Chapter 255: The Beautiful Elven City
A few hungry wolves were nothing—George wouldn't even bat an eye at them, even if they were bigger than a tiger or even an elephant.
"Come!"
With a beckon of his hand, the iron spear pulled itself out of the giant tree and, under his control, circled around, piercing through the remaining wolves that were leaping toward him.
Although the First Age was indeed dangerous, unless he encountered beings on the level of Morgoth, Sauron, or a Balrog, he truly didn't take most threats seriously.
After finishing off the wolves, he fell into contemplation once more.
What path should he take next?
First, set a goal. The objective of all his incarnations across different worlds was the same: to become stronger. This world was no exception.
To obtain the most powerful force in this world, the best way was naturally to go to Valinor, the realm of the Valar, and inherit their legacy.
However, as a mere mortal with no achievements at this point in time, that was clearly out of the question. If he were caught sneaking in, he might even be punished or imprisoned for decades—a total waste of time.
Unless he could defeat Morgoth, or help the Elves defeat Morgoth, and then go to Valinor bearing that merit—only then might he have a chance.
That was a bit too difficult for now, so he decided to put it aside.
Since he couldn't obtain the legacy of the Valar for the time being, learning the Elves' magic was also a good option.
However, the magic in this world wasn't particularly systematic. Much of it was related to enchantments, forging, and magical weapons—after all, most of the Noldor Elves had learned from the god of craftsmanship, Aulë.
Other types of magic were relatively scarce.
In combat, most fighting was either melee or ranged. At least in the movies, he'd only seen Aragorn's lover use water magic, and during large-scale battles, there were no wizards casting combat spells.
In fact, even Gandalf the Grey mostly used light spells and fought in melee with his staff and sword. It seemed that people in this world rarely used magic in battle.
Still, he believed there had to be something in Elven magic worth learning.
If not, then he would have no choice but to consider helping the Elves defeat Morgoth and go to Valinor as soon as possible.
"Let's return to the tribe first."
He was currently in a human tribe located in Hithlum, within the territory of the second and third princes of the Noldor Elves—Galadriel's second and third brothers, Angrod and Aegnor.
The human tribe was led by the House of Bëor. The Bëor family got along extremely well with the Elves and had established a very friendly relationship.
So long as he returned to the tribe, he'd have plenty of opportunities to come into contact with Elves and their magic.
Of course, that required him not to be just an ordinary human—he needed to gain some fame and become a notable figure within the human tribe. For him, that was far too easy.
Actually, he had no particular memory of the House of Bëor, but there was one person from that family he did know.
The current chieftain of the House of Bëor was named Bregorlas, and his younger brother was called Barahir.
In The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, the ring Aragorn wore—the one that symbolized kingship—was called the Ring of Barahir.
It was said that Barahir had once saved Galadriel's eldest brother, Finrod, who in gratitude gifted Barahir the ring as a symbol of the friendship between the Elves and the House of Bëor.
So, it could be said that the House of Bëor was the ancestral tribe of Aragorn.
"Even without magic, just meditating in this world would boost my efficiency by several times,"
George thought to himself as he returned to the tribe. As he gazed at the lush forest, inhaled the incredibly fresh air, and felt the abundant energy in the atmosphere, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Because he moved so quickly, it didn't take him long to catch up to the hunting companions this human body had previously been with.
"Al! Apa!"
George, pretending to be excited, waved and shouted at the two dejected young men ahead of him.
The two youths turned their heads in disbelief when they heard George's voice. When they saw that it really was him, they immediately dropped their spears and bows, rushed over with cheers, and embraced him.
"Thank goodness, Elvin, you're alive! We thought you were eaten by the wolves!"
"I got knocked out when a wolf pounced on me and hit my head against a rock. When I woke up, the wolves and you guys were all gone."
George explained away his neck being bitten by wolves by saying he had simply been knocked unconscious.
Simple-minded Al and Apa didn't doubt him at all. They simply hugged him and thanked the gods for his miraculous survival.
The three of them then returned to the human tribe together.
As they passed through the forest, a magnificent city surrounded by greenery appeared before George's eyes. It was the city of the Light Elves—Gondolin of Hithlum—home to over ten thousand Noldor Elves.
Elves possessed endless lifespans. Unless they were killed or suffered some special misfortune, they would not die.
So even though their birth rate was low, in theory, their numbers would steadily increase so long as there was no war.
Even in death, their souls would not vanish but would instead go to the Halls of Mandos in Aman—the Eternal Halls.
There, as souls, they could meet their deceased loved ones and friends and then be reincarnated as new Elves.
Not far from this city was a smaller town built in a visibly different architectural style. It was the human settlement of the House of Bëor. Calling it a city was a stretch—it was more of an oversized village.
Around three thousand humans lived there.
They owed much of their development to the help of the Elves. Given humanity's mere few hundred years of history, they could never have developed their own civilization so quickly on their own.
Humans were the second race created by Eru Ilúvatar. Compared to Elves' endless lifespans, humans lived very short lives—barely a century without divine intervention.
But unlike Elves, humans weren't bound to the world.
When they died, their souls didn't go to the Eternal Halls but left this world for a place even the gods didn't know.
As a result, humans weren't bound by fate and had many possibilities open to them.
"I really hope I can visit the Elven city one day and see those beautiful Elves!"
Al said longingly as he gazed toward the beautiful Elven city. Apa teased him in return:
"What, are you dreaming of marrying a beautiful Elf? Don't be ridiculous—even our chieftain wouldn't dare speak such nonsense."
The Elves in the city were very kind to humans and had helped them a lot, but most Elves still considered themselves nobler than humans—they had once lived among the gods as High Elves.
Some Elves didn't think this way, but due to the difference in lifespans, they still preferred not to form relationships with humans.
"Let's go. It's almost dark!"
George waved to the two as he looked at the beautiful Elven city in the distance.
(End of Chapter)