Disclaimer: I own nothing, just playing in Professor's sandbox.

AN: I have been wanting to do another Harad story for a long time now. I want to create an enemy nation that doesn't just melt away as soon as absolutely evil is defeated, a kingdom powerful enough to necessitate some real wars and real moral quandaries, and a civilization with enough beauty and wisdom and also enough greed and ambition to make the water interestingly murky. I have been hacking at this idea and had a few unsuccessful attempts. This may be an unsuccessful one yet, but it looks promising so here we go.


1. Of Victors and Expendables

"Year Two of Building Renewal, in the Reign of Emperor Tunya the Martial.

The situation in the north was becoming dire. Mordor has grown strong, and the Mountains of Shadow were again teeming with orcs and other monsters. Messengers from Mordor demanded earnest obedience and an army of no less than ten-thousand to support its invasion of Gondor. General Brei advised against accepting Mordor's demand, while Admiral Lingor and Chief Strategist Sii said it was imprudent to reject Mordor at such an hour. More is said in the biography of Sii of the Suni Clan.

At last it was decided that Harad shall answer Mordor's demand and send ten-thousand men to the war in Gondor. Ten-thousand men were drawn from the newly conquered regions in the east and the south, where the local people joyfully greeted the Emperor but the soldiers, used to a life of abandon under warlords, harbored resentment and plots.

As men mobilized and supplies gathered, Vaunsin went before the Emperor and said, 'Your Majesty, please allow me to command this northern expedition.'

At first Emperor Tunya refused, knowing it to be a thankless mission from which there is only a small chance of returning, and he would not let any man he loves to be a part of it. But Vaunsin persuaded the Emperor, saying, 'There needs to be a high ranking officer of some skills to hold this army together and lead it across such vast distance to Gondor. Who else can be sent? Your Majesty's best generals are needed at home to reunify the empire. I am not as useful as the others and already condemned by many sicknesses. Surely it should be me and no one else.'

Emperor Tunya grieved and could not come to a decision for many months. It was only with renewed pressure from Mordor that he finally relented and made Vaunsin the head of the northern expedition. When the order was read in court, Emperor Tunya wept openly for Vaunsin, whom he loved well."

—Scroll Fourteen, Biography of Vaunse and Vaunsin of the White Reed Clan, Early Years of the Silver Cloud


The sixth morning after the Fall of Sauron seemed like a time to finally sleep in.

The camps were set up, food and water and shelter provided for; Frodo and Sam now rested peacefully in a healing sleep; all wounded received attention and care, even the surrendered enemies. Yet Aragorn still pushed his reluctant body out of bed at the crack of dawn. After his grueling labor for the past few days he longed rest, and everyone expected him to rest at this hour, but no, not yet. He had allowed himself to enjoy a full night's sleep, nearly nine hours, and that was as much luxury he could afford. There were pressing tasks still.

He called Elphir son of Imrahil to his tent. The young man oversaw the onerous yet important task of guarding the prisoners of war. Aragorn was pleasantly surprised when Elphir arrived with his father.

"My lord," Imrahil bowed respectfully, "You called Elphir for official matters regarding the prisoners of war, and I too have heard of the disturbance among the Haradrim. I wish to offer whatever assistance I may."

Aragorn nodded, "Yes, I need more information from the Haradrim, 'tis urgent. I do not mean to cut short your well-deserved rest, and I would not trouble Elphir either were he not made responsible for the prisoners. But this must be dealt with, and I am glad of your presence."

"What well-deserved rest is there when the King labors still?" Said Imrahil, "Though I fear dealing with the prisoners of war will be a daunting task. We have a few soldiers from the deep south who perhaps know a few words in their tongue, but no real interpreter, and we cannot even begin to guess what the seeming disturbance in their camp is about."

Here a strange expression stole Aragorn's features; he seemed vaguely troubled and unhappy. He said with a small sigh, "Aye, I know the reason behind that disturbance well enough, for I understand their tongue and heard their whispers, but that is not the urgent matter. I have other concerns, for which I need to speak to the highest-ranking ones among the prisoners from Harad. Will you send these prisoners to me, Elphir? Also, send me all the Haradrim standards, flags, and signs either your company or the prisoners have kept."

Elphir bowed and took his leave. While waiting for Elphir to return with the prisoners, Aragorn hung up a hastily drawn map of southern Gondor and Harad and begin marking on the map with a stick of charcoal.

