Chapter 5 The Haradrim
Sam stared about him in horror. He was frozen with fear and couldn't think of anyway to escape. Sting was securely strapped into its scabbard and it was impossible for him to pull it free now. The orcs were studying him with a hungry look in their eyes. They were a bloodthirsty lot and Sam had no doubts they would just soon eat him as look at him. "What are you doing here, rat?" demanded the first orc. He seized Sam by his shirt and lifted him from the ground, peering at him with bloodshot eyes.
"I.I." stuttered Sam, but no words came out. He couldn't think of anything to say.
"Wait a minute," growled a second orc. This one had a livid scar running across the front of his face. "Didn't Shagrat capture one of these cockroaches awhile back? We spent days lookin' for him after he escaped. They say a mighty Elf-warrior rescued him!"
"That's right!" agreed another, "Seems the little rat carried something mighty valuable that Lord Sauron wanted."
The first orc, who seemed somewhat more intelligent than the others, thought for a moment. "The Ring," he said slowly, "The One Ring. It was destroyed and Lord Sauron was overthrown." His eyes narrowed as he turned to the frightened hobbit. "We thought you were nothing but a spy, but looks like you had something more in mind, didn't you, Rat? You destroyed Lord Sauron's Ring and ruined everything! We would have had power over all Middle Earth but because of you, now we have nothing!" He shook Sam roughly, causing him to gasp with pain.
The other orcs had been slowly closing in on him and Sam could smell their foul breath. It wouldn't make any difference if he told them he hadn't thrown the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom. They certainly wouldn't believe him and would kill him regardless. "Let's have some fun with this worm before we kill 'im!" cried one of the orcs. "Since we've had to suffer, so should he!" The other orcs echoed this sentiment and started reaching for Sam.
The first orc stepped back from the others, holding Sam high. "Oh, he'll suffer, alright," he grinned maliciously, "But we must be careful not to kill him too quickly!" The orcs roared in delight, looking forward to an entertaining evening.
Later, Sam could never recall just how long the orcs had tortured him. They had tossed him around like a ball, flogged him with their cruel whips, and beat him mercilessly and those were just the horrid things he let himself remember. As dawn began to paint the sky a pale grey, the orcs grew tired of their sport. Sam lay huddled on the cold rock as the vile creatures argued about what to do with him next. Some wanted to eat him immediately. Others wanted to keep him around a bit longer for some more fun. One wondered if he might be worth something yet, to those that still held some power, such as the black Numenarian, the Mouth of Sauron. Sam was shivering uncontrollably. He had curled himself into a tight ball, trying to ignore the pain that seemed to fill his entire body. Was he ever to know what it was like to live pain-free again? Ever since he had set foot in Mordor with Mr. Frodo, so very long ago, pain had become his constant companion. Death was beginning to seem like an attractive alternative.
"I says we eats him now!" snarled one of the smaller orcs. "What's the use of keepin' it alive? I'm hungry and he'd make a nice snack!"
"Snack for who!?" shot back another, "You goin' to eat 'im all yerself? He's certainly not big enough fer all of us!" This got the orcs to fighting among themselves even more viciously; each one determined to get the lion's share of the prize. Sam tried to make himself invisible, slowly inching himself behind a boulder. Maybe they would get so involved with their fight, he would find an opportunity to slip away.
The argument had escalated into actual violence when suddenly, Sam felt himself being grabbed and lifted. "I think I'll just eat you meself!" grinned the biggest orc. "The others are too busy fightin', so I think you and I will just take a little walk!" Sam felt his stomach drop. He knew he couldn't escape this time. He was too weak and too beaten. Maybe being eaten wouldn't be too bad, he thought numbly. At least the pain would stop. Just as he had resigned himself to becoming the orc's breakfast, he slowly realized he could hear the pounding of horses' hooves. The large orc's head snapped up as he too recognized the sound and he turned to the north. To Sam's surprise, a large troop of horsemen came galloping around the bend of the pathway.
