Chapter 11 – Harondor

The captain shows them to his room below deck while two of his crewmen lower the box into the cargo hold. Considering his passengers’ sensitive situation, a grieving family with two young children to think about, the captain feels it best to quarter them in his own room while he sleeps with the crew in the crew’s quarters.

“That was not necessary,” Rick says as they file into the small, cramped room, “but we thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

“You’re needing your privacy,” the captain says, rubbing his hands together nervously as he peers up at the tall form of Sauron. He has never seen a man so tall before in his life and he stares transfixed until Sauron looks down at him with a steely, calculating gaze. The captain hastily looks away, down at the hobbits, thinking them children, and clucks his tongue sympathetically. “You’ve enough to deal with, without having to suffer the crew going in and out at all hours.”

“Still, this is very generous of you,” Sauron says. 

“It’s only for a couple of days. We’ll be in Pelargir before you know it. If there’s aught you’re needing, just give a shout,” the captain says, then bobs his head and leaves.

Sauron quickly lights a lamp once they are alone. With the door locked and the curtains drawn, they have no fear of being spied or disturbed while in the captain’s chamber. The hobbits gratefully remove their veils and boots as Rick and Sauron set their packs in a corner. 

On one end of the room is a small straw mattress on a wooden frame and next to this are two rope hammocks dressed with wool blankets squeezed tightly together. The hobbits walk over to the hammocks and look at them dubiously. 

“What are these?” Sam asks.

“Hammocks,” Rick informs. “You sleep on them.”

“We what?” Sam asks, alarmed at this news. He shakes his head and pokes at one of the hammocks with a finger. It swings back and forth gently. He shakes his head again. “It’s bad enough all this swaying back and forth without adding to it, and having to be worriting about falling out your bed on top of it. I’ll sleep on the bed, if there’s no objections.”

“I’ll join you,” Frodo says quickly.

The hobbits make themselves comfortable on the bed, which is plenty big enough for the two of them, and Sauron checks all the furniture to make sure it is securely bolted to the floor. As he goes around the room, he says, “It would be best if you both stay below deck as much as possible. You can go out early in the morning and in the late afternoon while the majority of the crew is eating. Don’t talk to anyone if you can help it and don’t let them see you without your veils or boots. You are too well-known in Gondor and it will only take the barest glimpse for anyone to guess who you truly are.”

“What about meals?” Frodo asks.

“I’m the least recognizable, so I’ll go and get our meals,” says Rick. “They only have three meals a day, so make each one count.”

They get what sleep they can with what is left of the night. When they wake, they can hear the crew outside shouting orders back and forth, readying the ship for sail. Rick goes out and returns shortly with a large tray piled with food. He smiles to see the hobbits’ faces light up at the sight of their meal. “When I told them that you were always hungry, growing lads that you are, they spared us some extra food,” he explains. 

They sit at the table and eat merrily. Sam has a brief moment of queasiness when the ship leaves the dock and sets off with a jolt downriver, but the uneasiness passes quickly. He is delighted to discover that the swaying and bobbing is not as pronounced on a large ship as it had been on the little Elven boats they had used during the Quest. He even feels secure enough to walk unaided around the cabin, though he makes sure to stay within quick reach of the more sturdy structures. After the first morning passes with no incidents, he gains more confidence, both in the ship and his footing.

Two uneventful days pass. The travelers leave their room for short periods of time, to breathe the air and feel the sun on their faces. Beneath their veils, the hobbits watch the land pass by, wide green plains, mountain valleys and small villages of farms and cottages on the west bank. On the east bank are more grassy plains stretching out towards the Mountains of Shadow in the distance. A few farms dot the fields along the riverbank and new homes are being built. People on either bank wave as the ship sails past and the crew wave back, hailing them good-day. 

No one bothers the hobbits but they receive many curious and sympathetic glances from the crew. The black robes and veils of mourning appear to be as effective at keeping the Gondorians at bay as the funeral garb of the Haradrim are reported to keep the nomads away. The hobbits note this with surprise; in the Shire, a grieving hobbit would never be left to suffer alone. 

When they ask Rick about it, he explains, “That is partly Sauron’s doing. He had the captain issue an order that you are to be left alone. It will be safer that way.”

