The dazzling, multicolored radiance filled everyone who saw the Silmaril with wonder and delight.
Lady Galadriel cried out in surprise, an exceptionally rare look of astonishment crossing her face. Her eyes, which also shone with starlight, were filled with memories.
The slaughter and misunderstandings brought about by the Elves Jewel flashed through her mind, one after another, before finally dissolving into a long sigh. The jewel had not been to blame. Those disasters had arisen from people's hearts.
Gandalf gazed at that deeply familiar light, the radiance of the Two Trees, and felt the vague, dreamlike memories suddenly grow clear. He was Gandalf. He was Gandalf the Grey. Yet he also seemed to be one of the Maiar, to be Olórin.
Saruman felt the same, but unlike Gandalf, whose resolve to protect Middle-earth had never wavered, Curumo looked utterly terrified when those long-buried memories echoed within him again.
Remembering the great vow he had made in Valinor, remembering how he had volunteered to come to Middle-earth, then considering his present thoughts and deeds, Saruman was overwhelmed by a tangle of emotions.
After a few breaths, the old man, who suddenly seemed to have aged countless years, rose shakily and bowed to Allen. "Thank you."
He thanked Allen on behalf of both his past and future selves. Whether or not he envied Olórin, Curumo had recovered his original purpose and escaped the tragic fate that had awaited him.
What exactly had blinded his eyes and clouded his wisdom just moments before?
The White Wizard sank into deep thought.
As Elrond looked at the Silmaril, which seemed almost alive, he thought wistfully of his father, Eärendil, known as the "Great Star of Hope," who sailed Vingilótë across the sky like a star.
The younger generation, meanwhile, had been utterly entranced by the