I have met few elves in my time, although I have seen many. It has never occured to me to introduce myself or make a friend of one, for more often than not their attitudes keep me at bay. They drift through the halls and through the streets, an almost tagible air of arrogance and pride permeating the space around their willowy bodies rendering them if not unapproachable then at least off-putting.
It is not that their mannerisms are undeserved - they are exactly what they claim to be for the most part - it is simply that I cannot find any awe for the way they appear to be, nor can I find any respect for the way in which they conduct themselves.
Certainly, they are accomplished, but when one has hundreds or thousands of years in which to perfect a single skill, can it truly be called a talent? Can one, when given such a great advantage, claim true superiority? But then, that is not truly what repulses me about those I have seen.
The ability to swing a blade with finesse is not one that I find particularly impressive. One can enact all the awe-inspiring ripostes and flashy flurries in the world, but the dance still amounts to little more than butchery. It is in that butchery that the majority seem to place their pride, boasting of their prowess and seeking pointless fights within the halls of a tavern.
What of the lauded wisdom of the elves, then? Some know how to turn a phrase, it seems, but a way with words does not automatically equate to wisdom. Too many of those I have heard speak may do so with a honeyed tongue and flowered prose, but the message within is as base and thoughtless as one might expect from the local village idiot.
There are also tales speaking of their perfection of mind, body and spirit, yet I had cause to flee from one that I can only consider as insane. Still, some few have shown themselves to be different; the one to heal my wounds so long ago, the one who sought her missing brother and, over the past few days, the kindly and gentle Vaenthal.
Wary though I remain of those I do not know well, I find myself enjoying the company of this elf. Our discussions are interesting and engaging, his responses intelligent. Likewise, his refusal to allow Theogar goad him into a scuffle, and his refusal to allow his friend to fight in his place, have impressed me greatly.
I know that Wolf would not approve of our budding friendship, but Wolf is not truly a part of my life anymore. He is keeping his promise to stay out of my lovelife, but has apparantly expanded upon it in order to extricate himself from my presence entirely. That is his choice and one that I will not question or seek to change. He is happy and that is enough for me.
Meanwhile, Theogar speaks of an attraction between the elf and I. His words to that effect confuse me for I am no immortal and certainly do not possess the beauty or grace of one. I can only conclude that Theogar is mistaken or seeking to create problems were none lie. He is, after all, a self-confessed lover of irritating those around him.