Sam had never seen men like these. They wore black armor and rode coal black horses. He at first thought they might be the Nazgul, but he soon realized these were not those Black Riders. The leader of the troop pulled his horse to a stop and studied the scene before him. To him, it appeared that several orcs were torturing some child and even though they had come to fight on the side of Lord Sauron, the captain was not about to leave a child in the hands of these foul creatures. The other riders closed in around the orcs, some with swords ready. They all wore black helms topped with a red plume, and all that could be seen were their black, glittering eyes peering through the eye slits.
These were riders from the south, from the plains of Harad. They had come to fight for the dark Lord Sauron, but were now returning home. Most of their army had been destroyed and small bands, such as this one, were making their way back to the south as they best they could. It was by pure chance they had come upon Sam and his captors. The Haradrim hated the orcs as much as any men from the West, but had accepted the fact they must fight with them. However, now that Sauron's power had been destroyed, they felt no sense of alliance with the foul creatures and happily whenever they could.
"What is happening here?" demanded the captain, staring down at the orc holding Sam. "Put him down!"
The orc snarled defiantly and lifted Sam higher, as if to dash him to the ground. However, he never got the chance. A red- fletched arrow suddenly appeared, as if by magic, in the center of his chest. The orc stared in confusion at the quivering arrow for a moment and then collapsed, dead. Sam rolled away from the orc as he landed on the rocky ground and scurried behind a large boulder, trying to keep away from the horses' hooves. As if the arrow had been a signal, the other riders stormed in and cut down the remaining orcs. One rider reached down, plucked Sam from his hiding place and carried him over to the captain.
The Captain removed his helm, freeing his long black hair. He was a handsome man with deep, penetrating eyes. His high cheekbones and patrician nose gave him a regal look. He stared at Sam, his eyes dark with confusion. "What is this now?" he asked in surprise, as the rider approached with Sam seated in front of him. "This is no child! It is a little man!" The other riders crowded around, trying to get a better look at the strange creature. None had ever seen or even heard of hobbits before.
Sam looked around at the sea of black helms before looking back into the swarthy face of the leader. He didn't know if these newcomers were friend or foe but he assumed anything was better than orcs. "Please, sir. My.my name is Samwise Gamgee," he mumbled. His face was badly swollen from the orc's beatings, but he knew he had to speak to these men. "I'm a hobbit from the Shire.in the west."
The Captain frowned. "A hobbit?" he echoed. He looked around at his men, but none seemed any more enlightened than he on this subject. "I have never heard of a "hobbit". Are there more like you? And what are you doing here in Mordor? Have you come to fight for Lord Sauron?"
Sam began to panic. If he told these men exactly what he was doing in Mordor, they would probably kill him. He didn't think any minions of the Dark Lord would look kindly upon someone who had helped destroy the One Ring. He fumbled desperately for something to say, when a strange rasping laugh erupted behind him. The men all turned towards the source of the sound and Sam was surprised to see that one of the orcs was not quite dead. The orc leered up at him.
"I can tell you what that little rat was doin' 'ere!" the orc gasped, "He destroyed the Dark Lord's Ring! It's all 'is fault we was defeated! All o' Middle Earth coulda been ours, if tweren't fer 'im!" The orc laughed again, then with a final rattling cough, he collapsed, dead.
The Captain turned back towards Sam, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Is this true?" he asked quietly. Sam again found himself speechless. He didn't think he could lie to those black, piercing eyes.
"Umm," he began weakly, "I, uh, well, not exactly." He was shaking both from fear and pain. He was afraid to admit his part in the Ring's destruction. Then, he thought about how much his dear Mr. Frodo had suffered to get the Ring to Mt. Doom; how they both had suffered. He thought about the deaths of Gandalf and Boromir as well as of the deaths of countless others in the fight against Lord Sauron. Suddenly, Sam was proud of his small part in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Maybe these men would kill him for it. Well, so be it! He was more than half dead already and if Mr. Frodo had gone down that path already, perhaps he would meet up with him on the other side. He didn't care anymore. He wanted the pain to stop and he wanted these men to know he was Samwise Gamgee, servant to the great Ring Bearer himself.