Imrahil asked, "How is it that my lord speaks the tongue of Harad?"

"I spent many years there," Aragorn answered quietly.

"Did Captain Thorongil travel east and then south after his departure from Gondor?" Imrahil could not resist the question—he had come to the realization a few days ago that the king returned was none other than his old captain, the famed Eagle of the Star.

Aragorn glanced at Imrahil before shaking his head, "No, I ventured into Harad while hunting for a creature named Gollum, and that was not so long ago."

They fell quiet for a while, and Aragorn was once again absorbed by the task of writing notes and markers on his map. So Imrahil ventured to ask, "What is your concern regarding Harad, my lord?"

Aragorn grimaced, his expression darker than it had any right to be, now that Sauron has been utterly defeated. The King said with a heavy voice, "Only that Harad did not lose anything meaningful in this war and now has the perfect opportunity to strike north."

"What?" Imrahil exclaimed with incredulity, "Their dead number in the thousands, never mind the prisoners of war and those who fled into the wilds!"

Aragorn breathed a troubled sigh, "Indeed, that would seem like a crippling blow to any kingdom. But all those centuries past we have been seeing the frontier for the empire itself. Harad's true nature and strength have always been obscured by distance and her own internal turmoil, but now perhaps she has both the will and the long arm to strike."

Imrahil suddenly felt a chill, and he could only ask, "Tell me more, my lord, tell me what you know of Harad."

Aragorn gestured to his map, pointing to the area south of the Harnen River, and he explained, "This is the Harad Gondor knows, a harsh place of deserts and dry grasslands that produces nothing except sturdy wild horses, wilder falcons, and precious stones. Their people number anywhere between four-hundred thousand and twice as much, but divided into many tribes often at war with each other. Books in Gondor speak vaguely of the Bordering Mountains some one hundred leagues south of the Harnen and fifty leagues east of Umbar, and that is the end of Harad. None of this is strictly untrue. The population of Near Harad is indeed some seven hundred to eight hundred-thousand, and it is not a unified kingdom; rather it is one nation that sometimes led and sometimes lay besieged by many smaller, nomadic tribes surrounding it."

Here Aragorn paused, studying his map with furrowed brow.

"And?" Imrahil asked, feeling a growing sense of unease, "What is south of the Bordering Mountains?"

Aragorn shook his head as he murmured, "An empire in its heyday that was more than twice the size of Gondor and Rohan combined. What Gondor knows is but a frontier province, controlled by a respected house that nonetheless rarely mattered in the Haradrim capital."

"In its heyday? Tell me you mean that Harad is no longer such a behemoth."

This time the pause was longer still. When Aragorn finally spoke, he chose his words carefully, saying, "The Empire of Harad has experienced a long and slow decline, not unlike Gondor, but for entirely different reasons. The slow erosion descended into civil war and anarchy a decade ago, and the empire was broken into many small states controlled by unscrupulous warlords, yet that too is a thing of the past. The young King of Near Harad has crossed the Bordering Mountains and he has conquered himself a new throne; by now he controls at least two-thirds of the empire. We may not be facing the Haradrim Empire at its height, but still something of worrying proportion. Even more worrying is this newly minted young emperor; he has seen enough of Gondor to be interested and ambitious, more than any of his predecessors."

"How large is the Haradrim military in full then?" Imrahil pressed.

"A decade ago the King of Near Harad commanded a standing army of twenty-five thousand, ten thousand of which can be horsed within a fortnight. The new emperor of an almost reunified Harad commands five times such at the very least, and a growing navy."

"Little wonder you do not think a few thousand dead so heavy a toll!" Imrahil remarked with something nearly like bitterness.

"Death is always a heavy toll," Aragorn said in a subdued voice, and his grey eyes flashed with pain, "I mourn their dead, yet with no small measure of relish, and still I fear and plot against their living. Why must it be so? Why must free men war amongst themselves?"

Aragorn spoke with such sorrow, that a thought both strange and terrifying struck Imrahil. He asked, "Sire, how do you know all of this?"

"I was there."

"But such understanding could hardly reach any commoner, especially a foreigner—you spoke of their armies and musters!" Imrahil's face became a shade paler, "In what capacity were you there, my lord?"

Aragorn did not answer immediately and his face showed nothing except controlled calm. He was perhaps composing a fitting reply, and Imrahil waited patiently. Just then Elphir re-entered the tent with an armful of fabric.

