Leralonde Sometimes adults also do not know what's best for them until it's to late! Take me for one!
Yami Tai : No, this Harad had nothing to do with 'Trouble in Telcontar'…I think.
Karriya Good luck on your mid-years! (and hit the cinemas for KOH afterwards). Yep. Tupping is a dirty work. He he he
Beginning-end-314 : I got Legolas from an auction. If you want him, then show me the money! (gives a good imitation of Tom Cruise in 'Jerry Macguire').
Rutu 'Tupping' is equivalent to…err… 'rolling in the hay'. And as for Darion panicking when he realized Movrak prefers boys, that's because he also knew what the man likes to do with them. This chapter will explain it a little better. Beware of a tense scene at the bottom of this page. And go ahead, mate. You have my full blessings to use my OCs for your school projects! (p/s : Did you brush your teeth before reading this:)
Keluin Lossehilin You are gonna see Orli on Monday? In person? (faints dead away from envy...)
Szhismine Darion's girlfriend, eh? How did you know that? Did you hack into my PC or something?
Seylin You got new PC! What brand? (Mine is a HP flat screen with too many gadgets that I'm not even aware of! Ha ha ha!)
Jubisaurus Yes, she is…I mean, was.
Astalder27 The 'circle' is going around and around and…
Delano Movrak is gonna get creepier in this one.
Kalayna I thought it was already obvious. Leggy and Kel are the densest brothers ever exist! LOL!
Dolphingurl678 I hope this tale of the South and the Haradrim won't disappoint you, mellon.
A NuEvil In search of what, I wonder? A couple of walkie-talkies to give to Leggy and Darion, maybe? I can just imagine the conversation. (Darion: Request for rescue! A crazy Harad merchant is keeping me captive in his caravan/ Leggy : Roger that. Help is on the way in fifteen minutes.)
Bessie1 Aw…you just make me blush with your kind words. Thank you. I promise to try my very best to please you more.
JoeAteMuffin Have fun at work? Are you kidding me? The only fun I get while on the job is driving my boss crazy with my constant demands for a raise!
NOTE As there is too few information on Haradwaith, it's hard for me to imagine what the land in the South really look like. If any of my descriptions in this chapter is inaccurate as compares to Tolkien's, please keep in mind that it is fully intentional.
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The desert of Harad was unbearably hot that day.
Eldarion sighed in discomfort as sweat poured out from every pore of his body, almost drenching him in its release. Lying down on the sand with his back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes and tried to drift off. It was a moot effort, though. The temperature was so high that it was impossible for him to fall asleep.
He shifted restlessly, trying to find any comfortable position that the shackles on his wrists and legs would permit. He truly hated them, these shackles. They were like a reminder to him of his pitiful situation—a slave bound for Haradwaith, the land of his father's once greatest enemies…or maybe still.
The prince cursed out loud when the afternoon wind blew some sand onto his face and into his eyes, blinding him for several moments. Blinking out tears to clear his vision, he pushed himself to a sitting position, giving up any notion of going to sleep in this intolerable heat.
Eldarion wearily leaned his head back and watched the activity—or rather, the inactivity—surrounding the temporary camp. At least, he could be thankful that he was sitting under the shadows of the wagon. The other recently bought slaves in Movrak's caravan had to sleep in a cluster right in the open without a shade of any kind to shield them from the cruel beating of the sun. Still, unlike Eldarion, they had no trouble sleeping like the dead, as if they were used to such dreadful arrangements.
Movrak's burly hirelings took turns to guard the small camp as their master slept soundly in his tent, waiting for nightfall to continue the journey deep into Haradwaith. Like most travelers in the desert, the Haradrims chose to move during the night to escape the burning sun during the day. It was much colder at night which helped conserved their water supply—not that Movrak was generous with it. He rarely glanced at the slaves, let alone took notice of their thirst and discomfort. The man didn't really care whether they were still breathing or not, thinking of them as his property that had no soul or feelings.
