Why be a Wizard?
It seems like a lot of work for not a lot of glam
🧙 Why Would Anyone Want to Be a Wizard?
I’ve been called a wizard more times than I can count. Back then, I didn’t see it in myself. Now? I’ve got some grey streaks in my long hair and beard. And yeah, I get it.
But why the robes? Always the plain, tattered ones. Why that motif?
Because gold is heavy and time is precious.
That’s really it.
Gandalf isn’t dressed down because he’s poor. He’s dressed for movement. Always headed somewhere — a library, a keep, a cottage with a kettle on. He’s got a few coins, sure. And each one? A story. But not many. That’s not the point.
Because a wizard... sees things. Learns things. Walks across lands and listens.
And once in a while, a wizard notices that the winds are changing. That the status quo — the way things are — might not be working for the “free peoples of Middle-earth.”
So what does he do? He calls a meeting. Not with kings. Not with armies. With other noticers. With wanderers, scholars, watchers.
And you know who shows up? Saruman. Also a wizard. Also a noticer. But with a different conclusion: “Let it be. Don’t worry about it. Don’t poke the dragon.”
Nah. Fuck you, Saruman. Go back to your ivory tower — or obsidian one, whatever. Let the people who walk this world — who *live* in it — decide what to do.
Being a wizard ain’t glamorous. You don’t get a crown. You don’t get parades. You get questions, long roads, and maybe a cup of strong tea if you’re lucky.
So why do it?
For the chance to solo a Balrog of Morgoth. Obviously.
I’m not out here looking for one. But if one shows up, and the opportunity presents itself? I’m down to squab.
Maybe I die. Maybe I *almost* die — hit the level-up at the exact right moment, land a crit, and walk out victorious.
What then? Sweet, sweet legendary loot. Possible class change. You know how it is.
So yeah. I’m gonna choose wizard.
