Finrod, for all intents and purposes, looks more like an elf reborn than one pulled from one universe to another. His clothes are plain, finely made and not entirely without adornment, but very practical, as if for hunting or travel, and his hair hangs unbraided. The effect is marred by a striking scar cutting obliquely over his right eye and across his cheek.

“Turukáno?” He would know that figure anywhere, though his voice betrays uncertainty.