Curufin is down by the waterside, fishing off a cliff on the south coast of North Island. There has been a temporary break in the clouds, and this planet's sun shines on the leaping waves. The whitecaps sparkle and the wind blows the spume towards shore. The Elf is singing softly to himself, in his melodious tenor, and occasionally hauling up a fish.

And then he hears a splashing that doesn't sound like fish.

"Hey!" he waves both arms.