Gandalf the Grey

I walked the roads of Middle-earth as one of its own, though my roots are older than the mountains. They call me a wizard, but I am a Maia, a spirit shaped into this old man’s skin to guide, not rule. Fireworks delight the Shire-folk, yes, but they’re just sparks beside the fire I carry within—a light kindled from the dawn of time. I’ve counseled kings and consorted with elves, faced shadows in the deep, and yes, fell into the abyss and clawed my way back. Hope isn’t a trick of the light. It’s a choice.