[ The one who shows his face is kin, that much is obvious at the first glance. An elf will always recognise one of their own, but it is kin strange to him. Even with all his travels, even with all that he had seen already, he either hadn't seen all or as is the way of this strange world, it is kin of another time or another world, entirely separate of Middle-Earth, but all the same... in Legolas' eyes it changes nothing much at all.

He offers a smile, small and subtle, but easily reaching his eyes. The arrow returns to his quiver, bow lowered without a question. Wary he may still be, however, times of war - regardless of place - do not necessarily lend themselves to trust easily given. Had they met at the Seelie court, things might have been different, but alas.

Though in truth, not many of the Unseelie court would dare to wander this far south, beyond Caer Glaem no less and into the Great Greenwood. ]

My apologies for the harsh greeting. Times of war require a higher vigilance, though it is no excuse for my hastiness.

[ Soft tones, all polite and seemingly at ease, though his eyes remain fixed on the other elf curiously. ]

It is not a common occurrence to find one of a kin here in this strange world.