Less time. He was chipping away, and making fair progress. It was enough. And Maglor even teased! France played up the pout, though knew without doubt the laughter in his eyes was not dimmed in the slightest.

"A nation lives a long time," generally. He knew it wasn't impossible to destroy a nation. Or cause one to die, to be replaced by a newer, younger one. And France was already rather old. Not the oldest of those currently in existence, but still old.

...And the short comment earned a huff, and France pulled back, reaching up to tug on a lock of still damp hair. "Imp!" The first word he'd really spoken in French since they'd retreated to Quenya. But it suited the situation.