“And the other part of it?” Frodo asks.

“Death makes us uncomfortable, though there is hardly a man, woman or child who has not lost someone they loved during the wars. Most people don’t know what to say; they know how hollow platitudes sound during such times.”

They reach Pelargir the afternoon of their second day of sailing. The captain allows them to leave the ship first, before the crew begin to haul off their cargo. Sauron again thanks the captain for his hospitality and the captain wishes them good luck on their road. Sauron takes Frodo’s hand and Rick takes Sam’s, then they disembark with an escort of four crew members following them to carry the box. 

The docks are busy and the port bank is crowded with traders and merchants waiting for their supplies. The hobbits hold tight to Rick and Sauron so as not to get separated and lost. Sauron’s height comes in handy to part the crowds, which part even further when they see the familiar-shaped box and the pallbearers. As such, they are able to wind their way through the crowd with only a little difficulty. 

Beyond the dock are several merchant tents. They hunt through the rows of tents and vendors, and eventually find the tent with the symbol of a falcon. Sauron goes in first to ensure it is the correct tent. He comes out shortly and holds the flaps aside for the pallbearers to walk through. The box is set down gently, and the crew members take their leave, returning to the ship as quickly as possible. Rick and the hobbits enter the tent and Rick ties the flaps shut. 

Sauron removes the lid from the box to reveal their supplies and the robes they are to change into before reaching Near Harad. The hobbits are surprised to see that the mourning robes of the Haradrim are white, not black, and say as much.

“You will understand better once we reach Near Harad,” Sauron explains. “You’ll be uncomfortable in your current clothing soon enough. The white is much cooler.”

Rick goes for food and returns an hour later with not only food but more supplies. The hobbits eat as Rick and Sauron split the supplies into the provided saddlebags and check the water bottles for leaks. The hobbits put on their swords again, hiding them under the folds of their clothes, but Rick and Sauron wear theirs openly. 

The day passes. The merchants and vendors pack up their tents and supplies as the sun sets and by nightfall there are only a few tents remaining. They are just finishing their dinner when they hear the sound of hooves just outside their tent and horses whinnying. The hobbits quickly don their boots and veils, and Sauron goes to see what is the cause of the commotion. 

A minute later, he returns followed by a young woman of deep brown skin and bright green eyes. Her face is strikingly beautiful, with gentle round cheeks and a small chin and nose. She is dressed in a vibrant yellow gown that hangs loosely from her shapely frame down to her shins. Her head is covered in a long yellow cloth that is tied beneath her chin, but her feet, to the hobbits’ amazement, appear bare. They look closer and finally see the thin strap of the sandals that protect the soles of her feet from the hot and cracked sands of her homeland. She kneels before them and bows, her forehead resting on her hands, which she spreads out flat on the dirt floor. 

“Can we help you?” Sauron asks as he sits back down.

“I am Semira, your escort as ordered by the Dark King to the North, to lead the Grievous Ones through my homeland to the borders of Khand,” the woman says without looking up. Her accent is clipped but soothing, nearly musical to their ears.

“I thank you for your assistance, Semira. It is gladly accepted,” Sauron says and at this, the woman straightens and lowers her head cloth to reveal long black hair that cascades down her back to her waist. On the collar of her dress is a brooch of a jasmine, just as Elessar had described. She smiles at them each in turn as Sauron introduces them. “I am Odolf, and this is my son Wulfram, and my grandsons Remi and Matfrid.”

“I am most pleased to meet you,” she says when the introductions are finished. If she finds the hobbits’ veils odd, she makes no indication of it. “I only wish that my task was not so sad. I hope I do not speak too boldly when I say that the Dark King must be as cowardly as I have heard, to make his men retrieve their fallen comrades on their own.”

“You do not speak boldly, so long as you know that what you hear and what is true are two different things,” Sauron says. “Our King is just and brave. He would have come with us if we wished it, but we did not want to risk any more lives than is necessary.”

“Of course, Master Odolf,” Semira says and bows her head in compliance. 

Satisfied that this woman is indeed their escort, Sauron stands and heads back outside. “I will see to the horses. Prepare to leave in five minutes. … Wulfram. … Wulfram!”

Rick startles suddenly and tears his eyes away from the woman to blink at Sauron. “What?” he asks.

