(Galadriel is fairly used to getting mail but she'll be a bit shocked to receive any in Thedas. For any notes, missives, letters, or other communications.)
[He speaks of his people, of their plight, and Galadriel listens. Her expression falls slowly, wearing down like limestone assailed by a strong current--it is so similar a fate to the one she fears. The elves here...they have fallen all the way, as far as they can, but his people, the Aen Seidhe are still waning. There is still enough of the light in them that she can see a reflection of the elves that dwell within Lorien.]
Of course. I would tell you anything you wish to know; I cannot tell you of the first days of the Eldar, but I can get nearer to them than any who yet live.
[She cannot restrain herself from asking, even though it was not the point of their conversation. Even though he had spoken about the phylacteries and the templars and, oh, how she could speak about the templars and their hubris--she cannot resist:]
[ Iorveth would frame it the other way around. The elves in Thedas have something vital that those on the Continent do not - a possible future. There's still many of them, the Dalish are a whole community with families and children and a way of life. The Aen Seidhe, however, while long-lived, are fertile only in the beginnings of their lives. The largest part that brought them so low, dancing now on the edge of extinction. They live, now, only in cities, and those in the forests are the Scoia'tael alone, hunted falsely as war criminals after Nilfgaard and Dol Blathanna's betrayal of them, so many sacrificed for a sanctuary of the elderly and sterile.
His race is in their death throes, despite what years they retain. It will take a miracle to raise them back from their endangered numbers. One blessing they have that those of Thedas lack, though, is the memory in those longer lives. They haven't lost near so much of their history, even if much of it has faded in the 1,500 years since their civilization's destruction. They'll at least fade with the pride and identity of their people intact, for the most part. If it's come to that, Iorveth will see to it they go in with battle cry, rather than a whimper. ]
One-hundred twenty-seven. Adult, but still considered young for my people. [ Iorveth admits, feeling small in the face of Thranduil's people, and given Galadriel had just mentioned knowing more of their history than any other, she must be beyond even his years. ]
And you? I take it you're one who even Thranduil seems young in the eyes of? [ as she'd mentioned when the thought of ages first came up. ]
One hundred and twenty seven? [There is something tender in the amazement in her voice. She doesn't intend it, but it is there nonetheless.]
You are an adult by our standards as well, though only just I'm afraid. Majority is one hundred years of age; I do not think my grandsons were freed from my daughter's gaze until they reached one hundred and fifty, however.
As for Thranduil, well, yes...I knew him when he was very young. Much, much younger than you. He was but a babe when I met him and he has...retained quite a lot of his stubbornness.
[She shakes her head and pauses a moment to think. The eddies of time are many and tracing it back is complex. Each time she must give this answer she ponders it, in case she recalls something she once did not; it is best to give the truth, even if it is faded by the passing of ages.]
I fear I cannot truly say how old I am, time was strange ere the days of dawn. Hours and years moved in much the same way before the sun existed to mark them. But, if I must, I would guess it is near to fifteen thousand years?
I am not the eldest of the Eldar...but I am the eldest still living, insofar as I know.
[ her reaction brings a sharp, jovial laugh from Iorveth, which is perhaps a strange thing to see on features so scared and severe, but it's been so very long since he's felt like a child in anyone's presence. Even Thranduil had somehow seemed more equal despite his years. Galadriel has an aura to her that's warm and enduring, the way the elders in Dol Blathanna always were. ]
I believe I'd been... Fourteen at the time I started wandering the streets on my own, though my mother had been cross about that by the evening when I returned. [ He was a rebellious child, as he is a rebellious adult. Always strong willed and curious, ever unsatisfied to just be still, where there was so much else out there. ] Twenty-three when I'd been on my own completely.
[ not by his mother's choice, but disease took her, and there was no argument she could have made with death to see herself at his side any longer. Regardless, she'd likely have spent the rest of her days in anxiety for him had she been around much longer. It wasn't but a couple months later that he left the heads of human criminals on pikes and a fire in the guard barracks before going out to the scoia'tael, to war. ]
But fifteen thousand... It's longer than the Aen Seidhe have been walked the Continent, I'd think. [ History that far back gets very blurred, especially with the loss of most things that marked events for them - the art, murals, songs they recorded history in rather than books. ] Our people tell that we came to the Continent through a Conjunction of Spheres, akin to Thedas's rifts though on a much larger scale, once a tribe of a much large clan of elves that split to travel the varying realms.
[ Perhaps they'd been a single people, back then. Perhaps they'd even been true kin to Galadriel's, who knows. Certainly not the Aen Seidhe any longer. ] None of ours could ever hope to remember a time before the sun. Your people are truly blessed to have you, my lady.
Am I your lady so quickly? Be still my heart; such devotion is unusual.
