Dragoncrest Cliffs Trident

Njord offered a quiet chuckle. “Right ye are, Rodyn. Tha sea shant be trifled with. She gives an’ she takes.” A fact the seafarer knew all too well.

“Watch yer step,” he advised. As the two men disembarked down the rocks, Njord heard pawsteps from behind. His blue gaze turned.

“Swordfish!” He called, though he waited until the trio had descended to the black, sandy base of the cliffside to speak at length.

“Our son,” Njord told Rodyn as he admired his get. Swordfish had the makings of savvy sea-wolf. Though not yet a year old, one could see the man he would become: a tall, lean beach strider.

“Swordfish, this is Rodyn. A friend of yer mother’s. He’s wantin’ tae learn how tae hunt tha sea.”

He smiled at his son, chuffed that he answered the call. He was not oblivious to the fact that things still healed between them. Though he was, perhaps, unaware of how deep and dark Swordfish’s feelings ran towards his father.