The Seventh Dwarf: A Memoir

By Frederic Gray

Was Snow White a fairy tale? Or might she have been a real person? This memoir by the youngest of the seven dwarfs uncovers the mystery and fills in the story of a remarkable woman and her seven small friends in Medieval Europe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frederic Gray
• Release date: Jun 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463429822

Frederic Gray

Fred Gray was born in San Antonio, Texas and spent his childhood as an Air Force brat, living in Texas, Kansas, California, and Virginia. He joined the Army out of High School and entered West Point the following year. Graduating in 1964, he spent 21 years as an Army Engineer, serving in Korea, Vietnam, and Germany. He retired from the Army in 1985 and worked as an electrical engineer and software developer and manager until finally quitting work in 2003. He then turned to painting, composing and arranging music, and writing. He lives with his wife of 51 years, Thalia, in Northern Virginia. they have three children and three grandchildren. Fred earned masters degrees in Physics, Electrical Engineering, and Computer Science. When not writing he enjoys playing tennis, bowling, singing in choral groups, and playing the piano and trumpet (though not at the same time). He has started 13 books, and published one.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: A Beginning

I didn't know I was a Dwarf until I was six years old.

I knew we were called Dvergar in the old language, but I thought that was just a name for our tribe.

Our village, Trondheim, was on the river near the forest. It was small, as there were only sixty of us, and surrounded by hedges. We kids were not allowed beyond the hedges, but sometimes I would walk over and look out at the fields beyond. There was a town on the other side of the valley, and I would see people walking in the distance in the fields, tending sheep and cows. We called the people Townies, and I often wondered why we weren't friends with them. Or why we weren't allowed out of our small and tidy domain.

One day one of those Townies wandered over into our village. He walked over to me. I saw he was huge, more than twice as tall as my dad. Everyone ran inside, but I stood there transfixed. He wobbled over to me and picked me up like a doll. He turned as if to show me off to someone outside the village, then stumbled backwards and fell, hitting his head on Torsten's house. Torsten was my best friend.

I scrambled up. The others came out of their homes and gathered around. Dad came over, grabbed me by the hair and ordered me into the house. I ran home, but turned and watched from the front door.

Garth bent over and peered at the huge man. He's drunk, he said. I learned later this meant he had drunk the juice of rotten fruit, something nasty we never did.

Someone shouted, More coming!

Hender, Torsten's dad and our leader at the time, yelled out: Pick him up! Six of our men ran over and lifted him, then they moved out of the gate like a gigantic caterpillar. I ran out to see what they were doing. There were more huge people gathering. Our men dropped the fallen one in front of them, and both groups started shouting. Finally, the Townies grabbed the drunk one and dragged him back to their town.

I took off back to the house, tripping over Torsten, who also was watching. We entered my house together.

What was that? I said. Is that town full of giants?

They're not giants. They are just Bigs, he said.

Bigs?

Dad says most of the world are Bigs. Some are even taller. We're Dwarfs.

I thought 'Dwarfs' was just the name of our tribe.

No, it means --- I don't know what it means, but Dwarfs are the same as Bigs, just smaller.

A whole lot smaller, I said.

Yeah. You should see some of the fat Bigs.

Is it gone? a voice behind us asked. It was Mom.

Yes, Torsten said. The men carried him out and the other Townies dragged him home.

Mom! I shouted. Why didn't you tell me we were little people.

Dad and I felt you were not ready.

Are most people bigger than us.

Yes, dear. Almost all.

Is that why we have to hide out behind the bushes?

In a way.

Well, that stinks!

Just then Dad came in through the door.

If you ever see a Big again, you run inside, he shouted. If you are near the forest, you run in there.

A Big! Are all the Townies that big? I shouted back as he went back outside.

I better go, Torsten said, and ran home.

The men will have a confab, Mom said, grabbing me and holding me tight.

I struggled free.

Mom! Tell me what's going on! I am really ready now!

