A guest post by Alfred Ilyanovich Rasputin Kubecesci Gob-Lin, or “A. Goblin”, for short.
With apologies, of course, to Mr. Tolkien.
Elves of all genders are beyond lovely, perhaps beyond beautiful, somewhere in the realm of stunning. It’s said they’ve always been this way—a handsome elf would lie about, admiring the sunlight, until strangers came along and were stunned by its beauty. The Elf would further stun them wilh a shillelagh, drag them by the hair, and consume them raw (presumably, but not definitely, dead at the time.)
This social pattern has never really changed; it’s just gotten more refined.
We are no more free of the interesting quirks of the flesh than you are; we, too, find Elves lovely and charming beyond belief. We teach our children that Elves are wondrous, beautiful, and much more likely to consume you than bears, tigers, or Oliphants.
The problem appears to be that Elves live a long time and have ALWAYS been beautiful, very long-lived, perfect, and wise. Long, long ago, after the cave times but before agriculture was widespread, the Elves had accumulated an enormous amount of knowledge and a Code of Honor which advised wisdom, compassion to lesser races, magical training, and sometimes, a delicious treat of a candied ear or two.
They figured that if they taught their children the knowledge, the magic, and the moral codes, they would grow up to be their forebears.
They were wise; they just didn’t understand children very well, especially if their FDA label says they’re “Good with kids”. This is a mistranslation of their own speech: “Always drink white wine; it’s good with kids.” They may not have translated that thing properly.
The children of the Wise Ones, of course, eventually rebelled.
Ancient Elves were taught to love beauty. And power. Their children and grandchildren began to equate the two, and them join them together.
Elves have always been, and continue to be, modest. They may describe themselves as brilliant, gorgeous, flawless, the pinnacles of creation. But as far as they know, that’s completely the truth. So when they start there, they’re not bragging; just telling the truth as they see it.
This is part of why they’re so popular with Bards, especially those who bring only the messages that please their audience, like the Shining Ones.
Elves tend to believe anything they want to hear; they know they’re very smart, so they’re sure they can spot untruths.
And Elves eat each other (and if need be, other species) because they believe it’s good for their diets to put only the finest things into their stomachs, and the finest things in this world, by far, are Elves.i
Elves have thousands of years of wisdom. If you say the wrong word and they eat you and your family, burn down your home, and raze your village, it’s probably because that’s the best possible thing for everyone.
Or maybe they got a tip saying you were edib— evil, that is.
They’re Good, so they fought on the side of Good. Plus, Sauron proved indigestible.
There is truth in beauty, and they’re so gorgeous, their thoughts must be true. No need to bother the lesser and species about things which EACH elf knows in his heart:
- Someday I will be king.
- Tomorrow I will eat one.
- Large groups of Elves bring so much intelligence and knowledge to bear that it’s like a supercomputer.
- Elves are wonderful until they stop getting a ready supply of comestibles from passers-by.
Elves know they’re the pinnacle of creation. And since they know that, they tell it to each other. Other races and species may have other things to say, and Elves will listen with half an ear. But they know that they’re listening to flawed knowledge from flawed beings.
They’re the best. They deserve the best. So when possible, they compete, mostly socially, to put the best things into their stomach: each other.
This explains Elvin society in a nutshell.
Not that Elves eat nuts, although they do sometimes use them to attract the occasional Hobbit out foraging for mushrooms. Hobbits can’t resist macadamia nuts, and even Elves have to admit that the prodigious weight of most Hobbits will make stew meat for weeks, which is a great savings.
Elves know what they’re doing is right. They tell each other so, and if wise, ancient Elves don’t know exactly the best way for the World to work, no-one else possibly could. This is why they’re the most ethical species and are long-sought for their magic and understanding of ancient Lore.
Every three years, they eat the old King in a huge celebration, and elect a new one. Each new one is convinced he will do so well that no-one will want to eat him; each year, the better he is, the more certain his constituents are that he’ll be extra-delicious.
Behold, my friend, the wisdom of the oldest and most beautiful species in our World. Gaze upon them with wonder and awe.
Preferably from a very safe distance.
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