It is said that there was somewhere in Ireland a territory forbidden to men, which had to remain virgin and wild, because it belonged to a leprechaun. This territory is called the leprechaun field.
The elf's field
One day, a man decided to cultivate this forbidden field, and then wanted to turn the land. He had barely taken his shovel and started when he heard a little mischievous voice which said to him:
- What are you doing here ?
It was a little elf who had just come out of a hole in the ground.
– Well, I have come to plow the field, replied the man.
– And who gave you permission? replied the elf
“No one,” said the man, a little stunned.
– So wait, said the elf, we will help you
And a hundred elves appeared, and helped him to turn over the earth.
The next day, the man wanted to sow. He had barely wanted to sow when the same little voice said to him:
- What are you doing here ?
– Well I plant, replied the man
– And who gave you permission?
- Person !
– So wait, we’ll help you, said the elf.
Two hundred elves then appeared, and helped him sow his field.
When the wheat had grown, it had to be harvested, but the man was sick, so he asked his young son. When he arrived in front of the field, he could not resist: he broke off an ear to taste the wheat.
– But what are you doing there? asked the same little elf who had just appeared.
– Well I taste the wheat, replied the son.
– And who gave you permission?
– Nobody: it’s my father’s field, the child defended himself
– So wait, we’ll help you, said the elf.
And four hundred goblins came up and chewed up all the wheat, in a few moments.
When the father saw this, he became violently angry and began to hit his son, whom he loved very much.
– But what are you doing there? asked the elf who had once again just arrived.
– I hit my son, who ate my whole field, replied the furious man.
– So wait, we’ll help you, said the elf in a harsh tone.
And eight hundred goblins arose and struck the child to death.
So the mother come in, and seeing it, took her child in her arms, and started to cry.
– But what are you doing here, asked the elf with a sad look.
– I cry for my son who died, said the mother, sobbing.
– So wait, we’ll help you…
Sixteen hundred elves then emerged from the ground, and began to shed all the tears in their bodies, mourning the child with his mother. The tears, so numerous, became rivers, and they carried away the mother and her child.
So the father was left alone, dazed before his devastated field and his family swept away. An insect stung him, and he scratched to get rid of the itch. The elf then asked him:
- What are you doing here ?
– I scratch myself because an insect bit me.
– So wait, we’ll help you, continued the elf.
And three thousand two hundred elves appeared, and scratched his skin, then his flesh. Finally, the elves scratched him to the bone...