“Get our things together. We will leave at once,” Sauron repeats his orders and walks outside, chuckling under his breath. So, Rick is taken with the young woman. This is going to prove to be an interesting journey.

Inside the tent, Rick continues to sit and stare at Semira for many long moments before Frodo finally tugs at his sleeve. “Um, Father?” Frodo says. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave?”

“Uh-huh,” Rick says, dumbfounded. 

Semira smiles at him sweetly. “Shall I retrieve your baggage for you, Master Wulfram?” she asks.

“Uh-huh,” Rick repeats without thinking, but when Semira moves to stand up, he shakes himself from his stupor and bolts to his feet. “No, I mean… I’ll get it. Just, um, watch the ho— the children, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Master Wulfram. I am here to serve you in any way that pleases you,” Semira says coyly. 

“Oh. Well then… thank you,” Rick babbles and clumsily makes his way to the back of the tent to gather the saddlebags. The hobbits bow their heads, grateful for the veils that hide their smiles.

At Sauron’s call, they file outside to find five horses and two ponies waiting for them. The horses are magnificent creatures, and Rick is instantly drawn to a solid brown stallion with a black silky mane and tail and soulful deep-brown eyes. The stallion’s small, rounded ears perk up when Rick approaches, and the horse walks forward to nuzzle at his outstretched hand. Semira watches this encounter with interest. 

“You are a beauty,” Rick murmurs to the horse. He scratches the horse’s muzzle and behind its ears, then runs his hand along its flanks to its powerful hindquarters. “You can run for days, can’t you boy?” He runs his hand down the horse’s back legs, checking the muscle tone, then lifts the hoof to inspect the health of its feet. He circles back around to face the horse and smiles appreciatively. “What’s his name?”

“He does not have one. He is a horse,” Semira says as she helps the hobbits onto their ponies. “He likes you, I am thinking. Do you know of horses?”

Rick nods. “I grew up with them. I had one of my own, until he died of old age last winter.”

“I thought you were going to wait a while longer before getting another horse,” Sauron says.

“I am,” Rick responds dreamily, scratching behind the stallion’s ears again. “So you have no name? We’ll just have to think of one for you. How about… Beltic?”

The horse snorts and tosses his head in disapproval.

“No? All right, what about… Bron? Vail?” The horse snorts again. “You’re awfully picky, aren’t you?”

“Would it be possible to keep the horse?” Sauron asks Semira quietly.

“I am not knowing. It is not my horse,” Semira says, then turns back to the hobbits to give them the proper commands for controlling their beasts. The ponies are unlike the slow-paced, broad-backed Shire ponies or even the proud, sleek-formed Rohirrim ponies that they acquired during the War. These ponies, both bay-colored with shaggy black manes and tales, looked very much like a miniature version of the horses, with the same gentle manner and powerful legs for running many leagues at a time. 

“These are good ponies,” she tells them, “perfect for children to ride, yes?”

“Yes, thank you,” Frodo says. 

Sauron pulls Rick away from the horse and the two of them load the pack horses, two tawny brown mares, both with white feet and one with a white streak running down her muzzle. When all is ready, Semira mounts her horse, a black mare with gentle black eyes. This leaves a grey stallion with a silver mane and tail for Sauron. The grey stallion is the largest of the horses and easily accommodates Sauron’s great height. Sauron takes his reins and turns to find Semira watching him intently. 

He waves for her to go ahead. She bows her head in return and nudges her mare into a trot. She leads the way out of the village, with Sauron close beside her so they can discuss their route as they ride. The hobbits ride between, with Rick leading the pack horses at the rear.

The port village is soon far behind. The hobbits look around with much curiosity. From the maps in Elessar’s library, Frodo knows that they are in South Ithilien, the Moon-land, and that they still have to go through the northern edge of Harondor before they reach Near Harad. They will have to travel for many days before the landscape changes much. For now, they look out upon moonlit fields of tall grass, and the mountains are a long black shadow against the night sky in the east. 

Ahead of them, Sauron is discussing their travel plans with Semira, who listens attentively. “We plan to pass the downs to the north and round them to follow the mountains to Khand,” Sauron informs her. “We can refill our water bottles at the River Poros there.”