I'll let Dad do that, Bjorn. I'm too frazzled.

Mom!

She went over to the cooking kettle and started cutting veggies up and tossing them in.

I stomped over to Torsten's house. He was my best friend, though a few years older. He was jabbering with Dustin, who was a grown-up at 22.

Hey, I broke in. Tell me why we are shorter than everyone.

Because we're Dwarfs, Dustin said.

Bjorn didn't know about Bigs, Torsten explained.

Most people in the world are Bigs, Dustin said.

So, Bigs can toss us around any time they want to?

Yes.

How? Why?

Ask your Dad, Dustin said. He sounded angry.

What's with him? I said as Dustin walked away.

Bigs blamed us for their pox when we were little, Torsten said. They came after us and we ran into the woods. Some Dwarfs were lost, including his dad. We don't know what happened to them. They were just gone. Dustin has hated Bigs ever since.

I thought Sven was his dad.

Sven is his step dad.

It wasn't the first time Bigs attacked Dwarfs, said Torsten's mom.

She started to cry. Torsten went over and hugged her.

Go ask your dad about our history, Torsten said.

I went home. Mom was cooking and didn't want to talk.

Dad came in the door. He went over to Mom, sniffed the kettle. What's cooking?

Go talk to your son, she said.

Yes, I said, glaring at Dad. Talk to your son.

All right. Want some tea?

I had never been offered tea before. It was considered a grown-up drink. I nodded.

We sat on the bench.

Bigs and Dwarfs are both people, he said, just different forms. There are other forms too: Trolls, Giants. and Elves. I understand there are other forms in other parts of the world.

I thought Trolls and Elves were fairy tales.

No, they are real. Or were, anyway. All were being hunted by Bigs back in the North Country, where our ancestors came from.

Have you ever seen one, Dad?

No. I was born here. But you can talk to Harald, Garth's grandfather. He was a teenager when he left the North Country. He loves to talk about them. But be prepared to stay a while.

But why do Bigs hunt us? We never hurt them.

Prejudice, ignorance, stupidity. Bigs fear things they don't understand. We coped until some of the Northmen became warlike and called themselves Vikings. They started capturing us and selling us as slaves. That was too much for some. They left the country and looked for a safer place to live. Our ancestors ended up here in this valley. No Bigs lived here then, and when they found the valley and moved in they built their town around ours, over where they're now. We got along. Traded with each other. Then they got the pox. We didn't get sick. They blamed us for it, came after us. We ran, left everything behind, went into the woods and hid. Some of us, anyway. Some, we never saw again. After a few days, we came down and started our town here, where we could run into the forest when attacked.

Why didn't we get sick?

It has something to do with our ancestors surviving it. Somehow, we were protected. Like when you walk barefoot and your feet get cut up; after a while, they get tough and don't get hurt anymore.

Anyway, our grandparents set up a new village here. We could see Bigs coming and we could go up the trail to the mines if threatened. The Bigs were afraid to go into the woods. Mainly because we told them wolves and bears and evil spirits lived in there.

Are there?

Probably wolves and bears, but not around here. Evil spirits don't exist, as you know.

But that Big Townie, he came in here.

He was drunk, and we got lazy, didn't stay alert. Simple as that. But we taught them a lesson today. They will think when a drunk Big comes into our village, the Dwarfs will knock him down and carry him out.

Torsten said they captured Garth's wife and daughter.

We don't know what happened to them. Several people disappeared during the days of the pox. Some Dwarfs just left, went down the Queen's Road despite the bandits that were said to roam the road.

Dad then smiled and messed up my hair.

I don't know if you were very brave, or terrified. But don't tell me.

We didn't have another incident for many years. But the threat was always there. I spent a lot more time checking out the valley. Whenever a shepherd would wander over I would get fearful and find an adult to check it out. After a while, they brushed me off.

One day when I was sixteen I saw Old Man Harald out tending his beets. I offered to help and asked him to tell me about the Old Country, where we came from.

