Chapter 1
Dust
Faraj kept his head down as his company made their way up the Harad Road. Not far off to his right he heard the massive footfalls of one of the mùmakil. He put his head up to see where it was, but his eyes only met blinding, swirling dust kicked up by the many scores of men and the three great beasts that walked with them. He quickly lowered his head once more and pulled the cloth up farther on his face. Ahead he heard the lead men begin the marching chant. He reluctantly lent his own hoarse voice to it, throat parched from lack of water. Despite this, he felt invigorated as he and his fellow soldiers began to chant in earnest, their wearied steps now an orderly march. That was its purpose: to unify the men so they acted as one.
These soldiers were also of one mind: to conquer the North. Sauron himself had promised them its rich lands. Looking at their own parched desert, they had readily agreed to do his bidding. Faraj had left his wife and sleeping children early that morning to begin the long march north. He and his fellow warriors hope that one day their families might be able to have a life where food and water were constants, not things one counted themselves lucky for having. They had grown to hate the Men of the North, for they had denied them this time and again. They had shown them no mercy. They would receive none.
The grim desert men gave one last shout as the column dragged on.
Lasca woke up abruptly. She lay still for a moment, staring up at the peaked ceiling of her family's tent. Suddenly she jumped up and tore through the flap, stopping when her eyes met the sight of a far-off trail of dust.
"I am sorry, but your father has already left."
She turned to see her mother walk over with a fresh jug of camel's milk. "Why didn't he wake me?" she demanded, eyes threatening to tear up.
"He wanted you to sleep," she answered simply as she poured some milk into a bowl. "Here, drink this."
"I'm not thirsty, mother," Lasca answered evenly. Her mother sighed.
"I know, dear, this is hard for you. It is hard on all of us, seeing so many men go off to war—"
"—that we'll probably never see again." Lasca finished, dropping down on the still-cool sand in defeat. Her mother started to reply, but stopped, instead squeezing her shoulder before walking off to tend to her younger siblings.
Lasca knew she shouldn't say such things, for her mother had enough to worry about. She felt almost numb. Her father had always been there. She had loved him, but they had shared no special bond. He was just a constant in her life. When the summons had come for him and the other men, in her ignorance she only half realized what it meant. That night it had truly hit her: her father was going, and probably wouldn't be coming back. She promised herself that she would get up with the sun to see him off. Now that her opportunity to say goodbye was long gone, she desperately wanted to see him, to let him know she cared. Helplessness ate at her. She grabbed the bowl of milk and began to drink, trying to focus her mind on its richness and flavor, desperate for anything to distract herself.
She went through the motions of her daily chores, her gaze always straying to the far off cloud of dust. By noon, however, it disappeared, as well as the slight comfort she felt when her father was still in sight.
That evening, as Lasca tended the fire, she heard a far-off chant coming from south of the camp. Heading over to a gathering of other curious tribe members, she heard that it was another company heading north. Within a half hour the silhouette of the first mùmak could be seen, the red sun gleaming like blood on its ivory tusks. If she closed her eyes, Lasca could feel the rhythmic pounding of its enormous feet. She had seen one before, but that was many years ago. However, she could still remember the beast clearly in her mind. Their sheer size was terror inspiring; their lethal tusks only added to their imposing presence. Below the beast marched scores of armed men.
To her left she saw a commotion in the crowd. Two scouts had arrived already, and they were asking the tribe leader for leave to rest at this oasis, for it was the only one for many miles. The older man seemed reluctant, but finally agreed. The young children cheered: it meant that the company, including the mùmakil, would spend the night close to the camp. All Haradrim children grew up on tales of the great beasts, but few lived to see one up close. Lasca's younger brothers were tugging at her dress excitedly, begging her to come with them to see the mùmak. She told them to ask their mother, and smiled despite herself as they ran off. Seeing the giant beast had heartened her slightly. What army could stand against such size and power?
+
Since that was really short, I'll post the next chapter up sometime within the next day (I already have it typed up). Review replies will be posted on the chapter you reviewed on. And just to let you know, the plot will move fairly slowly the next few chapters or so. However, they'll be pretty short, and I'll be posting quickly for a while because I've typed up quite a bit of it already.
Hioga-chan- Hey again! Thanks for reviewing, though as my bff, should you really count? Or are you just being nice? Just kidding, I value your opinion highly. ^^ And it takes place during the LOTR timeline.
Ainu Laire- Yes! Someone else who has read the Silm! Glad you like ^^ And again it takes place during LOTR (sorry I didn't make that clear, I'm putting it in the author's note at the beginning since two reviewers were stumped ^^;) However, I'll hafta let you keep wondering about canon charas *devious look* By the way, I was peeking at your bio, and I just wanna say that I'm happy someone else likes Faramir (my most favorite character ^^)
Jen Littlebottom- Thanks for reviewing, and I agree with you- history generally is written by the victors. By doing the perspective of the Haradrim, I hope to make my story more original.