“I would not advise that,” Semira says. “Better it would be to stay on the road and replenish our supplies at Haudh in Gwanûr. There we will cross the river at the bridge where it is safe, then we will cut across the plains east to the mountains. The river runs too fast and too deep at the mountains, even for our horses to swim, and the water is dirty to drink. There is still much pollution that flows into the river from the Black Land. We can get boiled water at Haudh in Gwanûr. That is, if that is what you are wanting to do.”

“I can see that King Elessar chose us a wise escort indeed. We are much indebted to you,” Sauron says. 

Semira nods her head in acknowledgement but says nothing. She leads them for several miles, until they come to a small copse. She steers them off the road and through the trees. Beyond the copse is another field, shielded from view of the road. There is a fire pit and a cache of firewood already located there. 

“This is where I stayed last night,” she explains. “Often I have used this place in safety. We will camp here tonight if it pleases you, Master Odolf.”

“It’s beautiful here,” Rick says, looking more at Semira than the surrounding field. 

“I suppose it will do,” Sauron concedes. “I think I’ll take a look around though before we sleep, and it will probably be best if we set watches. I will go first, then Wulfram, then Semira. We’ll watch in four-hour shifts.”

“All right,” Rick agrees. “I’ll set out the sleeping rolls, and I suppose you two are hungry,” he says to the hobbits.

“I could use a bite afore nodding off,” Sam says. “We have a bag of nuts and dried fruits. We can munch on that while we help you set up camp.”

By the time Sauron returns from scouting the area, the camp is set up and the hobbits have satisfied their stomachs well enough to sleep comfortably. They feel bad about not taking a watch, but if they are to convince their guide that they are children, they will not be allowed to take any watch for the remainder of the trip. 

Frodo also wonders about his training sessions. Sauron had said that once they reach Khand, their sessions will have to end, but how are they to proceed with them until then with Semira there? Frodo smiles into his sleeping roll as he watches Rick watching Semira. Rick will gladly keep the Haradrim woman company during their training sessions, but will she  allow it? A slave she may have been, but Frodo does not see her as the type to be ordered about or easily distracted.

He learns the answer to his question the following night as they make camp off the road in an open field. Rick does indeed volunteer to search for firewood and hunt a couple of rabbits or pheasants, and asks Semira to accompany him. Sam remains to tend the horses and ponies as Sauron and Frodo set up the camp. When the camp is laid, Sauron sits Frodo down near the empty fire pit that Rick had dug before leaving.

“We won’t have as much time with our sessions from here on out,” Sauron begins, “but you have done well with your training and have advanced much. You can practice your skills on your own, and when we are alone, we will get in what training we can.”

Frodo nods. “Very well,” he agrees, and settles in for their next session. 

Sam warns them when Rick and Semira approach. They pull themselves back to the present, and the hobbits put their veils back on. By the time Semira and Rick return to the camp, the others are setting out the crockery for the evening meal. Rick carries the firewood, enough for the evening and morning meals, and Semira carries a couple of slain rabbits on a string. Sam reaches for them, but Semira passes him without a downward glance. She sits next to the fire pit and begins to prepare the rabbits for cooking.

“I’m feeling a bit useless,” Sam whispers to Frodo. “I didn’t reckon on her doing all the cooking, but she cooked at breakfast and at luncheon. Now dinner. What am I to do?”

Frodo pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Why don’t we help her? We can learn the names of those spices that she uses.”

Only when they turn around, they find Rick already helping her, babbling on about learning to cook with his mother’s guidance while Semira quietly works and listens. A small fire is already crackling merrily. The hobbits sigh and join Sauron in watching the pair cook. They can’t even enjoy a smoke on their pipes, for they are out of pipeweed and Semira will undoubtedly find such behavior alarming.

They reach Haudh in Gwanûr the following afternoon. They replenish their water, and with Semira helping them to haggle over the price, they get twice as much as they had originally planned. They do not stay in town but continue on to travel for another hour or more, leaving the road behind and heading due east across the plains. By the time they stop for camp, they can only see small dots of torch lights where the town lies behind them. The only other lights are that of their fire and the stars and moon overhead. 

“We will have little more contact with others until we come to Near Harad,” Semira informs them. “You are certain about traveling so close to the mountains?”

