Not too far from the small town of Alder’s Ford, deep within the trees of the Great Forest, past the babbling brook, and on the very edge of a verdant forest glade, stood a Doorway to Faerie.

The Doorway was invisible to the naked eye; it looked for all the world like an empty space between two tall oak trees. Light from the mid-morning sun shone through the oak trees’ leafy boughs, making its way to rest lazily on the forest floor.

Birdsong echoed throughout the Great Forest in the cool morning air. And yet, there was a stillness; a quietness; a peacefulness in the forest glade. It felt like this place was somehow magical—as close to Faerie as someone from the seen world of Valenoth could get.

But, of course, the Doorway was shut and locked. No shimmering, magical light could be seen between the two tall oak trees. At that moment, if someone were to walk through them, they’d simply be standing a little deeper in the Great Forest than they had been before.

But wait. And watch.

It happened so quickly that if you weren’t already watching, you’d miss it: The space between the two tall oak trees shimmered for a brief moment, like a mirage in the distance on a hot summer day. Then, a skinny boy suddenly appeared, stepping through that shimmering mirage, crossing between worlds in a split second. And not just any boy—a little leprechaun boy named Niall.

After a cautious look around the wooded glade to ensure that he was alone and that no one else was nearby, Niall began playing in the forest. He took a fallen branch from the ground and swung it about, pretending he was a knight fighting dragons and all sorts of other villainous foes.

At first glance, Niall looked just like any other human child. Just a regular boy who had gone off in the woods to play. He was a little pale and skinny, perhaps even a bit short for his age (he was ten), but nothing about his appearance gave him away as a leprechaun. No red hair, curly beard, green suit, or bowler hat. Niall had short black hair, no beard (again, he was ten), he wore simple clothes that weren’t green, and thought that hats should really only be worn if it was sunny out. Or cold. He didn’t even wear buckled shoes. He was barefoot.

So, if it wasn’t his appearance or attire, what would give Niall away as a leprechaun, one of the Fair Folke? Why, his rainbow, of course—a small charm hanging on a silver chain around his neck, tucked beneath his shirt collar.

If someone looked closely at Niall’s rainbow charm, they would see that, somehow, it looked to be made of raindrops. That’s because it was. The raindrops had been collected by Niall’s dad on the night he was born and fashioned with old magic into a charm. It glistened like drops of water, and if the sun caught the charm at just the right angle, incredible, iridescent colors played along it—seven or so of them. Much like a rainbow in the sky.

I don’t know what you already know about leprechauns—or what you think you know about them from stories—but I urge you to forget all of that for the purposes of this story. Listen only to what I am telling you about them.

All leprechauns grew up learning not to lose their rainbow. They learned other things as well, but this one lesson was most important. They grew up being taught by their moms and dads never to lose their rainbow, but to stay close to it and hold on to it—no matter what.

The storybooks would have us believe that leprechauns stay by their rainbows because they are the jealous guardians of pots of gold at the end of those rainbows and don’t want anyone to find them. But that isn’t true at all.

The truth of the matter is this: There is no pot of gold at the end of a leprechaun’s rainbow. That line from the storybooks is made up. Other than appreciating their beauty and splendor like everyone else, leprechauns don’t have anything to do with the rainbows seen in the sky.

Remember what I told you? Forget what you learned from stories about leprechauns. Listen only to me.

Leprechauns are told not to lose their rainbows because they are a leprechaun’s connection to the magical Otherworld, Faerie. Indeed, it is because of their rainbows that leprechauns are able to use magic. What sort of magic, you ask? The sort that lets them travel from one place to the next in the blink of an eye—appearing in one spot, vanishing, and then reappearing elsewhere. Without that connection, without their rainbow, their magic is lost to them.

So, to recap: It’s vitally important for a leprechaun to keep their rainbow on them at all times and never to take it off, or else they can’t use their magic. And if a leprechaun happens to travel through a Doorway to the mortal world and loses their rainbow therein, they would not be able to go home to Faerie.

Now, knowing all of that, an inquisitive mind might be wondering why a young leprechaun boy was playing in the mortal world if there was such an incredible risk of becoming trapped there. A very good question indeed.