Well, young fellow, he said, You came to the right man. We came from a place called Norway. It is far to the North. It took us almost a year to make our way down here.

What is the difference between Norway and here? Does it look the same?

No. It is surrounded by the sea, with great fingers of the sea called fjords coming into the land. And the days are different. In the summer the days last forever. In the winter the days are short.

Why?

It's just the way things are.

Dad said you saw Trolls and Elves.

I saw Trolls all right. I was even friends with one. They say Trolls are big and nasty and violent. Not so. Trolls are no taller than Bigs but much stronger. They look ferocious, with big eyes and small foreheads, big noses, red hair. But they're not very smart. Just wanted to be left alone. When Bigs developed bows and arrows they started killing Trolls for sport. Trolls fought back by hiding along the roads or under bridges and attacking Bigs that came by. That just made the Bigs want to hunt them more. Trolls moved deeper into the woods to hide. I don't know if there are any left. It's sad. So sad. Bigs, they can be prejudiced and ignorant and violent. When bad things happen, instead of trying to understand why, or cope, they look for someone to blame."

Like the pox?

Like the pox. Yes.

What about Elves?

Ah, Elves. Yes. We didn't see them much. Smaller than Dwarfs. Slender and beautiful. The men kept out of sight. You could sometimes spot girl Elves dancing in circles on moonlit woods. Bigs let the Elves alone because they were afraid of Elf magic. My grandfather told there once were many Elves and you could see them in the woods all the time. But something happened. Don't know what. Maybe a disease. I only saw them once when I was walking with my dad in the forest. We came across a group in a glen and when they saw us they ran.

What about Giants? I asked, fascinated.

If they ever existed, they died out long ago. The sagas say they fought with the Gods and lost.

Are there really Gods?

Probably not, Bjorn. But people like to tell stories and many believe in them. The stories are certainly colorful and fun.

My head was full of wonder. That these beings existed was incredible, yet true. But then, Bigs thought we were imaginary too. What a crazy world.

Over the years I learned to deal with Bigs. When I became a teenager, they let me go out beyond the hedge. Our one friend among the Townies was Gregory. He was a good fellow. His wife Sarah too. We would take requests for metal things like utensils and jewelry from Greg and deliver the final products. He would pay us in grain, cloth, pottery, eggs, and sometimes even a pig or a sheep. It was a mutually advantageous arrangement.

Last year I fell in love with the most beautiful young lady Dwarf, Erika. We decided to marry, though we would have to wait until we were seventeen to satisfy the Dverga Lov, the Law of the Dwarf. We would meet after lessons and do, well, the things young lovers do. Mostly holding hands and making grand plans.

All in all, it was a peaceful time. Until it wasn't.

CHAPTER 2: A Fire, a Kidnapping, an Escape

I was in the pig pen fertilizing my beard when the fire started. I was sensitive about my beard, or rather, lack of one. Every male Dwarf in history started his beard before age 15, but not me. Not Babyface Bjorn. Torsten got his beard when he was 13 and told me he had fertilized it with pig poop. Today, of all days, I decided to try it, even though the pig pen was over by the Big Town.

Beards were a big deal among Dwarf men. Tradition was that the leader was the one with the fullest beard, though that wasn't always observed. Torsten and Knud's father, Hender, had a fine thick beard for sure. But Old Man Kris had a better one. Kris didn't want the job, I think. He just wanted to keep up the Dverga Historie and be the expert.

As I was smearing away, I saw smoke, heard shouts and screams. I ran back to our village, neglecting to wipe my face off. The laughs were generous until I pointed out the smoke.

Several of the Townie huts nearest our village were ablaze. We ran in to help, trying to put out the fire with buckets of water from the stream. For a while Bigs and Dwarfs worked together. We focused on Greg's hut, which was nearest the stream. We put that fire out before it did too much damage.