“They will give us shelter during the days once we reach your country,” Sauron says. “We will travel at night.”

“If that is what you are wishing, Master Odolf,” Semira complies but she does not seem happy about this plan. 

“How much longer will it be until we reach Near Harad?” Frodo asks her. “What is your homeland like?”

“A fortnight at least, Master Remi,” Semira answers. “My homeland is most hot and dry in the summer, but in the winters it is bitter cold. For now, the nights will still be quite cool for traveling, and the days will be getting warm again, pleasant for doing any kind of work or for traveling.”

“Are there still slaves?” Sam asks. “Why aren’t they paid for their work?” He finds the concept of slavery much too foreign to understand. 

“There are still many slaves, but some were freed by their masters after the civil war. Many still choose to serve their former masters, but there are many who did go to find other work. A slave is not paid, but those who are free must be paid,” Semira says. “But do not think that a slave’s life is a very hard one. We live in the homes where we work, and we are fed and clothed and provided with allowances to get the things that we need. If it is hard, it is so because at any moment we can be sold, and they do not care about keeping families together. Mothers and fathers are separated from their children, siblings taken away from each other, spouses are ripped apart. A slave’s family are the other slaves she works and lives with.”

“That is awful,” says Frodo, appalled. “I cannot imagine growing up without my family around me.”

Semira shrugs. “I cannot imagine anything else. I get gifts from my mother and father at the summer equinox, and I can at times see my sister in the Grand Bazaar, but we are not allowed to talk to each other as she is still a slave. It is enough to know that they live and are well. Not all masters are as kind as ours, and I am most lucky to have contact with them. Some masters are unkind, but there are laws to keep them from being too cruel.”

“Such as?” Rick asks.

“They are not allowed to punish their slaves on their own,” Semira says. “If they are found to do so, their slaves will be given away and they will not be allowed to buy new ones. If they want a slave punished for some crime, they must plead their case to the courts. The courts will decide if a punishment is to be given and they will carry it out.”

“Have you ever… been punished?” Rick asks.

Semira laughs and shakes her head. “I was a good slave. I always did as I was told. I was a most trusted slave. A trusted slave becomes almost like a member of the family that she serves. My master freed me as soon as I became of age to support myself. I worked for him freely for many years after that. Now, I help the Dark King to the North. My former master wishes for things to change in Harad, wishes for the end of all slavery and tyranny. He believes that the Dark King can make this happen. I am not so sure, but I trust my master’s judgment. He tells me to go and get you, and lead you to Khand. He says it will help the Dark King to free us all.”

“Your master has knowledge of King Elessar’s plans?” Sauron says, greatly surprised to hear this. “Who is your master?”

“I do not know what my master knows, only what he tells me,” Semira says. “He tells me you are here to help, so I help you.”

“We are not here to free slaves, Semira,” Sauron says. “We are only here to retrieve our fallen comrades.”

Semira nods and winks at them conspiratorially. “Your comrades would have fallen long ago by now, yes? They would have been burnt and their ashes left to scatter to the winds. The winds will carry the ashes and settle them in the fields, and from the ashes, new crops will grow. Death gives life. Besides, it is too risky to be taking children there, yes? Your companions are shorter than most men, but we too have those who are stunted in growth.”

“Stunted?” Sam says before he can stop himself. 

Semira looks at him curiously. “I have seen your faces, though you are careful to hide them, and I have heard your voices, and I have watched you. You are not children. Nor are you here for your dead comrades, to my thinking. Whoever you are and whatever you are doing here, I do not ask questions. I will do what I am told and I will say nothing, but do not think me a fool.”

As they settle down for sleep that night, the hobbits lying next to Rick, the young man sighs dreamily and stares up at the night sky. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

The hobbits grin at each other and wink between themselves. “She’s rather remarkable,” Frodo agrees.

“She’s a smart one, and that’s a fact,” Sam says. “She’s a bit out of reach for my tastes though.”

Rick only hums thoughtfully at this. Then he sighs again, rolls over and falls asleep. Across the fire, Semira smiles also and she too goes to sleep. Sauron takes the first watch and he mostly keeps a watchful eye on their guide. It had not escaped his attention that she never told them the name of her master.

To be continued…

GF 3/12/07