Life expectancy in Middle-Earth: elves and mortality tables

If Uruk hai drove buses the

war of the ring would have been short. 

A scary thought: I have an a priori chance of one in a thousand of dropping dead within next time this year (qx) in New Zealand, which is far more likely than winning the kiwi lotto (on a lotto day, 1:4M). Life is unfair, eh?

Luckily, I am not doing anything dangerous nor have any underlying conditions hence the a priori —although, I have not bought a lotto ticket either.

If I were in my nineties the chances change to a one in three or four per year, so the above figure is really low really. The reason is obvious, namely deterioration due to old age.

80% of the probability for young folk to die is due to external causes, which means accidents, homicide, suicide or war. For the elder folk it is due to diseases such as cancer. Boys do much more stupid stuff than girls, therefore for a woman of my age, the chances drop to one in three thousand.

The life expectancy is around 67 years in developed countries, but what would it be if one did not age?

Agerasia is the mythical state where one does not grow old. It is different from immortality as it does not include invulnerability: the probability of external causes still applies. As this probability does not change with age, age of death would follow a geometric distribution (and not a Gompertz–Makeham curve —thanks, Wikipedia!—) and the mean will consequently be 1/p. This means that on average a kiwi male would live 1,300 years, whereas a female 5,500 years.

In fantasy and science fiction, long-lived or agerasic humans and humanoids often appear, but those figures do not match the above…

In The Lord of the Rings, the dwarves had a life expectancy of 250 years or so the web informs me because they age slower than men. The elves do not grow old and lived about 1,000 years —Galadriel (Kate Blanchett) was probably one of the oldest and was a bit over 5,000 years. Middle Earth would just slightly more dangerous than New Zealand, but not by much. (In (ir)reality, elves are hardier than men, so the comparison is slightly unfair.) Possibly unsurprisingly, the US, on the other hand, is slightly more dangerous than Middle Earth.

In Iain M. Banks's Culture novels the folk of the Culture are said to live on average 400 years. The figure is so low because they get utterly bored after a while and kick the bucket, however one chap lived for 10,000 years, but he was rather bonkers.

In the bible, the patriarchs before the great flood lives for a long time. Their age of death are given which is really handy, but there are only ten of them and one, Enoch, did not technically die. Despite the small sample size, they lived on average 912 years, but the numbers are curious as they all died between 900 and 1,000 which is statistically impossible both under a geometric and a Gompertz distribution. The explanation that they get a "millenium crisis" at 900 does not fit as it is written they die of super-old age (which hits all of a sudden). Given that only Abel dies of external causes (1 in 10), it could be deduced that antediluvian Israel was much safer than New Zealand, Middle Earth or the US, but whatever rabbi wrote down the numbers wasn't well versed with statistics, so the bias is too strong for any conclusions.

Sources: Wikipedia, NZ life tables, some bible website, Iain Bank's Hydrogen Sonata and several unutterably nerdy LotR sites…

A map of Britain through a kaleidoscope

Captain Cook and chums may have gone where no white man had gone before, but, despite the romantic nobility of setting forth into the unknown, creativity in naming was not a job prerequisite.
This sentiment is perfectly told in a Mitchell and Webb sketch where a captain calls an bewilderingly new land in Australia after dreary southern Wales.
It does have curious upsides: I proudly told people from Portsmouth, New Hampshire in New England, that I came from Portsmouth, Hampshire in England, which amused me —it bemused them who had never realised the existence of a place without "New" slapped in front of it.
I am perpetually fascinated by the shuffled order that bares little resemblance to the original one. In New Zealand Windsor (in the South Island) is nowhere close to the river Thames (in the North Island), whereas Birkenhead (Liverpudlian suburb) is next to Devonport (Plymouthian suburb) in Auckland.
This raises the question whether on average towns and cities in an English-speaking new world country are geographically more spread out than their British namesakes.
After normalisation that is: the difference in size would bias this figure —after all the concept of "closeness" is seriously warped in new worlders.
On a gut instinct, I would used a simple arithmetic difference, so the final figure would be the number of British kilometers towns are more or less spread out on average, (as opposed to a ratio and geometric mean).
If new world towns were randomly distributed, the difference would not amount to much, but towns are not randomly distributed. The Aussie outback is truly empty and the Otago and Southland regions in New Zealand are one step short of being gàidhealtachd. My guess is that this figure would put British towns as more spread out than their newer namesakes if normalised.
Furthermore, many towns bear local names, such as the sublimely named Wooloomooloo, whereas other are missing: using least square regression the true namesakes of these missing towns could be found, although I have feeling the correspondence would be unidirectional.
However, getting the data for this inane quandary would be more hassle than it is worth, but it would be cool. One day…