Elves live incredibly long lives, tens of thousands of years, hardly aging in that time before they whither. Their natural magic keeps them youthful, yet their minds dull over time, stretched past the point of care.

Most Elves in your current day are thousands of years old, their young a fraction of a fraction of their race.

Yet half Elves are common to you, descendants of this great race are like a strange eye color, not something you'd think twice about after your first encounter.

But one would wonder where these half Elves and descendants keep coming from if Elves stopped reproducing millenia ago.

And the answer is Fjord. Most of the mixed Elf race is a descendant of his, because unlike other Elves, he has a human lover. One he finds every couple hundred years using a stone imbued with a fragment of their soul.

You were a mere traveling merchant, taking goods from one town to the next, until Fjord swept you off your feet, taking you to the frozen lands of the Elf city and reuniting you with fragment of your soul he kept.

He tenderly caresses your cheek. "My love, you grow more awe inspiring in each life. If not for your fragile body, I'd have thought you were a hero of old." His flaming red hair waves in the cold breeze, and you can already feel those faint memories race to your mind, and his soft touch is more nostalgic than anything before in your life.