He did, [ thranduil allows. what he does not allow is his heart to grow too full with the thoughts of missing his son. these he cuts out while still tender shoots. ] But he has returned, and I will be proud of the work he is doing in our lands instead.

[ (to hope for him to return would be to invite, with arms wide, the pain of losing him again.)

he scoffs, and it does not sound pedestrian. 'little appeal'. what can men learn when they are only able to learn the art of smithing for a decade or four before their strength begins to fail them, and they can swing a hammer no more. all elven craft is perfection, and then beyond that, all is art. beauty in all things.

confidence. it is confidence, seeped into his marrow and well earned. whatever iorveth hides under that bandanna, the extent of that hinted puckered scar line, well. thranduil's lived with his own far longer.

this one has so much to learn, his heart aches with it.

(he really does need to stop picking up strays.)

he smiles as iorveth turns the blade over in his hand. ]

The handle was an addition of my wife, but the blade itself is carried by most of the Watch. It is as useful for skinning a kill as making that kill, and the edge will hold for several months of feral living before it needs to be sharpened.