The further away time got from the day of Sasha's arrival, the less pronounced the memory of the nature of his arrival became.  It was impossible to identify exactly when but sometime in the last week and a half, most of the rest of Sasha's suspicion had, finally, ebbed away.  He'd even grown largely comfortable with the luxuries of the castle.  With his schedule full (but, for once, not chaotically overbooked) with tutoring, fine meals (with not an ounce of meat in sight) and riding, only on rare occasions did Sasha have time to question what was going on around him.

The morning of the eighth had dawned cold but clear.  By nine o'clock, the tall dappled warmblood, Aero, had been saddled and sufficiently warmed up.  Though the stable had sported a number of fine animals, the dappled had become Sasha's usual first choice.  He was younger and more green than several of the other animals and, therefore, not quite to the level of schooling of Sasha's horses back home.  But, he had a determination and the heart Sasha preferred.  And, over the course of the last few weeks, Sasha had managed to spend a fair bit of time schooling the young stallion and no one had complained about his choice or demanded he chose another. 

And unfortunate as the suspension had been, Sasha was grateful for the opportunity to practice.  In a week, Sasha was expected to return home ready to throw himself into the holiday show circuit.  Whether or not he'd be allowed to go hadn't been made clear, yet and, despite his comfort, Sasha hadn't convinced himself to ask.  Nor, was his motivation very high to do so, either.  He quickly realized he wasn't looking forward to going back to his usual muggle life and, somehow, pretending the term had been normal and uneventful.  Or, to find out whether Madame Snark had made good on her threat and had written his parents.  While feasting on a glorious chocolate souffle for dessert Sasha had come to the stark realization he preferred the idea of staying here to returning to his mother and step-father.  That realization, along with his uncertainty of how the question would be taken had been enough reason to avoid asking the question. 

But, at least he would have gotten some good riding in unlike most years.  Considering his parents believed him to attending a school that provided extensive schooling, it was a rather significant factor.  And, Sasha was scheduled to ride in four separate shows over the course of the holidays.  When (or if) he left here in a week, his vacation would be, officially, over.

The young stallion cleared the last jump with relative ease and Sasha took the horse in a small circle, slowing him down.  That made for a clear run though there had been a hard rub on the last element of the triple combination.  It was a typical youngster mistake - the stallion had gotten cocky and they'd moved through the triple too quickly.  Without hesitation, Sasha turned the horse's head along the rail, making a long loop of the ring before approaching the triple combination again.  The two house elves who'd scurried out to start tending to the course quickly dashed back to the rail.  He urged Aero forward with four long, strong strides to build power before shortening the reins and forcing the animal's strides to shorten.  For several beats, the stallion fought for his head but he finally slowed.

The grey landed hard after the third element but the triple had been clean.  It was as Sasha was slowing the stallion that he noticed his host sitting astride one of the other horses by the rail.  Sasha slowed Aero to a trot and approached the rail, nodding in greeting.  "Good morning," he offered.  "I was - we gave the course a go at four feet.  Wasn't phased."  It was a shame Sasha couldn't find some excuse for dragging along an extra horse to the shows.  He'd make a good start.  But, he was looking forward to getting back to his own mounts.

Almost every day Sasha went out to ride the dapple.  And often when he did, Kronos would go up to the towers to watch him out on the field without being much of a distraction.  The ease and finesse with which he trained the cocksure stallion was more than impressive.  It said something about him that he'd choose to improve upon a horse, rather than choosing an older, well-trained one for simplicity.  Though Kronos had thought about it many times, he had not yet joined Sasha in riding, preferring to give him space and time for leisure.

When he was a boy, his family had horses.  But they were dirty, frumpy pack horses, ill-kept and impersonal, ridden with disease.  When Kronos 'graduated' from the dire poverty and awful weather of Northern Scotland, he took to eating horse meat as a delicacy to spite the dirty animals and his dirty past.  But like the Lapis, purity of spirit came about through the filthiness of his prima materia.  Such was the way of the alchemist.  From feeding horses to eating horses, Kronos had come far indeed!

It was only several years later that he had gotten himself all caught up with the horse races and began to recognize the creatures for their lissome beauty and nobility.  And, well, profitability!  He had become, after all, a little obsessed with the art of rigging matches.  At which point, though, he'd had the stables built and a few steeds brought in.  This was all decades ago, and when his favorite mare died after a good stretch of riding religiously every day, he sold all the horses and ate his Shelby whilst sobbing heavily into his porcelain plate. 

