Jebediah Knickerthorpe.

Jebediah Knickerthorpe.

Not all dwarfs are created equal; take Old Jeb, for instance.

Jebediah Knickerthorpe was born with unusually small hands. It was unheard of.
To compensate for their small stature, dwarves' 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.)

"Look at those tiny hands," said his father. He shook his head and frowned. "He will grow into them," said his mother.

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

Jebediah could not lift his father's hammer. He could not 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, Jebediah threw down his basket and kicked the trunk of the tree. His frustration was relieved, but only due to the excruciating pain in his foot.

"Your differences are what make you special," said his mother. "You will find your way, until then, enjoy the journey." Jebediah experienced many more trials and tribulations. In spite of his tiny hands, he grew up to be a happy dwarf.

One day his mother sent him out to pick junberries. It was a task he had 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 out of 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 created stairs using rocks, mud and sticks. He ran to the top of the downed tree 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. He rolled over to find the elder dwarf sitting beside the junberry bush with a feather in his hand. The feather was full and beautiful, but it was its sharp tip that caught his attention."What is that?"

"It is my quill. It is what I use to write with," said the elder dwarf. Jebediah's bushy eyebrows came together and created one hairy line across his forehead. "Come here and I will show you." He 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 paper. Black swirls filled the page. The elder dwarf dipped the quill again and moved around the page 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 strong. The elder dwarf chuckled and handed it to him. The quill fit perfectly in his hand. He slid the feather between his fingers
and marveled at its softness. The elder dwarf placed the paper in his lap and plunked a heavy leather satchel at his side. It was filled with more paper and quills. Jebediah carefully dipped the quill into the ink and swirled across the paper just like the elder hand done. It felt amazing.

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

Jebediah stared after him and felt happier than he'd ever felt before. In that moment, he knew he had found his way.

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