However, the Harad merchant gave extra attention to Eldarion, making sure that the boy was given sufficient food and water. Instead of walking the long miles with the rest of the slaves, the prince was kept within the confine of the wagon, locked and guarded. They only let him out during the day to sleep on the ground because the sturdy box of the wagon was like an oven especially at noon—so hot it was close to baking.
Eldarion was glad that he didn't suffer like the other slaves even though he chafed at his captivity, wearing the same shackles as theirs. He repeatedly told himself that he would not fully submit to this doomed fate. Every so often, he would closely look for any means to escape. So far, he had found none. Movrak might treat him a trifle special, but the merchant's hirelings watched over the boy constantly like the citadel's guardsmen back in Minas Tirith, giving the prince an odd feeling of déjà vu.
Even if he found a way to escape from the caravan, Eldarion was not sure he would survive the desert, though. When he had first seen the Harad desert, he had gone utterly speechless. Never had he seen anything so vast and so empty. Sand dunes were the only things that surrounded them, except for an occasional trees and brambles. Eldarion's only sight of wonder was the intense heat waves, blurring his vision of the horizon leagues and leagues ahead. But, during the night, the desert turned into something incredibly magnificent with its wondrous display of million of stars upon its pitch black sky. He even recognized the star of Eärendil among them, which had become a substitute to his mother's Evenstar pendant that he had lost somewhere during the raid a week ago.
Thinking of his mother, Eldarion felt the wild urge to break down and weep like a babe, highly regretting his decision to run away from the safest place on earth he had called home. Not only had he jeopardized his own life and freedom with his stupid choice, he had also caused his family not a small amount of grief and worry.
He truly wished that he could turn back the time, back to the day when the carnival troupe had arrived in Minas Tirith. He could have put his foot down and refused Enelya's demands to see the performers. He could have asked other people to escort his sisters in his stead. If he had not attended the carnival, he would never have laid eyes on lovely Nisha, one of the troupe's acrobat girls. He would not have fallen in love, his father would not have become so displeased that he spanked his only son, Nisha would still be alive, and he would not have become someone else's slave!
Oh, he could only wish…
"Nisha…"
Eldarion's voice came out in a harsh whisper, his tears falling in silent drops. It sounded hard to believe, but Nisha had become the center of his heart even when he had only known her not more than a month. Many might take it as adolescence's silly crush, but Eldarion knew that his feelings for her exceeded more than that. She even felt the same for him. He could see it clearly in her eyes every time they secretly met in one secluded spot after another.
Nisha had never been inside a citadel before. So, on that fateful day, Eldarion had tried to steal her in through the back entrance. In doing so, they needed to walk past the royal stable, and Nisha was instantly awed by the sight of the king's powerful mounts for she had big love for horses. Ever eager to please, the young prince had led her deeper into the stable to see the animals much closer, thanking the stars that the stable hands were off somewhere having their meal. As he watched her lovingly rubbed one stallion's neck with such a look of intense joy on her face, Eldarion had suddenly felt a strange stirring in his heart. As if pulled by a string, he had leaned over and cupped her rosy cheeks before he tenderly kissed her. She had been a little startled at first, but then she leaned fully onto him and wrapped her slender arms around his neck.
One thing led to another, until the king of Gondor himself came down into the stable…and stumbled upon the two lovebirds in quite a compromising position. Then all hell just broke loose.
A sob broke forth from Eldarion's lips. He bunched his fists and pressed it against his mouth to stifle the sound before somebody else could hear it. But what he remembered next gave him all the more reason to bawl uncontrollably.
"I hate you," he had told his father after the spanking. He had seen how those words deeply hurt the king, yet he was too angry to take them back and apologize. Instead, he had rushed to Nisha and told her his plan to run away from home. The girl had been tearful, telling him again and again that he was being rash and irrational. Adamant as he was, Eldarion somehow managed to convince Brass and Madam Marna, the carnival owners, to take him along with them in their journey to the next town. He had even persuaded them to leave earlier than schedule before his family could figure out what he was up to.
And so, two days later, he had left the high walls of Minas Tirith, garbed as a jester. Instead of heading for Rohan like their former routine, the carnival rode south towards the port of Pelargir where Eldarion was sure his father would not find him.