Sam sat up as straight as his pain-wracked body would let him and looked the dark captain in the eye. "No," he rasped, "I didn't destroy the cursed Ring, but I helped the one who carried it. I was with Mr. Frodo on the journey all the way from the first step out of the Shire to last one on Mt. Doom. Maybe it weren't me that threw it into the fires, but I made sure it got there! I carried Mr. Frodo on my own back all the way up that horrid mountain so's he could destroy it. Me! Samwise Gamgee! I may only be a simple gardener, but I know evil when I see it and that Ring was pure evil! It almost destroyed Mr. Frodo and it's where it should be!" His outburst left him panting, but he had no regrets. He stared defiantly at the rider who looked down at him thoughtfully.
"So, the One Ring has truly been destroyed? I believed it to be true when I felt the Dark Lord's power diminish and he lost control of the orcs and other fell beasts, but it is always good to have such a thing confirmed by one who was there." The Captain looked over at the dead orcs and shook his head in disgust, then back to the trembling hobbit. "It is hard to believe that one as small as yourself could accomplish such an incredible deed. You mention a companion. Is he a small one, like yourself?"
Sam was puzzled by the lack of anger in the captain's reaction, but he nodded slowly in reply. "Mr. Frodo was my master. I was his gardener back in the Shire. That's where we come from. I lost him when Mt. Doom exploded. Now, I'm trying to get back home."
The Captain had listened intently to Sam's reply, but smiled sadly at his last remark. "I am most sorry, my little master, but you will not be returning to your home. I am Captain Fahim and I know my emperor would be most interested in you. We have never seen hobbits before in my land and that would be reason enough to take you back, but my Lord, the Emperor Assadim, would want me to bring to him as prisoner one who helped destroy our great plans. If you are lucky, he may not have you executed, but perhaps simply enslaved. You would be an interesting addition to his household." The captain nodded to the rider holding Sam, wheeled his horse to the right and rode off, continuing on his southward route. Sam's rider took a length of rope from his pack and tied Sam's hands tightly together and then to the pommel of his saddle. He then turned his horse and followed his companions. Sam was headed south.
Sam stared about him in horror. He was frozen with fear and couldn't think of anyway to escape. Sting was securely strapped into its scabbard and it was impossible for him to pull it free now. The orcs were studying him with a hungry look in their eyes. They were a bloodthirsty lot and Sam had no doubts they would just soon eat him as look at him. "What are you doing here, rat?" demanded the first orc. He seized Sam by his shirt and lifted him from the ground, peering at him with bloodshot eyes.
"I.I." stuttered Sam, but no words came out. He couldn't think of anything to say.
"Wait a minute," growled a second orc. This one had a livid scar running across the front of his face. "Didn't Shagrat capture one of these cockroaches awhile back? We spent days lookin' for him after he escaped. They say a mighty Elf-warrior rescued him!"
"That's right!" agreed another, "Seems the little rat carried something mighty valuable that Lord Sauron wanted."
The first orc, who seemed somewhat more intelligent than the others, thought for a moment. "The Ring," he said slowly, "The One Ring. It was destroyed and Lord Sauron was overthrown." His eyes narrowed as he turned to the frightened hobbit. "We thought you were nothing but a spy, but looks like you had something more in mind, didn't you, Rat? You destroyed Lord Sauron's Ring and ruined everything! We would have had power over all Middle Earth but because of you, now we have nothing!" He shook Sam roughly, causing him to gasp with pain.
The other orcs had been slowly closing in on him and Sam could smell their foul breath. It wouldn't make any difference if he told them he hadn't thrown the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom. They certainly wouldn't believe him and would kill him regardless. "Let's have some fun with this worm before we kill 'im!" cried one of the orcs. "Since we've had to suffer, so should he!" The other orcs echoed this sentiment and started reaching for Sam.
The first orc stepped back from the others, holding Sam high. "Oh, he'll suffer, alright," he grinned maliciously, "But we must be careful not to kill him too quickly!" The orcs roared in delight, looking forward to an entertaining evening.
