When Imrahil came back to himself, he was in his own bed in his own room. A lamp burned on the bedside table, and a turn of the head in one direction showed dark outside the window. A similar turn in the other direction revealed Andrahar, who was sitting in a chair at the bedside regarding him sternly.

"I am supposed to inform your uncle and sister when you wake up," he told Imrahil with a frown. "But before I do, I am going to ask you a question. Have you used hekadi again since the one time last year?"

"Whatever happened to 'How are you feeling?' or 'Are you all right?' as opening remarks to the recently unconscious?" growled the Heir.

"Those will come later, after you answer the question, my lord prince."

Imrahil glared at him for a moment in affront, then answered. "No! No, I haven't! I finished off the brandy flask last night, that was all. And I've never touched drugs again since the once. That was more than enough for me! Where would I get them anyway?"

"In Dol Amroth, or Pelargir, for that matter. Any port city of that size has them if you know where to look."

"And I take it that you know exactly what's available and exactly where to look, in a city I grew up in and you've only lived in for four years?"

"Of course." A bit of a smug smile tweaked Andrahar's lips, then his demeanor softened considerably. "Are you all right, Imri? What happened?"

Somewhat mollified by the show of concern, however belated, Imrahil answered, "I woke up late, and was a bit hung-over, but I made myself eat breakfast and bathe and get dressed. I wanted to talk to you, but you were still out riding with my sister, so I decided to go to Colhammad's without you, so I could get all of that out of the way, and you wouldn't have to sit through it."

"Thank you for that mercy!"

The young prince ignored the comment. "I was just looking over some shirting swatches when your Captain Thorongil came in. He wanted a suit of clothes for mettarë . I took one look at his face, and the next thing I knew, it was like I'd taken the hekadi all over again--I was seeing all sorts of things, too quickly to understand them. I fell onto the floor, and could hear him and the tailors, but I couldn't see or speak. The vision went faster and faster and got worse and worse till at last the wave dream came and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was here. That's all I remember."

"You say you saw Thorongil, and that he set you off? What does that mean?"

"Yes. And I do not know what it means. Unless your remark about him hiding a great deal beneath the surface is true, and he is important in some way we don't know about." Imrahil struggled up onto his elbows. "But it worries me, Andra. It was not a waking vision as father describes them. Those are not so quick or intense. It was just like when I took the hekadi. You don't think it could have….damaged me in some way, do you?"

Andrahar frowned again, but this time it was a concerned frown. "I do not know, Imri. I know more about poisons than about the drugs folk take for…amusement. I have heard that it is possible for a person using hekadi only once to suffer visions years after the fact, but I do not know if that is true or not. We could speak to the healers in the Houses of Healing, and see what they know. You had one here looking at you this afternoon. They were worried you had been poisoned. Or had had some sort of brain-storm. How do you feel now?"

Imrahil sighed. "Tired. Drained. And hungry! It's been a long time since breakfast." He looked up at his friend, brow creased with worry. "Andra, what if this keeps happening? How can I be a sailor or a warrior if I have fits?"

Andrahar crossed his arms and shook his head. "There is no need to worry about that just yet. We don't know that it will keep happening. Did anything like this happen to you aboard the Asfallin? What about the wave dream? Did you have that?"

"No, I've had nothing like this until today. As for the wave dream…." he paused for a moment, thinking back, and a look of surprise came over his face. "Do you know, now that you mention it, Andra, I never had the wave dream while on board the Asfallin!"

"Not even once?" Andrahar asked, surprised in his turn, dropping his arms and leaning forward. "Imri, hardly the month goes by, two at the most, when you don't have it. Now you are telling me that it did not happen for a year?"

Imrahil nodded. "Not even once. I wonder why?" Silence fell over the two young men as they pondered the question. At last Andrahar spoke somewhat hesitantly.

"This may sound…unlikely…but perhaps it was because you were on a ship. The only people who survived the foundering of Numenor were on ships. Perhaps you felt safe, somehow, deep inside, and that is why you did not have the dream. 'Tis no wonder you liked the sea so much." His expression became glum as he recollected his earlier promise to accompany Imrahil on his maritime adventures.

The young prince gave him an admiring look. "That is actually a rather good theory, Andra. Much better than mine, which is that taking the hekadi did something to my gift, changed it or drained it or blocked it, and then it wore off and that's why I had the very strong vision."

"We simply do not have enough information to make a proper assessment," the Haradrim concluded, leaping to his feet with his usual unquenchable energy, and pacing back and forth a couple of steps. "We will have to give this some time, and see if it happens again, and see what we can find out in the meantime." He looked over at Imrahil. "I need to tell them you're awake now."

