He stays near to her as they enter the ocean's cold grasp. His smoky gray hide just meer inches from her russet draped skin. They swim together with even strokes, his legs reach out with the confidence of one that has made this trip many times. Which he has. Born on these isles he is accustomed to the way of things here and with time has developed the simplest and easiest ways to trek from island to island. In his youth he has called most of the islands his home, including Luthien and Tinuvel.

But life had laid out a different plan than just for him to grow fat and lazy on the shores of Atlantis. As a young man he had eagerly went into battle after battle - the scars riddled across his smoky hide proved it. He had gladly fought, even eagerly, but as time wore on he begin to feel the inkling of guilt wiggle its way into his soul. Each life that was took, settled heavier and heavier over him until finally he left the Norðurland for his birthplace. These isles hold a part of his soul, they held his mother and his father, and now they hold the ghosts of his past.

He steps from the sea. The water runs in rivulets down his splashed sides and clings to his waterlogged ebony locks. He pauses on the shore just at the edge of the hissing surf and gauges her reaction to the dense jungle that looms in front of them. A plethora of brilliant colored birds squawk and caw just beyond the thick foliage. Finally she says a breathless "Oh." and a smile tugs his lips upward.

"Have you seen anything like this before?" He asks with a tilt of his crown, which causes a single lock of his onyx forelock to fall across his glacial blue eye.