wistfully into his teacup, “But, wot’s an old leprechaun’s opinion really worth?”
“I still think it’s at least a kind gesture to an old sorceress,” Shàonǚ ventured.
The shrew scoffed, “Oi came to this country in Forty-Nine, Eighteen-Forty-Nine at that – and I’m startin’ t’show the centuries. But, yew, aye ye look e’ry bit as fresh as a spring lamb. Naught a bad thing fer a mortal born lass.”
“It came with a, as you might say, ‘wee bit’ of cost.”
The leprechaun sighed, “Aye… Such things always seem to.” He cleared his throat, “Trouble ye for more tea, please?”
Original story by:
CS_BernardMount AiryCincinnati, OhioUnited States of AmericaMonday, 10:12 UTC – 4:00, Daylight Saving TimeTHE SHREW GRUNTED as he hunched over at his work table. His wrinkly muzzle held a pair of gold rimmed pince-nez glasses in place as he tilted his head back to stare down through the lenses for clearer focus. He examined the boot on the cobbler’s peg and thought about which sort of stitch pattern he would use to affix the leather to the sole. A quick knock-knock at his door caused him to sit up straighter, turn his head to the door, and frown. For a moment he pretended to not be home. Yet he could not help himself and finally snapped, “What!? Who’s there!? What do ye want!?”
“Mr. McAllister? It’s me!” a familiar female mouse voice piped up.
The shrew’s countenance changed immediately and his head to raise slightly higher. His eyes brightened slightly. “Ah! Shauna, me girl! Come in, come in! Let me get the door!”
The shrew hopped from his stool and waddled up to the door of his small den. He was delighted to open the door and looked up to find his Manchu mouse acquaintance. Shàonǚ stood there with a smile on her face and a basket on her arm. “I’ve brought you some work if you don’t mind, Mr. McAllister.”
The shrew stroked his chin. He noted the basket and the pair of boots in it. He then glanced up to her, but before he could speak, he saw she had already pulled a gold coin from her pocket and smiled down to him. His eyes twinkled and he waved a cheery finger at her, “Aye, a good customer ye always are, m’dear. Come in, come in!”
The shrew soon made the mouse at home. He was an old, old bachelor and his home was essentially a cobbler’s shop that he coincidentally inhabited. He sat in a wooden rocking chair for himself and a stool for his guest. McAllister’s home was one of the few places where Shàonǚ felt considerably, if relatively speaking, “taller.”
The 91-centimeter shrew rocked in his chair with a cup of some tea the mouse had also brought, “Ah, me girl ye would’a made a foyne housewife, if’n ye don’ mind me sayin’.”
The visitor sighed slightly and sent a bit of steam adrift from her tea cup, “Thank you, Mr. McAllister, but I’m afraid that such things are long past my interest.”
“Ah, t’is a shame…” He mused wistfully into his teacup, “But, wot’s an old leprechaun’s opinion really worth?”
“I still think it’s at least a kind gesture to an old sorceress,” Shàonǚ ventured.
The shrew scoffed, “Oi came to this country in Forty-Nine, Eighteen-Forty-Nine at that – and I’m startin’ t’show the centuries. But, yew, aye ye look e’ry bit as fresh as a spring lamb. Naught a bad thing fer a mortal born lass.”
“It came with a, as you might say, ‘wee bit’ of cost.”
The leprechaun sighed, “Aye… Such things always seem to.” He cleared his throat, “Trouble ye for more tea, please?”
End
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Mouse
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 88.6 kB
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