Humor in Wizards
Mmmm....you might be wondering
about the title of this piece. I mean humor in wizards??? I know you
think all wizards as being scholarly, noble, ancient and wise. They
have power not only in their minds, but of their spirits, of their
souls. They have power---period. Oh yes, while here in Middle Earth,
they must refrain from unleashing the full potent of the powers they
are capable of---they must appear and act human-like, although, of
course, they are of the Maiar. From time to time, of course, they do
exhibit their powers, but in very subtle ways. They all have the gift
of communicating with the birds, beasts and insects of the world. They
can create light where there is no light----they can create a powerful
beacon, emanating from their staffs to drive away the Nazgul. Wizards
are knowledgeable of all languages of Middle-Earth and are learned men
of letters and of writings.
But humor in wizards??
Oh, yes! There is much humor--at
least, that was my discovery much to my astonishment, for once again,
I'm here in the library of Minas Tirith. Oh, how I love this place. A
lot wouldn't agree with me...It is, after all, a rather cold, dank
place. Not much light either, save for only a few candles. Can't risk
the chance of a fire with all these valuable written works. The place
isn't large, yet, wherever one looks, there isn't one inch of space
that isn't filled with large, weighty tomes and numerous scrolls
scattered all over the place. Some of the tomes and scrolls are so very
fragile. Eru knows how old some of them are as there are no recorded
dates on them.
The pages of the tomes and parchment
of the scrolls ae discolored with age, the writing so faint, the pages
so very brittle--one has to take care in handling them. There is one
section of the library, containing copies of the written records by the
Elves themselves. Ah! Alas, I cannot read them, for they are all
written in Quenya--these I believe are the oldest records here, dating
back, no doubt when Elves first appeared on Middle-Earth.
Not all records here contain
momentous, serious words of deep thought--some are quite humorous. You
can imagine my delight and surprise, when one night, while browsing
through the scrolls, I happened to come across a number of entries
written by none other than Gandlaf himself. Oh yes, he does have
serious entries, but it's so nice to know he had a downright wicked
sense of humor as well. Unfortunately, he wasn't good at dating many of
his records--I can't help wondering, if perhaps, he may have been just
a bit absent-minded at times.
I like to share with you some of his
entries--this first one is the "actual" first accounting of his coming
to Middle-Earth itself.
Third age: ~~~~ A dark, menace seems to be manifesting upon
Middle-Earth. Eru himself has instructed some of us of the Maiar to
appear and stop this new threatening evil. We are to be known as the
Order of the Istari,and have the appearance as that of the race of
men--yet, truth be known,
I'm not particularly too fond of my appearance.
Curunir, who is to be the chief of the Order, looks quite stunning actually
Long, long stark white hair, and a long white beard. Yet, oh my, how he
hates his style of clothing. He is forever trying to come across as
noble, regal and grandiose......but honestly, I often have to stifle my
laughter, as he is forever
tripping and stumbling over his own feet--his blinding white wizard's
garb is far too long for him. Can't maintain his lofty manner for long,
when he's always falling on his hind quarters.
Then there's Radagast. A rather jolly sort of fellow, who reminds me of a
huge, cuddly bear--he has such a kind-hearted temprament. His
long,chesnut-brown hair and beard is always wild and askew. He seems to
taken to the birds and the beasts of Middle-Earth, preferring their
company to the members of the Order. He always has brambles and flowers
in his hair--which I admit, does make his look a bit crazed. Curumir
thinks him an imbecile, and constantly makes fun of him all the time.
But at least, he doesn't have the haughty airs like Curumir.
Then there's me---Olorin. I look in the mirror and sigh----Oh why, oh
why,did we all have to have the appearance of being so old?-------can't
very well attract the female gender looking like someone's grandfather.
I look so drab----Gandalf the Grey they often call me--Grey is right.
I seemed to have been given this dull, gloomy, colored grey cloak, with
this ridiculous, long silver scarf---why the scarf I don't
know---doesn't exactly have any real purpose, and doesn't keep me
warm-----My hair and beard
while almost as long as Curumir's is not immaculately white--but also of a grey color.