The young heir of Dol Amroth said with a bow, "Here are all the enemy flags, banners and device bearing weapons and armor my company has collected, though we know not whether they are of Harad or Khand or other tribes even further east. I have outside the tent a man who claims to be a general, and one of our knights who speaks a little southern tongue."

Aragorn thanked the young man and began examining these tokens. A quick glance at the top most green flag and he marked another place on his map, murmuring, "The second tribe of Khand." Then another flag, another note on the map, "Yuë Kingdom from eastern Harad. The House of Summer Wind of the South Lake Region. And the House of Greenwoods…"

After he went through the entire collection he studied his map a few moments longer, before speaking with a heavy sigh, "Indeed, according to these tokens at least, the only Haradrim troops we have seen are from regions newly conquered by the young emperor; that bodes ill for us, I fear." Before Imrahil could press him with further questions, Aragorn turned to Elphir and requested, "Please show the Haradrim general in; I wish to speak to him."

The Southron who followed Elphir into the tent looked to be a man in his middling years, taller than most of his kindred and fairer, lean of body, with dark and stern eyes. Even with his dark hair now in disarray he looked more like a scholar than a military man. Aragorn visibly started when he saw the man, and the Southron's reaction was even more visceral. The Haradrim general trembled, then as if his legs could no longer support his weight, he fell to knees momentarily. But he quickly stood once more, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, before offering a dignified half-bow to Aragorn.

Aragorn stood up and said a string of Haradrim; it sounded like a question laden with concern, tenderness, even.

The Southron replied in Westron instead, his words heavily accented but still understandable, "I am well of body, thank you for your concern, Grand Marshal."

"You do speak Westron!" Elphir exclaimed with shock, "Yet you have remained utterly silent for the past few days. You could have prevented much pain to us and to your own people by speaking up!"

The Southron promptly ignored Elphir and kept his gaze firmly locked on Aragorn, who again spoke in Haradrim.

After hearing Aragorn's question the southerner clenched his teeth and said, "In what capacity do you ask me this, Grand Marshal?"

Aragorn fell silent and gazed long and hard at the Southron; there was a strange light in his grey eyes, like the melancholic shimmer of waning sunlight on water. At last he said, "Call me not by that title; I am no longer your Grand Marshal, now the title belongs to another."

"No, there is no other," Said the Southron, "Two and half centuries ago, that title belonged to a great man, and in all the years that followed, you alone are worthy. And if in another two and half centuries another like you comes again , we shall count ourselves fortunate. Did our love mean nothing to you? Was our devotion so insignificant, that you would turn against us for a kingdom that betrayed your father?"

Before Imrahil could question this absurd accusation against Gondor, Aragorn spoke once more, "Gondor never wronged my father nor me, but your emperor did, most egregiously."

"His Majesty loved you above all else under heaven!"

"A love unrepentantly ruthless and cruel; should I be thankful for it?" Aragorn's expression was now stormy, "The devotion of your people is not insignificant, Vaunsin; Harad owes me much, but I too owe your people my very life, and from humbler exchanges has greater love been wrought. I would never willingly make an enemy of Harad, despite what I suffered at your lord's hand. Yet I find you here, waging war so far away from your own."

The Southron named by Aragorn as Vaunsin fell silent for a long time, before he said with a sigh, "It is a necessary compromise, and it helps His Majesty's position at home."

"So he is using the northern front as a mass grave," Aragorn intoned with narrowed eyes.

Vaunsin replied, "Mordor has amassed frightening forces; we cannot reject them openly, not while the empire is still divided and we have much work to do. We either treat with Mordor, offer them soldiers we can spare, or else we give up all land north of the Bordering Mountains, and that is not to be done."

"Hence soldiers from the Kingdom of Yuë and the South Lake Region, and even a house from south of the Great River. Your emperor could hardly control those people in any case, so he gladly sent them to their doom in faraway land."

Vaunsin simply nodded, expressing neither shame nor regret at the cold fact.

Aragorn paused a moment longer, before murmuring, "But surely you are neither rebellious nor expendable to your lord, Vaunsin."

"I am expendable enough," Vaunsin spoke as if discussing the state of a perfect stranger, "Someone of rank and authority has to lead this army and keep them together. I have always had poor health and do not expect to live to comfortable old age, and little talents besides, am I not the man for this task? I recommended myself for this, Marshal."

