You'll probably find Eirithael by the river. Perhaps dozing on the bank in a patch of sunlight, eyes closed, silver-veined skin glimmering in the sunlight. Or maybe you'll hear him laughing in the trees overhead, leaning back against the trunk, perfectly relaxed, watching you as with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
Sometimes you may hear a song drifting through the air, a haunting melody sung in some long-forgotten tongue. Light seems to pool around his feet as he treads the grass by the riverbank, his feet leaving imprints in the wet ground. Streaks of mud decorate his calves and his hands are rough and calloused from living among the trees. His hair whips about him as he moves, long mist-like strands of brightest silver contrasting with the soft honey tones of his eyes.
However, young though Eirithael appears, he has walked the paths of the world long before the existance of mankind. He has seen things the like of which no man has ever seen, nor will see again.
Should you try to follow him, you would soon find yourself alone with the sighing of the wind and the faintest echoes of laughter from somewhere in its distant depths.