On Elven Age and the Human Inability to Believe It

Humans persist in assuming that a person of nine hundred years must look nine hundred years old, an assumption understandable only because Humans have spent so little time being nine hundred. Elven ageing is remarkably gradual. A healthy Elf may retain what a Human observer would call middle-aged appearance for several centuries, and even in advanced age the physical deterioration is comparatively modest. Out of this has grown the absurd but widespread suspicion that elderly Elves conceal their age, employ rejuvenating magic, or periodically replace their faces by means of secret botanical rites. They do none of these things.

An Elf of eight hundred may possess good teeth, clear skin, upright posture, and enough remaining vigour to exhaust a Human half his apparent age. He may also suffer reduced night vision, slower recovery from injury, subtle loss of hearing, and the accumulated irritation of having watched six generations of Human acquaintances repeat the same political arguments. Only the last of these goes unrecognised by medicine, which I regard as an oversight.

The consequences of Elven longevity that deserve attention are social rather than cosmetic. An Elf may personally remember a treaty which Human historians dispute, or have met the statesman whose motives later scholars spend careers reconstructing, or own a chair older than the nation in which he currently lives. None of this makes him infallible. Memory is not improved merely by having more of it.