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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 170
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 01:59:58 +0000 UTCAlatar didn't elaborate much on the magic that could free people from Sauron's influence, and Garrett didn't pry into this secret of his.
With the three of them traveling tirelessly, before long, a city appeared on the distant horizon.
The capital of the Variags of Khand.
Compared to the capital of the Easterlings, this city seemed rather crude. Its walls were a mix of wood and earth, and many houses were covered with straw thatch.
This might have had something to do with the local climate.
Just as Alatar had said, the sun here was harsh, and the ground was covered in a layer of sand.
"Wait, what's that?"
Garrett quickly approached a patch of sandy ground.
"Cactus?!"
"Oh yes, it's a native species here. Do you like it?"
"Actually, I kind of do."
Snap.
The cactus was pulled up from the roots, and after being processed through his crafting interface, it was "standardized" into a neat, cube-shaped cactus block.
"Want me to help you find more?" Halbarad offered upon seeing Garrett's excitement.
"No need. One is enough."
Even if nothing else, just finding a cactus on this trip had made it worthwhile.
However, when they officially entered the city, Garrett realized he had still underestimated what awaited him.
"What's that?"
He pointed at a group of people completely wrapped in white woolen robes.
"A caravan from the southern region of Harad. They crossed the desert just to acquire the wealth of the East."
Garrett stepped closer to take a look. And with just one glance, he was instantly excited.
"Rum."
The merchants mentioned they had rum among their goods. And the main ingredient used to brew rum... was sugarcane.
"Would you care to try some of our finest rum?"
"No, rather than rum, I'm more curious about the taste of sugarcane."
"You want sugarcane?"
The merchant asked, surprised. "We usually don't sell that. It's not valuable and difficult to preserve. The journey is long, and even if we load freshly harvested sugarcane, it usually spoils before we arrive here."
"Like this."
He pulled out a small piece of discolored sugarcane, with a bite taken out of it.
"You've reminded me, I was just about to discard this."
As he spoke, he pulled out a few more pieces from the cart.
"Hmm, this one still seems edible."
The merchant was about to peel it.
"Wait! Sell it to me!"
Garrett quickly stopped him.
"You want to try it?"
The merchant paused and said, "Tell you what, just give me two copper coins, or buy something else, and I'll throw it in as a bonus."
Given the long transport route, this wasn't an unreasonable deal.
A little later, Garrett rejoined the others carrying a piece of southern specialty almond confection.
Fortunately, among the few half-rotten sugarcane stalks the Haradrim merchant gave him, one was still good enough. This one could be "standardized" into the special sugarcane that grows simply by planting it next to water.
Cactus, sugarcane.
Two very useful items, acquired just upon arrival.
For this city surrounded by yellow sand, where Haradrim merchants or nomads often came from the desert, Garrett was growing more and more intrigued.
To get such a harvest just after stepping through the gate, there were surely more southeastern crops not found in western Middle-earth waiting to be discovered within.
"Finished looking around?"
Alatar asked him and led them toward the city center.
"You're quite curious about the South?" Halbarad asked.
"Somewhat. Mainly I'm interested in the local specialties."
"Specialties..."
Halbarad thought for a moment and said, "I've heard that further south beyond the Harad Desert lies a vast grassland. And further south from the grassland, a jungle. Jungle folk live there, and both the grasslands and jungles are home to many animals and plants we've never seen."
Garrett's eyes lit up.
"That sounds amazing."
"But it's very far," Halbarad reminded him. "According to the Haradrim traders, the distance from Harad to that jungle is several times farther than from your stronghold to the Lonely Mountain."
"That's... really far..."
Garrett looked at his mental map.
Middle-earth, if he really wanted to explore and uncover this entire continent, even riding a swift horse without rest would take years.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Halbarad suddenly said.
Garrett turned to look beside him.
He saw Alatar removing the tattered cloak he used for disguise, revealing the sea-blue robe underneath, and boldly walking through the city.
If this were in the Easterling lands, the guards and nearby crowd would have already surrounded them.
But here...
"Don't worry. As I said, this is our territory."
The nearby residents didn't seem particularly curious about the old man in the blue robe. Some of the guards even gave him a slight bow in greeting.
But only some of them did.
The others passed by with their eyes averted, wearing an expression of "I saw nothing, I know nothing."
Alatar paid no mind to these people. Before long, he led Garrett and Halbard to the largest hall in the city.
"My lord."
The guards at the door bowed respectfully toward Alatar.
He nodded and strode confidently inside, but the two behind him weren't so lucky. The guards immediately stopped them.
"In the presence of the King's hall, you must surrender your weapons," one of them said.
But before they could begin a search, a voice from inside interrupted them, "They are my guests. Do not treat them rudely."
The guards glanced meaningfully at the blue-robed figure inside the hall and stepped back in silence.
Garrett and Halbarad exchanged looks.
Even the most oblivious person could sense that something about the atmosphere here was... wrong.
"It's been a long time, O King of Khand,"
Inside the hall, Alatar greeted the muscular figure seated upon the throne.
"Ah... wise wizard, your timing is excellent. I have... I have some questions... that only you can answer..."
The king's face was pale. He struggled to rise, but the effort seemed immense, strikingly at odds with his burly physique.
Anyone seeing him for the first time would think he was gravely ill.
Yet Alatar acted as if it were all normal. He stepped up the stairs toward the throne, stood beside the king, and gently asked, "What troubles you, my King?"
The king gave up on standing. He shook his head, nearly slumped against the throne, and spoke in a weak voice. "Sauron... he sent a messenger, said that if we do not surrender, he will kill every last one of us..."
"Do not worry. We have already delayed the forces of the Easterlings and Mordor. They won't be able to fully mobilize for some time."
"Ah... then... good..."
A flicker of excitement lit up the king's cloudy eyes.
Though even he didn't really know what he was excited about.
"Alatar."
Garrett couldn't hold back anymore. He called him by name and asked directly, "Is this the method you spoke of for freeing the rulers of this land from the Sauron's control?"
"This method doesn't look all that noble, and frankly, it doesn't seem very good."
"Oh? And why do you say that?"
Alatar opened his arms and replied as if it were self-evident, "Look, Garrett, this King of Khand, ever since my arrival, has stopped bowing to the Enemy. He's summoned the courage to resist those who would oppress his people!"
Garrett shook his head.
"So, your so-called 'freedom' just means transferring him from being under the Sauron's control... to being under yours?"
"Control?"
"No, no, no. Please don't use that word here, now, in this moment. What I've done is simply help him better follow his own heart..."
Garrett stepped forward, drawing his sword from his inventory.
"You're beyond help. Maybe someone does need to knock some sense into you. I should've known Saruman wouldn't teach you anything good."
Alatar clearly disagreed. He raised his head and looked down proudly at the figure below the steps.
"Oh, tales of the West... Tell me, Garrett, what is good, and what is evil?"
"Should we abandon power simply because we fear it?"
"To me, that is what true cowardice looks like."
A cloud drifted in, blocking the harsh sun. The King's hall was momentarily cast into shadow.
From the gloom, the blue-robed wizard's voice rang out, firm and forceful, "This is nothing more than the rightful use of power."