Like the little drama queen he was, Kronos swore off horses on that day.

But the longer Sasha stayed, the more readily he fit into Kronos's life.  And Kronos was beginning to feel sad, sad like when he had to eat his favorite horse, knowing that he'd go away soon, and not knowing if he would ever come back.

So that cold, clear morning, Kronos went quietly into the stables.  He spent a good while looking at the many various stallions his men had brought before carefully choosing his favorite, saddling up and riding along the edge of the field. From there, trotting along quietly, he watched Sasha run the course.  He was atop a black fell pony, tall for his breed but still short enough to make mounting easy on Kronos's knee. 

Well-fashioned as ever, Kronos sported tight black corduroy pants, a black velvet jacket over top a crisp white rider's shirt, tall leather boots and black chaps, an expensive black velvet helm, and short black leather gloves.  He was quite the apparition.  As was he ever!  And he was proud to see still that Sasha was following suit, giving way to the many choices of his closet and operating in a way that spelled leisure.  It was a promising notion, one that boded well to Kronos's wishes for the boy, to lead a life uncommon. 

Kronos gave a big grin as his guest approached, managing to look a little less like a hyena than usual (a feat which he was getting closer to only with the help of the PG-13 quality time he'd been spending around Sasha), and he sat up straighter on his mount. 

"Very good!" commented Kronos.  "Your horse, you know -- he has quite the fiery streak!  Have you taken to naming him?"  Kronos gave his own stallion a firm pressing with his foot and made a half-circle round his boy.

"Special day, son.  Thought you might fancy some company!  What with our time running up and all, I thought we could picnic and ride before the show tonight.  Oh that's right, I haven't said.  I've gotten us front row tickets to Billy Elliot.  You do like musicals alright?"

Sasha couldn't help the broad grin that spread across his face in response to the praise.  Despite the round through the jumps, the anxious young stallion still fidgeted restlessly under hands.  The shifting of the stallion didn't phase Sasha in the slightest.  With obvious ease, he countered ever motion with a subtle cue through leg or rein, gently guiding the animal back to where he'd been. 

"Thank you, sir."  The smile still prominent on his face.  "I - yes.  He's still pretty young and hot-headed but I prefer them that way."  He always had.  "Especially if they have any prospects of going into military training or cross country.  My Dieter back home is still pretty high strung at times."  Which, of course, Aero was unlikely to do either military or just cross country.  That involved years of training - a time frame Sasha simply didn't have here, of course.  With his mind already following that thought path, he couldn't help musing aloud.  "It'd be interesting to see how he'd shape up in a jump class.  I'm riding my two in a show in London the week after school lets out -" meaning, of course, next week.  Assuming he was home.  "Our first time at a new level." 

Though it was already quite straight to begin with, Sasha reflexively sat taller in the saddle as his host moved his mount around Sasha's.  "Aero, sir," he answered, resisting the temptation to turn his head to watch the man in favor of maintaining the straight posture.  "They said he didn't have a name," he offered almost apologetically.  He knew the animal wasn't his to name but, when he asked, the staff offered none. 

"Time running out?  You mean, you're letting me - I'm going back to London?"  His tone was, admittedly, far from relieved or joyful.  Again, like the other evening, the notion of returning home was met with a fair bit of hesitation - a hesitation readily expressed in his voice and expression.  "I -"  His voice trailed off.  "A show?  I've ... I've never actually been to a musical.  My parents don't really condone that kind of thing."  Or, at least, not for him.  His parents went to shows but there was always too much work - Sasha rarely was able to get his chores done in time.  "I don't know anything about the show." 

But, it all sounded like a wonderful afternoon.  "Where are we picnicking?" he asked, curiously. 

Kronos accented Sasha's words with well-timed nods and endless smiles, occasionally tipping his head back in joy, most pleased with his special specimen and -- seemingly every single word to escape his mouth.  Except that one.  Home.  The place somewhere else, far away from him.  "Hmm," he'd said simply, still somewhat smiling but with his head turned slightly down and away as he feigned interest.  But he did look up suddenly at the mention of next week's happenings.  In London, no less.

