"Magic?" Aerion scoffed. "You want to compete with elves in magic?"
To him, it was almost funny.
The Grey Elves had learned spellcraft directly from Melian. Though she was one of the Maiar, her power was rooted in growth, sound, and dream. Under her guidance, the Grey Elves mastered spells of plants, voice, and enchantment. In sheer variety, they were second to none among the elves of Middle-earth.
Aerion raised a hand and spoke a sharp incantation.
Vines burst from the stone beneath Rowan's feet, thick as wrists, snapping forward to bind him.
Aerion smiled. He wouldn't even need blade or bow.
Rowan didn't move.
He simply opened his mouth.
A torrent of flame poured out, shimmering with three distinct hues. The vines vanished in an instant, reduced to drifting ash.
"That level of magic won't work on me," Rowan said calmly.
Thingol, who had been watching with cool detachment, straightened on his throne. His eyes narrowed.
"That fire…"
Aerion hesitated for a fraction of a second, then steadied himself. Magic, to elves, was only half the fight. Steel and skill finished the rest.
He drew his bow in one smooth motion. "I'll loose five arrows. Your arms, your legs, and the cloth between them. You'll be pinned before you can blink."
He had reason to boast. His archery ranked among the best in Doriath, and elven arrows were metal-shod, immune to flame.
The bowstring sang.
Five arrows flew in rapid succession, so fast the latter nearly caught the former, all racing toward Rowan at the same speed.
A murmur of approval rippled through the nobles.
"His archery's improved again."
On a battlefield, such a volley would have been lethal.
Rowan lifted a hand.
A pale magic circle flared before him.
"I can shoot arrows too," he said lightly. "Just not the wooden kind."
Light burst outward.
"Light Magic: Rain of Dawn."
Dozens of radiant bolts streaked forward, shattering the incoming arrows midair before continuing on toward Aerion.
Aerion leapt aside, narrowly escaping the luminous storm, and abandoned his bow. Drawing his sword, he charged.
At range, he couldn't win.
Up close, he trusted himself.
His speed was blinding. In a heartbeat, he was at Rowan's side, blade flashing through a thousand years of honed technique.
"Watch out!" Lúthien cried instinctively.
Rowan didn't turn.
The instant Aerion's sword crossed within a meter, the sigil beneath Rowan's feet ignited.
"Light Magic: Radiant Domain."
A translucent barrier exploded outward. Aerion's sword was wrenched from his grip and sent spinning across the hall.
Before Aerion could react, Rowan reached out.
"Giant Magic: Arm Expansion."
His right arm swelled monstrously, muscle and bone surging into a massive limb that closed around Aerion like a vice. No matter how the elf struggled, he could not break free.
Holding Aerion aloft, Rowan turned to the throne and the watching nobles.
"The magic I just used is what I teach at my academy. Light magic. Giant magic. With elven intelligence, mastering them would not be difficult."
Silence fell.
The spells Rowan had shown carried unmistakable radiance. Light. The very thing the Grey Elves lacked, and the very thing that countered Morgoth's darkness.
The Noldor had always held the advantage because they had once bathed in the light of the Two Trees. If the Grey Elves could wield similar power through magic, Morgoth's armies would no longer terrify them.
Thingol remembered the old wars. Before the Noldor arrived, Morgoth had assaulted Doriath again and again. Melian's protection had held, but only just. Without her, the kingdom might not have survived.
Pride warred with reason.
Rowan smiled faintly.
"I held back just now," he added. "What you saw was less than one percent of my usual output."
Eyes widened across the hall.
He continued evenly. "Elves surpass humans in magical potential. If I can reach this level in a short life, immortals who study without end will surpass me."
Thingol surged to his feet.
"You claim that was less than one percent?"
"If you doubt me," Rowan said, releasing Aerion and letting his arm return to normal, "I can show you properly. This hall is too small. We should go outside."
Thingol didn't hesitate.
"Very well," he said, voice firm. "We'll all go and see."
Pride might slow elves, but it did not blind them.
If Rowan spoke the truth, then refusing to learn such magic would be folly of the highest order.