a short tale

he had a witty brain and knock knock knock went he upon the brass-hinged door using his left fist. the wind certainly chills me, thought the man as he tucked his scarf deeper into his coat. a scuffing and scraping heard he from the opposite side of the oaken barrier, straightening his posture and bow tie he lifted his chin in a stately manner. the door creaked open and a stench of yeast and sweat met his slightly upturned nose. i am here on behalf of your dearest son, droned he, and observed the man's eye widen in surprise and hesitancy. the one who had opened the door was dressed in usual hunter's garb--woolen tights encased thin shaking legs, an unraveling brown tunic (a small metal pin in the shape of a star was attached to his breast), and a crudely-made leather cap lined with fur.

i am here on behalf of your dearest son.
what has that foul tween done? something that deters him from coming here in person...oh, it must be shameful.
shameful indeed.

you see, began this late caller, your boy has committed a most ghastly crime. in his excitement at the games he forgot himself, and proceeded to impale his opponent repeatedly, thuk thuk thuk, until the red ran freely and scarce a soul was left in the place--they fled in panic and disbelief. i, dear old man, stayed and washed your son's stained breast and dragged the limp one out for burial.
woe is me, wailed the hunter, my position is surely in jeopardy due to my own seed's impertinence. i shall have to hide myself and my frail wife, for we are surely now outcasted!
this one late-night caller drew the deepest of breathes, and stated loudly, this dispute shall be dealt with man-to-man! your own son has acted rashly, and i shall do so as well! he withdrew a rusty turkey-carver from his breast pocket and pounced upon the hunter with zest, eyes all a-gleaming and teeth exposed. the scarlet ran once again, leaving the frail old one without fingers or a tongue.