Gandolf, The Other

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Gandolf and His Brother
Gandolf and His Brother

Tomorrow Determines Today
Abendigo Tregathern saying

What follows is a revised text of what I have presented before, based upon further reflection and referral to my notes, some of which I have lost. I have revised this page several years before as well.

This document contains the manuscript discovered by Professor Kimbote, and his commentary, containg the text of the wizard Gandolf’s original writings. I am the third man out and have merely put this page together.

I also have the good fortune to include comments from the renown futurist expatriate Celtic scholar and fire wizard, Abednego Tregarthen (2121–    ), who is one of the famous Tregarthen triplets.

One of the most curious things about wizards is that apparently they live backwards in time, backwards to us, or perhaps it is we who live backwards. Wizards may be born in our future and die in our past. To us, a wizard foretells the future; to the wizard, is is about remembering the past. When a wizard talks about what we call the past, to the wizard it is clairvoyance about the future. You might see this reflected in the writings of both wizards, as in the phase Tomorrow Determines Today.

The Tregarthens are elemental fire wizards, as is Gandolf, unlike Moses who was a elemental water wizard (for example, water into blood, bring frogs from the Nile to land, parting the Red Sea, and using his staff to spout water from a rock). Their sign is a salamander, a fire lizard.

Comments and definitions will appear in pale yellow text with a dotted underline—just click on them for the information they contain.

Abednego, as all three brothers, suffers from dyslexia, a reversal of letters in his writings in this case, caused, no doubt, from writing a future letter first, or a present one later. That this causes considerable extra work for me should be of little consideration by you.

Here is the original Gandolf the Wizard text with commentary by Dr Kimbote and Abednego Tregarthen:

I AM Gandolf, the obscurely known and all but forgotten brother wizard of a well–known wizard. You may know my brother from what you thought of as fiction from that Oxford professor fellow with the tweeds and the pipe, at least, you may think that you know him.

My brother will be the eldest by ten minutes of us two. Our birth will occur as the evening star rises on February first. We will be conceived as the Beltane fires will flicker as beacons on the hills on a night that will be a very long time ago. We will thus be children of the goddess’ rebirth.

Our mother, Gwerghsys, will be human and of royal blood and will bear us apart from all humans in a grove of Sycamores. She will tell us later that, until that night, she will never have seen our father, named Gwynn An Lagas for he will be , and he shall woo her invisibly at night.

She will tell us that after the last time that our father knew her, our mother will absently rub one eye with her hand that will have touched their whes–has–gos. As a result, she will gasp at the sight of a vague shape she now will see withdrawing from her.

Our father will stop at the sound of recognition, for it is forbidden for humans to see færie. He will love her too much to pluck out her offending eye, as is the custom of that folk; instead, but he will touch her pregnant stomach and he will wink at her. Both my brother and I immediately shall speak to our father from our mother’s womb and thank him for sparing her. We shall bear his prykys, I in my right eye, my brother in his left, to this day.

We will be born with kennen–genesygeth and with rich, full heads of hair: my brother a silver blond, gwynn; I du. Our mother will say that when I will have cried, my brother’s hair will turn black, and mine white. She will say that my hair shall lighten if she shall lay me on a dark blanket, just as my brother’s will darken when laid on a fair one. For these reasons, our mother often will fail to distinguish us correctly.

At twelve years and one, our hair will turn gray immediately after we initiate ourselves to our lifes’ art in the solempnyta–delleth, and no one will be able to tell us apart, without lie or boast, from that day to now. Even I, who am kledhek, and my brother who is dyghowyas, will become dorn–dheu, on that day.

We will be born at a time of great superstition. It will be commonly believed at that time that gevellow are the product of the supernatural. If the common folk were to discover that one of the twins is light and the other dark, they will interpret it—wrongly, I submit—as if we are spawned of evil. Considering our birth cauls, the marks in our eyes, our ceaselessly changing hair, and an invisible father that will not come forth in the flesh, our mother shall fear for our lives, hide me, send me away, the dark one, as an infant to her homelands, and keep her eldest at her breast. Now you can see why the world will only knows of her one son.

