Chapter 338: The Proud Galadriel

Chapter 338: The Proud Galadriel

While the Crown Prince sent messengers to his sister in the Kingdom of the Grey Elves, George also began his daily routine in this world.

His routine mainly consisted of two things.

First, exchanging knowledge with the elven teachers responsible for teaching magic and forging at the academy, integrating it into his own alchemical system.

Second, instructing elves and humans studying at the academy in magic.

He did not teach much magic, but what he did share was carefully selected: meditation techniques from the world of magician apprentices that could condense mana, elevate magic levels, and even grant longevity akin to the elves.

Light magic, which inflicted extra damage on Morgoth's army.

And giant magic, which could enhance the close-combat capabilities of both humans and elves.

These three types were the result of his meticulous selection.

First, meditation techniques were essential. Elves were born with innate magical power, but humans were not. For humans to wield magic, they had to rely on meditation techniques to condense mana.

And even then, not all humans had the aptitude for learning magic.

Compared to elves—beautiful, immortal, born with magic, skilled in archery, and incredibly powerful—humans sometimes truly seemed like bonuses given for topping up credit.

However, humans had their own advantages. They could reproduce. While elves could go thousands of years and only produce a handful of offspring, humans had gone through dozens of dynasties in that time.

Just the few human tribes that had regrouped during the westward migration had already multiplied over a hundredfold.

Another advantage was the speed at which humans learned. Due to their short lifespans, those humans truly gifted in magic often mastered what he taught faster than elves.

It wasn't that elves weren't intelligent—they were—but their learning curve was simply far too long.

The same spell, when learned by a human, would be something they obsessed over day and night, practicing it repeatedly with almost all their energy focused on it.

But for elves, time held no real meaning. When learning a new spell, they had no concept of urgency.

Even after learning it, they might not practice until days later. Singing and dancing filled their days, and even pushing them wouldn't help—they were simply born that way.

On the human side, a few individuals stood out—like Barahir's son, Beren. At just ten years old, he had already mastered meditation and his first light spell within a few short months.

It could only be said: no wonder he was celebrated for generations in Middle-earth as a legendary human hero. His talent was indeed exceptional.

Speaking of which, in the original story, Beren and Lúthien were a couple.

After the Battle of Sudden Flame, the central defensive line completely collapsed. Only Barahir and a few other humans refused to abandon their homeland and fought on as guerrillas, but they were eventually hunted down and killed by Morgoth's army.

Beren, Barahir's son, was the sole human survivor. For revenge, he assassinated many orcs in the central region, becoming famous, and Morgoth put a heavy bounty on his head.

Forced to flee Dorthonion, he accidentally wandered into the Kingdom of the Grey Elves and met Lúthien, falling in love at first sight.

Having never seen a human before, Lúthien was quite curious about Beren. After learning of his experiences, she gradually grew fond of him, and the two eventually became a couple, giving birth to the legendary "Song of Lúthien".

But as things stood now, Beren was only ten years old, and Lúthien was around 3400 years old. If Lúthien chose to become a teacher here, then she and Beren would have a teacher-student relationship, making it unlikely they would ever become a couple.

His presence had already altered the destinies of many, causing subtle changes in the grand symphony of Middle-earth. He believed Ilúvatar must have noticed by now.

Since Ilúvatar hadn't come to confront him, it meant he didn't mind these changes in the grand symphony.

Which, for him, was naturally a good thing.

Three days later, the Crown Prince Finrod came to George again.

"You can set off now. Galadriel will be waiting for you in the forest of Region, near the River Esgalduin. She will lead you into the Kingdom of the Grey Elves."

"Don't worry, Your Highness. I'll do my best to persuade Thingol to send troops!"

George spread his wings and left the Elven City, flying southward to Doriath.

Doriath lay directly south of Dorthonion, with the "Terrifying Mountains" of Ered Gorgoroth and the "Valley of Death" of Nan Dungortheb lying in between.

In order to control Middle-earth, Morgoth had infused most of his dark power into the land, resulting in the emergence of numerous terrifying and bloodthirsty monsters throughout the continent.

The Valley of Death was where Morgoth's power had clashed with Melian's divine might. It was home to many such monsters born of his darkness.

Even elves would avoid the valley whenever possible.

But George had no desire to waste time. He flew in a straight line across 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 not your average magic."

George touched the rainbow-like barrier encircling the forest, sensing the profound spatial laws embedded within it, and couldn't help but silently marvel.

As expected of a Maia who could come to Middle-earth alone even before the elves existed, during Morgoth's reign—her power was truly unmatched by ordinary Maia.

He felt that unless brute force was used to forcibly break the rainbow barrier, even his own teleportation spells would be unable to penetrate it.

"I thought you wouldn't arrive until evening—didn't expect you to come so soon!"

As George was examining the rainbow barrier, an opening suddenly appeared. A female elf dressed in a white gown, with long, deep golden hair, emerged from the barrier with a slightly arrogant tone.

"You're... Princess Galadriel?"

Looking at the elven woman before him, George roughly guessed her identity.

He had seen many female elves in the Elven City—none of them were anything less than beautiful—but the Galadriel before him had inherited the bloodline of the Light Elves, appearing even more beautiful than the rest.

In truth, beauty was hard to define, as each person's aesthetics differed.

But Galadriel's beauty would be recognized by any species—not just for her appearance, but also for the noble aura brought about by the light power within her.

"That's me. You must be George. You don't look like much."

Galadriel sized George up and said:

"I heard you saved a few of my brothers. Hmph, if it weren't for them stopping me, they wouldn't have suffered so badly at the hands of Morgoth's minions with me around.

Still, thank you.

But I'd advise you not to get your hopes up too much—Thingol will never agree to send troops."

"People can always try. All that matters is doing your best."

George smiled.

This Galadriel was not yet the mature and composed Elf Queen yearning for forgiveness and a return to Valinor, but rather a proud and willful elven princess who loved to roam the world.

(End of Chapter)