Later, Sam could never recall just how long the orcs had tortured him. They had tossed him around like a ball, flogged him with their cruel whips, and beat him mercilessly and those were just the horrid things he let himself remember. As dawn began to paint the sky a pale grey, the orcs grew tired of their sport. Sam lay huddled on the cold rock as the vile creatures argued about what to do with him next. Some wanted to eat him immediately. Others wanted to keep him around a bit longer for some more fun. One wondered if he might be worth something yet, to those that still held some power, such as the black Numenarian, the Mouth of Sauron. Sam was shivering uncontrollably. He had curled himself into a tight ball, trying to ignore the pain that seemed to fill his entire body. Was he ever to know what it was like to live pain-free again? Ever since he had set foot in Mordor with Mr. Frodo, so very long ago, pain had become his constant companion. Death was beginning to seem like an attractive alternative.
"I says we eats him now!" snarled one of the smaller orcs. "What's the use of keepin' it alive? I'm hungry and he'd make a nice snack!"
"Snack for who!?" shot back another, "You goin' to eat 'im all yerself? He's certainly not big enough fer all of us!" This got the orcs to fighting among themselves even more viciously; each one determined to get the lion's share of the prize. Sam tried to make himself invisible, slowly inching himself behind a boulder. Maybe they would get so involved with their fight, he would find an opportunity to slip away.
The argument had escalated into actual violence when suddenly, Sam felt himself being grabbed and lifted. "I think I'll just eat you meself!" grinned the biggest orc. "The others are too busy fightin', so I think you and I will just take a little walk!" Sam felt his stomach drop. He knew he couldn't escape this time. He was too weak and too beaten. Maybe being eaten wouldn't be too bad, he thought numbly. At least the pain would stop. Just as he had resigned himself to becoming the orc's breakfast, he slowly realized he could hear the pounding of horses' hooves. The large orc's head snapped up as he too recognized the sound and he turned to the north. To Sam's surprise, a large troop of horsemen came galloping around the bend of the pathway.
Sam had never seen men like these. They wore black armor and rode coal black horses. He at first thought they might be the Nazgul, but he soon realized these were not those Black Riders. The leader of the troop pulled his horse to a stop and studied the scene before him. To him, it appeared that several orcs were torturing some child and even though they had come to fight on the side of Lord Sauron, the captain was not about to leave a child in the hands of these foul creatures. The other riders closed in around the orcs, some with swords ready. They all wore black helms topped with a red plume, and all that could be seen were their black, glittering eyes peering through the eye slits.
These were riders from the south, from the plains of Harad. They had come to fight for the dark Lord Sauron, but were now returning home. Most of their army had been destroyed and small bands, such as this one, were making their way back to the south as they best they could. It was by pure chance they had come upon Sam and his captors. The Haradrim hated the orcs as much as any men from the West, but had accepted the fact they must fight with them. However, now that Sauron's power had been destroyed, they felt no sense of alliance with the foul creatures and happily whenever they could.
"What is happening here?" demanded the captain, staring down at the orc holding Sam. "Put him down!"
The orc snarled defiantly and lifted Sam higher, as if to dash him to the ground. However, he never got the chance. A red- fletched arrow suddenly appeared, as if by magic, in the center of his chest. The orc stared in confusion at the quivering arrow for a moment and then collapsed, dead. Sam rolled away from the orc as he landed on the rocky ground and scurried behind a large boulder, trying to keep away from the horses' hooves. As if the arrow had been a signal, the other riders stormed in and cut down the remaining orcs. One rider reached down, plucked Sam from his hiding place and carried him over to the captain.
The Captain removed his helm, freeing his long black hair. He was a handsome man with deep, penetrating eyes. His high cheekbones and patrician nose gave him a regal look. He stared at Sam, his eyes dark with confusion. "What is this now?" he asked in surprise, as the rider approached with Sam seated in front of him. "This is no child! It is a little man!" The other riders crowded around, trying to get a better look at the strange creature. None had ever seen or even heard of hobbits before.