[It is Galadriel's turn to chuckle then; her laugh is light and bemused and it trails quickly. The light around them is already turning rosy as the sun crests over the water. Kirkwall is dreary but the ocean, that at least looks as it always should. It glitters gold and white against the sky.]
It was lovely...but, I admit, nostalgia may color my memory. I cannot even say if I recall it as it truly was. I have forgotten much from when I was your age.
If you ever wished to know it, to see the world ere the rising of the sun, I would be glad to show you...it is...not something I have been able to share with the elves here. None who yet live, at least.
If not, well, I shall not take refusal as a slight, but forgive me if I ask after your people. I do so love learning history that I have not lived.
[ Galadriel's charm and lightness inspires a kind of simple joy, and Iorveth smiles, soft laughter following it, that might have been embarrassed for being so serious if he were the kind to easily feel shame. Which he isn't. From the way the others have spoken of her, for what he knows of Galadriel now, and for the kind of grandeur she seems to hold in her just by being, the reverence doesn't feel misplaced for him. ]
If any here are to deserve it, one who's seen the first dawn ought to. [ What sights and memories and stories she must hold in her soul, to have seen so much. What she speaks of knowing and having lived through sounds close to the spirits the Aen Seidhe worship in their land, entities that have walked the world since time began. Yet, here she is, someone real and present, one with the rest of them. ] Your existence alone is like a dream to someone from my world. Even if the Aen Seidhe fade, and the elves of Thedas follow them, there's something that brings a sense of peace in knowing you and your people have been here since the beginning, and continue on.
[ somewhere in the multiverse, anyway. there's a sadness to it, but it's nearly soothing enough. He'd thought something similar of Thranduil when he'd first seen him, and held the beautiful crafted elven swords in his hands, like looking into a long lost, ancient past. It's surreal, to have such people right in front of him. ]
I'd be honored to share the vision of it with you, if there's a way you're able to. [ Iorveth has no sense of magic in him whatsoever, aside from the spirituality the elves have always seemed to feel deeper than the rest of living creatures on the Continent. Had he been told back home that someone could show him the first sunrise, he'd have thought they were crazy. ]
And I'll gladly trade you stories of my own people, though I doubt they'll be as riveting. [ or pretty. their history is a sad one. at least, the parts he knows of it. ]
You would be terribly surprised what I find riveting; tales of calm and quiet are among my favorites.
[But he has asked for a boon, even if indirectly, and the sunrise before them is a perfect alignment. To show him what she offered would be so simple a thing, so she does. She reached forward and her fingers brush his hand--touch is not necessary, not truly, but it helps. As all things seem to be, this skill is harder in Thedas, and any aid is for the best. The touch is grounding, even when it is but a light graze, and abruptly they are elsewhere. Within another time and place.
The water changes not at all, but the sky above them loses its clouds, the haze of the marina, and deepens near to black. Distant stars gleam in the darkness, millions of them lighting a band across the sky. The rosy fingers of dawn are a halo of white and blue and they glitter over peaks of ice and snow that jut from the water. In the distance, there is a stretch of green-laden land.
It is a lovely sunrise, but just a sunrise, until Galadriel can conjure the sounds of awe and terror in those around her. Until she can conjure the host of elves she remembers. At first they are voices, thousands strong, but then there are the faces of the Noldor--tall and glimmering with their own light, harrowed and haggard but still at the height of their glory. Each of them is staring at the rising sun, baffled and amazed.
She can hold the whole of them in her mind for a few moments, but no more. She only hopes he will see his fill before the sun moves and destroys the illusion she has woven in their minds.]
[ ‘We don’t have many of those either’, Iorveth wants to tell her, gets as far as speaking it in his mind, but it doesn’t make it past his lips. Their history, now, is mostly misery on top of misery.
That, however, is dashed from his mind the moment she weaves an illusion into the world around them, both beautiful and somewhat terrifying, all of it grand and magnificent. The calamity of fear and awe, the people approaching a brave new world, with all the mixture and chaos it should entail. Much like the rising hum of an orchestra practicing keys and tuning up before the start of a symphony. A surging of something incredible.
It’s gone so fast, and Iorveth feels like it’d been both so long in that world, and all to quick, all at once. So many people, and so much hope still there for the world. He misses it immediately, and turns back to Galadriel with a sad smile on his lips. ]
I couldn’t have possibly imagined something so incredible. Thank you, for sharing it. I only wish I’d been able to live it as well.
Do not wish such woes upon yourself, mellon nin. That Age was fraught with terrors the world has long forgotten; the horrors that plagued the beginning were beyond measure by the modern scale and they shall not be missed.
It was beautiful, yes, and there were sights of unfathomable glory, both golden and perfect, but the cost of living those years is far too great to desire them for yourself.
[The First Age was the Worst Age and nobody will ever convince her otherwise. Still, she is gladdened that he enjoyed her show and withdraws her hand to her side.]
