The Middle Distance

Beleriand, before the rising of the Sun and Moon:

And in the forest, an uneasy place in the best of times, Iaun was brought up short by a sound. Creeping slowly as he had long known how to do - yet hindered by the sinews of shoulder and thigh that no longer flexed as seamlessly as they once had - Iaun crept forward beneath the cover of the great ferns, one hand on his walking stick and the other on the hilt of his sword. Hoping that his silence would hold, and he could keep the advantage of surprise should this person turn out to be hostile.

An Elf he seemed, like Iaun himself, and yet clearly of a different clan; he had the rich robes and dark hair and grey eyes of the Noldor, and a haughtiness in his bearing beyond even the greatest of them. Iaun was resolved then to slink away, and let this strange one never lay eyes upon him if it could be helped, for surely no good would come of it.

And it was to no avail, for Iaun stepped upon a branch that cracked beneath his feet as if Yavanna herself had betrayed him; and a star shone upon his location as if even Elbereth herself wished him seen. The gaze of the lank stranger landed upon him, and Iaun found himself beguiled by the gleam of the sea in his eyes. The Enemy could deceive with fairness for a time, and yet Iaun felt that he was not in danger, not presently - naked and exposed as he felt beneath that stare.

“You have been in Angband, I perceive,” the stranger said.