"Oh you are?  Fantastic," he beamed, making a mental note.  He could attend the show in London, as a surprise, and thusly show Sasha his undying support.  He'd have his men check the dates and line up the show, tell him when and where to go.  Kronos did enjoy spectacles.  And it did have a sort of glamor to it... his little boy's first game.  Wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Aero," he ruminated, considering his horse's name.  "I like it.  I was hoping you would -- he is your horse, after all."  Kronos wrapped his own horse's thick hair through his fingers.  "Good boy," he said, wrinkling his nose.  "I think I'll name mine Sisyphus."  He returned from his musing with bright eyes and still the childish crinkle in his nose.  He lifted his eyes as Sasha raised the question of whether or not he was homeward bound.  Kronos skipped a beat, but came back with absolute composure.

"Well of course, son," he said gaily.  "You are not my prisoner, here!"  And he laughed, as though this was a very unlikely spin on his current situation.  "I'd hate to keep you from your life," he said.  "But you are, of course, welcome here at any time."  He tilted his head and shut his mouth for a wide, serene smile.  It easily gave away the fact that he would miss Sasha.  And he would truly, unlike all the other losses of his life.  Nobody else had ever been worth missing which, to the outside observer may strike a chord of eerie but -- it was true... Kronos had never cared for anyone but himself until now.  Not until the appearance of Sasha Schlagenweit.  His rightful son.

His eyes flared at Sasha's recollection of his disapproving parents.  There was the reason entirely.  "Well yes," he answered.  "Billy Elliot is a fantastic show.  I do think you'll enjoy it." 

When thoughts turned toward the day's agenda and the subject of picnicking, Kronos grinned with open mouth and looked over his shoulder.  Sure enough his men were at the far end of the field -- three of them, all in dress robes, standing still with their hands clasped in front of them. 

"Come with me," said Kronos, and he turned his horse to head across the field towards the three.  He went at a pleasant, slow trot, looking over to Sasha every so often and still appearing most pleased. 

The broad meadow where Sasha had been riding during his stay on the Isle of Skye was expansive, but it had a definite limit.  It was a grand circular plain, with the East Wing of the castle to the South, the gardens to the West, a cliff to the East and more meadows to the North that were inaccessible beyond the stables.  All around the entire area was a massive magic dome that prevented the entry of intruders as well as sealed off any exits.

They approached the three men who looked like English guards the way they stood so still.  Of course it was because they were being paid like Kings, they'd been round enough to have heard the rumors of "missing" employees, and Kronos had... held rehearsals.  "Here we are," he said, slowing down his horse.  Kronos said in a lower voice, "At the gates of the garden of Eden." 

"Keep some space, son."  He backed up a bit and intonated with a dramatic irony, "Open Sesame!"  The three men marched forward two steps, then the middle man spun round all in one go.  He raised his wand, lowered on his haunches, and, intoning a string of beautiful Latin in a deep vibrating tongue, gradually swept upward and out to draw the shape of an arched doorway.  As he did so, a yellow line cut through the semi-visible barrier.  And in the end there was clearly a large door awaiting their movement outwards.  Kronos laughed, loud and brilliant.

"After you, son!  Run free!"

As he spoke, Sasha was keenly aware of the fact that Kronos was listening.  Sasha knew, without a doubt, that the older man was listening with earnest, true interest to what Sasha was saying.  Without questioning it, Sasha was soaking in every moment of that attention.  A bright, confident smile settled on his features.  The enthusiasm with which the man responded to the news about the show in London was the icing on an already delicious cake. 

Obviously quite thrilled to have someone listening, Sasha added, "Yes, I'm going to be riding my two.  Dieter is my Hanoverian for jumping - a lot like Aero, in fact.  Wobias, my Friesian," there was an unmistakable influx of pride in his voice.  "I use for Dressage.  You should see him, sometime.  He's really quite an animal."  Sasha nodded his head, immediately and without question dismissing the concept of him being a prisoner.  Being a prisoner conjured images of being shackled in squalled conditions with bread and water all at the mercy of punishment-crazed guards.  From the luxurious feather bed (which he was, unquestioningly, going to miss) to the full wardrobe to the deluxe spread of culinary specialties several times a day, this was the furthest thing from being a prisoner. 

"He's mine?"  Sasha beamed, nodding his head, especially pleased with his initial choice of mount.  Young, a bit green, yes but with time and work, there was no doubt he'd be a fantastic mount.  And, it appeared, there would be the time and opportunity to achieve that.  "Thank you, sir.  That's quite generous.  One day you'll get to see him in competition, I'm sure."  It was, in itself, a more effective way of accepting Kronos' offer and assuring him he had every intentions of returning than simply saying so.  Though he did that, as well.  "I'd like to come as often as possible," he offered.  "I - it's sometimes hard to get away from home, though.  And," he chuckled slightly.  "I don't make a habit of getting suspended."  So, it was a highly qualified and conditional acceptance.  "But, if you're ever in London over holidays, I'd like to see you."

