A single boat sailed slowly into Rivendell. It had all the bearings of a ship of the West, the land of the Elves, and the other ancients of this world. A sailor, elven, though dark skinned, sat at the rudder, while a tall, human appearing man stood at the bow.
His robes were black, a cloak like that of a Dunedain covering his head. Each eye twinkled slightly beneath the hood, lightning like the storm above reflected in his eyes. Under his left arm a great tome, his right hand wrapped around a staff as tall as he, obviously strong enough for combat, with a large black gem held in place by a swirl of wood up top. Much of it is metal shod. There seemed to be fire within the black gem, but only for a moment.
As the boat stops, a full squad of elven soldiers and Elrond with his sword arrive to greet or defeat the new arrivals.. The boat stopped and the dark skinned elf began his work to keep the boat in place, as the cloaked traveler stood out onto the dock.
"Interesting way to greet guests, Elrond," The man's voice came in an almost musical tenor form beneath the hood. It was disdainful. "Fully armored elven killing machines and yourself with an unsheathed blade."
"These are dark times, stranger, where only our enemies travel by night in black," The elf king seemed to not mind the lack of proper titles given.
"I'm already aware of Sauron and Saruman's actions," the newcomer said dismissively. "That is why I was sent out of the West."
Elrond was stunned. "Who are you?" He asked.
The man took his hood down, revealing a body and head no older than 25, but clearly seen eyes as old as the elves. His ears were human, but as everyone had been guessing from the staff and the eyes, he was not.
"My name is Lucius the Black. The Sixth Istar."