Because many readers first encounter Gandalf through hobbit eyes, our lasting idea of him may be of a great, powerful figure, sometimes merry and sometimes terse. The Wandering Wizard of Shire legend who appears on doorsteps, stands leaning on a tall staff in sunny gardens, and whisks little folk off into the unknown is something of a larger-than-life folk hero.
Little Gandalf
This "G for Grand" mental image is one I hoped to counter in painting the arrival of Olórin at The Grey Havens in the Third Age. As we see him standing in the protection of Círdan's mantle, we realize that he has disembarked into a troubled land in which nearly every friend and foe will appear physically greater than himself.
In company with the descendants of towering sea kings, to tall Rohirrim, to elves...elves who are routinely more than six-and-a-half feet tall and may even be greater than seven feet in height, the newly-arrived Gandalf will spend most of his time in Middle-earth having to look up into the faces of those he counsels and thwarts. 'Of the Maiar' in the Valaquenta puts Gandalf's height at just 5'6", and while that allows him to top even a tallish hobbit by a couple of feet and gives him a good few inches over the average dwarf, nearly everyone else Mithrandir encounters will be looking down at him. J.R.R. Tolkien teaches us repeatedly that physical size and actual power to influence events are not equivalent.
Beyond the mere lack of stature, which may come as a surprising reality check to some Tolkien readers who have formed a majestic internal image of this character, it is Gandalf's physical frailty that gives a very special beauty and poignancy to his part in the story. The author's Catholicism would have ensured he repeatedly encountered the Biblical texts referring to the Incarnation of Christ as God humbling Himself. The Jerusalem Bible, to which Tolkien contributed, contains multiple passages like this one from Philippians:
His state was divine,
yet he did not cling
to his equality with God
but emptied himself
to assume the condition of a slave
and became as men are;
and being as all men are,
he was humbler yet
even to accepting death...
I don't personally enjoy discussions of Christ figures in Tolkien's legendarium; I fear Professor Tolkien might have found such comparisons irreverent. That being said, there are certainly parallels here between the Divine entering God's created world in the form of suffering humanity, subject to all its pains, and Tolkien's sub-created divine Maiar who leave the Blessed Realm and arrive in Middle-earth, as Unfinished Tales explains:
"For with the consent of Eru they sent members of their own high order, but clad in bodies as of Men, real and not feigned, but subject to the fears and pains and weariness of earth, able to hunger and thirst and be slain..."
The applicability, of course, continues in the Resurrection of Jesus and the re-embodiment of Gandalf, both of whom have to return to their mourning followers to complete their tasks. Despite his high spiritual origin as Olórin, Gandalf the Grey would have been cold in the snows of Caradhras, frightened facing the balrog, and doubtless often hungry on his long wanderings. And it is this subjection to the realities of life in Middle-earth that I think makes him especially great. He does not come like the titanic Valar of the First Age and wage a battle against evil that results in the reshaping of landmasses with Noah-esque floods. He comes as a little old man, rather bent upon a curious walking stick, who makes himself almost as at home at hobbit birthday parties as he was at the feet of Manwë.
I think it adds so much savor and appreciation to the reading of this beloved character when we look at him as he truly was for most of the Third Age: physically unimpressive, but so full of goodness that his aide and counsels help bring about the downfall of the Enemy. He is not only the servant of the Secret Fire, but the servant of all his companions, and that service is truly inspiring to contemplate if we ever find ourselves wondering what to do with the time we've been given.
Círdan: another servant
When Gandalf is received by the tall, bearded Master of the Grey Havens, he meets with a fellow servant. For thousands of years, Círdan foregoes his own longing to dwell in the beauty of Valinor in order to help other elves make the necessary journey thither. He provides the havens and ships for these pilgrims, and when the Istari begin arriving, Círdan has the vision to see that one of the five emissaries will have need of his ring, Narya.
Tolkien is not very detailed about the exact use to which Narya is put by Gandalf. We know, for example, that the other two elven rings, Nenya and Vilya, somehow enhance the ability of Galadriel and Elrond to protect and maintain the refuges of Lothlórien and Rivendell. But Gandalf lacks a bounded realm, and it seems rather as if the ring of fire goes towards maintaining him, as is explained in Unfinished Tales:
"But Círdan from their first meeting at the Grey Havens divined in him the greatest spirit and the wisest; and he welcomed him with reverence, and he gave to his keeping the Third Ring, Narya the Red. For, said he, "Great labours and perils lie before you, and lest your task prove too great and wearisome, take this Ring for your aid and comfort."
Círdan's Ring of Fire seems to enhance Gandalf's ability to succeed in his core task of influencing others to good, as well as, perhaps, supporting his occasional spectacular pyrotechnics. Whatever its assistive powers, the ring passes as a token of insightful recognition and wise friendship from Círdan to Gandalf. He begins his labors in Middle-earth with the blessing upon him of one of the oldest and most sagacious remaining elves. It's a promising start to many wearisome years of wandering.
I hope you will enjoy the following video short of that famous meeting of Círdan and Gandalf upon the shore, and that it will add to your love of both figures; Gandalf as the small servant, subject to frailty, and Círdan as the tall and far-seeing friend of pilgrims.
I would like to offer a humble dedication of my painting of "Círdan and Gandalf at the Grey Havens" to Professor Tom Shippey who has stewarded countless Tolkien readers to a deeper understanding of the author's works. Like Narya, Professor Shippey's scholarship is a gift of outstanding enhancement to its receivers, enabling us to more fully appreciate the unique genius of Tolkien's writings and has immeasurably enriched my own life and works. Thank you so much, Professor Shippey.
Servants in Tolkien
In The Lord of the Rings, Frodo's sacrifice of himself brings the evil One Ring to the brink of destruction, but for many readers, it is Sam who ends up appearing to be the hero of the tale. He is the literal servant of his master, and he is the one whose service receives the most relatable Middle-earthly reward at the close of the book. Olórin's temporal frailty is relieved by his ability to be brought back from seeming death, and his service is no less the magnificent for this, but for Samwise Gamgee, there is only the mortal world he knows, with a mere burgeoning notion that the elves know of other spiritual realities to comfort him as he enters spiders' dens and orc-filled towers.
It is the service of Tolkien's characters, despite risk of extreme suffering and sometimes death, that makes them great. The hobbits serve each other in loyal fellowship. The king-to-be serves the tiny hobbits. The fading elves serve the rising Men. Ents serve fallen trees. Hosts serve pilgrims on their way to the Blessed Realm. And Maiar who keep to their purposes serve them all. Regardless of physical stature, in the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, service is power.
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