The Tiny-Handed Dwarf: Jebediah Knickerthorpe's Unexpected Gift

To compensate for their short stature, dwarfs were gifted with large hands and feet. (They also had the ability to grow long, flowing beards within a month's time, but that's another story.) Jebediah Knickerthorpe was born with unusually small hands. It was unheard of and quite the scandal within the clan. 

"Look at those tiny hands," said his father, shaking his head with a frown.

Jebediah's family came from a strong, hearty line of dwarfs. His father could wield a hammer with such ease it seemed light as a feather. His mother could lift the vegetable cart by herself, even when it was filled to the brim with the day's pickings and Jeb's younger siblings perched on top. His uncle could swim across a raging river without getting pulled under, and his aunt wrestled wild boars for fun.

But, Jebediah? He couldn't lift his father's hammer. He couldn't lift, pull, or push the vegetable cart. The one time he tried to cross the river, he was pulled under the second his feet hit the water, and his aunt had to save him from a mother boar when he tried to wrestle its piglet.

After an especially frustrating day trying to pick apples—and failing miserably—Jebediah threw down his basket and kicked the trunk of the tree. His frustration eased, but only because of the excruciating pain in his foot.

"Your differences are what make you special," his mother told him gently. "You'll find your way. Until then, enjoy the journey."

Jebediah faced many more trials and tribulations. Yet in spite of his tiny hands, he grew up to be a happy dwarf.

One day, his mother sent him out to pick junberries—a task he'd done many times before. The berries were small and easy enough to pluck from their branches. He leaped over a stream and hopped over roots sticking up from the ground. The hardest part was climbing over the downed tree that blocked the path to the junberry bush. It usually left him sweaty and exhausted, but today was different. On his last visit, he'd cleverly built stairs using rocks, mud, and sticks. He scampered to the top with ease and celebrated his triumph by throwing his hands in the air.

"Any celebration, no matter how small, is always good for the soul."

Jebediah whipped around and lost his footing. He landed on the forest floor with a thud. Rolling over, he found an elder dwarf sitting beside the junberry bush, holding a feather in his hand. The feather was full and beautiful, but it was its sharp tip that caught Jebediah's eye. "What is that?"

"It is my quill. It's what I use to write with," said the elder dwarf. Jebediah's bushy eyebrows knitted together, forming one hairy line across his forehead. "Come here, and I'll show you." The elder dipped the tip of the quill in ink and touched the paper in his lap.

Jebediah watched in fascination as the ink flowed across the page. Black swirls filled it, and with quick strokes, an image of the junberry bush appeared. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. The urge to touch the quill was overwhelming. The elder chuckled and handed it to him.

The quill fit perfectly in Jebediah's small hand. He slid the feather between his fingers, marveling at its softness. The elder placed the paper in his lap and plunked a heavy leather satchel at his side, filled with more paper and quills. Jebediah carefully dipped the quill into the ink and swirled it across the paper, just as the elder had done. It felt amazing—like it was made for him.

"My hands are too big to hold the quill for long, but yours are perfect," said the elder. "The village could use a wordsmith... once you learn to write, of course." He turned and walked away.

Jebediah stared after him, a grin spreading across his face. In that moment, he knew he'd found his way. From then on, his tiny hands became his greatest strength, crafting stories that inspired dwarfs far and wide.