My mother will give me to her magores and my wet nurse, who will take me away on my first mid–summer’s eve, and raise me in the west country. Penpystrier–Ughel of the ancient Dumnoni, will be my tutor until we are of age, at which time my brother and I will reunite.

On our twelfth year and a day, my brother and I will vow to act as one, but apart. We shall chose to be that one persona that every one shall call by my brother’s name, not mine. This arrangement will prove very successful for us because we will be able to be in different places at the same time, or one brother may be one place today and appear to show up an impossible distance away on the next day. This will only further our reputation as a wizard.

The tweedy professor will write that my brother, called The Grey, will fall to his death at the end of one of his books, and will resurrect as the same wizard, but called white. I am sure that you will understand by now that this will be possible because we will be two, not one. Or, it might be conceivable that the professor with the pipe will be referring to incarnating at a higher state; thus, grey to white, or so it will appear.

Of the two of us, the last born is kynsa , and the first born fyn, curiously. I say the last–born will be first in accomplishment and the first–born shall be last in talent. I admit my bias in this matter, but so it will seem to me.

It will be, in fact, I who will arrange for the little party at the burglar’s house; I who will gather the dwarfs together; I who will mark his round door with my lorgh; and I who will persuade the dwarfs to show up in ones and twos in his parlor. It will be also I who will conceive the idea of, and I who will nominate him as the Burglar. I will be with the party at the beginning, and I must say that nothing will be amiss when I leave them. You can believe it when I say that my eldest brother will come in at the end and take all of the glory and credit, because that is what he will do, and that will be his gwary.

Again, it will be I (I who will love tanweyth) who many years later will arrange for a special eleventy–eleventh birthday party, and it will be I who will set his nephew off on his reverse quest to return and destroy the bysow–onenin the volcano in that far–away and place of sin and murder. I will conceive the plan to destroy the insane wizard by destroying his soon–peller that the Burglar will inadvertently bring back from a previous underground adventure with the creeping one. You can believe me again that my brother will play his part, especially at the end, after I will set up the entire affair, because that is how it will truly happen.

For those who are interested, the first principal of our magic will be that the sum total of our art always equals mann. Yes, we know about nil, about no thing, about that which is every thing. In fact, we will never create anything, we merely will perform dygemysky. If we want fire, we will disentangle elemental fire from the remaining elements. We will be very good at the art of pointing humans, especially fancy folk, towards the fire and distracting them away from the little storm of rain, wind, and mud somewhere in the corner of their attention.

We will understand the duality of the world’s opposites, that there is no light without dark, for example. Dark is no better; dark is no worse than light—neither can exist in and of itself; both need the other in order to be at all. Both polarities also need that which is both it and its opposite as their higher context of their existence. Order cannot exist without chaos; in without out; left without right; fire without ice; or heat without cold. And fire, for example, must exist within a logically prior state that includes both fire and ice. This I will demonstrate in spectacular fashion by consuming a large cube of rew in the birthday boy’s punchbowl with a tansys of bright blue fire that shall emanate apparently from my finger (if one will be alert to tap some innocuous nearby stones, the stones will crumble to dust from their intensely brittle frigidity I will stow away with them). I shall receive requests for this feat as recently as tomorrow.

It follows from this cunning that in order to create good means that we must separate da, from that which is both good and evil and yet neither— the process of necessity also must create tebel, and in equal proportion. It will be frustrating to us at first, then it will be liberating when we see this as a limitation no more. We will see many of our fellows fail trying to embrace only good and expel evil—they will be doomed to failure and many will fall victims to the evil they inevitably create.