Sasha nodded, admittedly excited about the prospects of this show but obediently turned his horse's head to follow Kronos across the field.  The Warmblood stood a good four hands taller than Kronos' pony and easily kept pace with the slow trot.  He loosened the stallion's rein, letting Aero settle into the casual hack. 

The ever present guard had become such a common place that, to be honest, Sasha rarely gave them any thought anymore.  Even as he approached the gate, it was quite easy to ignore them in favor of watching Kronos, curiously.  For the first time Sasha could remember, the men started to move.  He turned to watch them, finding this situation strikingly similar to standing in the Marienplatz in Munich, watching the Glockenspiel play high above the square.  It was a remarkable bit of magic though, of course, there was a limit to what Sasha could compare it to.  It definitely far outstripped what Sasha saw around school.  He peered out the door to the 'Garden of Eden' beyond.

"After you, son!  Run free!"

Sasha glanced towards Kronos.  Perhaps those words should have struck more of a chord with the young man than they did.  Perhaps, he should have been more aware of the casual use of the term 'son' or the implications that this was the first time in three weeks that Sasha had been permitted free movement out of the magically sealed barrier.  But, neither of those thoughts registered with Sasha.  All the words prompted was elation at the prospects of a day of fun.  He nudged the stallion forward a few steps, just to ensure his passage through the doorway was going to be as easy as Kronos implied.  Once clear of the gateway, Sasha urged the stallion forward, giving the animal his head as he raced forward.

Kronos sat back on his saddle coolly for a moment as Sasha slowly tested the barrier.  He was just waiting for it -- for the burst of elation when the barrier was dust, the boundless freedom of virile youth, equestrian rush upon wild horse, the opening up of endless possibilities -- in short, Sasha's graduation from the... "Academie de la Kronos".

And sure enough, there it was, the sudden bounding forward with joy and the light kicking up of the dirt, the dull scattering of it, heavy and rich with rain.  Kronos laughed heartily in response and goaded his own pony through the yellow energy doorway to rip after Sasha, though not immediately tailing him; he joined in the limitless reverie  of the youthful galivanting, a broad grin set in his features.  It was as good as dancing.

Behind them, the barrier was sealed and the three men all dropped their carefully sculpted facades in favor of scowls and bad posturing, griping in unison as they pulled out their fags and returned to their station as loathsome creatures.  In private they could chide their master for his assumed stupidity, making claims they wouldn't dare fulfill of refusing to be the billies to fetch this school boy prodigy following his inevitable escape.

But Kronos held much more confidence in his hold upon the boy.  The beautiful thing about setting him free now was that he would discover his desire to stay.  That had been the goal from the very beginning.

They flew out into a green and brown expanse of gently rolling hills with sharper mounds in the backdrop, no trees in sight, and for a good while they maintained their celebratory speed, Kronos all the while living with a laugh or an excited shout.  He kept a wide girth between him and his boy, alternating between following Sasha's lead and cutting a new path, haplessly leading them in the general direction of the Western coast. 

His knee was reminding him of his need for the alchemist, but not even that could damper his mood or halt his forward, and oft time rambling, momentum.  Such was his joy!  This land was, after all, all but his.  There were only two small villages immediately North of his castle, and both were filled with mostly Gaelic-speaking Muggle locals and a few sparse empty Summer homes.  Living, or rather operating, on a Southerly tip of Skye, which was the least populated peninsula of Strathaird, one could go for miles before having an encounter with another human being. 

And, in fact, they had traveled at least five winding miles.  They had traveled in a generally Northwestern direction through the grassy hills and down to the coastline.  They were just approaching the area around Elgol when they slowed.

Kronos let his head fall backward with a laughing sigh, eyes rolling lazily across the gray clouds overhead.  It was a moderate forty degrees Fahrenheit, and the cold air had whipped his last graying tendrils of hair into two points on the sides of his head by the time they'd slowed, after a good forty-five minutes of frenzied and playful galloping.

"Nearing Ealaghol, now!" he said, his breathing well above audible.  "Why don't you lead us to a nice place to picnic."  He surveyed the area and pointed out some possibilities.  "There are some grassy areas around those rocks by the coast, in the hills, or, we could tie up our mounts -- go down to the caves for a spell, or head into town for a spot."  He let his hand fall easily to his horse and he petted him idly, catching his breath.

