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"Look—even the Queen's Girdle is not infallible. Have you already forgotten the horrors of Morgoth's invasion of Doriath? Forgotten the loved ones slaughtered by orcs?"
George cast an Amplification Spell on himself, allowing his voice to be heard by every elf in the Kingdom of the Grey Elves.
"Let me be blunt. Doriath's current peace is only partially due to the Queen's Girdle. A far greater reason lies in the fortress line established by the Noldor at Angband.
The Angband defenses held Morgoth and his dark army at bay, granting Middle-earth the peace it enjoys today.
But now, the defenses of Angband have been breached. If Doriath refuses to aid the Noldor and the humans today, then when Morgoth's army annihilates them all—do you really believe he'll spare Doriath?"
George's impassioned words silenced the entire crowd of Grey Elves.
Were the Grey Elves fools?
Of course not. Whether elves are more intelligent than humans is debatable, but elves live far longer. With age comes wisdom, and among elves, nearly everyone is well-educated.
To illustrate—humans are like a society where a few people have gone to university, while most remain illiterate. When you speak of grand ideas, most can't understand them.
But elves are like a society where everyone is a university graduate. Some come from top-tier institutions, like 985 or 211 universities, and others from ordinary colleges—but all of them can grasp your reasoning. The question isn't comprehension; it's whether they are willing to take the risk.
"Morgoth's goal is to conquer all of Middle-earth. He will spare no elf—only killing or enslaving them as orcified thralls.
Even as a human, I cannot tolerate such humiliation. And I imagine, as noble elves, you would find it even more intolerable.
Elves, dwarves, and humans—we are one. When the whole suffers, the individual cannot be safe. We cannot let the comfort of the present blind us to the dangers of tomorrow."
And so, George pulled out every trick he knew—twisted proverbs, classical references, strategic analyses. He spoke entirely from the perspective of the Grey Elves, outlining threats and opportunities, goading, encouraging, flattering—his speech lasted a full two hours before he finally paused.
He spoke of how "adversity breeds strength, while comfort invites ruin," of how "no egg survives when the nest is overturned," of the importance of "vigilance in times of peace" and "preparing before the storm." He argued that elves, born between heaven and earth, could not long endure under the shadow of Morgoth.
He had poured his heart into it. If the Grey Elves still held firm to their original stance, there was nothing more he could do.
Convincing the Grey Elves to send troops would be ideal. But even if they didn't, persuading them to support his academy meant his goal was already more than halfway achieved.
By the time George ended his speech, every Grey Elf had their mouth agape. Even Melian the Maia looked at him with astonishment.
George had delivered an overwhelming torrent of ideas in those two hours—thought-provoking parables, coherent analysis, and dire predictions about the future. The Grey Elves' mental processors were practically overheating.
It took them quite a while to fully digest the entire message of George's speech.
"George, you truly are a man of remarkable wisdom."
Thingol looked at George with admiration in his eyes.
"You're right. We are all elves. Though the line of Fëanor may be unforgivable, the rest of the Noldor are not at fault—and the living beings of Middle-earth even less so.
We Grey Elves cannot simply cower behind the Queen's Girdle."
In truth, Thingol had already been convinced halfway through George's speech. But the longer he listened, the more insightful he found it, so he hadn't interrupted.
"What do the rest of you think?"
Thingol turned to look at the twenty-two elven noble elders.
The decision for the Grey Elves to send troops to aid the Noldor against the Balrog army was one that concerned the fate of the entire Grey Elf Kingdom. Even as king, Thingol could not make such a choice unilaterally.
"I agree!"
"I agree!"
"I agree!"
One by one, the elven noble elders voiced their approval.
In the end, out of the twenty-two elders, fifteen voted in favor of deploying troops, five remained hesitant, and two continued to oppose the idea.
With the majority in support, Thingol immediately declared:
"Very well. From this day forward, the Grey Elf Kingdom enters a state of total war. Contact the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and have them come to Thousandstone Cavern—we need to begin mass-producing weapons and armor!"
"I can't believe it actually worked."
Hearing Thingol issue the final order, George couldn't help but smile. All that effort, two hours of passionate speech—it had paid off.
On reflection, it wasn't entirely surprising that he had succeeded.
First, he had just demonstrated immense strength, earning the respect of all the Grey Elves.
That was crucial—without power, even the truth goes unheeded.
After all, who listens to a beggar talk about getting rich?
But if the world's richest man casually utters a nonsensical phrase, people treat it like divine wisdom—some even build belief systems around it.
Second, this world, as developed as it was, still remained relatively simple. Intrigue and deception were rare, and there weren't many passed-down tactics or strategies for handling such situations.
When the second and third princes had come seeking Thingol, all they did was praise George and boast about the strength of humanity. They claimed they had driven back Morgoth's army together and hoped Thingol would send troops to fight the advancing Balrogs from the east. Blah blah blah.
To Thingol and the noble council, it sounded like empty flattery—exaggerated and meaningless. With no clear benefits, how could they possibly agree?
But the princes couldn't really be blamed. They had never handled such a mission before, and inexperience was to be expected.
George, however, was different. The flood of historical knowledge and experiences from his past life—products of an age of information overload—had filled his mind with all sorts of unusual insights. They might not increase his strength, but in this kind of situation, they gave him a distinct advantage.
There were just too many real-life case studies for him to draw from.
"Our academy has already welcomed dwarves for cross-cultural exchange. The Noldor are working with them to develop a new kind of armor resistant to fire. The Grey Elves can join this effort as well.
It'll be a great help in the battle against the Balrogs."
"It seems sending people to your academy was indeed a wise decision!"
Thingol's face now bloomed with smiles.
Armor resistant to Balrog flames, light magic to counter orcs, giant-enhancing magic to boost physical strength—and now a full alliance between elves, humans, and dwarves.
Under such circumstances, completely wiping out Morgoth and his orc armies no longer seemed like a dream.
And once the threat of Morgoth and the orcs was gone, his wife Melian would no longer need to exhaust herself maintaining the Girdle. The Grey Elves could finally travel freely, embracing true peace.
"What a pity… you're not an elf."
(End of Chapter)