"Gilre! I'm home!" Yilgo Hartsum shoved through the small door to his home. His younger sister was on tip-toes, looking into a large pot over the fireplace. "Boy, my back hurts. Mining does that to a dwarf. I can feel every single bone cry out when I move." Yilgo plopped himself into his recliner and moaned. "I'm as starved as a chipmunk mid-winter. What have you cooked up?"
Gilre gave a slight humph and continued stirring. "The same thing that we have every other day. Rabbit stew." Gilre grabbed some herbs that were sitting on a stool next to her and tossed them into the pot.
Yilgo yawned and rolled his eyes. "It smells delicious! I could eat rabbit stew every day of my life! Especially your rabbit stew. You make the best around. You had better write the recipe down so you can hand it down to your children." Yilgo reached for a book.
"We never have anything except rabbit stew. What can I make other than that?" Gilre went to the kitchen cabinets nearby, pulling out two miniature bowls and two child sized spoons. "I try to change it up for you every day but it is so difficult. I only have the limited variety of flavors from the garden, a puny thing that garden."
Yilgo pushed himself out of his comfortable chair for a bowl and poured himself a big bowl of the brown stew. "Oh, quit whining Gilre! Life is perfect how it is! We have a modest home, decent food, and each other's company. What more could you need?" Yilgo dove into the stew with the speed of a hurricane wind. He always loved the home that had been inherited from his father. The dwarf town was the only town he or his sister had ever known and Yilgo liked it that way.
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