It has been said of Tar, ‘He is made a lord by the gods. He lives in the stars,’ but I do not understand how it is in the stars, or if the Gods are the lords. He must either be an unmade star-lord, or an unmade god.”
“Do they have any children?”
“I don’t know, no.”
“But what do they look like?”
“They are like me. Like my wife,” said Saruman. “They are a race of little people.”
“It has been said that they’re the children of Lirazel?” said Gandalf.
“But no,” said Saruman. “I should have guessed.”
“How come you’ve changed so?” asked Gandalf.
“There was just so much to remember,” said Saruman.
“What’s Lirazel made of?” said Gandalf.
“She lives on the mountain of the sky,” answered Saruman. “She is Lirazel. She is of stars. And what is a star?” said Gandalf.
“It was a star in the sky to me,” said Saruman. “It is a star that is made. The stars that are made are made by him who is the lord of stars. He created stars. He is the lord of stars. The stars that are made are ruled by him who is the lord of stars. The Lord of the Rings is the Lord of the Sky.”
“Then he is the one who is Lord of all?” asked Gandalf.
“No,” replied Saruman. “He is his own lord.”
I thought of the things which Saruman had told me as a child in the woods; and that was to imagine him as a wizard, or a magician, or a warrior, or a sorcerer, or a lord-builder, or a king, or a leader, or an ancestor of some man, or a son, or a son’s son’s son. But Saruman could not be that man. That was all. Perhaps Saruman was an ordinary dwarf.
“A dwarf of the mountains,” I ventured.
“A dwarf of the mountains, indeed,” replied Saruman.
Gandalf looked on. He looked on, as well as any man could look on a man, a dwarf, with all his wonder, beauty, strength, intelligence, intelligence,
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