"I'm seventeen. Sixteen. Technically, anyway. They put a damper on age here, so my peach fuzz is never going to bloom." He gives his chin a thoughtful scratch, then he considers what Thorongil is telling him. "You don't look that much older than thirty, though. For someone who weathers the wilderness, anyway. So you've been doing it since you were what, five? Did you get abandoned by humans and adopted by wolves or something?"