Still, it was a lovely sight. After months of travel in the dark, it was certainly a change.
[ Nothing comes without a cost, for everything wonderful there's likely something equally horrible. iorveth takes her word for it, that he'd not want to be present in an age like that. though he is a warrior, he fights men, not terrors. and even still, he'd rather he didn't have to. perhaps its simply the envy of wishing for a time when his people were still proud and free. ]
How old were you, when this happened?
[ What was the world like when she was just a child? How long had it been swallowed in darkness? He's so full of questions, as is his nature. it isn't solely iorveth's paranoia that keeps him wanting to know everything about everyone. ]
Ere the rising of the sun it is hard to say how old I was. We called those years Valian, for they were of Valinor and governed by the blooming of the Two Trees. Time moved strangely then.
[Galadriel considers him and her past. It takes a moment and, finally, she grants him an answer.]
I expect I was much older than you...in some ways. Younger, perhaps, in others.
[She quirks a brow at him and asks, not indelicately, if he wishes to know what he is asking. It is not a short tale but...then he had admitted to wishing to know of the minutiae of the Eldar.]
Do you truly wish to know of the earliest years of Arda and Aman?
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Of course. I would tell you anything you wish to know; I cannot tell you of the first days of the Eldar, but I can get nearer to them than any who yet live.
[She cannot restrain herself from asking, even though it was not the point of their conversation. Even though he had spoken about the phylacteries and the templars and, oh, how she could speak about the templars and their hubris--she cannot resist:]
If I may ask, how old are you?
no subject
His race is in their death throes, despite what years they retain. It will take a miracle to raise them back from their endangered numbers. One blessing they have that those of Thedas lack, though, is the memory in those longer lives. They haven't lost near so much of their history, even if much of it has faded in the 1,500 years since their civilization's destruction. They'll at least fade with the pride and identity of their people intact, for the most part. If it's come to that, Iorveth will see to it they go in with battle cry, rather than a whimper. ]
One-hundred twenty-seven. Adult, but still considered young for my people. [ Iorveth admits, feeling small in the face of Thranduil's people, and given Galadriel had just mentioned knowing more of their history than any other, she must be beyond even his years. ]
And you? I take it you're one who even Thranduil seems young in the eyes of? [ as she'd mentioned when the thought of ages first came up. ]
no subject
You are an adult by our standards as well, though only just I'm afraid. Majority is one hundred years of age; I do not think my grandsons were freed from my daughter's gaze until they reached one hundred and fifty, however.
As for Thranduil, well, yes...I knew him when he was very young. Much, much younger than you. He was but a babe when I met him and he has...retained quite a lot of his stubbornness.
[She shakes her head and pauses a moment to think. The eddies of time are many and tracing it back is complex. Each time she must give this answer she ponders it, in case she recalls something she once did not; it is best to give the truth, even if it is faded by the passing of ages.]
I fear I cannot truly say how old I am, time was strange ere the days of dawn. Hours and years moved in much the same way before the sun existed to mark them. But, if I must, I would guess it is near to fifteen thousand years?
I am not the eldest of the Eldar...but I am the eldest still living, insofar as I know.
no subject
I believe I'd been... Fourteen at the time I started wandering the streets on my own, though my mother had been cross about that by the evening when I returned. [ He was a rebellious child, as he is a rebellious adult. Always strong willed and curious, ever unsatisfied to just be still, where there was so much else out there. ] Twenty-three when I'd been on my own completely.
[ not by his mother's choice, but disease took her, and there was no argument she could have made with death to see herself at his side any longer. Regardless, she'd likely have spent the rest of her days in anxiety for him had she been around much longer. It wasn't but a couple months later that he left the heads of human criminals on pikes and a fire in the guard barracks before going out to the scoia'tael, to war. ]
But fifteen thousand... It's longer than the Aen Seidhe have been walked the Continent, I'd think. [ History that far back gets very blurred, especially with the loss of most things that marked events for them - the art, murals, songs they recorded history in rather than books. ] Our people tell that we came to the Continent through a Conjunction of Spheres, akin to Thedas's rifts though on a much larger scale, once a tribe of a much large clan of elves that split to travel the varying realms.
[ Perhaps they'd been a single people, back then. Perhaps they'd even been true kin to Galadriel's, who knows. Certainly not the Aen Seidhe any longer. ] None of ours could ever hope to remember a time before the sun. Your people are truly blessed to have you, my lady.
no subject
[It is Galadriel's turn to chuckle then; her laugh is light and bemused and it trails quickly. The light around them is already turning rosy as the sun crests over the water. Kirkwall is dreary but the ocean, that at least looks as it always should. It glitters gold and white against the sky.]
It was lovely...but, I admit, nostalgia may color my memory. I cannot even say if I recall it as it truly was. I have forgotten much from when I was your age.