Sam looked around at the sea of black helms before looking back into the swarthy face of the leader. He didn't know if these newcomers were friend or foe but he assumed anything was better than orcs. "Please, sir. My.my name is Samwise Gamgee," he mumbled. His face was badly swollen from the orc's beatings, but he knew he had to speak to these men. "I'm a hobbit from the Shire.in the west."
The Captain frowned. "A hobbit?" he echoed. He looked around at his men, but none seemed any more enlightened than he on this subject. "I have never heard of a "hobbit". Are there more like you? And what are you doing here in Mordor? Have you come to fight for Lord Sauron?"
Sam began to panic. If he told these men exactly what he was doing in Mordor, they would probably kill him. He didn't think any minions of the Dark Lord would look kindly upon someone who had helped destroy the One Ring. He fumbled desperately for something to say, when a strange rasping laugh erupted behind him. The men all turned towards the source of the sound and Sam was surprised to see that one of the orcs was not quite dead. The orc leered up at him.
"I can tell you what that little rat was doin' 'ere!" the orc gasped, "He destroyed the Dark Lord's Ring! It's all 'is fault we was defeated! All o' Middle Earth coulda been ours, if tweren't fer 'im!" The orc laughed again, then with a final rattling cough, he collapsed, dead.
The Captain turned back towards Sam, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Is this true?" he asked quietly. Sam again found himself speechless. He didn't think he could lie to those black, piercing eyes.
"Umm," he began weakly, "I, uh, well, not exactly." He was shaking both from fear and pain. He was afraid to admit his part in the Ring's destruction. Then, he thought about how much his dear Mr. Frodo had suffered to get the Ring to Mt. Doom; how they both had suffered. He thought about the deaths of Gandalf and Boromir as well as of the deaths of countless others in the fight against Lord Sauron. Suddenly, Sam was proud of his small part in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Maybe these men would kill him for it. Well, so be it! He was more than half dead already and if Mr. Frodo had gone down that path already, perhaps he would meet up with him on the other side. He didn't care anymore. He wanted the pain to stop and he wanted these men to know he was Samwise Gamgee, servant to the great Ring Bearer himself.
Sam sat up as straight as his pain-wracked body would let him and looked the dark captain in the eye. "No," he rasped, "I didn't destroy the cursed Ring, but I helped the one who carried it. I was with Mr. Frodo on the journey all the way from the first step out of the Shire to last one on Mt. Doom. Maybe it weren't me that threw it into the fires, but I made sure it got there! I carried Mr. Frodo on my own back all the way up that horrid mountain so's he could destroy it. Me! Samwise Gamgee! I may only be a simple gardener, but I know evil when I see it and that Ring was pure evil! It almost destroyed Mr. Frodo and it's where it should be!" His outburst left him panting, but he had no regrets. He stared defiantly at the rider who looked down at him thoughtfully.
"So, the One Ring has truly been destroyed? I believed it to be true when I felt the Dark Lord's power diminish and he lost control of the orcs and other fell beasts, but it is always good to have such a thing confirmed by one who was there." The Captain looked over at the dead orcs and shook his head in disgust, then back to the trembling hobbit. "It is hard to believe that one as small as yourself could accomplish such an incredible deed. You mention a companion. Is he a small one, like yourself?"
Sam was puzzled by the lack of anger in the captain's reaction, but he nodded slowly in reply. "Mr. Frodo was my master. I was his gardener back in the Shire. That's where we come from. I lost him when Mt. Doom exploded. Now, I'm trying to get back home."
The Captain had listened intently to Sam's reply, but smiled sadly at his last remark. "I am most sorry, my little master, but you will not be returning to your home. I am Captain Fahim and I know my emperor would be most interested in you. We have never seen hobbits before in my land and that would be reason enough to take you back, but my Lord, the Emperor Assadim, would want me to bring to him as prisoner one who helped destroy our great plans. If you are lucky, he may not have you executed, but perhaps simply enslaved. You would be an interesting addition to his household." The captain nodded to the rider holding Sam, wheeled his horse to the right and rode off, continuing on his southward route. Sam's rider took a length of rope from his pack and tied Sam's hands tightly together and then to the pommel of his saddle. He then turned his horse and followed his companions. Sam was headed south.