At first, Sasha had been content to give the young stallion full rein and let him run as he chose and the horse responded willingly.  The warmblood stretched his neck out, his weight shifted to his front legs and he ran with full, unhindered freedom.  All around them stretched endless expanses of gentle rolling hills.  No obstacles, no hinderances, nothing to impede the young man on his way.  For almost a two dozen full strides, the young Ravenclaw closed his eyes and opened his hands, letting the reins drop to the horse's neck. 

He quickly grew entirely unaware of his surroundings - unaware of the castle behind him or the man on the pony behind him.  He rested his hands on the horse's whithers and gave himself to salty sting of the cold, salty air.   

Finally, after several long blissful moments, he opened his eyes.  The castle was out of sight, Kronos had cut across one hill in a westerly direction.  His hands found the reins again and he took them up, establishing light contact on the stallion's mouth and gently touching his calves to the animal's side.  The animal responded immediately, gathering himself and arching his neck as he turned to pursue the pony's new direction.  He tipped the horse's nose in the direction of a small gully running between two hill crests and increased the contact on the horse's mouth.  Aero gathered himself and, with a strong leap, cleared the gully easily and Sasha immediately searched out the next obstacle. 

His cheeks were flushed from the cold air and the exhilaration of the run when he slowed his mount and let the animal fall in step next to Kronos'.  He was beaming but only shared a fraction of the older man's winded-ness.  His horse's breaths, however, came heavy and strong, lingering in misty clouds in the cool air. 

"Ealaghol?" Sasha repeated, his faint accent struggling with the pronunciation, slightly.  There was a time, not even a week ago, when Sasha would have carefully committed that name to memory to include in a letter back home.  But, the name only hovered in his mind for the curious sound of the name.  "Do they have any shopping?"  Food was good.  Shopping, better.

Kronos stopped short a moment, then his eyes met Sasha to shine with sweet pride.  That was his boy, by george.  Sadly the choices in Elgol were slim, but it did double as a tourist destination, particularly in the Summer months.  It would be slow but operational at this time of year, suitable for their purposes of course because it would give the impression that the whole bit was theirs and theirs alone.  If Sasha wanted to sight-see and shop, they could have a fine good time of it.  Besides, his people wouldn't come with picnic preparations lest he should call upon them, so a change of plans would be all fine and well.

"In the center of town there's a shop," said Kronos.  He pointed beyond to a hill where there were a cluster of cottages.  "It's also the post office, but -- they do have some fine souvenirs, local crafts, fresh fruit and an exquisite bakery.  Would you like to see it?  There is not a lot here, but it is a beautiful village.  There are boats that go out to see the dolphins and the Cuillin hills from Loch Coruisk, as well.  Anything that you like, son."

He paused for a moment and then said, "It's a shame you don't favor meats. There is a fine restaurant here in Ealaghol that serves the freshest seafood imaginable, hand picked by the head chef from the local docks every evening for the night's supper."  Kronos took a deep breath of sea air, letting out an approving groan of hunger.  "Oho, yes.  They have langoustine, and crab, squat lobsters, monk fish and king scallops," he said, enunciating each to indicate their individual scrumptiousness.  There was also haddock, wild salmon, cod, sole, turbot and halibut, as well as the rack of lamb and the local deer.  The red deer had four stomachs and mawed like a cow, but the males had the most marvelous racks. 

It was a pleasure to be living this side of the island.  Kronos was not bothered and often felt like the King of Strathaird.

"Auguamenti."  Kronos suckled water from the tip of his wand after wiping it down with a handkerchief.  He let his eyes roam the vanilla skies and they spotted something large and soaring.  He stopped drinking and pointed up into the sky. 

"Look, son!"  He cried.  "It's a golden eagle!"

Sasha wasn't sure where the look of pride in the man's eyes came from or what had prompted it but that didn't matter; he soaked up every ounce of it.  Sasha was, customarily, a very analytical young man and he possessed a strong basic need to understand everything.  But, this was a brilliant!  He didn't need to know exactly what caused the pride to radiate in the man's face.  He got he distinct feeling he could have done anything and the man would be unconditionally proud.  It was a fantastic feeling and he was loving every moment of it. 

