“No, not just that one; all the hawthorn trees. The Sidhe consider them to be sacred.”

“Well, I don't intend to bring any harm to the tree, so there should be no problem with these Sidhe people, right?”

Mr. Flannery looked at me gravely. “'Tis nay just the tree itself, Mr. Barret. Ye must be careful as well not to obstruct their path to it.”

“Their path to it?”

“Aye, they've a certain approach that they use to get to the tree. And if ye block it with this house o' yours, they'll put a stop to ye for sure.”

I was beginning to think these people weren't keen on the idea of somebody building a house in the area. This seemed to be their way of discouraging ‘the American’. But I wasn't going to be intimidated by stories of fairy people.

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Upon the spot that you've chosen for your house, pile up four hills o' stones, one at each corner. Wait a fortnight and then check up on your piles. If they're still intact, go ahead and build. But if your rocks be strewn about, 'tis a sign from the Sidhe and 'twould be wise o' ye to choose another spot entirely.”

I kept my amusement in check, pursed my lips, and nodded. I did not intend to make piles of rocks and twiddle my thumbs for two weeks waiting to see whether or not imaginary people were going to throw them around. “Well, it's getting late and I need to get back to the village inn. Thank you both for your hospitality and your advice.”

Mr. Flannery called out as I took my leave. “Be sure not to take it lightly, Lad.”

I have to admit I chuckled all the way back to my car.

#

The next day I spoke with the contractor who was to build my house. “I've already chosen the perfect spot for the cottage.”

“But you've only just arrived in Ireland, Mr. Barret. You can't possibly have checked out the spot yet.”

“But I have. I was there yesterday.”

“Mr. Barret, am I correct in my recollection that a hawthorn tree stands on that property?”

“Yes, there is a hawthorn tree on the property. I don't intend to have it removed, though.”

“By God in Heaven, I hope you wouldn't think of doing that!”

“What's the matter? Are you worried about the Sidhe or something?”

“That's not something to joke about, Mr. Barret. Listen, I couldn't possibly begin work on your house for a couple of weeks anyhow, so in the meantime why don't you collect a few rocks and build—”

I cut him off. “Surely, you're joking!”

“That's not something to joke about, Mr. Barret. And it could save you a lot of trouble down the road.”

He hung up the phone. It's a conspiracy, I thought. He must have spoken with Flannery.

#

I drove over there and knocked on the door intending to inform Mr. Flannery that I would not be intimidated by him and that I knew he had been talking to my contractor. The door opened and he peeked out.

“Aye, Laddie, do ye want me to help with your rock piles? I've got some experience with that, don't ye know.”

“Mr. Flannery, I don't know what you think you're up to, but I do intend to build this house.”

“I'm nay telling ye not to build it, Lad. I'm just trying to help ye keep it once 'tis built.”

“Did you tell the contractor about the hawthorn tree?”

“Nay, he seen it for himself. He found out the land was sold and figured the new owner might be after getting a house. I'm surprised he did nay warn ye himself about the precautions ye need to take.”

As he spoke he was pulling on his light jacket and heading out the door. I followed him to the back of his farmhouse where he took hold of a wheelbarrow. “Let's go get some rocks.”

I decided to humor him. Before long we had erected four structures upon the spot where I intended to build the cottage, one at each of the corners. They resembled miniature towers about two feet high.

“If they last a fortnight, ye'll know 'tis safe to build it here.”

I couldn't believe I was doing this.

#

Four days later I couldn't believe how angry I was. The rocks were all over the place. Fairies, indeed! Flannery had done this himself! Of course he would say it was a warning and that I'd have to choose another spot. Then we'd go through the whole thing again. And again and again. But I wasn't going to let him have his little joke on me. I would play his game. Carefully I rebuilt all four of the towers. Every time he knocked them down, I would rebuild them. In two weeks I would tell the contractor everything was good and that he could start building.

It happened again on the twelfth day. After I had rebuilt the structures, I was driving back to the village and spotted Flannery. He waved and I stopped the car.

“How's it going up there?”

“So far, so good.”

“Well, give it the entire fortnight before ye do anything. Maybe ye'll get to have that spot.”

Maybe, indeed. I thought. I waved and drove off.

One last time I had to rebuild the foolish things. But on the twenty-first day, I called the contractor and told him the spot had ‘checked out’. He came up and I showed him the four little towers and where I wanted the house built.

He shook his head in disbelief. “I'm a bit surprised 'tis so close to the hawthorn tree.”

“I have patiently waited twenty days and if it's all right with the Sidhe it shouldn't be a problem for you.”

Construction began the next day. One unfortunate worker somehow broke his arm while on the job. The contractor eyed the hawthorn tree and then me suspiciously.

“Accidents happen,” I said.

“Aye, that they do.”

Finally, the cottage was finished, as beautiful and scenic as I had first pictured it. I decided to pay another visit to my neighbors.

“Well, Mr. Flannery, the house is finished.”

“And a fine house it is as well.”

“Mr. Flannery, I know what you tried to do, but I assure you that I won't be a bad neighbor. There's no reason we can't get along.”

“What're ye talking about?”

“I know it was you that kept tossing the rocks around.”

“What?!?”

“I understand you'd rather not have a foreigner as a neighbor, especially an American. But I promise not to be a problem for you.”

“What did ye say?”

“I said I won't be a problem—”

“No! Ye said the rocks were tossed about?”

“You don't have to act surprised. I know it was you and really, I understand.”

Mr. Flannery turned white as a ghost. “Listen to me and listen well. 'Tis very important. Here is what you've got to do. Ye must take leaves from the hawthorn tree and make a wreath to hang upon your door. And keep a fire burning in the hearth at all times. Fire is the only thing more powerful than fairy magic. There's not a thing in the forest that can control fire, including fairies. But humans can. 'Tis the only thing that makes them fear us!”

I backed away as he went on about wreaths and fire, seeming like a man gone mad. Perhaps this was his way of concealing his embarrassment or anger or both. But I'd had enough talk about fairies and spells and magic trees. I wasn't about to try to make a wreath out of hawthorn leaves; I wouldn't even know how to do it. And there was no reason for a fire in May. I left him ranting at his doorstep.

For a week I lived peacefully in my new cottage. I stayed away from the Flannerys and they from me. One day around dusk I returned from a trip into the village and as I approached my hill I heard a strange rumbling sound. When I came into view of my house, I saw it shaking as if in the grip of an earthquake. I ran the rest of the way and burst through the front door. The vision that greeted me will remain etched in my mind for the rest of my life. Handprints in blood were upon every wall of the room! The rumbling reached a crescendo and erupted in an explosion. The great boulders of the house blew skyward and came crashing down all around me. I stood trembling, surrounded by rubble which had once been my beautiful home. A light rain began to fall just as I started screaming.

#

Mr. Flannery comes to visit me now and sometimes Mrs. Flannery bakes me cookies.