sparks fly high when steel meets steel

Surprise rings clear on the shadow's features as the man before him speaks. His head cants to the side, and he can't help but let go a brassy chuckle. Though a man of few words regardless, it was far easier for Viðarr to speak in his mother tongue. Far easier, far more comfortable. Things were good this way. A smile plays on his features, broad, comfortable. Everything about him is comfortable, or at least trying to be.

"Iðunn is my cousin." He confirmed it with an almost apologetic smile. Of course, he'd have met the strangest of them first. "I am Viðarr Trygg," an introduction, dazzling smile still playing on his face. No, he wouldn't drop that. He had no reason to. "Do you want to come up and talk instead? It's more comfortable." The shadow supposed he could come down, but it was easier to watch the world from where he sat within the trees. Easier to watch, easier to make sure nothing unsavory was headed their way.
"Viðarr"