A/N: Please give me feedback on my characterization and writing in general, I would love to improve myself! Reviews are to the author as ambrosia was to the Greek gods.

Disclaimer: I own nothing which you recognize, all of which is owned by the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema.

Learn a new language and get a new soul - Czech proverb

Necessity brought upon the acquisition of the language of the Haradrim. Playing a spy in Harad would be difficult if one was not sufficient in the language of the land.

To Faramir, the tongue of the Haradrim was a sorrowful, if musical one. It was irreconcilable with freedom, peace, and stability- though not by the cause of the people of Harad, for they were an entity Faramir could never bore of learning of and conversing with. They were people, just as the people of Gondor were people. Beings from the race of men divided by what? By skin color and culture? Perhaps it was thus to some, but to Faramir, the difference in tones of skin was of no more consequence than a horse being born black or bay. It held no consequence beyond that of a scholarly inquest into the adaptation of skin according to the environment. The culture was only separate if one focused on the differences, but if one were to simply think about the culture of all the people of the land, one would notice stark similarities which far outnumber any differences. The heart of men is the same all over, the way its values are expressed differ, but some facts remain: the longing for honor, the knowledge that wrongs must be righted. Yet other facts of humans are not as lovely, but are still universally true: the corruptness of the heart of man. Of course the ways in which the separate cultures deal with the yearning for honor differ, and the justice systems may be dissimilar, but the theme of justice and honor, and, alas, sin, is as wide reaching as the sky.

So this is not what brings about the sorrow which the Haradrim's tongue brings.

It is the circumstances under which the language was learned.

-line break-

Faramir stood before the door of the spymaster Istagûr, or the Spider as most recruits called him. Faramir had largely ignored the rumors and blatant statements which said the man had acquired the name by his spiderish looks and dismissed such ideas as the frequent jesting of military culture. One thing about having a labor so serious and consequential as war was that one began to know when it was time to joke around, which was nearly always for the youth. Despite his misgivings regarding any arachnid resemblance, he still hesitated when he knocked on the Spider's door.

The door opened, and it took all of Faramir's restraint not to drop his jaw or guffaw in disbelief.

The man in front of him was- indeed- spidery in appearance. Faramir had to tip his chin up slightly to meet the man's eyes. The man had a slender, nearly gaunt face with a thin aquiline nose protruding suspiciously between his dark eyes. The dark eyes left the contact, glanced down over Faramir's body, then snapped back up with eerie swiftness.

"You are Faramir, I presume?"

Faramir blinked at the laughably high voice.

'Does he mock me?' the young soldier wondered for it was a tone many took upon when speaking to creatures or infants. "Yes, sir."

The man nodded, the movement creating an unsettling rearranging of shadows on his face's hollows. He stepped back, propping open the door, and Faramir entered the office.

Faramir was ashamed to be surprised at the cleanliness and well lit room, for he had subconsciously imagined some dark, dank place with mold and cobwebs everywhere.

The Spider strode around a large, wooden desk and sat on the chair. The Spider leaned back, stretching his feet before him so that his ankles were beyond the confines of the underpart of the desk where one would push in their chair.

Faramir's eyes darted down by their own accord, taking in the thin ankles and the narrow yet large shoes.

Upon meeting eyes again, the Spider began conversation. "I assume you know the nature of my office and which labors you may be given according to my judgment."

"Yes, sir."

"Care to present yourself as worthy?"

Faramir shifted, swallowing. "Surely the Captain has already told you of my-"

"Indeed. And I wish for you to show yourself worthy before me."

Faramir slowly let out a quiet breath of air. "Yes, sir. I believe I am qualified due to my proficiency in languages. I am fluent in two already, becoming conversational in another and my hopes are to learn yet more, and if I may do so while being of use to my country, all the more admirable, I believe."

The Spider nodded slowly, bringing a slender arm from his slender side and scratching his slender face with his slender fingers. "Indulge me…"

It was so that Faramir acquired knowledge of the language of the Haradrim for the purpose of spying, though Faramir was never once able to go into the field due to an uproar by Boromir who had somehow found out. Still, the language had its use. Faramir could translate, eavesdrop, and get by when traveling to Harad… not for spying, mind you, but to acquire information which would otherwise not be provided for the purpose for an upper hand against the enemy by the use of an untrue identity. And so it was that Faramir acquainted the foreign tongue with hardship, bitterness, and suspicion.