Triton is alive and well and living in Lanzarote.
The god and the Volcano are befriended - but as in most cases of male bonding, they are continually trying to overtrump one another in a boisterous macho display of power and strength. Triton's vehement pounding and spitting sprays are only met with cool aloofness from El Golfo, an ironic smile on his rocky face.

But they do stick together.
Sometimes, the Volcano will mesmerize poor tourists with shining olivine on his black shore - ah, humans are so easily mesmerized - until they forget themselves, and where they are. Then, with a roar, Triton with jump up and grab them by the legs, sending them flying, shrieking and with wet trousers.
The mates will boom with laughter in El Golfo's deep crevices.

As will the more gingerly treading tourist, further up on the beach.

As it is commonly known, trolls change into rocks during daylight.

The first time I had the pleasure of meeting El Golfo, the speed with which people disappeared as soon as the sun had set, surprised me, and I attributed it to the narrow, unlighted, and very windy road along the coastline that leads back to the human world.

I know better now.

I would not like to be caught out after dark in El Golfo either....