A meeting in the forest

The farmer set off straight up the hillside into the forest, thinking as he did so that this was the last time he would walk that path. But he had not gone very far when a young lad came running towards him. He was fine and graceful as a sapling. His hair was soft as silk and his eyes were bright as steel. "Oh, that's how my son would have looked, if only I had been allowed to keep him", said the farmer. "That's what my heir should have been: not that black monster which my wife brought back to the farm."

"Well met in the forest!" he greeted him. "Where are you going?"
"Well met indeed" said the child. "If you can guess who I am, you will learn where I'm going."
But when the farmer heard the voice, it was his turn to grow pale. "You speak as the men of my clan do", he said, "And if my son were not away with the trolls, I would say that you were --"
"Yes, yes. You've guessed right!" said the boy, and laughed out loud. "And since you've guessed right who I am, I will tell you where I'm going. I'm going to my mother."
"Oh, don't go to your mother!" said the farmer: "She doesn't care for you or me. She has no heart for anyone but the great black troll child."
"Do you really mean that, father?" asked the boy. He looked his father deep in the eye. "Then perhaps I should stay with you now."

The farmer felt his eyes grow heavy with tears of delight. "Yes, stay, " he cried. "Stay with me" ? and he picked up his son and lifted him high i the air. He was so frightened of losing him once more that he would not put him down again, but walked on, holding him close to his chest.