Eldarion, prince of Gondor was meant to be asleep. He wasn't – he was reading. Actually he was sat in his closet reading with a dying candle on the floor and a doubtful hope that the next time his mother or father came in they would mistake the pile of pillows under the bedcovers as their son.

He was at the troublesome age of eleven where everything else gave way for an unquenchable thirst for finding out things. Before his eleventh birthday he was quite content to go off with his friends and play 'Sauron and Elendil' and other favourites or terrorize his younger sisters with icky things he found in the gardens; now he spent most of his time either reading books silently or asking questions loudly. His mother was worried like normal but his father seemed to find it amusing and always had a story or two to tell.

Already Eldarion had found out as much as he could about the War of the Ring, the Elves and Melkor and Sauron and Numenor, but whenever he looked for anything about the wizards he was always left feeling disappointed because none of the stories were finished – or started – properly. He blamed his father, his father the King of Gondor and Arnor had, it seemed to Eldarion, a strange sense of humour. He would tell fantastic stories about Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey and then when he was asked more he would just shrug and laugh and say even he doesn't know the whole story. Not even his mother did and she was really old.

There was a creak from his bedroom door and the little prince quickly snuffed out his candle so the entire closet went dark. There was a silence that meant it was neither his mother nor his nanny looking in on him. His mother bustled and his nanny plodded and each made enough noise to wake him up as it was. His father never made any noise; he was a ranger and if he made noise he's be dead, Legolas had once told him – though the elf might have been trying to scare him.

Not even Uncle Legolas knew enough about the wizards and he was even older than mother – and he had gone on lots of adventures with Gandalf.

The door opened suddenly and Eldarion squeaked.

"There you are!" whispered his father and picked him up. "What are you doing in the closet?"

"I was reading, father."

Aragorn laughed. "Again? Your mother will feed you to a balrog is she finds out, you know?"

"There aren't any balrogs left, father!"

Aragorn sat down on the bed, threw all the pillows out from under the covers and laid his son down again. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes! Gandalf killed the last one!"

"Oh yes. I forgot."

"You're making fun of me father!"

"I know."

Eldarion 'humphed' and put his head down. "Who was Gandalf, father?"

"He was a wizard, Eldarion – I've told you that haven't I?"

"Yes – but I want to know everything about him, and the rest of the wizards!"

"Everything?"

"Yes!"

Aragorn stood up and puffed out his cheeks. "That's a lot to find out, Eldarion – and I'm not sure there is anyone left who knows all of it."

"But I want to know, father!" Eldarion protested. "Someone must know!"