His frame, so ready to catch her, is ignored at first. Fresh delight and wonder draws her to lean forward instead, watching the restless current as it sways their feet in slow, lazy patterns. First a tug, as if it wished to suck her out to sea. Then a push; no, never mind, stay on shore! Again, and again. She watches the dance for a time, her head tilting to inspect his bigger, rougher feet beside hers. "What is the smell?" she asks quietly. "Is it many things?" After speaking, she straightens again, then instinctively tips closer to him, finding her resting place against his shoulder. Her head drops smoothly to the hollow on the side of his neck.
For once he has willingly closed his eyes, and only awaited her when she would come to him. Blinded so, the marvel of an elven village, even the dock out on a lonely strand, is only just part of that great sea and familiar. "Mmm. Very many. Taken altogether it simply smells of the sea. Each place is different in some way, but still the same, somehow."
She finds a vast, profound contentment in this moment. The strange, foreign sounds in her ears, the curious scents wafting on the breeze. The sun is warmer than it has been through all the long winter. It beats down now, strong and sure, but not oppressive as it might be in summer. It feels life-affirming. The voice of the waves and the gulls is a peculiar lullaby while the cool water laps at their ankles. She turns her face a little more into the crook of his neck, making a tiny, contented sound. Her eyes drift closed.
