Why Fear Humans?

"Why should I fear humans? They live for such a short time."

Giullis had heard those words, but he didn't answer them as swiftly as his group of students were used to. It'd been a spirited debate, in the academic forum of Brightoak. The aging High Elf's expression had grown distant, eyes darkening as he contemplated on how best to answer Folen's query that'd been so haphazardly asked among his peers while his mentor had watched over them, simply playing moderator so that they could sharpen themselves while debating back and forth.

Another student, Troile, had brought up the question of why didn't they, the High Elves that were so long lived and wise, simply take dominion over all the other races and guide them to a new era of enlightenment and usher in an age of peace and prosperity as only they could. It was sharp, and it sparked comments ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other before Folen, a comrade of Troile, had asked the magic question of why they should ever fear a race so simple and short lived. It was a question that Giullis had heard before in what so long ago that it seemed like another life.

It was, in a way, another life, a different life, a life lived by an elf that was much harder edged and unforgiving, one that seemed like night compared to the day of the kind and gentle teacher that they all had known, the paladin and sworn sword of Dread King Iolrath who had sought to prove Troile's theory over three ages ago.

The students had started to let their fierce debate grow still, seeing their mentor's face start to resemble a blank slate.

**Why should we fear humans? They live for a short time**.

The question burned as he could fear an entirely kind of heat, remembering when the regiment of Rangers from the Fimbulwinter Forests waged a war of attrition on Iolrath's army when they tried to cross the veritable ocean of trees, making the nigh unstoppable legions believe that they were fighting a force so much greater, the snickering Felix Greenwood unable to choke back a laugh when he was offered his life and freedom if he'd betray the kingdom of Garigill, the last bastion of Humanity and Dwarves. He remembered the guileless smile of the ranger who rebuked his offer with words that he'd remembered long after the Greenwood bloodline had died out. **"A man who thinks that his life is more precious than those who trust him to defend theirs isn't a man who ever deserved life in the first place"** It was a sentiment that'd gotten him killed in rage.

It was a sentiment that brought the entire force of Prince Daniel MacNamara's black legion on them, unleashed by the attempt to capture his beloved Lady Bianca. A human man no more than a fraction of the age that most elves would consider children by the same standard, brazen and bestial as the red wolf upon his banner. Bloodied until porcelain skin had resembled the same shade of his flame colored hair, sword in hand, screaming as a wolf would bay at the moon, demanding that the Honor Guard of King Iolrath to 'Come and see how a Prince of Garigill dies," ready to die with sword in hand, lip curled in a sneer of defiance instead of gracefully like a dove with wings folded in quiet acceptance.

Humans died dirty, and they died fiercely, but as Folen had pointed out, they died of old age all the same; and yet Giullis had seen too many fall long before their time expired, and still he'd seen even more run out the clock of a High Elf's lifespan before their own fell. Candles that burn brightest, burned the shortest; this was something that he'd experienced first hand. Vicious, and unrelenting, why should they care if they died if it meant something? Creatures that put stock in the legends of their forebear, so intent on living out their legacies to become jus--

"Professor?" Called out the voice of one of his students, a wood elf named Vianola, her thin eyebrows muddling in concern. "Are you well?"

"Yes, Young Mistress Presris, I'm quite well, Young Master Sarven's question brought me back to a place I hadn't ventured in quite some time."

"I hope I didn't offend you, Professor."

"No, Young Master Sarven, you did not."

"...Where were you, Professor? Your eyes looked as if you weren't seeing us at all."

"Well Vianola," using her first name for a change, the drop in formality almost a vulgarity, even if ti didn't offend her so much as shock her. "I was remembering when the Kingdom of Garigill answered Folen's question."

"You were there for the Conquest of Ralemar?" Wonder, murmurs had come through the audience of students like the tide waved in the ocean, with Troile standing up as he asked the question, intent on getting a better look at their teacher who sat there among them on the steps, hands folded in his lap, a body that had begun to grow frail beneath his robes of silk.

"I was, Young Troile. I was there. I was there when King Iolrath took his leave of Empress Lucretia to revolt against her wishes, and the Empire's wishes. I marched with him as he marshaled his forces to go on a warpath that would stain the reputation of Elvenkind for ages to get an answer to your question." Quiet, a voice that was barely raised in timbre but somehow carried the weight of an elf that had visited horrors upon the realms of man, elf, dwarf, and orc alike. He didn't need to speak louder than he was now, they were listening to him with rapt attention. "We were used to the savagery of Orcs, the stalwart tactics of the dwarves, and the cunning of our own kind. We thought the resolve of men was never going to even be a factor. Still, to answer Young Master Sarven's question?"

The sigh that pushed from those ancient lungs almost made him shudder from the memory.

"What terrible force of will a people have, when they only celebrate their lives after their deaths." The words were pushed out with a weary voice before he continued on. "After all, a human never dies until people stop speaking their name."

"Who said that, Professor?" Troile questioned, his head tilted to the side, like a curious canine would.

"A man who's far wiser than I am, he'd risen and perished in a blink of our own life span, and he was far wiser than myself." Bitter, the old elf explained before he finally carried on with that lesson, his students listening with rapt attention as he carried out the lesson of the differences and similarities of human and elven culture.