He got just what he wished for.
Because of him, the carnival troupe had taken a road that they were not familiar with. Because of him, they had been attacked by a pack of vicious marauders and Nisha was killed. He could still hear her screaming when those men assaulted her. He could still recall the look of terror on her face when she knew she was beyond help.
It all had happened because of him.
Eldarion took several deep breaths and tried to regain his composure, unaware that someone was watching his every move.
"Why so sad, my dear boy?"
Startled by the sudden voice, the young prince whirled around and found Movrak staring down at him with raised eyebrows, looking mildly intrigued.
Eldarion went red with shame. He hastily wiped away his tears and barked, "None of your affair! Leave me be!"
The older man chuckled at the boy's outburst. He squatted near Eldarion, who slightly pulled back in anxiety.
"I am just trying to be nice to you, boy. Don't need to bite me."
As was the Haradrim custom, the men wore a turban around their head and used the long tail end to cover the lower part of their face, in protection from the harsh wind and flying gritty sand of the desert. Movrak's turban was scarlet in color, with a huge diamond brooch pinned in the middle.
As Eldarion watched him warily, the man pulled down the scarf from around his face and gave the boy a shrewd grin. He lifted his hand, showing the boy a water skin he had carried from his tent.
"You thirsty? Here's some water," the man offered.
Eldarion hesitated. He was indeed very thirsty even though they had given him a drink not two hours ago. Swallowing, he realized how parched his throat was, as if it was filled with cotton. He had been sweating a lot all day, and the hot sun had sucked him almost dry. Without further invitation, he snatched the water skin out of Movrak's grip and chugged down greedily.
Movrak stared in fascination at the bobbing of Eldarion's Adam's apple as the boy drank. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"
Eldarion froze, seeing the strange look Movrak was giving him. He slowly lowered the water skin. "No, I am not."
"What do I call you, then?"
"Whatever you see fit, you pompous ass, I don't even care. And I will not answer to it!"
The merchant didn't look at all pleased by the boy's curt response. "Is this how you pay my generosity? By being rude to me?"
"You call this generosity?" Eldarion glanced briefly at the water skin and hurled it away in disgust, smack into Movrak's face.
"Be damned your generosity!" the prince fumed. "You chain me like an animal and take away my freedom, and now you want me to be nice to you? Well, think again, old man!"
Flushing slightly, Movrak wiped the dripping water off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He stared hard at the trembling youth in front of him with his small, beady eyes. "Be like that all you want, boy. In time, you will submit to me."
"Never!" Eldarion spat back.
"Oh, we'll see about that, my dear. We will see." Movrak just grinned. He suddenly reached up and cupped the back of Eldarion's neck, jerking the boy's face closer for a kiss.
Eldarion instantaneously reacted. He raised his balled fists and smashed them against Movrak's puckered lips. Then, leaning further backward, he kneed the merchant neatly in the groin, causing the stout man to howl out loud.
"Guards!" Movrak screamed. His face was contorted from the pain as he cupped his bruised anatomy. Four of his hirelings instantly came rushing at his call.
"Take this uncouth heathen and give him twenty lashes for his insolence!" Movrak animatedly cried out the order, spewing out spittle everywhere. "After you finish, chain him with the other slaves and let him walk all the way back to Harodem. Then he'll know the true meaning of generosity."
His heart still beating rapidly, Eldarion didn't resist much when the men dragged him away. Several yards from the camp, they all stopped and someone pushed him face down on to the hot sand. Two men held his wrists and ankles, stretching his lean frame to a limit until he couldn't even move.
The camp was stirring back to live. Awakened by the sudden commotion, the group of slaves sat upright, blinking sleep from their eyes as they witnessed Eldarion's predicament. Everyone was quiet, though. No one dared come forward to assist the young prince for fear of receiving the same punishment.
"Hold him steady, mate," the man holding a long leather strip said lazily, as if bored by the entire process. And then came an eerie whooshing sound, followed by a loud crack.
Eldarion quickly lost count after ten lashes.
TBC…