<b>As they started towards Thorgan's sleeping quarters, Allassiel considered his question. <i>Humans have such a finite life, </i> she thought. <i>How do I explain this? </i>“Elves,” she started, seeking the words in his tongue, “live many of your lifetimes. We do not fall to disease or age, such as men, though we can die. Physical harm can kill us. Some, who have lived long, grow weary with life and can choose to go to the Halls of Mandos. After a time, we can be returned to a new body, like our old one.” She paused to see if he understood so far, before continuing. </b><br/><br/>“<b>One other can kill us – loss of our heart. Because of our long life, we take … mate seriously. We do not have physical knowledge before we marry, and the one we marry is for always. Only one hir that I know has ever married again after his wife died.”</b><br/><br/><b>She rubbed at her arm, her gaze distant, before shaking her head. “If Pegawen does what it is you say, then there will be no other for her ever. And if she choose poorly, that choice will kill her.”</b><br/><br/><br/><b>Pegawen wasn't concerned with her immortal life. As she felt the pressure of him inside her, all she could think of was Lotharn and what his touch was doing to her. When he spoke, she gazed up at him and blinked, before a corner of her mouth quirked up into a grin. “I assure you hir,” she replied, between breathes, “that even should you provide more pain than I have seen in 600 years, I would still not wish you stop.”</b>