If you ever wished to know it, to see the world ere the rising of the sun, I would be glad to show you...it is...not something I have been able to share with the elves here. None who yet live, at least.
If not, well, I shall not take refusal as a slight, but forgive me if I ask after your people. I do so love learning history that I have not lived.
no subject
If any here are to deserve it, one who's seen the first dawn ought to. [ What sights and memories and stories she must hold in her soul, to have seen so much. What she speaks of knowing and having lived through sounds close to the spirits the Aen Seidhe worship in their land, entities that have walked the world since time began. Yet, here she is, someone real and present, one with the rest of them. ] Your existence alone is like a dream to someone from my world. Even if the Aen Seidhe fade, and the elves of Thedas follow them, there's something that brings a sense of peace in knowing you and your people have been here since the beginning, and continue on.
[ somewhere in the multiverse, anyway. there's a sadness to it, but it's nearly soothing enough. He'd thought something similar of Thranduil when he'd first seen him, and held the beautiful crafted elven swords in his hands, like looking into a long lost, ancient past. It's surreal, to have such people right in front of him. ]
I'd be honored to share the vision of it with you, if there's a way you're able to. [ Iorveth has no sense of magic in him whatsoever, aside from the spirituality the elves have always seemed to feel deeper than the rest of living creatures on the Continent. Had he been told back home that someone could show him the first sunrise, he'd have thought they were crazy. ]
And I'll gladly trade you stories of my own people, though I doubt they'll be as riveting. [ or pretty. their history is a sad one. at least, the parts he knows of it. ]
no subject
[But he has asked for a boon, even if indirectly, and the sunrise before them is a perfect alignment. To show him what she offered would be so simple a thing, so she does. She reached forward and her fingers brush his hand--touch is not necessary, not truly, but it helps. As all things seem to be, this skill is harder in Thedas, and any aid is for the best. The touch is grounding, even when it is but a light graze, and abruptly they are elsewhere. Within another time and place.
The water changes not at all, but the sky above them loses its clouds, the haze of the marina, and deepens near to black. Distant stars gleam in the darkness, millions of them lighting a band across the sky. The rosy fingers of dawn are a halo of white and blue and they glitter over peaks of ice and snow that jut from the water. In the distance, there is a stretch of green-laden land.
It is a lovely sunrise, but just a sunrise, until Galadriel can conjure the sounds of awe and terror in those around her. Until she can conjure the host of elves she remembers. At first they are voices, thousands strong, but then there are the faces of the Noldor--tall and glimmering with their own light, harrowed and haggard but still at the height of their glory. Each of them is staring at the rising sun, baffled and amazed.
She can hold the whole of them in her mind for a few moments, but no more. She only hopes he will see his fill before the sun moves and destroys the illusion she has woven in their minds.]
no subject
That, however, is dashed from his mind the moment she weaves an illusion into the world around them, both beautiful and somewhat terrifying, all of it grand and magnificent. The calamity of fear and awe, the people approaching a brave new world, with all the mixture and chaos it should entail. Much like the rising hum of an orchestra practicing keys and tuning up before the start of a symphony. A surging of something incredible.
It’s gone so fast, and Iorveth feels like it’d been both so long in that world, and all to quick, all at once. So many people, and so much hope still there for the world. He misses it immediately, and turns back to Galadriel with a sad smile on his lips. ]
I couldn’t have possibly imagined something so incredible. Thank you, for sharing it. I only wish I’d been able to live it as well.
no subject
It was beautiful, yes, and there were sights of unfathomable glory, both golden and perfect, but the cost of living those years is far too great to desire them for yourself.
[The First Age was the Worst Age and nobody will ever convince her otherwise. Still, she is gladdened that he enjoyed her show and withdraws her hand to her side.]
Still, it was a lovely sight. After months of travel in the dark, it was certainly a change.
no subject
[ Nothing comes without a cost, for everything wonderful there's likely something equally horrible. iorveth takes her word for it, that he'd not want to be present in an age like that. though he is a warrior, he fights men, not terrors. and even still, he'd rather he didn't have to. perhaps its simply the envy of wishing for a time when his people were still proud and free. ]
How old were you, when this happened?
[ What was the world like when she was just a child? How long had it been swallowed in darkness? He's so full of questions, as is his nature. it isn't solely iorveth's paranoia that keeps him wanting to know everything about everyone. ]
no subject
[Galadriel considers him and her past. It takes a moment and, finally, she grants him an answer.]
I expect I was much older than you...in some ways. Younger, perhaps, in others.
[She quirks a brow at him and asks, not indelicately, if he wishes to know what he is asking. It is not a short tale but...then he had admitted to wishing to know of the minutiae of the Eldar.]
Do you truly wish to know of the earliest years of Arda and Aman?