While we were dousing smoking wood, a crowd of Bigs gathered in the street. We knew what that meant. Bigs had stopped fighting fires and were looking for someone to blame. And as usual, we were it.

Most of us ran home, but Garth and I were down at the river, filling buckets. Garth was the oldest Dwarf now. We ducked behind some reeds. A mob gathered by our village. There were at least a dozen Bigs, carrying clubs and other weapons. They swarmed in, shouting and swinging. We heard screams, saw Dwarfs dive into the water.

I was terrified, and must have been whimpering because Garth shot me a shush. I hid my eyes and couldn't watch. When the shouting died down, I peeked out. Bigs were going back to their town, dragging Dwarfs with them like dolls.

After a while Garth and I crept back out and ran home. Five others who had escaped into the river were there, wringing out their clothes. No other Dwarfs were left. Our houses had been ransacked, our things gone or broken, our pigs and sheep scattered or stolen. I was in shock, tears running down my face. Sven started coughing and sneezing when the wind shifted and smoke blew over from the town.

Well, now what? Dustin said, wringing out his beard. He turned to the others. Are we going to just let this go?

And you two crybabies, he said, staring at me and Sven. Knock it off. You're Dwarfs, not Elves. Sven continued coughing and gave Dustin the Dwarf Salute.

He glared at Garth. Are you too old to fight?

And you, crap face, he said, shaking his head at me. A crybaby and a coward. Two for the price of one.

Stop it, Dustin, Knud said, putting his shirt back on.

Where are the others? I cried. Mom and Dad. Erika. Did they take them? What will they do to them?

Well, Big Boss, leader of the clan, Dustin said, moving up to face Knud. What now? Let them make slaves or corpses of our families?

What do you suggest, d-d-d-Dustin? Fiske said.

I don't know! I am not in charge here! Dustin shouted. But we can't just ...

Dustin blanched and fell.

There he goes, Sven said. When the going gets tough, Dustin takes a nap.

You know it's not his fault, Knud said. It's the family curse.

Why are they taking it out on us? I cried. We didn't start it. We tried to put it out.

I heard one of them yell that Dwarfs did it, Torsten said, when we were at Greg's hut. The fire seemed to have started next door.

Bigs would rather blame someone than try to understand what happened. Knud said.

What now, k-k-k-Knud? Fiske said.

Now, Knud replied, we need to go up the mountain path before they come for us too. There we can discuss options.

How can you be so calm? I said.

It doesn't do any good to get all upset, Knud said. They took my family too. They didn't get us though. And the first thing we need to do is get out of here before they find us.

He glanced at the town, then walked towards what remained of his home. Let's see what we bring with us.

We dug through the rubble looking for anything useful we might take with us. I found my bow and quiver of arrows. Others recovered tools and pots. Fiske gathered his pouch of fish hooks and line. Our precious copies of Dverga Historie and Dverga Lov were unharmed and left by the looters; they couldn't have read them anyway even if they spoke Old Norse. Sven took what was left of his tools and, since he raised Dustin, gathered what he could find of Dustin's tools from the garden shed.

At the town, fires were burning themselves out. A crowd was gathering, shouting and pointing towards us. Then they moved our way.

Let's go, Knud said, and motioned to Torsten, who picked up the sleeping Dustin and threw him over his shoulder. We turned and went up the forest trail.

About 200 paces up we stopped in a clearing and waited. We could peek through the branches and listen to the talk below.

Bigs wandered through the remains of our village. Some rummaged around, looking for things to steal. Others came up to the woods, shouting they would come in and grab us too. We knew that was a bluff.

Come out, you little cowards!

We are killing your families! Come and rescue them!

Fiske and Torsten tried to move, but the others held them back.

Simmer down, fools, Garth said. You want to commit suicide?

I'd rather die trying to save my f-f-f-family than d-d-die here in the woods, Fiske said, sitting with a thump.

Do you think they are killing them? I asked, looking at Knud through