It has been said that Time moves of His own reckoning,
Never pausing to regard those left behind.
The elves are not left behind.
Rather, they are dragged behind Time. Not of their own accord,
They are driven forth, though the lives of those who’s doom is foreseen.
Theirs is a sad, desolate existence,
Never allowanced the opportunity to end, but rather,
Cease to exist.
So young, and yet so very old, the race of elves once truly lived, and now
They simply do not die. Their immortality is both a gift
And a curse
Set upon them by the vengeance of Time, who too
Must forever move with the passage of the universe.
Fairest and wisest of all beings, the elves once faced a crossroads,
In which they were made to choose their path.
To one road pointed a sign reading the way of
Desolation and heartache, loneliness and sorrow, sadness and self-imposed darkness.
To the other road pointed a sign reading the way of quiet peace and understanding,
A chance to be a focal point of calm strength and guidance,
Power and knowledge
That could guide others who would seek their guidance,
Even as Time has appointed Himself their guide. They chose the latter road,
To become a people of the natural order of things.
Even as Time attempts to tear apart their hearts,
Manipulate their spirits and confuse their souls,
They remain resolute.
Ever loyal to those they call Elf-friend, they strive only for
The peace and sanctity of others before their own.
When at last the requirements of friendship have been fulfilled,
They return to the path of many a millennia ago. When their time has come,
Each individual Elf feeling that time in his own time, the Old People will return
To the sea, and see once again the lands of a day before
Time seized their destiny and created it of His own mind.

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