The silent thudding of hooves, falling onto the soft brown earth, approached the riverside. The surface of the water was still glinting with the rosy light of the rising sun, and its rays were glistening in Thranuilas's long hair, waving in the gentle breeze.
A large white horse, ridden without a saddle or bridle, stopped on the bank of the river. His rider sled off his back with a silent swoosh of his dark grey robe, and looked around himself. The trees were shielding the slopes of the shore with their hanging branches, and only then he noticed the stranger, sitting in the shade nearby.
Thranuilas almost jumped up in surprise. That man was as silent as a mouse, sitting there, fishing, and not making a single sound, that it surprised even an elf such as himself. He made a small step forth, towards the stranger. His bright eyes were glued at him, hardly blinking at all, and he watched him with interest.
"Well met, good sir!" he cried out eventually, straightening his back and stroking the hair on his shoulders. The wind has ruffled it, and he didn't like that too much.
