Even older than the native elves, I'm hardly more than an infant in Thranduil's eyes.
[ Seven thousand, he'd said, and Iorveth can hardly wrap his mind around so long a life. ] There'd been a time my people lived into the thousands, though foreign disease, the changing of the land and the poor conditions my people are made to survive in now... the eldest I know of currently only reaches around 650, most common Aen Seidhe not making it much past four centuries.
[ And Iorveth, only counting 127 years, is still young for his people, but old enough to have seen generations of men come and go. He can't imagine how the world must look to ones so static as Thranduil's people. Small upsets must seem so trivial and secondary. ]
Anything to be known of my people, distant cousins or direct blood, is of interest to me. [ and being from a race that considers themselves a single tribe of a kin spread out across dimensions and time, he does consider them that - distant cousins. ] But I'll not ask a lecture of you've other matters to discuss.
[ there's plenty enough time for them all to share stories, but more present dangers to concern themselves with. ]
Likely they don't. The Templars seem most concerned about their slipping control - a sect created solely to monitor the mages, and once those are free from them, what relevance are they without another people to police? The Chantry clings to the Templars as their protectors and enforces, thus they ally with the need to keep that hold over the people. [ Iorveth breathes out a slow sigh, watching the waters across the docks. ] They panic with so much new to their world, and like every nation of Men I've known, their answer to that is to impose a strangle hold of control. Decimate anything that defies it, until it's only them at the top of their mountain.
no subject
[ Seven thousand, he'd said, and Iorveth can hardly wrap his mind around so long a life. ] There'd been a time my people lived into the thousands, though foreign disease, the changing of the land and the poor conditions my people are made to survive in now... the eldest I know of currently only reaches around 650, most common Aen Seidhe not making it much past four centuries.
[ And Iorveth, only counting 127 years, is still young for his people, but old enough to have seen generations of men come and go. He can't imagine how the world must look to ones so static as Thranduil's people. Small upsets must seem so trivial and secondary. ]
Anything to be known of my people, distant cousins or direct blood, is of interest to me. [ and being from a race that considers themselves a single tribe of a kin spread out across dimensions and time, he does consider them that - distant cousins. ] But I'll not ask a lecture of you've other matters to discuss.
[ there's plenty enough time for them all to share stories, but more present dangers to concern themselves with. ]
Likely they don't. The Templars seem most concerned about their slipping control - a sect created solely to monitor the mages, and once those are free from them, what relevance are they without another people to police? The Chantry clings to the Templars as their protectors and enforces, thus they ally with the need to keep that hold over the people. [ Iorveth breathes out a slow sigh, watching the waters across the docks. ] They panic with so much new to their world, and like every nation of Men I've known, their answer to that is to impose a strangle hold of control. Decimate anything that defies it, until it's only them at the top of their mountain.