He That Breaks a Thing to Find Out What it is Has Left The Path of Wisdom.

  

 

‘Late one evening I came to the gate, like a great arch in the wall of rock; and it was strongly guarded. But the keepers of the gate were on the watch for me and told me that Saruman awaited me. I rode under the arch, and the gate closed silently behind me, and suddenly I was afraid, though I knew no reason for it. 

 

‘But I rode to the foot of Orthanc, and came to the stair of Saruman; and there he met me and led me up to his high chamber. He wore a ring on his finger. 

 

‘“So you have come, Gandalf,” he said to me gravely; but in his eyes there seemed to be a white light, as if a cold laughter was in his heart. 

 

‘“Yes, I have come,” I said. “I have come for your aid, Saruman the White.”

 

And that title seemed to anger him. 

 

‘“Have you indeed, Gandalf the Grey!” he scoffed. “For aid? It has seldom been heard of that Gandalf the Grey sought for aid, one so cunning and so wise, wandering about the lands, and concerning himself in every business, whether it belongs to him or not.” 

 

‘I looked at him and wondered. 

 

“But if I am not deceived,” said I, “things are now moving which will require the union of all our strength.” 

 

‘“That may be so,” he said, “but the thought is late in coming to you. How long, I wonder, have you concealed from me, the head of the Council, a matter of greatest import? What brings you now from your lurking-place in the Shire?” 

 

‘“The Nine have come forth again,” I answered. “They have crossed the River. So Radagast said to me.” 

 

‘“Radagast the Brown!” laughed Saruman, and he no longer concealed his scorn. 

 

“Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool!

Yet he had just the wit to play the part that I set him. For you have come, and that was all the purpose of my message.

 

And here you will stay, Gandalf the Grey, and rest from journeys.

For I am Saruman The Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours!” 

 

‘I looked then and saw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but were woven of all colours, and if he moved they shimmered and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered. 

 

‘“I liked white better,” I said. 

 

‘“White!” he sneered. “It serves as a beginning. White cloth may be dyed. The white page can be overwritten; and the white light can be broken.” 

 

‘“In which case it is no longer white,” said I. 

 

“And he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.”