A silver haired elf stood by the shore.
He had a solemn look on his face. His hands were holding on a fishing net tightly. His eyes narrowed on the tattered sails of his boat.
Some things just never changed.
He let a sigh escaped his lips as he climbed on the sail's post. He ripped apart the useless sails as he tied on a new one. One hand pulling the sails to that he can adjust it to a better position.
Absent-mindedly, he remembered a voice.
The voice of his son. Laughing.
Laughing as he fixed the sails. Laughing as he wove the broken nets. Laughing as he raced against his brother and sister. And laughing as he danced, along with the sound of his brother playing a violin.
The elf felt a bitter smile stretched on his lips. He casted his eyes at the horizon, watching the sea.
Someday, his son will return home.