- Things other than a goat or pony a Dwarf would raise/grow as a hobby. (Better chances if it's something that's long-lived, can be worked on over successive generations. Plants and Crystals are on the table.)
Crystal Bonsai
Brogi Grimson chuckled contentedly as he sat in his favorite chair and tended to his family's crystal tree, carefully polishing it. Sat in a decorative stone pot inscribed with the Runes at great expense millennia ago, the pot held a mixture of dirt and gravel from which sprouted a yellow-white crystal of quartz. It grew in a straight trunk for three hand spans, and from that short length dozens of other carefully cultivated crystals had been coaxed from its surface, creating a small shape reminiscent of a tree.
The clan of Diamondeye had cared for this tree for twenty generations, since it was found by the original Grim deep in the depths, and it wouldn't be Brogi Grimson who failed to care for it
properly! His ancestors would shame him if he did. The jeweler grumbled to himself as he squinted at his prized hobby through a jeweler's lens, hunched over his work desk as he carefully scrubbed a miniscule speck of grime from one of the 'branches'.
With a huff the five hundred year old dwarf elder straightened and bustled about putting away his tools and then carefully carried the pot to its place beneath the complicated series of pipes and valves which hung in a side room and dripped a carefully mixed solution of mineral water onto a pinpoint section of the crystal. Sourced from the waters in the living rock of Kraka Drakk, he was quite pleased to find that his family heirloom had been doing quite nicely since he moved here in the wake of Lord Klausson when he was a much younger lad.
His happy humming was interrupted when he spied a bit of warping on one of his pipes. "Krut! Ancestors be damned iron, knew I wasn't getting... shoulda..." Brogi grumbled mightily as he fussed over his pipes and planned how he was going to replace them.
Bah!
If he was going to replace some he might as well do some of those improvements he'd been meaning too. The hold was abuzz with activity and news of that business in Kadrin so there'd probably be
someone he could talk to who needed the business. Maybe that old lad Mordin? Be nice to talk to him again, been a while since they'd had a good hearty ale.
Careful fiddling adjusted the light level as he pressed the various Runes on his walls or spoke a few quiet words over them, dimming to a nice cave like shine. He'd have to go quickly.
His train of thought was disrupted as a furious knocking started on his door and then he heard his friend Dorri yelling frantically. "Brogi get out you wazzock we have a dozen orders in our lap and the guildmaster is grumbling hard enough to shake the ceiling. Please
hurry up!"
Brogi snorted angrily and yanked his door open, nearly getting a fist in his face for his troubles before his younger friend jerked it back. "What!?" He shouted grumpily. He had things to do besides get caught up in whatever this nonsense was.
"The Lord Ancestor is in a Mood again!" Dorri yelled back.
Ah.
Oh.
Oh dear.
Brogi paled white as a sheet. "What are you standing here for you wazzock, go go go, no time to waste!"
"I'll go tell Magda!" Dorri shouted as he ran off down the street. Brogi could see similar scenes playing out across down the street, dwarves rushing about everywhere in a carefully organized but extremely speedy rush. Dorri disappeared into that crush as the entire cavern echoed with the sounds of booted feet and grumbling voices.
He'd need to get those diamonds from Jolla and the transcripts from the guild master and oil the cart wheels and make sure his fool apprentices didn't suddenly get themselves lost chasing light down a mineshaft, and...!
Bah!
Nothing for it but to make sure the beardlings didn't bungle it up too much while he pushed through his work. If it was this urgent the entire hold would be up in a hubbub about it!
Rushing into his house to scoop up his tools the elderly dwarf stashed them in his apron and then dashed off towards the guildhall, his grumbles clearing a path through all the beardlings thronging about under the careful hand of their harried and grumbling elders.
Just a little omake about a jeweler and his crystal growing hobby.
