2. The Grey Wanderer
He came to them, an old man. Grey was his beard, grey his cloak and his face was stern.
Round-eyed, they stared. For a long while the three were still, the Steward’s sons and the stranger; the Tree’s white branches between them.
Then, the younger, fair and fearless came forward.
“Welcome, lord Mithrandir.” And the wizard saw in the child’s gaze, past, present and future - all he was now and all he would one day be. Much grief and sorrow to come; yet faith there was too, and joy at the end.
“Hail, lord Faramir,” said Mithrandir, slowly smiling.
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