"Oh."  He tried not to sound too disappointed.  A single shop with souvenirs and crafts could be fun.  It was more shopping than he'd been able to do in weeks and one could never be disappointed with a bakery.  It wasn't exactly fashionable suits but it'd do in a pinch.  "It does sound nice."  Translation: better than nothing.  "We can go see dolphins?"  He asked with genuine enthusiasm.  Dolphins were, admittedly, cool; he'd seen them playing in the Mediterranean waters off the coast of Spain but he'd never gotten close to them.  They had that same sort of mystical aura to muggles that unicorns did though, now Sasha knew, dolphins lacked the unicorns sexism.  "I'd love that, sir."   

At first, Sasha scowled apologetically and was about to offer a verbal apology for his particular brand of culinary choosiness.  He'd eat meat if he had no other options; of course, his stepfather would hear nothing of not eating beef or pork.  He'd spent too many hours of his (albeit, so far short) life tending to the family's cattle to feel entirely comfortable eating anything with an obvious brain.  Fortunately, as he always understood, scallops didn't have much in the way of brains.  He'd pass on the halibut and salmon and, of course, the deer and lamb but, "I wouldn't mind eating there.  I'm alright eating shellfish and," he shrugged, again, apologetically, not sure if he should have mentioned this earlier.  "I don't mind people eating meat around me.  I mean, I have to eat it at home." 

Sasha tilted his head back and spotted the eagle.  His gaze followed it for several minutes as it rode the upper air currents.  Slowly, a soft grin settled on his face as he looked back down at Kronos.  "You can't help but wonder where he's going."  With that, as his stomach rumbled, Sasha touched his heels to Aero's side and urged him in the direction Kronos had indicated. 

"Ealaghol," repeated Kronos decadently.  "It is named for a Viking ship that once burned on its shores -- a 'weeping swan', they say."  Kronos let his soul be stilled, gazing up toward the magnificent golden eagle as it soared on through the painted skies.

What came next was much too marvelous and endlessly expansive to delve into the finer details in depth -- a broad novel could be written on the events of the afternoon, likely in the lengthy, poetic style of one miss Virginia Woolf.  Such rambling, comma driven sentences that went on for pages would undoubtedly do well to capture the scent of the sea, the laughing brilliance of their undying conversations and gay exchanges over dinner, and the aroma of the fresh scallop pasta that surpassed any other tasted in excellency.  Kronos had called in his men with a strange magical device, and they had taken the horses away to the stables.  Thus, alone and on foot, Kronos took Sasha with belly full to the post office where he was permitted to buy anything to his fancy.

They took the afternoon boats out at 3:30 in the afternoon, a voyage that was called feasgar, not returning to land till 6 in the evening.  The weather was perfect, a gift from the gods, and the water calm.  They rode on the very boat that had used to be dispatched in search of the 'Loch Ness monster' with special Muggle technologies, the true story of which -- being magical in nature -- Kronos whispered into Sasha's ear out of sight from the skipper.  On Curuisk lake, oft called the cauldron of water, they were told the rich geological history of the soul-stirring Cuillin Hills.  Volcanoes and glaciers, and the words of Sir Walter Scott, who'd said how, "Rarely human eyes have seen so stern as that dread lake with its dark ledge of barren stone."  Indeed, it was considered by many to be the best and most startlingly beautiful view in all of Scotland.

The moon rose in the sky, big and yet growing still above the craggy hills as Kronos and Sasha shared smiles and stories and watched a school of dolphins here and a large colony of seals there.  At one point they even saw an incredibly curious basking shark who came right up to their barge to ponder the curious coupling of Kronos and Sasha Schlagenweit.  Perhaps it was the aura of magics surrounding the boat, but they seemed to attract the most astonishing sights and experiences.  The birds were as notable as the porpoises and the friendly basking shark -- puffins, buzzards, cormorants, black-throated divers, razorbills, eider ducks, guillemots and common shags swooped and plucked from the waters or glided softly or sang.  It was a stretch of time belonging to a book of fairy tales.

When their journey was complete and they landed back in Elgol, they were welcomed to their choice of warm beverage -- tea, coffee, or hot chocolate -- with a scrumptious shortbread as they huddled for warmth in a little cottage and waxed poetic on their lovely afternoon.  The air was growing colder, the night soon to set in on Straithard, and Kronos and Sasha were nearly done with their drinks when a mischievous smirk lighted the old man's eyes. 

"We can go soon to London," he said.  "I have a suite booked in Muggle London where we can head to now -- you'll have your own room and bath, and there are new clothes set out and waiting."  He sipped his cocoa, smiling.  "We can each shower and get dressed up to meet in the shared den in an hour for Billy Elliot," he lighted excitedly.  "Now doesn't that sound nice?"