And I don't know which is worse---these hideous, immense black boots
I wear, or this dumb, yes, dumb blue pointed hat I seem to have to
always wear upon my head. Now Curumir--he wears these nice cozy, comfy,
white silken boots that are nice and light--He can positively scare you
to death, as you can never hear him walk--so light on his feet he can
be--which actually isn't that often--with his tripping over his garment
And the hat-----I'm going to have to ask Eru, when our tasks are done
like what is the deal here with this stupid hat---when I wear it upon
my head, and the wind blows, I blow in the direction of the wind
to maintain the status of a respectable wizard when you're blowing all over the place.
Entry #2 of Gandalf: Third Age---year written, unknown:
~~~Oh, how Eru was right. There is much evil going on and stretching
it's menacing grip across here in Middle-Earth. So much has happened
during the many years since my arrival here. I've given quite a lengthy
account of it all in other tomes,
but I thought I write down just a few things here before I go on to the lighter aspects of my life here.
They are a true horror to see; striking terror to the unfortunate soul
who comes across their path. Their unbearable screeching sound,
penetrates and chills one to the bone, making one feel as if death has
struck: the Nazgul. They made their ungodly re-appearance around 1300,
and there's one who now considers himself as their leader, and he has
settled himself in Angmar. Their power steadily increased, and the
Witch-King, as he is known, and the other eight Ringwraiths overtook
Ithil in 2002, renaming it Minas Morgal. They also now have in their
possession one of the eight precious palantirs; the seeing stones of
Eldamar and will no doubt use it for evil intent.
Back in 1636, a terrible plague began--oh, my! So many innocent lives
lost. Yet it wasn't the plague that triggered a feeling of despair over
the land. There now exists a gloomy hopelessness ever since that sacred
White Tree of Minas Anor died. With its death, we can never hope for
the Return of the King.
It was around 2060, that the Power of Dol Gulder could be felt, and we
of the Istari felt that it is indeed Sauron taking shape again. Three
years later, in 2063, I personally went there to see for myself if I
could sense his wicked presence. Ah! But alas when I got there, there
was no sign of him. Then, for a hundred years, all was quiet----too
quiet, if you ask me. It was around then, in 2463, that we wizards
officially founded The White Council.
Ah!!!!! Enough of this gloom and doom. As I've stated, I've written
detailed entries of all that has transpired here, in the tomes, marked
as "Annals"; so I invite you to read them, especially if you would like
to be bored to tears, or, if you have nothing better to do with your
time; or, if you need something to cure you of your insomnia.
For now I wish to write about the lighter aspects of Middle-Earth---for believe it or not
there are many.
Upon my arrival here, I eagerly sought out Eru's Firstborn who had
elected to stay here rather than take their journey to the Blessed
Realms. What magnificent beings the race of Elves are. They give the
appearance of mankind, save for their one
distinguishable feature: their pointy ears. Drove me to distraction at
first (same can be said of hobbits) I challenge anyone to try and have
a meaningful conversation without staring at this oddity. With time, of
course, I got used to it.--Still have this strange urge to tweak their
ears now and them--just to see if they're real.
My, oh my---Elves are so graceful. They seem to glide as they walk. And tall!!!!
Good gracious, there's not a short Elf to be seen; even their women are
statuesque in nature. Now, I'm not exactly short myself---but I
sometimes feel as if I'm standing admist a group of Ents when I'm
around them. Their physique is remarkably well-toned and muscled---I've
yet to see a fat, flabby Elf--rather strange, considering how much they
eat---Why they're almost as bad as hobbits!
Oh, yes! They all possess healthy, hearty appetites and are quite the
gourmand in their tastes for foods. Every meal is a virtual celebration
of delectable, mouth-watering savory foods on which to feast on. Elves
seem to prefer drinking, rich, ruby-red wines, rather than meads or
ales, as they consider these rather commonplace. And let me tell you,
Elves don't exactly skimp on drinking---yet strangely enough, I've
never seen a tipsy Elf.. There's only one Elven food that I refrain now
from eating at all cost--even if I were starving to death. Lembas
bread! The Lothlorien Elves
gave me some to take with me upon my leave of them once, to go forth
upon one of my journeys. Now mind you, it doesn't taste bad--it's
actually quite tasty. It's just that......well..........Lembas bread
seems to have a strange effect on me....Let's put it this way, I didn't
feel like a very dignified, scholarly wizard, as I spent the vast
majority of my journey, stopping all too frequently taking care of
'personal' business ..Suffice to say, I was doing an awful lot of
squatting behind bushes and shrubs!!! Good Gracious!!
