Chapter 15

Emissary

It took them the rest of the day to come within sight of the oasis. That night, they saw fires there: a definite sign that a tribe was using it. They arrived there the next morning.

The first thing that struck them about the camp was the lack of men. The scouts that spotted them and escorted them to the camp were themselves only twelve or so. Women, old men, and young children stared at them as they passed by to the leader's tent. When they reached it, one of the boys went inside. Soon after he emerged, followed by the tribe leader.

The leader was a woman, no older than twenty or so. However, the lines on her face told a story of one far beyond that age. She was fairly small and curvaceous as most Southron women were, a sense of gracefulness hanging about her. On her hip she held a dark haired baby, quietly sucking his fist. The woman's shadowy eyes regarded the two who stood before her.

"I am Fatima, and in place of my husband I am tribe leader. I have been told that you have come from the White City itself, and wish to speak with me."

"Yes, Lady," replied Khalil, inclining his head. She was silent for a moment.

"Come, then." She led them inside the dark tent, and sat cross-legged on a rug, holding the baby in her lap. They sat on the sand in front of her. "Before you begin, I must ask: is it true that none of our people have survived?" her tone had changed slightly. It had a hint of worry in it.

"I do not know," admitted Lasca. "If any have, they are few."

"It is as I thought, then," sighed Fatima. "Very well, please state your business."

"We have come here to ask you to join us." started Khalil. "We are planning on suing for pardon from Gondor."

"We hope to convince the King and the people that the Haradrim are not all bloodthirsty warriors," continued Lasca. "They do not know that in truth, we have been tricked by Sauron."

"Tricked by Sauron, indeed," said Fatima dryly. "Perhaps others were, but my husband and the other men was just eager for an excuse to fight. They were frustrated that despite everything, we were still living in poverty."

"Yes, as are many others. Survival in a desert is in itself a fight," said Khalil.

"If, however, we become recognized by Gondor, we would be open to trade for food and other goods," Lasca countered. "Perhaps it would be hard for you yourself to journey all the way to Minas Tirith, though someone else—"

"No, I shall go myself," stated Fatima firmly. "Little Halim will be fine. I have long wanted to actually do something to help my tribe, and this is probably my best opportunity, so I thank you." She stood up and bowed. They stood as well and followed her out of the tent.

They stayed in the oasis past noon, eating and getting more supplies. They took little, realizing how few provisions the tribe had. Fatima knew of an oasis just fifteen miles south and would lead them there.

Later that afternoon, after the sun's rays lessened, she met them at the southern end of the oasis. She sat astride a dromedary camel, wearing veils to ward off the sun. Halim was held to her chest in a sling. "My scouts have told me that another tribe is indeed at the other oasis," she told the two as they rode up.

"Oh, good," said Lasca, relieved.

"Lead on, then, Lady Fatima!" Khalil said, hope rising in him.

Their progress was slower than usual, owing to the camel, which did not want to hurry. It was quite dark when they came to the tribe's camp. This group was larger than Fatima's. "Please take us to your head tent," requested Khalil of their escort.

"I shall have to confer with our leader first. Please wait." He darted off into the camp. Ten minutes later he returned, telling them that they would not be received that night. "I am afraid you will have to sleep here, we have no tents to spare."

"Very well," sighed Khalil. The three of them had a hard time falling asleep, for the ground was riddled with lumpy roots from the surrounding growth. Halim seemed to be the only comfortable one.

"He's a very quiet baby," remarked Lasca. "My younger brothers were always yelling."

Fatima smiled. "Yes, thankfully he takes after me and not my husband."

Khalil was quiet. "You seem to be taking all of this very well," he finally said.

"Being forced to lead your people compels you to get over grief quickly," Fatima replied. "Oh, I cried many nights after my husband left. In the morning, though, I always had to at least pretend everything was all right. It was the hardest thing I have ever done."

"I guess that's true," Lasca thought out loud. "I thought I never was going to get over my father, but I've nearly forgotten my grief because I'm caught up in—" Suddenly she fell silent. Voices were coming closer to them. Soon, however, they stopped, and all that could be heard was the slight rustling of cloaks. None of the three dared to move. They lay on their backs, staring up into the treetops.

The figures came upon them; three men bearing weapons. Two of them hastily pinned down Khalil, binding his hands behind his back. He yelled angrily, trying to fight them off. Halim began wailing. Both Lasca and Fatima rushed to Khalil, but the third man blocked their way, holding a spear. "What in hell—!" exclaimed Khalil before a gag cut off his voice. The women were untouched, but made to march with Khalil in front of their captors. Lasca was in shock; Fatima clutched Halim to her chest nervously.

