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While the Crown Prince sent messengers to deliver a letter to his sister in the Kingdom of the Grey Elves, George began settling into his daily routine in this world.
His routine mainly consisted of two things.
First, he interacted with the elven instructors at the academy who specialized in teaching magic and forging, integrating their knowledge into his own alchemy system.
Second, he taught both elves and humans magic at the academy.
The magic he taught wasn't extensive but highly selective: a meditation technique from the world of the Mage Apprentices that allowed one to condense mana, raise their magical level, and even achieve the elven-like longevity; Light Magic that dealt extra damage to Morgoth's army; and Giant Magic that could enhance the melee abilities of both humans and elves.
These three were carefully chosen.
First, the meditation technique was essential. Elves were naturally born with magic within their bodies, but humans were not. If a human wanted to wield magic, they had to rely on meditation to condense mana.
Moreover, not all humans were even qualified to learn magic, as he discovered after testing.
Compared to elves—who are beautiful, immortal, naturally magical, masterful archers, and powerful in strength—humans sometimes really did feel like a free bonus that came with a phone recharge.
Still, humans had their own advantages. They could reproduce. Elves might produce only a few descendants over thousands of years, while humans had gone through dozens of dynasties in the same span of time.
Just look at the human groups who migrated west—now that they've regrouped, their numbers have already increased a hundredfold.
Another point was that humans learned very quickly. Due to their short lifespans, those humans who were genuinely gifted in magic could actually grasp what he taught faster than the elves could.
That's not to say elves weren't smart—they absolutely were. But their learning curve was incredibly long.
Take the same magic: when humans learned it, they would think about it day and night, practicing repeatedly with almost all their energy focused on it.
Elves, on the other hand, had no real sense of urgency. Time held little meaning for them, so when learning a new spell, they lacked the concept of mastering it quickly.
Even if they did learn it, they might not practice again until days later. They spent most of their time singing or dancing, and no amount of supervision could change that—it was simply in their nature.
Among the humans, a few particularly talented individuals stood out. For example, Barahir's son, Beren—just ten years old—had already learned the meditation technique and his first Light spell within a few short months.
All that can be said is: no wonder he became one of the most celebrated human heroes of Middle-earth. His talent truly lived up to the legends.
Speaking of which, in the original story, Beren and Lúthien were a couple.
After the Battle of Sudden Flame, the central front collapsed entirely. Only Barahir and a dozen or so humans refused to abandon their homeland and continued guerrilla warfare. Eventually, they were hunted down and killed by Morgoth's forces.
Beren, Barahir's son, was the sole human survivor. Seeking revenge, he assassinated many orcs in the central regions, becoming so notorious that Morgoth put a huge bounty on his head.
He was eventually forced to flee Dorthonion, and by chance, wandered into the Grey Elves' kingdom, where he met Lúthien. It was love at first sight.
Lúthien, who had never seen a human before, was very curious. As she learned more about Beren's life, she gradually developed feelings for him. The two ended up together, and from their story came the legendary Lay of Lúthien.
But for now, Beren was only ten years old, while Lúthien was already around 3,400 years old. If Lúthien were to become a teacher here, she and Beren would have a student-teacher relationship—so the chances of them becoming a couple in the future would likely be slim.
George's presence had already altered the paths of many individuals, subtly shifting the grand symphony of Middle-earth. Surely, Eru Ilúvatar must have noticed by now.
Since He hadn't come looking for him, it meant that Ilúvatar didn't mind the changes in the Great Music.
That, of course, was a good thing for George.
Three days later, Crown Prince Finrod came to see George again.
"You can set out now. Galadriel will be waiting for you near the Esgalduin River in the forest of Region. She'll lead you into the Kingdom of the Grey Elves."
"Rest assured, Your Highness. I'll do everything I can to persuade Thingol to go to war!"
George spread his wings and flew south, departing from the Elven city toward Doriath.
Doriath lay directly south of Dorthonion, separated by the "Terrifying Mountains" of Ered Gorgoroth and the "Valley of Death," Nan Dungortheb.
In his bid to control Middle-earth, Morgoth had infused most of his dark power into the very land itself, which led to the birth of numerous terrifying and bloodthirsty creatures across the continent.
The Valley of Death was the site where Morgoth's power had once clashed with that of Melian. It became a place teeming with horrific monsters born from Morgoth's dark essence.
Even the Elves would go out of their way to avoid that valley.
But George wasn't one to waste time. He flew straight over the Terrifying Mountains and the Valley of Death, arriving at the entrance to the Kingdom of the Grey Elves.
"So this is Melian's Girdle… definitely no ordinary magic."
George ran his fingers along the barrier surrounding the forest, a shimmering, rainbow-like veil. He could feel the deep and intricate spatial laws woven into it, silently marveling at its complexity.
No wonder—Melian had come to Middle-earth even before the Elves had awoken, during the time Morgoth still ruled the land. She truly was no ordinary Maia.
He sensed that unless he used brute force to tear the barrier apart, not even his Phantasmal Displacement technique could get him through.
"I thought you wouldn't arrive until nightfall. I didn't expect you to get here so soon."
Just as George was studying the rainbow barrier, an opening appeared in front of him. From it stepped a female Elf dressed in a white gown, her long hair a deep golden hue. She spoke with a touch of arrogance in her voice.
"You're... Princess Galadriel?"
Looking at the Elf before him, George quickly deduced her identity.
He had seen many female Elves in the Elven city—and frankly, there weren't any that weren't beautiful—but Galadriel, with her bloodline from the Elves of Light, was on a level of beauty that exceeded even the norm.
In truth, beauty is a subjective thing. Standards vary from person to person.
But Galadriel was the type whose beauty transcended species. Anyone—regardless of race—would be struck by her radiance. Her appearance wasn't the only source of her allure; her aura, amplified by the Light within her, gave her an irresistible presence.
"That's me. You must be George? You look… fairly average."
Galadriel gave George a quick up-and-down glance before speaking again.
"I heard you saved a few of my brothers. Hmph. If they hadn't stopped me from going with them, things wouldn't have gone so badly. Those minions of Morgoth wouldn't have stood a chance with me there.
Still, I suppose I should thank you.
But don't get your hopes up about this mission. I'm telling you now—Thingol won't agree to send troops."
"We'll see. All I can do is try."
George smiled.
This Galadriel wasn't yet the mature and wise queen yearning for forgiveness and a return to Valinor. Right now, she was still a proud, willful Elven princess who loved to roam the world.
(End of Chapter)