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George, seeing the situation, did not lose his composure. Instead, he respectfully bowed to Thingol and then said with a smile:
"I come on behalf of the Crown Prince and humanity. In truth, there are mainly two matters I wish to discuss with Your Majesty.
First, I have founded an academy in the elven city of Dorthonion. The goal is to enable humans, elves, and dwarves to exchange knowledge and grow stronger together.
Second, I hope the Kingdom of Menegroth can send troops to assist in fighting against the Flame Demon King and his army, and help rebuild the Angband defense line."
"You human, the two matters you've just mentioned were already discussed with me by Angrod and Aegnor. I also gave them my clear response.
If you're here to bring them up again, there is no need.
Considering you're a messenger sent by Finrod, I will allow you to stay here for a while and leave with some jewels as a gift."
Upon hearing George's words, Thingol tilted his head back and laughed. He found George's statements laughable.
"A mere human dares to speak so arrogantly? You should be thanking His Majesty for his generosity and leave at once. To even stand in this palace is already a great honor for you!"
One of the noble heirs stepped forward, pointing at George with a look of contempt and scolding him.
"Elison, who said you could speak here? Shut your mouth, or I swear when we step outside, I'll knock out your other front tooth too!"
As soon as Galadriel heard someone trying to pick on George, she arrogantly raised her fair and delicate fist in warning.
She wasn't sure if George was as powerful as her older brothers claimed, but at the very least, he was sent by her eldest brother and had been received by her personally. He was one of her people. How could she allow other elves to bully him?
The noble heir named Elison was so frightened by her words that he immediately hid behind his father.
"Galadriel, I only hold back because you're a woman. Don't think I really can't beat you."
When Galadriel first came to the kingdom, he had courted her. But Galadriel's standards for a partner required them to be stronger than her, so he, like other elves, had sparred with her.
The result? He lost a front tooth and dislocated both arms.
"And besides, am I wrong? He's just a human. How could he even dare to claim he wants to exchange knowledge with us elves? Does he even deserve that?"
"You're Elison, right? Have you ever heard of a creature called a Snaga from the depths of the pits?"
George turned his head and looked at Elison, his tone turning firm.
He represented the lines of Fingolfin and Finrod, coming to the Grey Elves to seek mutual cooperation—not to beg for their help. There was no need to act subservient.
Doing so would only make Thingol and the elven nobles look down on him.
One must be strong themselves to forge iron. As long as he was strong enough, he didn't need to fear provocation. A forceful response would be far more effective.
In war, allies don't cooperate with you out of pity for your humble pleas. They cooperate based on the mutual benefits you can bring them.
"What's a Snaga from the pits?"
Elison looked confused.
George smiled and explained:
"Snagas are a kind of lesser orc. Because of their small size and weak strength, they are mainly assigned to the lowest levels of Angband, handling menial tasks and labor.
One day, while delivering food to the prison, one of them encountered a captured Noldor elf. The Snaga bragged about how nice its living conditions were—that it could eat until it was about seventy percent full each day, and didn't get whipped.
But the elf only looked at him with disdain and told him about the vastness of Middle-earth beyond the pits, and the luxurious lives the elves once lived in Valinor.
Only after hearing the elf's description did the Snaga realize just how narrow its worldview truly was."
"Pfft, what an amusing metaphor. You really are an interesting human."
By the throne, the sharp-witted Lúthien instantly grasped the message George intended to convey and couldn't help but laugh aloud.
After standing there dazed for a while, Elison finally realized that George had just mocked him.
"You human, I challenge you to a duel!"
Having lost face in front of Princess Lúthien, Elison's face turned bright red with anger. Without hesitation, he drew his elven longsword and threw it to the ground in front of George.
Seated on the throne, Thingol spoke to George with a cold expression:
"Human, do you accept Elison's challenge?
If you refuse, I will consider everything you've said up to now nothing but the arrogant bluster of a coward.
We of the Grey Elves do not welcome such weak and timid creatures. You may leave immediately."
Though George's story had directly mocked Elison, it had also indirectly ridiculed the entire kingdom of the Grey Elves—and even this king himself.
Naturally, Thingol didn't harbor much goodwill toward George.
He was now eager to see George humiliated by Elison on the spot, so that he could have this arrogant human thrown out of the forest.
"I accept. Don't assume that humans are weak—human strength is far beyond your imagination."
With that, George kicked the elven sword lying on the ground. It let out a sharp "shing" as it spun through the air and landed perfectly back into Elison's scabbard, causing the crowd's brows to furrow.
This human… might actually be something.
In truth, George didn't have the kind of refined technique needed to kick a sword so precisely into its sheath. His physical strength was indeed formidable, but he was no martial artist capable of such meticulous control over his force.
Even in rare hand-to-hand combat, George's style was far from technical. He relied on brute force and overwhelming power—winning not with finesse, but with sheer might.
The reason the sword had returned so dramatically to its sheath was simple: George had used his ability to manipulate metal.
Forget guiding a sword back to its scabbard—from a distance of a thousand miles, he could easily control a blade to take a head if he wished.
Inside the great hall, George and Elison stood face to face.
Two elven guards clad in golden armor carried in a massive weapon rack, which displayed a variety of finely-crafted elven arms—elven swords, spears, bows, hand axes, and more.
"Human, I won't use my Sunblade for this duel. Instead, we'll each choose weapons of equal quality from this rack and fight a fair match!"
Elison placed his exquisite elven longsword—far superior in quality to anything on the rack—to the side, then selected a standard elven sword and a longbow.
Although the Grey Elves had never been bathed in the light of the Two Trees and were individually weaker than the Noldor, their years spent living deep in the forests made them superior in archery.
Moreover, Doriath had long been protected by Melian's divine power, and the Grey Elves born here possessed stronger bodies than the Green Elves in the far east, who had never migrated.
Naturally, they were also far stronger than humans.
"I'm a mage. I don't need weapons—choose whatever you like."
George gave a calm smile.
Though Elison's words had been unpleasant, he wasn't a bad person. George even planned to show him a bit of mercy during the fight.
(End of Chapter)