The first time she sees him is the first time she has ever seen a sightless Elf, and the tragic abnormality of it brings her to a sudden halt. He is stumbling through the trees of Lasgalen, his hands outstretched, trying so very hard not to trip over the roots and underbrush that make up the forest's floor. She stares at him, intrigued by the exotic golden colouring of his skin, and she can tell that he would easily be taller than the Elvenking were he not stooped over. It is Elrond's son, his youngest - 'the sightless half-breed', a voice inside her whispers - but instead of gazing upon him with distrust, as do so many of her kindred, she sees instead the open vulnerability on his face, and the fine trembling of his arms and legs that show he is close to panicking.
Before she can stop herself, she steps forward, touches his arm lightly, and says, "May I walk with you?"
He stops short, twisting towards her, and swallows hard. "I..." He does not know what to say, she can tell, and stands there a moment in silence.
"I am not averse to company," he says at last, carefully, so she reaches tentatively for his arm.
"I hope you do not mind me using you as a support," she says with an apologetic smile in her voice. "These dreadful roots have threatened my immortality more than once."
She takes the first step, and as she subtly guides him around the fallen branches and underbrush she can feel him relax.