The story of the little giant

Once upon a time, in the north, among the mountains, the giant Gromor appeared. The earth itself gave birth to him for great things: to move rocks, change riverbeds and bring down cliffs. His weapon was the trunk of a hundred-year-old pine tree, uprooted. The power of Gromor was such that even the demons, the masters of those lands, trembled before him and set out to find justice for him.
 
Shamans dug up all the scrolls in search of a way to kill the giant, but in vain. Then the most cunning of them suggested a different way: not to destroy, but to reduce. Joining forces, the demons wove an insidious spell out of magic itself and brought it down on Gromor.
 
The giant felt no pain, but only dizziness. The world around soared up, spun like a whirlwind and became gigantic. A moment later, Gromor, very tiny, stood on the palm of the triumphant demon. Having made sure of the success, they left him with contemptuous laughter and left.
 
So the mighty giant became smaller than a dwarf. His legendary club has shrunk to an ordinary twig. Now the familiar forest rose around an impenetrable wall of blades of grass and stems.
 
But the giant's spirit was not broken. His power, compressed to a tiny point, only concentrated. He learned to jump higher than the pines, and his twig, striking at weak points, knocked down hungry creatures who saw in him only prey.
 
Gradually, the burning resentment gave way to curiosity. He found that being a little giant in a huge world is better than the other way around. The familiar world from a new height turned out to be full of interesting details. In the end, he made a deal with his former enemies: he began to help the demons in their affairs, cherishing the hope that one day they would return him to his true form.