Your name is Idaeus. You’re 45, which is pretty young for an elf, and you’re currently living, and technically working, at a monastery. You’re really into learning languages and really weirdly into restoring and preserving old monasterial sites and ruins. You’ve got no idea what you want to do with your life in the long run, but you don’t think you need to have that figured out now, or ever.
One day, you’re minding your own business - trying to identify the age of a block of sandstone, with zero success - when a group of the other monks show up with an armful of swaddled-baby-half-elf and say, “Idaeus, look after this baby”. You’re thinking, “I have no love life or sex life to speak of, why do I have a baby to look after?”, and so you ask them. They say, “Their parents brought them here today, and Idaeus, you’re the only one who doesn’t go too far from the monastery, or do anything too important, so you should raise it” - you forget the exact phrasing, but that’s what they meant.
And, well, you don’t have much of an argument, you don’t think you’re at all prepared to raise a kid, but everyone else here is a bit of an old bugger of a human, and you’re not quite sure just how soon any of them will die anyway, and so whatever, you guess you’ll do it. It’s scary and sudden, but the kid deserves a nice home, right, and you’re thinking that this monastery is as nice as it gets, and the baby must only be a couple months old but already you’re thinking, “One day, one day, if I do this right, I can teach the kid how to swear in all these languages I know, and maybe that will be a nice moment for us.”
Anyway, so you name them Envoi because it’s poetic, and you end up thinking of them as your own child, and you love the kid and you couldn’t be more proud. They learn to swear one day, and on another day while they’re an angsty teenager they try to curse you out, and you’ve been waiting for that moment all this time, so you sit them down and teach them how to swear in so, so many languages, and it’s a nice moment for you both.
Then, young Envoi is 21 and a bit, and they were meant to meet you for a trek up the mountain but they’re late, although that’s fine because people are just late sometimes, and Envoi was probably already trekking somewhere else. You’re waiting around when your pride and joy kid shows up with this guy, this walking embodiment of trouble, who is unabashedly fae, and in fact appears to be sprouting highly poisonous flowers, and young Envoi is definitely blushing, and they introduce their friend and say, “Idaeus, this is Pyrrin!”. And in that moment you’re like, look at this Pyrrin fellow, what have I been doing this whole time if this kid I raised brings home this absolute trouble without even blinking? But then that moment passes because, well, Envoi wanted you to meet him, and trusted you, and you trust Envoi’s judgment. So you say, “It’s nice to meet you, Pyrrin,” and Pyrrin’s face lights up and now you’re like, yeah okay, he does seem like a nice fellow, actually.
And he is, and the three of you go on a trek. You’re kind of embarrassed, because the destination is just some old site with hardly any ruins left intact, and you know Envoi was excited to map it out with you - Envoi’s not that great with the history of it all, but they enjoy the geometry - but you didn’t anticipate having a guest to entertain. But then it’s okay because Pyrrin ends up enjoying himself, too, and seems to take an interest in it. You watch Pyrrin watching Envoi talk about the ruins, and you remember being some 20 year old too, and that makes you wince a bit because you were always terrible with men and you certainly don’t miss any of it, but still it’s all a bit sweet nonetheless.