"You should not speak of yourself thus, Vaunsin, and those soldiers are still your countrymen," Aragorn said in a weary voice, "How many did you lead across the Harnen?"

"Surely you understand it matters little, these are not the forces His Majesty relies upon. But if you must know: ten thousand foot soldiers, and a hundred war elephants."

"Then tell me something that matters," Aragorn was beginning to sound irritable, "You say the title of Grand Marshall has not been given to another, then who acts as commander-in-chief? Who commands the Northern Cavalry? Who holds the Western Navy?"

Vaunsin straightened his back and replied stiffly, "You cannot expect me to just surrender such information to a soldier of Gondor. You are no longer my Grand Marshal, as you said."

"I am the victor while you a prisoner of war," Aragorn's voice was cold like the biting frost, "Do I not have the right to demand some answers?"

Vaunsin cowered, but though he was trembling like a leaf he was still adamant, "Demand, you can demand, but I choose whether to answer. You are the victor; I do not deny that. Give me a sword, and I will give you all that a victor deserves."

Imrahil's hand was on the hilt of his sword, while Elphir already drew forth his blade, bristling like a young bear. Aragorn stilled the young man with a gentle touch on the sword arm, saying in a low voice, "Peace, Elphir, he does not mean what you imagine it to be. He is offering his own life rather than making a threat. "

After Elphir calmed Aragorn withdrew his hand and ordered quietly, "'Tis enough for now. I grow weary of this conversation, and there is no more information to be had. Please send him back to the prisoners' camp."

After Elphir's departure Aragorn fell utterly silent. He stood in front of his map, staring at it intently, or perhaps staring nothing at all, lost in the depth of strange memories privy to himself only. Imrahil had to cough twice to catch his attention.

"I apologize, Imrahil," So spoke Aragorn, "I have done enough pondering over Harad for today. Is there anything I need to address at the camp? I have a few hours yet before I must check on the ring bearer."

Imrahil spoke slowly, "If you have a few hours, sire, and if you are willing, I would hear more of your years in Harad. Their captain called you Grand Marshal. I have only heard tales and rumors, but enough to know that 'Grand Marshal' is a position of highest honor, second in power only to Harad's King and Prime Minister."

Aragorn said, "Second to the Emperor only, for the Grand Marshal was also the Prime Minister, but those who knew him as a military man first would not call him anything other than Grand Marshal." After a brief pause, then yet another sigh, "If you would hear it, Imrahil, then I will give you the story as best as I may in a few hours' time. The matter weighs heavily on my heart, I can barely see the road ahead; your counsel would do me well now. Make yourself comfortable, this is not an easy tale to tell or to hear."

There was no wine to be had, so Aragorn asked a squire to bring honeyed water usually reserved for the wounded and the sick, as well as a better breakfast than usual. He took a flask of that honeyed water for himself and offered Imrahil the same. These comforts did not make him seem any less miserable as he began his tale.

"It began ten years ago, when my hunt for Gollum deep in the Mountains of Shadow turned ill. I was captured by a band of mountain orcs, and after some harrowing months I finally engineered my escape, only to become hopelessly lost in the desert south of Mordor. I would have surely died in the desert, if not for a band of Haradrim border patrols who found me and took me to the nearest town. I was in a terrible strait, beyond the art of most healers. Somehow, by fortune or fate, the town's magistrate who was also a skilled healer took pity on me; he took me under his own roof and went to his wits' end to save my life, and he did. You see, I do not jest when I say I owe the Haradrim people my very life."

"Then Gondor too is much in her debt!" Imrahil exclaimed with amazement.

Aragorn let loose a bitter laugh and said, "Perhaps. For the debt of a life Finrod Felagund fought the werewolves of Morgoth with his bare hands and teeth, and mine was a greater debt still, for I was a beggar rescued by an enemy, rather than a great lord saved by friends and allies. How does one ever repay such a debt? I did not wish to linger long in Harad, but there were things I could not control, and soon Harad became more than a debt. There is much to love in the great south, and much work for me to do. Sometimes I worked for Harad and her peace and prosperity alone, other times I worked to direct her ire away from Gondor and towards the true Enemy, sometimes I even secretly undermined her position in the north, but all the while I despaired of it all, dreading the day when it would all come to naught—a day that may still come to pass."