"I have no particular interest," the elf answers. "I have been thinking it is time to learn more about the world in which I live. I have seen nothing except parts of the city of my birth and parts of Orussus, and even a small settlement would hold some interest for me. Until now, my concerns have been more inward."
She begins musing half to herself. "There is perhaps one great difference between elves and the shorter lived races. Time moves differently for us, since we have so much of it. Or should. The promise is not always kept."
"We gain maturity of body almost as quickly as you do. But in our youth, we think nothing of devoting a decade to a skill - weaving, or knowledge of plants, or music, or magic. It is not the mastery that matters, but the path to gaining it. We might spend a week contemplating the patterns of leaves on a tree, or the words in a poem, or the angle of a swordstroke. Many of us continue like this for our entire lives."
"But there are some, a few, in whom a change takes place, when we pass our first century, or a little later. We see the accomplishments made by humans in their lives, which are to our own as dogs are to yours. I mean no insult - I refer to the comparative length. We grow impatient, by our own standards, and we leave off our slow lives, and some of us burn bright and accomplish great things in the space of only a few years, and others burn out in the attempt. Some say we must have distant human blood, but I do not believe this to be true."
"There, I have answered a question you did not ask. But such thoughts were in my head."