Ah! The Elven realms----I must admit, that I don't know which is more
beautiful Imladris or Lothlorien; each has its own unique charm and
beauty. Though, I must confess, I'm probably more partial to
Imladris--and let me tell you I still sometimes have a hard time
finding it--so well hidden it is--if you miss some of the tell-tale
signs you can miss it. Why it's called the Last Homely House, I'll
never know---for it is not exactly a "house", nor is it homely--for
simple and plain it is not, but ever so friendly.
It was Elrond himself who founded this beautiful Elven refuge of
Imladris, or Rivendell, as it is more commonly known as, back in 1697
of the Second Age. There is a sense of timelessness about it, as if it
has been there since the beginning of time. All dweliings of Rivendell
were built to blend in with its environment. No tree or part of the
land was destroyed --reflecting the deep, abiding love and respect
Elves have for the world around them. They are true lovers of nature. I
particularly love Elrond's dwelling--it was he himself, who painted
many of the murals on the walls which tell the story of the Firstborn,
how they came to Middle-Earth; there' s even a mural that depicts
Isildur using his father's broken sword to cut the ring off of Sauron's
hand----thus destroying him----And, my oh my---you should see the books
and scrolls here--almost just as many
as the library here at Minas Tirith---I've spent many an evening with
Elrond, discussing some of the passages I've read---we love to spend
hours and hours
conversing about scholarly matters while sipping wine---of course --he does most of the sipping!
One thing I've noticed, or should I say, not notice--and to my
curiosity, I just had to ask Elrond about it----You see, all the
dwellings here at Rivendell are airy and open only here and there,
usually at one's sleeping quarters, are there curtained partitions
otherwise all is open---there are no doors or windows proper---so I
just had to ask
Elrond--what happened to all the insects???? Aren't there any bugs
here??? He laughed a bit at my question, then explained that an
enchantment spell was cast all around Rivendell to keep bugs
out---after all, Elves, while nature lovers, don't care
for bugs either!
Oh, all right---there's something that really annoys me about Elves--my
one pet peeve! Their ageless appearance. Not one of them looks any
older than say thirty or forty years of age. You can imagine how my jaw
literally dropped when I met Elrond's exquisitely beautiful daughter,
Arwen, and was told she was "only" 849 years of age. I can't even begin
to guess how old Elrond is himself, and to tease me, he refuses to tell
me---I mean here I am, I look older than he does, and it's rather
disconcerting when he tells me of events he was involved with during
the Second Age----I simply
can't understand how no Elf has no touch of frost in their hand,nor one
line of wrinkle on their smooth complexions---and here I am, here in
Middle-Earth not nearly as long and I look like a wizened old
You can imagine my surprise, when I had gone to Lothlorien, and met
Galadriel for the first time--oh, my a beauty if there ever was
one---nearly fainted in a dead heap when I found out she was Arwen's
grandmother. --- O guess I should mention a bit about Lothlorien---it
is truly beautiful and magnificent as well--with those enormous mallorn
trees that must have been there forever---The Elves there obviously
have no fear of heights as they prefer to make their dwellings way high
up in the boughs of those trees. Me? Well, I told them I prefer being
firmly set upon the ground---a bit of
vertigo with heights.
One thing bit upset me there---Galadriel's Mirror--she invited me to peer into it--as it
can tell one of things that were, things that are, and some things that
have not yet come to pass. And I have to admit, I wasn't too fond of
what I saw--for lo, and behold I saw my own death!!!! The consolation
to it all, was that upon my death, I'd
be reborn--and my, oh, my---I'm to look rather good then---no more drab
grey garb or grey hair--but I'll be sparkling white like Sarumon.
My--would like to write a few more ideas here--but I am growing a bit
drowsy--Not only do I have the appearance of an old man---but my energy
wanes quickly like one as well---I wish I had a more youthful
appearance!!! Oh, how so easlily I could fall in love with Arwen---but
what would such a beauty want with an old-looking gizzer like me?
Besides, Elrond told me long time ago, that he has forseen that in
about five hundred years the one who is to be her destined lover will b
e born. Good gracious!!! Five hundred years??? What a long wait for
one's love--I think I would go mad if I had
to wait so long for my love----what is she suppose to do in the meantime??