Date. Not a word Elrond is familiar with, but thankfully context is quite clear. Elf eyes are quite keen after all, and neither of them strike him as particularly subtle. He straightens to give a curt bow to Jesper, his soft cloak rustling with his movements.

"Well met, Jesper. As Wilhelm said, I am Elrond. I hail from Lindon."

The half-truth slips so easily these days.