First he thought it was the eyes.

The White Wizard’s eyes were black as obsidian, ignoring him as if he were invisible... or worse, someone unworthy of consideration, not important enough to speak to, a child, a nothing.

The boy watched his father giving their noble visitor access to the library; he saw the tall figure bow with supple elegance and heard the polite words of esteem, spoken with a wonderful voice, deep, rich and smooth like dark honey.

„My other son.” the Steward said. The wizard’s gaze merely touched him before he went out with a careless sweep of his flawlessly white robe. The boy remained between the high pillars, his knees inexplicably weak, his mouth dry. He dashed out into the courtyard and reached the fountain, filling his mouth with clear, cold water. He felt as if he had escaped a fatal menace.

It was more than a year later when he met the other one, and it was close to the fountain that he heard him for the first time… a shrill whistling, drilling into his ear and making him turn around in surprise.

The robe of the old man was grey and crinkled, his cloak blue, the hem soaked with dirt from a long ride. When the boy stepped close, hesitatingly and still a little astonished, the stranger crouched before him and he gazed into twinkling eyes under heavy brows, filled with a mischievous grin.

"You did not guess, did you, that a sound so loud could come from a man so old?" he said, and the boy gave him a shy smile. "Tell me, can you whistle, too?”

The boy couldn’t and he felt ashamed, but then he raised his chin and spoke with his high, clear voice.

“No.” he answered. „But I know the names of all kings since Isildur came from Numenor and ascended the throne of Gondor.”

„Oh, really?” the old man answered. „Tell me.”

„Elendil, Isildur, Anárion…” the boy began, „Meneldil, Cemendur, Earendil…” And he numerated the ancient rulers of the glorious kingdom his father governed, the sonorous syllables of their names rolling over his tongue while the sun sank deeper and the fountain sprayed liquid gold over the dead trunk of the White Tree.

At last he reached Earnur and grew silent.

„Very good, child.” the stranger said, his voice a deep, friendly rumble. „I am really impressed. What do you think… shall I now show you how to whistle?”

„Oh… would you?!”

Not the eyes alone made the difference, the boy decided later when he had found out the astonishing fact that this was another wizard.

Their hearts were different, too.