Skidbladnir was docked where everyone that wanted to could see it, making any yuppie yachts that dared come by in avoidance of the Big Island feel inferior -as they should, with Skirnir left to tend for things... and tend to Bogart as well. Meanwhile, Freyr was going to enjoy the sun, the beach and the surf before doing a formal call out to his father.
That was, if Njord hadn't noticed his arrival already. Skidbaldnir's appearance in the local waters should have tripped some internal circuit. If not that, then the second Freyr hit the water, certainly. If not then... well, clearly either his father was no where near where he was currently keeping residence or he had found some pretty thing to entertain himself with and... like father like son, Freyr would be interested to know what else held interest locally.
It was too damn cold in the homelands to think of returning Uppsala for another couple months. At least unless Gerd called. So, the beach it was.
Freyr stood, thigh deep in the water, absorbing everything warm and wonderful about everything around him. The sun in the sky, the wonderful weather, the sand under his feet...