Homecomings

You stand before me, and for a moment I am blind to the elf behind you.

Then I see. Ai, son, must you befriend his son? Of all those you met on your travels?

Yet you breathe. That is more than many fathers can say. And your axe is dented, and repaired with man-tools, but we shall fix it aright. Other things cannot be so easily mended; I will try to accept them.

The tall one bows before me until our eyes are level, offering the customary greeting. For your sake, son, I try not to growl my "and your family's".