"I know." The prince sighed resignedly. "Fin and Aunt Eilinel are going to want to cosset me, I fear."

The knight-probationer did not deny it. "At least you'll be making them feel better," he suggested with a distinct lack of sympathy. "I think Captain Thorongil may still be here as well--I seem to recollect an offer of dinner. It might be useful to see if he causes you to have a fit again. Then at least we'd know to avoid him."

Imrahil winced. "Can you just imagine the scandal if I did go into spasms every time I encountered the good captain? I would have to go back home to Dol Amroth. It would be nearly impossible to avoid the man at court."

"And the Lord Denethor would undoubtedly find a way to blame it on either Captain Thorongil, or myself, or both of us."

"Come now, Andra, do strive for some tolerance! He may very well end up my brother-in-law, if the gossip is any indication. You know the saying--one can't choose one's relatives." Andrahar gave the prince a very flat look that spoke volumes.

"Actually, in Harad, people do choose their relatives from time to time," he declared loftily. "Another way in which my people are wiser than yours."

"How do they do that?" Imrahil asked, interested, but the Haradrim did not deign to explain. He moved to the door, then paused for a moment, obviously taken by an idea.

"Imri, what did you say you were doing when Thorongil came in and your fit began?"

"I was looking at swatches for shirts. They'd just had some new ones come in. Why?"

Andrahar's face was very grave. "It has just occurred to me that perhaps there is another reason for your affliction. Indeed, it explains everything perfectly."

"What, Andra?"

Black eyes that were limpid pools of solemnity met the prince's. "You were blinded by the white." There was a flashing grin, and a quick dodge out the door, which closed just as a pillow thudded against it. Imrahil fell back against his other pillows with a groan.

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Having a relatively good opinion of himself, the Heir to Dol Amroth was not a person adverse to coddling in theory. Indeed, he would freely admit that he enjoyed, if not actively sought it out from time to time. But when his entire family in Minas Tirith surrounded his bed and announced their intention to keep him there for the immediate future, he decided that things were being carried a little too far.

"This is beginning to resemble those absurd death-bed scenes in those ridiculous songs the minstrels are always composing at Dol Amroth," he complained to the room at large. His sister tut-tutted, and stroked his hair back from his forehead.

"You did not see yourself when you came home, Imri. The good captain here had to carry you in! And you were so pale! You frightened me half to death!"

"There is nothing wrong with me!" Imrahil declared, in direct contradiction of his own earlier fears.

"How can you say that, my lord prince?" Eilinel asked. "You had a terrible fit!"

"It was nota fit, Aunt Eilinel! It was a vision."

Captain Thorongil, whose presence had thankfully not caused Imrahil to go into spasms again and who had been standing quietly off to the side, spoke. "If I may speak--I have seen a man who suffered from fits due to a head injury he'd taken in battle, and I once knew a boy who had been born with them. This was not the same. Prince Imrahil could hear me when I spoke to him, and responded before he lost consciousness. Such was not the case with the other people I knew who had fits."

Finduilas shook her head, unconvinced. "'Tis kind of you, Captain, but Father's foresight does not pitch him onto the floor unconscious. I wonder, Imri, if this may not be a remnant of your little misadventure of last summer." Chilled by his sister's reaching the same conclusion he had, Imrahil looked about the room for a moment. Aerandir, who was obviously in the know, looked grim, while Eilinel was plainly baffled. Andrahar's expression was unreadable, but there was the faintest hint of curiosity upon Captain Thorongil's face, though he was obviously trying to suppress it. Somehow, Imrahil knew that curiosity was not pure prurience, but merely a desire for more and better information. And as he also had the strong feeling that the captain could be trusted, he answered it.

"I took some hekadi last summer, Captain," he told Thorongil. "On a dare, more or less. There was something wrong with it--it killed the man who had given it to me. And I had an experience much like today's, save that it was far worse."

Aerandir bent his head to softly explain to his wife the significance of this, while Thorongil's face grew grave. "That was…unfortunate, my lord prince."

"Foolish, don't you mean?"

The captain's mouth twitched. "That too," he conceded.

"My family are dreamers, captain. They dream things that sometimes come true, and sometimes they have waking visions as well. So the question we're debating is--was what happened today a result of my gift or the hekadi?"

"Well, whichever it is, it obviously exhausted you, Imrahil," his sister said sternly before Thorongil could answer. "You've still got no color to you. I am going to write Mother and Father tonight, and I think you should rest for several days, perhaps as much as a week. And I don't know that it's a good idea for you to resume esquire training just yet. You should be watched for a while, to see if it happens again."

