Reflections of a wizard
Olorin (Gandalf)
I am old. As old as the earth, maybe. How long have I been in this world, helping those who need help, counseling those who need counsel? As I walk, I can hear my bones creak like the bending and swaying of a tree: stiff yet firm. They cry out, living memories of the past battles I've fought, of the perils I have endured. Why did Manwe Sulimo have to choose me for this task? Even now I still thank Cirdan for Narya, an ever present source of hope and resilience that I need. Fighting Sauron is no joke. And they put me into the body of an old man, and because of that, it is even more difficult to move around like the Maia that I was. Eru! Why did they not give me the more energetic body of a ranger? Oh, yes. So I would not get distracted from my task: to aid in the vanquishing of the Dark Lord. Where's rest when you need it?
Thank the valar that I have the friendship of those hobbits. They are really a marvel and a lingering impression that there is still some good in the world. So that's the rest you can get from being a wizard. Come to think of it, coming to Middle Earth was a totally new experience, I got to see places I had never before seen, met people whom I would have never met before f I gad not agreed to come here. But the tiols of a wizard are hard and long. I learned much from the Valier Nienna what compassion meant, that if I had none I could not carry out my task.
Why is Saruman regarding me strangely now? He looks at me as if he would draw out all the power I have in me to serve his own purposes. Books of arcane lore are scattered about his chamber in orthanc, many of then of the lore of the rings of power. And why do I get the feeling that he knows of Narya, the ring Cirdan gave to me? As the hobbits say, its "not canny".
Can anyone guess the fires we have passed through? Of the storms that we have weathered? Alas for Radagast. Ever since he arrived he is besotted with the creatures of the wild, of the forest and herbs and flowers. Does he know he has strayed from his path, from the task that he had come here to do? I fear that one day the burden will be too great for my shoulders to carry anymore, and someone will have to help me with the burden. Why am I doing all the work? What are the other four doing?
Trouble is brewing in the east. Orcs are issuing more frequently to harass the people. Saruman is behind the attacks in Rohan, somehow. I know it. Some day I shall have to ride there and liberate them. And to Gondor. And to arnor. And to here and there… will it ever end? The list goes on. I have thought many times of giving up halfway, some people were not meant to carry such a weight, I tell myself. But a nagging conscience says to me: if you don't do it, who will? Everyone is too wrapped up in their own little worlds, too concerned with their own troubles to mind an old man with a large pointy hat clad in grey. Where are the small mercies in life?
A few years ago when I was in a village in the westfold, a small girl came up to me and with a little curtsey, presented me with some dandelions. Before I could even open my mouth, she had run off, leaving me to wonder if it was only of my imagination, or did one of the gods put it in her mind to give an old man flowers, or if it was because of her own pure innocent heart. No, the flowers were real. It was no illusion. And up till today I still have that small delicate corsage that she gave to me. It is a reminder to me that however small, there is still some good in this world. It gives me the coyurage and the strength to move on and fight . The world may call me an old fool. Sure, most never look beyond the cover. No one could ever know the burden I shoulder, and to many, I will always be known as Gandalf.