A starter for @skipsmithr & @theboatbuilderswife
It was a desire he didn't voice directly. As always, Torstein pondered his thoughts. For days, sometimes months and, since they had become immortal beings, occasionally years. This was one of those things he had mulled over again and again, through their move to England, to France, to Ireland and back to Iceland, where they currently resided, their small home not too far from Reykjavik and with ample opportunity for the children to visit.
They did, of course, their children. They visited a lot, Valí most, not living far from them. He had always been the one that travelled with. Some people would think it might be his blindness but Torstein liked to think that his son just enjoyed the company of his parents - and that was fine. He taught, now. As and Angie had jobs, too, and he was proud them.
So that was what he had been pondering about - he almost felt bad to admit it, but he missed holding a child in his arms, against his chest, tugging on his beard. It had been over 400 years, maybe more, and that was a long time. The problem just was that he had no clue of how to talk to Floki and Helga about it.