"Don't tell Mother and Father, Fin! They'll just be worried sick, and come to Minas Tirith early instead of waiting for Council season. I'll be all right."

"Your sister is correct, nephew," Aerandir said firmly. "Whether you like it or not, you are your father's only son and heir, and anything that concerns your health is of direct concern to him. I shall be including my observations as well."

Outflanked and outnumbered, Imrahil made a partial tactical withdrawal. "Very well then--just try not to scare them to death, please? But as for me staying in bed for a week--it's really not necessary! All it will do is make it that much harder for me to take up my training when the time comes."

"Perhaps a day or two in bed, then some carefully supervised exercise?" Thorongil suggested diffidently. "I wouldn't think it wise that he ride or climb or swim for a bit, but I don't see how he would come to harm sparring with experienced partners. Certainly not in the esquire class-perhaps some private lessons with competent individuals. Any of your knights would serve, and young Andrahar is most capable. He also knows the prince's ways best, and would most likely be able to discern if he was having difficulty again. That way, the prince would be able to proceed at a pace that was not taxing to his health, but he would also not loose ground as a swordsman."

Aerandir nodded. "That sounds good to me. What do you think, Finduilas?"

The Princess frowned, reluctance plain upon her face. "Very well then. Though I still think he needs to rest longer."

"It would be easy enough to put him back in bed, should the exercise prove to be too much for him," Thorongil said in a reasonable tone. Imrahil had no idea what had made the man take up his cause, but he wasn't objecting. Finduilas nodded capitulation after a little more inner debate; despite the fact that Thorongil was a captain and not a healer, he exuded an air of quiet competence that made one think that what he said had to be so. The young prince was grateful for that as well.

"Two days, Imrahil, then we'll let you get up and try some things and see what happens."

"Thank you, Fin," the Heir said sincerely, figuring it best to quit while he was ahead. His sister was eyeing him with a frighteningly maternal gleam in her eye.

"And now, brother, how are you feeling? Can I get you anything?"

"Some dinner would be nice," he suggested plaintively. "I had a light breakfast, and nothing since then. I'm starved!"

"If his appetite's intact, there cannot be too much wrong with him!" Aerandir declared heartily, though whether he actually believed that or was just saying it to reassure his troubled wife was anyone's guess. Patting Imrahil gently on the shoulder, he took Eilinel's arm and ushered her from the room. "Come my lady," came his fading voice, "let us find some food for the poor starving fellow."

Kissing her brother on the brow, Finduilas rose as well. "I'll go help Aunt Eilinel see to your supper, Imri." She gave Captain Thorongil a grateful smile. "Thank you again, captain, for your care of my brother. It was very kind of you."

The mysterious captain inclined his head. "It was my pleasure, lady. I am glad that he seems to have come to no lasting harm. I would like to check upon his progress over the next few days, if you would permit it. And please know that if there is anything I can do to aid you, you have only to call upon me."

"You are welcome in our house at any time, Captain Thorongil. We keep a good table, and I would imagine that a bachelor captain finds it difficult to provision himself, so please consider yourself to have a standing invitation for dinner."

"That, my lady, is very kind of you!"

Finduilas bestowed upon him a warm and appreciative glance and moved to the door. "It is the very least I can do. I'll leave you gentlemen alone now."

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When she had gone, Imrahil gave the captain a speculative look. "She has a dowry you would not believe, captain."

Thorongil, taken a bit aback, laughed, his face lightening in that way that Andrahar had noted before. Imrahil was surprised by how it changed him as well.

"Of that I have no doubt, my lord prince! As I also have no doubt that your father, just and fair-minded man that he is, would nonetheless prefer Denethor son of Ecthelion as a son-in-law to a wandering sell-sword!"

"Well, I am neither just nor fair-minded, and I am not overmuch pleased with the prospect of Lord Denethor as a brother-in-law! He's too old for Fin for one thing. And entirely too gloomy. And he thinks everyone he doesn't like is a spy."

"I too had noted that tendency of Lord Denethor's." Thorongil went absolutely straight-faced for an instant, and Andrahar muffled a snort of laughter at his expression. "But I should warn you, Prince Imrahil, that though I may appear remarkably well-preserved," this being said with a twinkling eye, "I am not any younger than Lord Denethor, so your objection to him would have to apply to me as well."

"But you are not as gloomy. And you don't think Andra is a spy."

