Character: Gandalf the Grey
Source: Silmarillion… or maybe HoME
Disclaimer: All is Tolkien’s – not even New Line owns this bit.
Note to Mod: this is about as un-melancholy as I get… without descending into silly! ^_~
The coast of the sky speaks of pearly mist above silver water - a distant calm no easterly fire breaks as we approach, freely, along the once straight path. The voyage has accustomed us to robes of flesh; I see the wisdom of clothing us with age - it divides us from the Ever-young, but leaves us approachable by the Second-Born.
Nearer, the land changes from grey to green; tall towers, spikes of pearl against this northern sky. Soon enough, we divide to walk our separate paths; unlooked for, Fire glows on my finger - a comfort as I leave the haven behind.