Unger-taking
Arthritis, cataracts. I abhore the idea of growing old. And these children! My goodness, how these children of mine complicate my life. That is why we have always lived on the edge of the forest. Life tends to be more simple, less problematic.
Take my kitchen, if you will. Well, I don't mean for you to actually take my kitchen physically, because I really do love it. My husband, Blunderbore, you know--he built it. The fieldstone fireplace is unique in that I can prepare an entire meal in its wide opening, and I simply could never, ever part with my collection of baskets and copper cookware.
Well, anyway, you know children. Bless your heart. Yes, you do. They never listen. At least, one of my two never does. Or perhaps it just seems that he never does. That would be Unger. He runs, and plays, and messes the house, and never comes into the kitchen to help. Ignis, on the other hand, is different.
Ingis is a good son. This boy loves to help me in the kitchen. Why just this morning, quite early, while I was baking bread, he hopped upon a seat and presented me with the most lovely red flower.
I was so taken aback that I stopped my chores and made him a quick breakfast of his favorite gruel, sliced hot bread, and honey butter. Things were moving along quite nicely until his younger brother, Unger, came upon the scene, at which time they began thrashing and boxing on the floor. Then all of a sudden, Unger, thinking he could outrun me took off, with a hot bun, through the kitchen door. Well, I am not that old, so I took off after him. Land's sake. I am a good mother, I tell you. My boys don't get away with diddly-squat.
But someplace along the way, I er, well, I guess one could say that I, er, well, I sort of lost Unger. So young. So restless. So foolish. Unger--that is. I sat on a tree stump to think. Where in the world could he be? Then I decided to let him go. Let him see what lies in the forest denizen. If he disregards my warnings let him get lost. He deserves what the night will bring upon him. Then my thoughts got the best of me because he is terribly afraid of owls. Of course, owls ARE a natural enemy of Gnomes, so how in the world can I possibly hold that against him. What mother wants her child carried off by an owl, I ask you?
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