"Oh, I have my gloomy moments. But it is true that I know without a doubt where Andrahar's loyalty is given." He moved closer to the bed and folded Imrahil's hand into his briefly. "I hope that you will feel better soon, my lord prince. Perhaps when you are more yourself, we might spar together a bit."

"I should like that very much," the young prince replied. "Andra has said that you are the most excellent swordsman he's ever seen. I am sure that I would learn a great deal."

"Andrahar is overly kind, but when you have recovered, we will put that to the test."

"Indeed, I am not adverse to a little rest, though I'll thank you not to say that to my sister!" Imrahil admitted. "It was most of it so frightening and depressing! Fire and death and battle." He cocked an eyebrow at Thorongil. "You were there, you know. A couple of times."

"Was I now? Perhaps that is not so unlikely. Your vision had battle in it and I am a captain after all. But I am sorry to have caused you grief, even in a vision."

"Oh, it wasn't all horrible," Imrahil hastened to reassure him. "There were a couple of beautiful things. This woman, for one. I thought she might be Elbereth. The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, with hair like the night with stars in it. And a tree, a little white one, blooming. I think it might have been a White Tree."

Andrahar, watching the captain closely, saw no outward change in his expression. But something in his eyes shifted in a way that told the Haradrim his liege's vision had some meaning to the man. However, Thorongil's voice was level enough when he said in a gentle tone, "I am glad to hear that it was not all horrible."

"No. But I shall be years sorting it all out, I fear. Unless it keeps happening…." the prince's face fell at that prospect, and the captain gave him an encouraging smile.

"I should not worry about that just yet. It may never happen again. In any event, you should endeavor to stay calm and not fret about it unduly, lest your very unease bring it upon you once more."

"Saying something like that is almost guaranteed to make me worry about it, captain!" Imrahil chided. Thorongil bowed.

"That is true. Forgive me, I am sometimes clumsy in sickrooms. I will take my leave now, that you might take your rest. Good night, my lord prince."

"Good night, captain." The odd feeling swept over Imrahil again, as he watched Thorongil go out the door, but it was not accompanied with any visions, other than a distinct feeling the man should be wearing a star upon his brow…He shivered a little, then turned to find Andrahar looking at him with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes." The prince nodded almost too strongly, as if he were trying to convince himself, and as if the motion had jogged something loose, a name popped into his mind, a name whose meaning or significance escaped him utterly. Aragorn.

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The chambermaid brought up Imrahil's supper shortly after the captain's departure. Andrahar, who had eaten his own supper while keeping vigil over Imrahil, kept him company with a tankard of ale. The two friends said little as the prince wolfed his food with the appetite of a healthy young man; but when he had done and set his tray aside, Imrahil asked, "Are you all right, Andra?"

Andrahar took a drink of his ale, his eyebrows raised. "Why should I not be?"

"Because of last night!" the Heir exclaimed, baffled by the Haradrim's nonchalance, and uncertain as to whether he should be reassured or worried by it. He had been surprised upon his awakening, that Andrahar had been so easy with him. Grateful, but surprised.

Imrahil's friend and one-time lover nestled his tankard between his two hands. "I will admit I was upset last night, and it was quite a while before I was able to sleep. But I had little time to think about it again until this afternoon. I accompanied your sister this morning while she rode, and later when she had lunch over at the Citadel. When we returned, we found that the carriage had been sent after you. Captain Thorongil brought you in shortly after that. At that point, I became afraid that you might have had the fit because you were distraught about what we had done last night."

"Or because I had been taking hekadi again behind your back!" Imrahil complained. "As if I could have been doing that while doing duty as a seaman! Captain Erengar ran a tight ship."

"I thought you might have acquired some upon your trip up from Dol Amroth. But when you said you hadn't, and you did not seem angry with me about our time together, I was very relieved."

"For my part, I was relieved as well. I was afraid that we would not be able to talk to one another, and I was surprised that you were so comfortable with me-even if it meant I had to suffer your wretched sense of humor." The Haradrim snickered. "I thought that you might hate me for forcing you to do that, and then failing as I did."

Andrahar gaped at him in disbelief. "Hate you? Why would I hate you for that?" He drained his tankard quickly, got to his feet and began to pace about the room. "In the first place, you did not force me to do anything! In the second-you must understand, Imrahil, I do know that I am not a normal man! It is nature's way for men to want to cleave unto women and produce children. I do not know why I have never looked upon a woman with desire-if my childhood is to blame, or if I was born that way. And many times I have wished that however it happened, I were not made so, for it has made a difficult life no easier. But it is the way I am, and I cannot deny it, and it would be a grave mistake for me to try to pretend otherwise. Can you imagine the life of the poor woman shackled to me in marriage?" Imrahil shook his head, appalled at the very thought.

