Chapter 7

Part 1

“I rather like it myself.” Yazadril chuckled, then finished his gobletful and poured them both another, and neutralized the alcohol in Markee’s.

“You know, you seem like a well educated youth, more so than most from such isolated places.” Yazadril commented.

“My father was from outside.” Markee explained. “And so was my teacher the widow Sorel. And everyone always ordered books from the trader, though they’re pretty expensive. We were determined to not be ignorant, and tried to keep up with the major events outside the valley, mostly by exchanging letters with relatives who lived down in Finitra. I loved it there, but it was good to know I could probably get by if I had to go somewhere else.”

“Your people were wise in that, I think.”

“Yes. Life was good there.”

“Life will be good again, I assure you.

“Help yourself to these pastries; I know they’re probably much smaller than the ones you’re used to.”

They shared a companionable silence for a while, before Yazadril spoke again.

“Sometimes it’s good to start over. I had a wife and a daughter when I was only a bit more than two hundred years old, but I lost them in a war some eight hundred years later. I lost my parents and my brother then too. I had a second wife and two sons, over five thousand years ago. None of them lived beyond their third millennium.

“And now, to my great and constant surprise, at the age of eight thousand four hundred and seventy-six, I have a beautiful young wife again, and two lovely twin daughters only slightly older than yourself!”

“Oh! Well, congratulations, I guess!”

“Thank you! Thirty-five years I have been married to Nemia, and it is still very much a subject worthy of congratulation, I think!” Yazadril chuckled.

“Ah.” Markee smiled, his heart touched by the ancient wizard’s obvious joy. “Thirty-five years. If it’s not impolite to ask, how old is your young wife?”

“She is only two hundred fifty-eight, and the very picture of beauty! I don’t mind telling you, I’ve found it wise to increase my exercise since we married, and still there are times when I’ve had to augment my stamina with the power to keep up with her bounteous energy!”

Markee actually chuckled, and the small amount of his face around his eyes and nose that wasn’t hidden by his hair and beard blushed bright red.

“Oh not that, Nemia is a wonderfully relaxing lover.” Yazadril chuckled. “Dancing mostly. That’s when she really tests my old heart! A touch of the power can be very important at times like that!”

Markee burst out laughing, which was a unique experience for Yazadril, since the powerful, incredibly low sound of it made Yazadril’s entire chest cavity and all the sinuses in his skull vibrate with a rumbling sensation that almost tickled.

Markee misread his surprised expression. “I’m sorry Yazadril, I don’t mean to offend! But it will take some adjustment in my thinking for me to picture a woman who’s two hundred and fifty-eight years old as your bright young new wife! The oldest person I ever knew died of old age at seventy-six!” And he burst out laughing again.

“And what does that make me?” Yazadril asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Markee laughter calmed, but he still smiled. “You are beyond old. To me, at eight thousand and whatever years old, you’re eternal. You’re immortal. And I must admit, simply because you’re so completely outside my experience, that there’s a small part of me that’s skeptical of your claim.

“Ah, understandable. And well spoken; most could not have phrased it so diplomatically.”

“Well, my speaking and my writing were the delight of my teachers, but my maths were their despair. Though I’d have done all right at the maths if I didn’t hate them so much!” Markee revealed, and chuckled again with a sound so low and quiet that Yazadril felt it more than heard it.

“And how quickly did you learn musical skills?” Yazadril eagerly asked.

“Pretty fast I guess. We had quite a few different kinds of instruments around the valley, and I could play them all as well as anyone, I guess. I was a good singer too, until my voice changed when I was eleven. I could still sing I guess, but I think it sounds too strange. The girls all giggle when I sing now. I mean they did. And I couldn’t play the tin horn when my lips got too thick for the mouthpiece, but I was still okay on the bigger horns. And I had to figure out new fingerings for some of the chords on the lute when my fingers got too thick. At least they got reach too. I could still play the harp, but I had to pick the strings with my fingernails. The harp’s my favorite. My father and I were making me one, with more space between the strings so I can play it with my fingertips like you’re supposed to. It’s about half done, after a year’s work, but every part had to be perfect for my father, and there are a lot of parts in a forty-nine string harp.”

“Ah. Excellent! Did you know; when you are unsure of yourself, you say ‘I guess’ quite frequently?”

“I guess.” Markee grinned.

“In this case, it’s obvious that you’re unsure of your musical skills, simply because of the rapid and unique adjustments your unusual stature has necessitated. Once you’ve finished growing, and taken some time to become accustomed to your unique gifts, both musical and otherwise, I’m sure you’ll find that they won’t hinder you in any way.

“And as to your voice… My boy, I assure you that I do not exaggerate in the slightest when I say that you have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my life! It gives me a powerful emotion, simply from hearing you speak, and laugh. The mere thought of hearing you sing is almost enough to bring a tear to my eye!”

“Huh. Well, I’m glad you think so. I still think it sounds strange. But then, when you first called hello, I thought you sounded like a little old lady.” Markee chuckled. “I imagine you don’t have very many bass singers among the High People, if most of them are your size.”

“No, nor among elf-kind in general, for I am, at what you would measure as one hundred and forty centimeters tall, a bit taller than average among mountain elves.” Yazadril said, in a subtly different tone of voice that Markee was coming to recognize as his ‘teaching manner’.

“The mountain elves as a group are about the same height as the northern elves, while the elves of the forests and jungles tend to be taller, averaging one hundred and forty-nine centimeters for males. The plains elves, who have almost entirely joined their cultures with that of the great empires of the humans, tend to be taller yet, with males averaging one hundred fifty-nine. Females in all our subcultures tend to be about eight centimeters shorter than the males.”

“Interesting.” Markee remarked, consciously imitating the old elf’s manner. “Tell me, what is the average life span of an elf? I understand that you are unique in that regard, but what is the general elven longevity?”

“A well phrased question, even if you are being a sarcastic sprout.” Yazadril grinned. “Elves don’t die from old age. And, since we have an innate ability to heal ourselves, we very seldom die from diseases or wounds. Other than the given possibility of death from magical attack, we only die when we are wounded in the brain or upper spinal column, or when we are killed faster than we can heal ourselves. For instance, the most common natural cause of death among The High People is being struck by lightning, since it’s too quick to react to. We are likely to be struck by lightning every thirteen thousand two hundred years on the average, though no one lives that long, and to be fatally struck every fifteen thousand one hundred years. Over time, the dangers of the world kill everyone. By far the most common cause of death for elves is war. Also, since we can choose not to heal ourselves if we are feeling an immensely powerful despair, a few elves have died by suicide.