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the white rider 645
motionless hand, blazed with a sudden fire. Legolas gave a
great shout and shot an arrow high into the air: it vanished
in a flash of flame.
‘Mithrandir!’ he cried. ‘Mithrandir!’
‘Well met, I say to you again, Legolas!’ said the old man.
They all gazed at him. His hair was white as snow in the
sunshine; and gleaming white was his robe; the eyes under
his deep brows were bright, piercing as the rays of the sun;
power was in his hand. Between wonder, joy, and fear they
stood and found no words to say.
At last Aragorn stirred. ‘Gandalf !’ he said. ‘Beyond all
hope you return to us in our need! What veil was over my
sight? Gandalf !’ Gimli said nothing, but sank to his knees,
shading his eyes.
‘Gandalf,’ the old man repeated, as if recalling from old
memory a long disused word. ‘Yes, that was the name. I was
Gandalf.’
He stepped down from the rock, and picking up his grey
cloak wrapped it about him: it seemed as if the sun had been
shining, but now was hid in cloud again. ‘Yes, you may still
call me Gandalf,’ he said, and the voice was the voice of their
old friend and guide. ‘Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to
you, and no harm done to me. Indeed my friends, none of
you have any weapon that could hurt me. Be merry! We meet
again. At the turn of the tide. The great storm is coming, but
the tide has turned.’
He laid his hand on Gimli’s head, and the Dwarf looked
up and laughed suddenly. ‘Gandalf !’ he said. ‘But you are all
in white!’
‘Yes, I am white now,’ said Gandalf. ‘Indeed I am
Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have
been. But come now, tell me of yourselves! I have passed
through fire and deep water, since we parted. I have forgotten
much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I
had forgotten. I can see many things far off, but many things
that are close at hand I cannot see. Tell me of yourselves!’
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