That sure is a horrified expression she's making!

"Oh, oh no, all of you, eventually dead and unable to be brought back, that's awful, I'm sorry."

And then she begins singing. It's beautiful.

Gosh. He – did not expect that.

(… Barrier. He forgot the barrier.)

She's not going to read his mind. She's busy singing beautifully. This song sure is pretty! And sad.

... And kind of long, is she going to be singing for a while?

He would not like to interrupt, if he can avoid it.

… He does seem like he might like to, after a few minutes of it.

Nnnope that Elf is still singing gorgeous mournful music. She might need to be interrupted.

"– Ah, sorry to interrupt – I just – uh, this might be another cultural difference."

That sure is one embarrassed human.

She trails off mid-note, blinking confusedly.

"... I'm sorry, is singing for your dead disrespectful? I am maybe really bad at this..."

"No, no, it's just – normally songs do not last that long."

"Oh. ... Because you only have so much time, oh no I'm sorry am I wasting your life, I can probably get you to a Vala and they can probably extend it!"

"Oh, I – that – not –" He looks like he's having trouble responding to that. "— I wouldn't want to term it wasting my life? But, uh, yes the limited time could be part of it, and I don't know much about your – uh, gods – but maybe –?"

"I mean if anyone could fix it, it would be the Valar, um -" she has a moment of indecision, "- how fast are you dying, should I not try to get a good idea of your whole world and how to fix it before involving the Valar so you can stop imminently dying, they, um. Are good gods but would be worse at cultural differences than I am, and I'm a little concerned they might do something wrong without knowing it was wrong."

"There are – a lot of people, like seven billion, and we live like seventy-five years? I'm eighteen and, like, a month, and people often have kids at about thirty, does that give an idea? – Also time is paused there while we're in Milliways, so the rush isn't immediate for other people."

She is a little stuck on 'seventy-five years.'

"You die as children?" she says in a hushed whisper.

"… People are typically considered legally adults at eighteen, and a few more years after that to be fully grown?"

"Cultural differences," she reminds herself, sounding like she is having a little trouble not bursting into song again. "... Okay, so that's completely horrifying and I am horrified, but I apologize for, for - infantalizing your species, I don't know how you work. If you are an adult at, at eighteen," she shivers a bit, "then I will believe you. So you're... newly an adult. With maybe fifty years left to live."

"It could be up to something like eighty years left. Depends on how healthy I am, how much technology improves, how lucky I am. But yes."

Nod.

"What are the major problems you have to deal with in regards to old age, you mentioned broken bones and disease but I got the implication that's not all? I maybe have a number of songs to mitigate this, or could scrape together the shoddiest song of all time for it, if it saves your life it doesn't have to be pretty."

"I'm not a biologist, I don't know all the details, but cells have problems dividing properly, there are issues with the replication of the DNA and this causes other problems down the line – weaker tissues and bones, a harder time absorbing nutrients I think, things like cancers, a weaker immune system and so on?"

He asks Bar to borrow a book on it, expecting that'll have more accurate – and useful – information.

Book! Calassúrë reads it, frowning.

"This is very complicated," says Calassúrë, seriously. "I don't think I'll be able to figure out something that'll work perfectly in time, we'd be working with half solutions cobbled together as competently as I could manage. This is your life that we're risking here with what we do, would you rather I try to figure out as much as I can while here and try to hand a solution to the Valar so they don't, uh. Mess it up. Or would you rather go to the Valar right now and risk them maybe. Not handling things with the grace they maybe should, but probably competently extend your life."

"Would it be reversible, do you know? I'm not sure how exactly they'd be liable to mess it up, and – it's not urgent on the scale of days."

"Not knowing specifically how they'd solve it, no I don't. At a guess, the important thing is keeping you alive, and everything else is reversible or changeable given the time to do that in. It's - still urgent, I should still get the right people involved sooner rather than later, um. How do I involve other people from my world, I came in through the forest and I'd rather not wander back out and maybe lose you entirely."

"… I don't suppose you can call people, long-distance, with – osanwë? You need to be holding the door for it to stay attached to your world, or someone from your world."

"Oh, I can just open the door and it work fine? Then yes, I can do that -"

She stands and goes to the door -

- and the door disappears.

"... Um."

"… Really."

She takes a measured step back, and the door reappears.

"... Okay. I would like to politely request access to my home, please."

Door: still there.

She takes another step forward to grab the handle -

Aaaaand now it's gone.

"Is this normal."