Gesturing a little abruptly with the empty tankard, the knight-probationer continued. "My people are more understanding of this vice, or perversion, or difference…whatever you want to call it. Perhaps the Khandians have corrupted us. Did you know that there is a sect of Khandians whose members do not sleep with their wives unless they wish to procreate? They feel it diminishes their masculinity." A short, unhappy laugh. "Amusing is it not? That they feel exactly the opposite of how most people feel about love between men? They sleep with boys instead. And you know how I know that." Imrahil nodded, remembering some of Andrahar's more hair-raising tales. "When you brought me to Gondor, and I began to understand how your folk regarded what I am, I despaired. And I was terrified to tell you, afraid that you might cast me out."

He stopped pacing, and let the hand with the tankard fall to his side. "But when I did reveal what I was, wonder of wonders, you not only did not cast me out to fend for myself in a hostile country, you simply accepted me."

"You can thank those Elves you dislike so much for that," said Imrahil with a small smile. "I had a very informative talk with Gildor once, not long before I met you."

Andrahar rolled his eyes. "Then much as I hate to admit it, I am grateful to them. Imri, I will own that there have been parts of the last several years that were less than enjoyable, particularly the year before last,"-- Imrahil grimaced guiltily at that--"but there were also parts that were very good, and you never despised me because I was a man-lover. That was a very great gift you gave me." He moved closer to the bed, still he was standing right beside it.

"And not one man in one hundred thousand would have given me the gift you gave last night! T'was my fault as much as yours, for allowing you to go through with it as far as you did. But I do think you were right--we needed to find out once and for all." His dark gaze was very earnest. "I will not deny that I regret that we did not succeed. I will regret that all of my life. But now I know. And I would rather know than spend the rest of my life wondering 'What if?'."

"I wish it had been better too, Andra. I told you then, and I will tell you now, that I am willing to try again."

Andrahar shook his head vehemently. "But I am not! There is no future in it, Imri. Had you truly been a man for men, I might have been willing to continue to try, but you are not, and I will not have you jeopardize your position as Heir for an affair that is conducted out of a sense of duty rather than real passion. 'Tis better for you this way in any event-you will marry your wife and sire your children as you ought." He paused to contemplate something for a moment, then smiled his wolfish grin. "And as I will most likely never have any children of my own, I will have to settle for undermining your authority with yours."

"Thank you ever so much!" Imrahil groaned, then sobered. "Are you sure that you are all right?"

"I am sure." The reply came quick and firm. "Yes, it hurt, and I will not pretend that it did not. But I did a good part of that to myself, mooning after you for so long when I had ample proof before me that you preferred women. All you did was try to fulfill my wish for me. You have your father's generous spirit, Imrahil. I would be proud to spend the rest of my life serving you."

"I would rather you were my friend, Andra, not my servant."

"I can be your friend, but I still have to make a living!"

"Ever the practical one! Well, one of us should be." The prince reached up and clasped his friend's forearm. His own was squeezed in return. A bit tentatively, Imrahil then strengthened his grasp, drawing Andrahar down into his reach so that he could embrace him. There was a moment's hesitation, a slight stiffness, before the Haradrim relaxed and permitted the familiarity, but he seemed comfortable enough after that.

"I will be abed, or perhaps on the couch in the library, for the next two days," the Heir said into his ear. "There is no need for you to bear me company there--I know that it would bore you immensely. So by all means, if there is something more active you would rather be doing, please go ahead and do it. And if it turns out that my career as a warrior is over before it was truly begun, I shan't ask you to dance attendance upon me, Andra."

Andrahar snorted. "If such turns out to be the case, though I doubt it will, then you will need me more than ever, my lord prince. And I will stay with you."

The prince's arms tightened about him then in a fierce squeeze. "Thank you!"

The Haradrim pulled away gently after they released him. "You are welcome! Now get some sleep. No matter what else I do tomorrow, I will sup with you tomorrow night."

Imrahil nodded, and closed his eyes. "I will look forward to it. Good night, Andra."

Andrahar looked down at his liege; still slightly wan, his face relaxed and vulnerable, his black hair straying untidily over the pillow in a most appealing way. The picture was stirring enough that the young knight had to give his heart and other parts a quick, stern talking-to. Aloud, he merely said, "Good night, Imri." And blew out the lamp, and shut the door quietly behind him when he went.