#haradrim

[riaayanami]

Sauron, selling something of his crafts at oriental souk in Harad

[riaayanami]

Sauron perfoms ritual dance in Harad at festival

[riaayanami]

Somewhere in the jungle of Southern lands. It's his lands, his Arda. He is singing his Ainulindale theme variations, standing alone in the rain.

[riaayanami]

The nights of Harad

This is my first fic in English. Sorry for any possible mistakes, English not my first language.

Drama, original female characters, original male characters, second and third age, Sauron needs a hug, gray moral. Don't believe Sauron, he's evil.

Chapter 1.

The evening settled over the southern palace gently, as if draping a warm cloak over its walls. Low bonfires were lit in the inner courtyard. The air grew thick with the scent of flowers, hot sand, sandalwood, and spices.

Mairon sat on a low carved stool, leaning slightly forward, holding the darbuka as though it weren’t an instrument at all, but an extension of himself. His fingers flew over the drum’s skin—sometimes soft, barely a whisper, sometimes sharp and commanding—weaving a rhythm that slipped into the blood of everyone standing nearby. He sang in the language of sand and wind. The Maia’s voice settled over the drumbeats, intertwining with them into a pattern that made you want to either weep or laugh, forgetting everything else. In the firelight, his claws flashed, and his fangs glinted in a smile whenever he laughed at someone’s joke or encouraged one who was too shy to step into the circle. And on his finger, the One Ring shone with golden light.

Around him, the Haradrim whirled in bright scarves and copper bracelets, their movements like the flight of birds. Simple guards, who weren’t on duty tonight, clapped along and hummed tunes they didn’t know the words to—but they felt the meaning.

“Erielle!” he suddenly called out, never missing a beat, turning his head just enough to catch her gaze. His eyes, in the firelight, seemed almost golden. “Come here! Let this evening be yours too!”

She froze in the archway. But he… was waiting for her to join in.

So she stepped forward—hesitant at first, then bolder. She didn’t try to copy the intricate steps of the southern dancers; instead, she moved the way her heart sang, letting the fire and the music guide her.

Mairon smiled—wide and open—and in that moment, he didn’t seem like an ancient lord at all. He was simply someone who had gathered everyone together so that no one would feel alone.

“May the earth remember our steps! May the fire see our faces!” he shouted, and everyone around him took up the cry, launching into a new song.

Lirin stood a little apart, leaning against a column, watching the celebration.

“He knows how to do this,” he said quietly when Erielle paused for a moment to catch her breath and stepped over to him. “He knows how to be not above people, but with them.”

“I used to think his power was a wall,” she said. “Now I see it’s a circle. He draws everyone in so that no one is left outside.”

Lirin inclined his head slightly in agreement.

“Exactly so,” he said calmly.

Erielle stepped back into the circle, and this time she wasn’t afraid. She laughed, spun, let the fire paint golden patterns on her dress, and felt the fear slip away.

And Mairon kept playing. His fingers never tired. His voice never grew weak. He looked at his people, at each of them in turn, as if he wanted to memorize this evening forever.

Later, when the fires had burned down to embers and the others had either gone to their chambers or lain down right on the warm stone to gaze at the stars, Mairon and Erielle remained alone in the courtyard. He sat on the edge of the fountain, his hand trailing in the water, while she settled beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The silence didn’t feel frightening now. It was warm, like a blanket draped over your shoulders on a cool evening.

“You know,” Erielle said softly, gazing up at the stars, “I realized something. This sense of you being everywhere… it isn’t about controlling everything. It’s about making sure no one is left in the dark.”

Mairon only smiled, flicking his tongue over his fangs, and the inscription on his ring flared a little brighter for a moment.

Tbc

[goldencamelias]

I wanted to share this lovely art I gotof my OCs Mannim who's half Gondorian (farther) half Easternling (mother) and his lady Niwdayh from Far Harad

And yes he does the eyes of Sauron tattooed upon his collar bone along with a bull head of his mother's house emblem to honor her and to spite his father. He has very little love for his homeland of Dol Amroth even now after the war has ended and plans to make way to his mother's house.

Art by: melampygus

[theelizabethparable]

every time i watch lotr i'm reminded of how much i love the Haradrim, and the horn that hey have it's like really cool.

[goldencamelias]

So I'm in the process of making a new character, an minor noble lady from Harad who fights using a form of Dambe (a traditional Hausa martial art from Nigeria) since she's a brawler in game and I love the idea of this sweet and poetic character having an absolutely brutal fighting style, but it also got me thinking, are there any Harad or even Rhûn based rp kinships out there? I haven't made it to Umbar yet but I've never seen any advertisement or active groups aside from a few old and quiet Easternling based groups

I really hope some more pop up with the upcoming expansion

[onlyhurtforaminute]

HARADRIM-TYRANT