Niall, of course, knew the other lesson that children of the Fair Folke grew up learning: Be wary of mortals and avoid them whenever possible. For leprechauns and other rarely seen beings from Faerie, this lesson was especially true.

You might think from this lesson that leprechauns were terribly rude and unsociable. But leprechauns weren’t rude. (At least, not for being wary of mortals and avoiding them whenever possible.) And they weren’t unsociable either. No, they were cautious.

Like most magical creatures and beings from Faerie in Valenoth, they had become the stories whispered about around campfires and told to children in fancy storybooks with beautiful pictures before they went to bed. Of course, like the stories about witches that Amelia refused to tell her granddaughter, many of those stories were completely wrong.

Children in the mortal world grew up learning that leprechauns lived at the end of rainbows and that if you caught one, they would have to give you their pot of gold. This, of course, was neither factual, nor was it ethical. What moral does that sort of story teach a child? Spend all your days looking for the end of rainbows—on the off chance you’ll see one—so you can force some poor leprechaun to hand over their gold, instead of working hard every day to earn your own gold?

Ridiculous.

Regardless, Niall knew: Be wary of mortals and avoid them whenever possible. Even if his mom didn’t remind him of it (usually after she reminded him to not lose his rainbow), Niall knew from painful experience to avoid mortals at all costs. Niall’s dad had gone off one day through a Doorway into the mortal world, and he’d never come back home.

Niall and his mom tried to find him. They searched for many days and nights but never found any trace of him. He was simply gone. Vanished. They never saw him again. Heartbroken, Niall’s mom told him that his dad must have been taken by the mortals. Taken, perhaps, by some cruel individual who thought Niall’s dad had a pot of gold and then did something terrible in retribution when they found out that he did not.

That awful day took place several years ago, but Niall never forgot how it made him feel. He felt like the world had gone gray and storm clouds covered the sky so that no sunlight could be seen. Niall missed his dad quite terribly and wanted more than anything to see him again.

Again, knowing all of that, an inquisitive mind might be wondering further why a young leprechaun boy named Niall was playing in the mortal world if his own dad had been captured there by mortals. Another very good question indeed.

I’m not sure there’s a rational or logical answer to be found. Niall shouldn’t have wanted anything to do with the mortal world. He should have stayed in Faerie and never even thought of traveling through Doorways. That being said, as a young boy of ten, he could be rather impulsive, at times, acting without thinking. Perhaps these trips to the mortal world were such occasions.

But perhaps, in his mind, he needed to spend time in the world of mortals if he was going to find his dad there one day. Niall believed he was still out there somewhere, waiting to be rescued by his son. How could Niall rescue him if he never even went to the mortal world? (It should be noted that Niall’s mom had no idea that he was going off to play in the mortal world. She thought he was playing in the forest in Faerie, and Niall never felt the need to correct that assumption.)

And so, Niall played in the Great Forest in the mortal world, all alone. Niall played alone most of the time . . . well, all the time, really, because he didn’t have any friends. He and his mom didn’t have any neighbors near their small cottage in Faerie either. It was just them. (Sometimes his mom played with him, but that didn’t count. Not really.)

But Niall didn’t just play in the forest, he also trained for the day that he would rescue his dad, imagining that he was a brave hero from the stories his dad used to tell him—a valiant hero like Liam the Brave, who had lived several Ages beforehand. With nothing but his rainbow and magic, Liam had defended his family and home from mortals who snuck into Faerie, intent on conquering the Fair Folke.

At times, Niall pretended that he wasn’t Niall at all, but Liam, or some other brave hero, and that he wasn’t scared of mortals. Instead, he was bold and brave. Niall couldn’t stand against mortals without fleeing in terror, but Liam could. Niall wasn’t normally bold or brave, but when he pretended to be Liam, he could be. Pretending to be brave often gave him the courage he needed.

As he played on the particular morning of our story (the morning after Leslie heard a wonderful story about Faerie from her grandma), Niall thought he was all alone in the Great Forest. But he wasn’t. Because watching him from where he was hidden behind the cover of shady trees in that forest glade, was a human. And not just any human. Oh no. This human was a wizard. He went by many different names, and he held many different titles, but for this story, we’ll allow him to introduce himself. After all, names are important.

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