The scene unfolding before Galen was surprising. This ragtag looking bunch of warriors and assorted other fighters was a lot to take in from the start -- people milling about, some injured, some so oddly familiar. Denerim was a large city with a massive population. The odds of coming across people he knew from that place in the middle of elvhen territory just seemed so low and unlikely, and yet...
Valan stood beside him and dropped his arms. He looked stricken with shock, as if he'd seen a ghost. In the short time that they'd been traveling together, Galen had yet to see any expression that matched the one on the older man's face. He was so stoic and undeterred the entire time that his stolid response to potential danger was something that Galen had come to admire and aspire to. Seeing him now was, in turn, a surprise of its own. It wasn't fear that was in Valan's eyes, though.
Mirroring the motion, Galen let his own weapons slack, watching as one of the elves stepped forward from the crowd. So this was the son that Valan had been searching for. Galen withdrew from the pair, sidestepping to give their moment of joy a wide berth. He should have been happier for his new friend, but this reunion left an oddly bittersweet taste. Selfishly, he couldn't help thinking about how easy it had been for Valan to find his missing person, and yet there were still no signs of Renna. Not even the satisfaction of vengeance upon the beasts that had harmed her. And more than that, Galen would never experience the same loving embrace between father and son that the Arandils were having. Truly, he was glad for their reunion, but the unfairness still ate at him.
Now that Valan had achieved what he sought out to do, Galen felt rather...unimportant. Their quests were no longer simultaneous, so what reason did he have to stay with the elder hunter? Or vice versa? Valan would be welcome, safe, with these people if they were his son's friends. But Galen felt completely out of place, and wanted to slip back into the underbrush before anyone decided to ask him who he was. They could forget he was there while the drama of the moment played out, and he could continue his hunt alone. Slowly, his feet began to tread backwards, hoping that no one would notice his retreat. Leave these people to their mirth, and him to his misery.