The young man looks at you a little dumbstruck.
"You want so see father?" he mumbles, before his eyes widen. "Of course! Forgive me, Sir. You must be Sir Orlando. Father is expecting you in the back. He told me you would know the way."
The man is way to old too be born after you left. Also, he does not resemble your old friend in any way, safe for his clothing maybe.
When you regard the sword he is currently working on, you deem it to be slightly above average craftsmanship at best.
Still a little startled, you thank the young blacksmith and head into the workshop. Nothing has changed here. All the tools are right where you remembered them to be, as if left put there by yourself after a day at the anvil. Many old memories surge through your mind, as you pass through.
Tal'Digron sits on a sturdy chair in the small yard behind the shop, close to where he stored the raw material for his craft. He notices you as you step out of the shadows of the workshop, and cannot keep himself from smiling, at least a little.
The former knight had already been old when you had left Laria, but now, after the years of war and conflict, he was ancient. Not weak, however; his shoulders were still mighty, his chest broad as a barrel, although the muscles had taken on a stretched look. His hair was now a mixture of grey and white, and deep lines had set into his face.
“Welcome, boy”, he says warmly and gestures you to take the chair next to him. “It is awfully good to see you.”