The coffin was made of pure white stone, simple and graceful and strong. It could easily have been covered in writing, for he had many names: Curunír in Sindarin, Curumo in Quenya, white, many-coloured, and finally of no colour at all. And of course, the name he was most known by.

The lives of mortals are short and forgetful, and even the elvish memories grow old and dim. He was not always as he ended. Once he was mighty. He was the White Wizard, respected by the great and feared by those below him. He wore magic like a kingly gown, and it was in him down to the marrow of his bones. He bore a staff of power, and a seeing stone, and the keys of Orthanc.

His soft speech twisted and trapped like a snare, smooth as silk, deadly as poison. His will was nigh unbreakable and power was in all that he did. His knowledge and especially his ringlore was beyond compare; Man of Skill they called him, and not without cause.

He led the attack on Dol Guldor that drove Sauron out of the Greenwood.

He captured and imprisoned Gandalf the Grey at the peak of Orthanc.

He brought Rohan to its knees without setting foot beyond the walls of Isengard.

He saw the Fellowship broken by his command, and its members scattered and sundered.

He saw Boromir of Gondor fall to black-shafted arrows.

He saw his armies drive the Horse-Lords from their halls in panic, and watched them flee before him.

He spoke with Theoden of Rohan, and poured all his art and power into his voice.

He lived to see the downfall of Sauron, and his laughter was bitter and cold.

He took a new name, and brought half-orcs and vagabonds to the heart of the Shire.

He had the homes and lives of the Shire folk torn down, and built a new order from the ashes.

He taught the Halflings fear, and he built a mockery of an empire from Bywater to Frogmorton to serve his spite.

He was mighty and terrible, a fallen champion, a bitter friend and a fell enemy, leader of the White Council, the first, oldest, and most powerful of the Istari.

He was white, even at the end when it faded into grey. Whiter than a blizzard. Colder than the ice. Crueller and more dangerous than the snows of Caradhras.

He was older than kingdoms and forests and mountains.

He was Saruman the White.