The Oxford professor who fancies himself a writer will tell you of a singular wizard as a single being, in accordance with our brotherly agreement and our pact. What the professor will not tell you is that my brother and I shall never die or perish even though we may be dis–incarnate for centuries. None of us die; who we really are never dies; who we really are cannot die; we are prest a–vew. My brother’s name will be best interpreted technically in our art as I Am That; and my name as That Am I. You may recognize the similarity to the Hebrew ineffable name I Am That I am, or I am. We are, therefore, I Am That Am I, I Am The Other and The Other Is Me.

We both will recognize that the only reality, the only true substance, and the only sawor of all will be the totally subjective reality that will be simply I am, awareness of being. All duality, the life of opposites that we all live in every –day life and every day consciousness, will spring from a reduction, a contraction, a separation of this singularity. The I am can separate and limit itself into honen, and aral; or into I Am That, but it shall remain always the That just as it remains the I. I am that am I shall be the experience of the I Am recognizing itself in all existence and non–existence.

As our brother and Self the barth Taliesin will sing:


I am the reconciler.
I hold the opposites in either hand
And, without letting them approach,
Allow them to comingle.
In the moment of reconciliation
I am the centre,
The tree at the storm’s heart,
The reflection of the true night,
An alembic of light and dark.

… [fragment illegible].

My words themselves
Are a balance and a blending
Of wisdom and folly.

… [fragment illegible to the end]

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Notes:

Note 1: The author of this page had the good fortune to discover the above manuscript fragment rolled inside another much longer manuscript. This outer manuscript was housed originally in an obscure library in Oxford said to be frequented by Geoffrey of Monmouth. Both manuscripts are believed to have been acquired by the fabulous Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts by Professor F C Ashley on August 20, 1890.

Most of the outer manuscript is damaged and badly stained as if it had spent a considerable time below ground or in a musty place. Part is scorched, if not burned, by what Vlad Sirin claims is from a spectral flame. The inner scrap was folded in two with its writing surfaces facing each other; the ink having partially bonded the two halves together, rendering the last part of the MS illegible. To the casual eye, the fragment could easily appear as merely a blank scrap of parchment. The outer manuscript had several feet of blank parchment at the end, and it was here at the very end that the author noticed the parchment when he unrolled the original fully.

The hand of the inner fragment is different than that of the outer and is slanted slightly to suggest the author may have been left–handed. Close scrutiny of the MS reveals faint blue lines ruled precisely nine millimeters apart by today’s measurement, which the original scribe appears to have disregarded almost completely.

The outer manuscript was tied by two pieces of maroon colored cloth ties, badly decomposed, each end clipped precisely at an angle of fifty–one degrees, and tied in a curious and fiendishly difficult knot to untie even in its advanced state of decline, at precisely the third points of the rolled up scroll.

Unfortunately for modern scholars, the wing that housed this fragment and the curious collection of which it was a part, along with the whispers amongst the eldritch caretakers of arcane connections to rituals long since abandoned — the — burned completely to the ground in a freak thunderstorm out an otherwise cloudless and moonless night on March 15, 1937, closing forever further examination of this remarkable document. I have since placed the MS in the climate–controlled hands (figuratively) of a small college in New Wye, Appalachia where it safely rests today.

Note 2: The pictures above of the two wizard brothers are adapted from Tim Kirk’s work that the author found at ftp://ftp.math.uni–hamburg.de/pub/misc/tolkien/ (the link no longer seems to work). I have taken great liberties with portions of the originals in order to render suitable ‘recreations’ of the likenesses of the brothers.

Note 3: After fruitless attempts by the author of this document to make any artful interpretation of the poem fragment, the author includes the interpretation by John Matthews on page 86 of his book The Songs of Taliesin / Stories and Poems From the Book of Broceliande, London, The Aquarian.

Note 4: The purported author of the fragment writes in his mamyeth, or his mother’s mother tongue, Cornish. This author has attempted to translate as best as possible with his limited skills what he makes out the words to be. Many words and phrases were marginal in the original, at best. I have revised some text even in this updating of the website. The author has retained many important technical words of the original with the present text. Any further help with the translation effort will be greatly appreciated. All errors of translation are the author’s.

Respectfully submitted,

C Kimbote

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