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A few hungry wolves were nothing to worry about—let alone tigers or even elephants. George wouldn't even give them a second thought.
"Come here!"
With a flick of his hand, the iron spear was wrenched from the massive tree, and under his control, it circled around, skewering the remaining wolves that had pounced.
Although the First Age was perilous, as long as he didn't encounter beings like Morgoth, Sauron, or the Balrogs, he didn't consider most others a threat.
After eliminating a few of the wolves, he fell into deep thought.
What path should he take next?
First, he needed a clear goal. All of his world avatars shared one common objective: to become stronger. This world was no exception.
The best way to gain the greatest power in this world was, of course, to travel to Valinor, where the gods resided, and receive their legacy.
However, at this time, as a mere mortal without any accomplishments, that wasn't feasible. Sneaking in would likely result in being caught, punished, and perhaps imprisoned for decades—wasting precious time.
Unless he defeated Morgoth or helped the Elves defeat him, bringing that achievement to Valinor, it might just give him a shot.
But that was a high difficulty, so he decided to put that aside for now.
Since the gods' legacy was currently out of reach, learning the magic of the Elves wasn't a bad alternative.
However, the magic in this world wasn't particularly well-systematized, and much of it was focused on enchanting and forging magical weapons. After all, most of the Noldor Elves studied under the God of Crafts, Aulë.
Other types of magic were quite rare.
Fighting in this world was mostly centered around close combat and ranged shooting. In the movies, the only time he saw an Elf use water magic was through Aragorn's girlfriend. During large-scale battles, he hadn't seen any mages casting spells in combat.
Even Gandalf the Grey, when fighting, used a light spell, wielded his staff, and engaged in close combat with a sword. Magic was rarely used in battles in this world.
But he believed there had to be something about Elven magic worth learning.
If not, he might have to consider helping the Elves defeat Morgoth and then head to Valinor.
"Let's go back to the tribe!"
He was currently in the human tribe located in **Hithlum**, which was under the domain of the second and third princes of the Noldor Elves—Galadriel's two older brothers, Angrod and Aegnor.
This human tribe was led by the Beor family, who had a very friendly relationship with the Elves, establishing a bond of great mutual respect.
So, returning to the tribe would give him ample opportunity to come into contact with Elves and their magic.
Of course, this was only possible if he wasn't just an ordinary human. He needed some fame to be recognized as a notable figure in the tribe, but that was easy for him to achieve.
Speaking of the Beor family, he didn't have a strong memory of them, but he did know one member.
The current leader of the Beor family was **Bregolad**, and his brother was **Balarahil**.
In *The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King*, the ring Aragorn wore, which symbolized the kingship, was called the **Ring of Balarahil**.
It was said that Balarahil had once saved Finrod, Galadriel's older brother, from danger. As a token of gratitude, Finrod gave him the ring, symbolizing the friendship between the Elves and the Beor family.
So, in a way, the Beor family could be considered one of Aragorn's ancestral tribes.
"Even without magic, meditating in this world would likely increase efficiency several times over," George thought as he traveled back to the tribe, gazing at the dense forest, breathing in the unusually fresh air, and feeling the rich energy in the atmosphere. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe.
Because of his incredible speed, it didn't take long for George to catch up to the human hunter's former companions.
"Al! Apa!"
George waved enthusiastically at the two dejected young men ahead, calling out in a cheerful voice.
Hearing him, the two turned around in disbelief. The moment they confirmed it was really George, they immediately tossed aside their iron spears and bows, rushing toward him with excited cheers before pulling him into a tight embrace.
"This is amazing, Elwin! You're alive! We thought the wolves had eaten you!"
"I got knocked down by a wolf and hit my head on a rock, blacking out. When I woke up, the wolves—and you guys—were already gone."
George altered the truth, replacing his memory of getting his throat torn out by a wolf with a simple head injury.
Al and Apa, both simple and trusting, didn't doubt him. Instead, they held him tightly and murmured prayers of gratitude to the gods for his survival.
And so, the three of them set off together, returning to the human settlement.
Emerging from the forest, George was met with the breathtaking sight of a grand city enveloped in lush greenery. This was **Gosonia**, the radiant kingdom of the High Elves, home to over ten thousand **Noldor** elves.
Elves possessed eternal life—unless slain or subjected to extraordinary circumstances, they would never die.
Though their birth rates were low, their numbers would theoretically continue to grow indefinitely as long as war didn't claim their lives.
Even in death, their souls did not vanish but instead traveled to **Mandos' Halls of Eternity** in Aman, ruled by the Lord of Spirits, **Mandos** himself.
There, they could reunite with long-lost loved ones and friends in their spectral forms before eventually being reborn into new elven bodies.
Not far from this magnificent city stood a smaller settlement with distinct architectural differences. This was the town of the **Beor family**, home to the local human population. Calling it a "city" would be an overstatement—it was more like an oversized village.
Around **3,000 humans** lived there.
Their rapid development was largely thanks to the help of the elves. If humans had relied solely on themselves, their few centuries of history wouldn't have been nearly enough to establish a civilization of their own.
Humans were the **Secondborn** of **Ilúvatar**. Unlike elves, who enjoyed eternal life, human lifespans were fleeting—typically no more than a century unless granted divine intervention.
However, unlike the elves, they were not bound to this world.
When elves died, their spirits remained within the world, but humans' souls **left** entirely, traveling to a destination unknown even to the gods.
Because of this, humans were not shackled by fate and carried limitless potential.
"I wish I had the chance to visit the elven city one day and see those beautiful elves up close," Al mused as he gazed longingly at the radiant city in the distance.
Apa snickered, giving him a teasing nudge. "Oh? What, are you hoping to marry a beautiful elven maiden? Keep dreaming! Even our chieftain wouldn't dare say something so outrageous."
Though the elves of Gosonia were kind to humans and had provided them with much aid, most still saw themselves as superior. After all, they were once beings who lived alongside the gods—a race of High Elves.
There were some elves who didn't share this sentiment, but the issue of vastly different lifespans often dissuaded them from forming unions with humans.
"Come on, let's go! The sun is about to set," George said, giving the two a wave before casting one last glance at the stunning elven city in the distance.
(End of Chapter)