They found themselves being forced into the leader's tent. The light was dim; they could see a shadowy figure at the back of the tent. The captors shoved them onto their knees and removed Khalil's gag. "We got them, sir. The traitor in Gondorian armor and the girls."

"Leave now," commanded the figure, speech clipped. The three men bowed and left. He walked into the light. Lasca stifled a gasp.

Before them stood a tall and muscular middle-aged Southron man. His scarred face was quite severe as he glared down at them from under a sharp brow. His beard was short. He was decked out in the armor of the Haradrim, though it was quite worn. The most noticeable thing, however, was his right arm, or rather the lack of it. "I am Al'alim, leader of this tribe," he stated. "And you," he turned to Khalil, "are either brainwashed or a traitor to your people. I predict the latter. Weak men are quick to abandon their country at the slightest sign of trouble."

"If I am indeed a traitor," Khalil spat, "It is only to Sauron. And if you serve him, than I believe it is you who betrays your country!"

"Tell me, boy," said Al'alim, voice dangerously low, "who is it that offered us land and wealth?"

"Surely you do not think Sauron was going to keep his promise!" piped up Lasca, anger overcoming her fear. "You are blind! Sauron was using us to his own ends, and now we are taking our lives back. If you keep us from our mission, you may live to regret it."

"And what mission would that be, girl?"

"They are on a mission of diplomacy," Fatima spoke, "to leaders of the tribes of Harad. With our help, they hope to show the world that we are not wretched servants of Sauron. In this way, they; no, we, hope to gain pardon from Gondor, and establish ourselves as a noble land. What more reason could you ask for to let us go?" she finished forcefully. Al'alim's mouth turned up in a grin. He then began to laugh derisively.

"So, you are going to crawl on your bellies to the King and ask him to forgive and forget?!" he asked as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. "Then there is great reason to keep you here. I will not allow my country to look so weak as that! I fought and kept my pride!"

"And what else have you gained?" asked Khalil quietly. Al'alim suddenly grew grim.

"Gained? No, you must mean what I have lost. I was there, at the Black Gates. I saw the King and his measly troops. I could almost smell the good earth I would soon own and farm." He paused. "With every man I cut down, I was that much closer. Then…then Barad Dûr fell. We were routed. My dream was taken." He stopped again. "Then the earth began to crack. My brother and I ran, ran for our lives. I thought we made it, but I looked beside me, and he was gone. All that was there was abyss. My family was taken." He sighed heavily. "Though, I still have one thing: dignity. And I'm not going to give it away to some King who tried to kill me!" he roared. Lasca sensed, however, there was more anguish than rage in his voice.

"Tell me, Al'alim," asked Khalil, "What takes more strength: to be stubborn or to swallow one's pride?" So, he had sensed it too.

Al'alim paused mid-breath, staring at the white-haired boy. A moment later he regained his composure, however. "I see you know more of this world than I thought you did. For that, I will let you live to see morning. Guards!" the three men came back in. They brought the three back to their sleeping spot, but did not bother to untie Khalil. Lasca attempted to cut the cords with her scimitar, but it was far too large and clumsy to wield delicately. They gave up, hoping to find some other way in the morning.

When Lasca woke the next day, it was because of a sawing sound. She glanced at Khalil, who was awake, and nearly screamed: Al'alim was bent over him with a knife. It took her a second to realize that he was sawing his bonds. "Thanks," said Khalil grumpily, "but you know you could have done it last night. Now my shoulders are stiff, and hurt like hell, I might add."

"I apologize, boy, though last night I wasn't sure if I wanted you free."

"What changed your mind?" asked Fatima, newly woken.

"It was what he said last night," replied Al'alim, turning to the woman and her babe. "They were some of the first words I had heard in a long time that had truth to them."

Fatima smiled. "I know what you mean."

"So…are we free to go?" asked Lasca.

"More than that: I wish to accompany you. In the name of my brother," Al'alim said, smiling sadly. "He would have wanted it." Lasca felt her heart go out to him.


Rede: Thanks, please keep reviewing!

For those of you who are reading this, please please PLEASE review! I want to know if my writing's any good! I want to know your opinions! Yes, that means you, lurking over there!!

Tarock: Well, Al'alim didn't wake up thinking that; he was up all night pondering Khalil's words. However, you are right in saying that we don't get to see it since the story is not through his perspective. Thanks for the review!