Celegorm opens a door and finds himself looking, not into a guest room, but into a bar.
It is not plausible that someone turned this room into a bar, both because it's not a very Noldorin bar and because the room is too big; he built this fortress, he would know.
And, Huan says, it's very powerful magic and it smells of somewhere very far away.
Noted.
He walks in. Worrying about the Doom would be overthinking it. He hopes.
She shows him images of some of them. They age slower than humans but closer to humans than elves, and they have ear shapes that are somewhere in between the two, and they generally have elven slit pupils but in their mothers' eye colors.
Seven might be a bit much. But I can't imagine being an only child not being desperately lonely.
I want to say, like, four or five, but I'm not the one stuck having them, so I suppose it's your call, dear.
"Usually Elves stop having kids in time to start doting over their grandkids, and then great-grandkids."
"I guess that makes sense," she allows. "What if none of them want to have kids though?"
"Then maybe the frustrated would-be grandparents have some more children of their own. My family's unusual in almost all being unmarried; most Elves marry."
"I don't know too many kinds of people, and it seems like there's less incentive for humans, but I'll take your word for it."
I must have been distracted from the usual inability to engage in one particular act by what you can do with your tongue.
Also, humans don't automatically get married from doing that, but if they're not at least a hedgewitch they can get pregnant, and a lot of cultures have hella stigma on bearing children out of wedlock.
I guess I should feel lucky Estolad didn't. Though then maybe the women would have tracked down the fathers, who'd have happily married them...