Gandalf, the Grey, appeared on the top of the hill in a plain little cart, pulled by a shaggy-coated common horse, and wearing his everyday grey clothes, nothing fancy. Under the thick white beard that reached down to his belly like a fluffy blanket, he sported a friendly smile on one side and his pipe on the other, puffing out lazy clouds of sweet smoke. He went humming an old elvish tune as he made his way down toward the Shire, and the sound was so merry that even the rabbits in the hedgerows stopped to listen.