The Dwarf That Brought Fortunes

Long before the villages were firmly established, when the people still lived in scattered settlements and survived by hunting and gathering, there were tales of mystical beings that roamed the forests. The elders spoke of spirits that watched over the land, some benevolent and others mischievous. Among these stories, one was whispered with caution—the tale of a tiny, hairy dwarf that dwelt in the forest.

As the village grew and the villagers cut deeper into the forest build their homes, they found themselves living among the creatures of the wild. They encountered tigers that prowled the outskirts, deer that darted through the trees, and birds that filled the air with their calls. But among these beings, there was one unlike any other—a tiny, hairy dwarf.

This peculiar creature was no taller than a child, yet its body was covered in thick, flowing hair that cascaded down to its feet. None could say for certain what it was. It had the features of a man but moved with an uncanny swiftness, disappearing into the undergrowth like a shadow. The villagers spoke of it in hushed tones, spinning tales about a strange and mystical being full of hair that wandered the forests. Yet, for the longest time, no one had ever laid eyes on it—until the day a young hunter named Thepfu spotted it while tracking game.

Thepfu returned to the village, breathless with excitement, and told the elders of his encounter. But the villagers were skeptical. "Perhaps you mistook it for a wild boar," they said, dismissing his claim. But soon, other hunters began reporting glimpses of the dwarf as well—just a fleeting movement in the trees, a rustling of leaves too deliberate to be the wind. It was no longer just a tale. The hairy dwarf was real.

Unlike the beasts of the forest, the dwarf was not hostile. It was curious, watching the villagers from a distance, never approaching too close. Then, one fateful day, Thepfu found the creature injured in the woods, its tiny frame weakened and bleeding. Compassion filled his heart, and without hesitation, he lifted the dwarf into his arms and carried it back to his home.

To keep it safe, Thepfu built a small cage-like shelter within his house, a place where the dwarf could heal. He fed it rice and fresh water, tending to its wounds with the herbs his mother had taught him to use. The dwarf never spoke, nor did it resist, simply watching Thepfu with its deep-set eyes. Then, something strange happened.

One morning, Thepfu awoke to find his rice storage overflowing. No matter how much rice he took out, the granary remained full. Day after day, he harvested and cooked, yet the storages never ran dry. Soon, his cattle multiplied, his livestock flourished, and his wealth grew beyond measure. He was certain—it was the dwarf’s doing.

Realizing the power he now possessed, Thepfu decided to keep the dwarf hidden from the rest of the village. With the endless bounty it provided, he became the richest man in the village. Others began to whisper about his sudden fortune, but he never revealed the truth.

At first, Thepfu was grateful, treating the dwarf well, feeding it the best grains and fruits. But as time passed, his gratitude turned into complacency, and complacency turned into greed. He stopped looking at the dwarf as a mystical being and began treating it as nothing more than a tool—a source of wealth that needed to be contained. The cage he had built became less of a shelter and more of a prison. The dwarf, silent as ever, sat within, unmoving, its dark eyes watching Thepfu with something unreadable.

Perhaps it understood that it was being kept in confinement. Perhaps it sensed the greed growing in Thepfu’s heart. No one knows for sure. But one night, the dwarf was gone. The door to its shelter was wide open, and there was no trace of its tiny footprints leading away. It had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.

And with it, the magic was gone. Thepfu’s rice store emptied overnight. His cattle fell sick, and his fortune crumbled as quickly as he got it. He searched the forests, calling out for the dwarf, but it never returned. He pleaded with the gods, but his prayers went unanswered. In his desperation, he even tried to rebuild the cage, hoping to lure the dwarf back, but it was of no use. His wealth had been a gift, and he had turned it into a curse.

The villagers whispered among themselves, watching Thepfu's downfall with wary eyes. Some said that the dwarf had merely repaid its debt for being saved and, once its duty was fulfilled, it had left. Others believed that it had seen the greed in Thepfu’s heart and had taken its blessings away as punishment. A few even claimed that the dwarf still roamed the forest, watching, waiting, but unwilling to be spotted.

To this day, some villagers claim to have seen glimpses of the hairy dwarf, darting between trees or watching from the shadows. Others believe it was merely a tale to warn against greed. But those who know the story of Thepfu whisper that the dwarf had merely repaid its debt—and when its purpose was served, it left, taking its blessings with it.

And so, Thepfu, once the richest man in the village, spent the rest of his days in regret, realizing too late that some gifts are not meant to be hoarded, and that true wealth is not found in overflowing granaries, but in the kindness of one's heart.