[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

Jarl listened to the ancient song of Nurn, impressed once again with the Harad grasp of history. But Gramil's song did not answer his question, which most pressingly concerned the welfare of his assistant, Garlin, and Nurn's laws today. The oliphaunts' rolling gait through the forest was relaxing however, and Jarl waited out his laconic companion's silence, as he had many times on this journey. The mark of a good businessman was patience, something both Jarl and (unfortunately) Gramil had in abundant supply.

Gramil seemed to come to a decision, and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"If we finished that song, brought it up to this day, I don't know what we would hear. Or I'm not sure. No news has come from Nurn since the end of the war. But perhaps," here he looked sheepishly at Jarl, "perhaps my name might come up, once or twice, in the recent past. Things that were best the king not know. If you understand me."

Jarl's eyebrows raised, though Gramil didn't notice as he attempted to keep his seat while he ducked a low-hanging branch.

"But when you have traded with people a long time, they become your friends. If they disappear and others take their place, one worries. Asks questions. That is one thing that is fatal in Nurn - asking questions.

"For anyone who is not holding a coffee shipment hostage, that is!" Gramil's eyes sparkled with humor. "Also walking alone where you are not expected to be. I lost one of my cousins to that.. custom.

"My king of course doesn't care who buys coffee beans and sells rice. And an ally is an ally, no matter what they are doing." It was the closest Jarl had heard any man of Harad question authority, even more surprising from this gentle singer and coffee merchant. "I found my friends. One was the former mayor of southwest Nurn, Al-Karech. A slave in the rice fields.

Gramil stared straight ahead, unmoving.
"If there is anything that burns the soul of a man of Harad, it is that. To hold a man against his will and work him like an animal! That which the beasts of Gondor are guilty, however long ago." Gramil's face was hardened and angry. He looked suddenly like the barbarian Harad warriors Jarl heard stories of as a child.

"I planned my next trip carefully. I made many offerings at the feasts to the gods, that Al-Karech would survive the winter. There were supposedly twenty-seven in my next caravan. That is what I told the slavers of Mordor. But really we only had fifteen.

"Nurn had changed, in just a few months. It had gone mad. Bodies hung in the trees for no crime I could learn. Brothers turned on eachother at rumors, for fear the Dark Lord would hear. Proud men were currying favor with orc Captains! We fought alongside them out of necessity, but we do not love them. Before last spring I would have said no man of Nurn would bow before such.

"At night, no man walked, and no lights were allowed. The streets were as dark as pitch. Only orcs abroad. Why would anyone outlaw light?

"I found Al-Karech, he had survived. But he would not come. He was very thin. Still he had others ready to leave, and a young king, perhaps, if they could overthrow their overseers. I had room for twelve. There were so many who wanted to come with me! I found space for nearly twice the number we planned under the rice bags, but it was not enough. Nothing could have been enough.

Gramil turned to Jarl, his face serious in the fading light.

"I would rather walk to the Blue Mountains than go to Nurn," Gramil laughed grimly, "Even Gondor. But I go where I must, because my king sends me. I do want to know what happened to my friend. My messages have never been answered. Maybe they never reached him. Maybe worse.."

"But I know even the borders of Nurn is no place for two boys alone."

[ October 20, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]