Haradrim Handgunners

At the end of the 3rd Age, Gondor and the West won. The War of the Ring had ended, but a Cold War had begun. The Haradrim retreated back to their own lands, not to be heard from... until now.

The Haradrim have not been idle all this time, they have also completed research on gunpowder upgrades for their troops. So the arms race escalates in Middle Earth.

And while the Easterlings seem to have given up their wars with Gondor (or have they?), the Southrons will not give up their zealous war with the West. So who are the Haradrim? (at least from this blog's point of view)

A column of smoke by day, a pillar of fire by night.

Desert power!

The Haradrim are desert warriors without peer. They are strong and fierce. They do not give their loyalty easily or quickly.

We Fremen have a saying: "God created Arrakis to train the faithful." One cannot go against the word of God.

This is a Naib of Sietch Howeitat. A tribal leader riding a Dire Jerboa. The Haradrim name for these Dire Jerboas is Muad Dib. Some madman would later take the name and use it as his own to conquer the galaxy.

 

Auda abu Tayi: Does Auda abu Tayi serve?

Howeitat tribesmen: NO!

Auda abu Tayi: I carry twenty-three great wounds, all got in battle. Seventy-five men have I killed with my own hands in battle. I scatter, I burn my enemies' tents. I take away their flocks and herds. The Turks pay me a golden treasure, yet I am poor! Because I am a river to my people!

Howeitat tribesmen: *Cheering*

A Djinn Whisperer wears a yellow turban to signify his status among his people. 

Alithea Binnie: If there is fate, who can say? But I tell you this: in the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul, there are sixty-two streets, and four thousand shops. And in one of those shops, there are three rooms. In the smallest of those rooms, there was a pile of things unsorted, old and new. From the bottom of that pile, I chose a memento.   *picks up a flask*

   

Look, they will not stop the Pharaoh (Nah!)
I'm comin' for the bag, pa, lock, stock, and barrel (I am!)
It was lonely on the Ave (Yeah!)
Afghan, anti-Soviet Jihad (Alhamdulillah!)
I'mma have to put another boulder in the bag (Bag!)
FDP-9, throw it in the Jag (Yo son, throw it in the back, throw it in the back!)
I got a mob that’ll kill Satan
98 shots, bump stock, and I'm still wavin' (Hahahah!)

I always root for the villain
Deep down he a hero, he don't know what he doin' (Woah!)
I always root for the villain
Even my grandmother love all them shooters and killers (Oh!)
I always root for the villain
Deep down he a hero, he don't know what he doin' (Woah!)
I always root for the villain
Even my grandmother love all them shooters and killers (Oh!)

It's hard in these streets
From Mecca to Jerusalem
All day every day

Toe flex we bout to blow like octane
You know Cannibal Ox got mad slang
Who cares what you're named
They say a man who repeats himself is insane
I mix my saliva with propane
Flame on I spit that hot fire with Dylan
And stay inside the line with crayons
My whole aura is neon, ultra violet
Come out your mouth
I might get ultra violent
Now it's so quiet
You was popping that junk
Now it's so silent
Here's another token
We are the chosen
Wolves in the coven
Blade of the Ronin

Gondorian Imperial Guard clash with the Haradrim in the Debatable Lands south of Gondor.

The Southrons fight for tribal rights against the infidel Gondorians who are on a crusade to globalize their consumeristic ideals by infecting all nations with fastfood and starbucks. So the Haradrim have drawn a line in the sand. The big mac stops here...

Now the King told the boogie man
You have to let that raga drop
The oil down the desert way
Has been shakin' to the top
The Sheik, he drove his Cadillac
He went a-cruisin' down the ville
The muezzin was a-standin'
On the radiator grille (ow!) 

By order of the Prophet
We ban that boogie sound
Degenerate the faithful
With that crazy Casbah sound
But the Bedouin, they brought out
The electric camel drum
The local guitar picker
Got his guitar-pickin' thumb
As soon as the Sharif had cleared the square
They began to wail

The King called up his jet fighters
He said you better earn your pay
Drop your bombs between the Minarets
Down the Casbah way
As soon as the Sharif was chauffeured outta there
The jet pilots tuned to the cockpit radio blare
As soon as the Sharif was outta their hair
The jet pilots wailed

Sharif don't like it
Rockin' the Casbah
Rock the Casbah
Sharif don't like it
Rockin' the Casbah
Rock the Casbah

~~~

These are Haradrim from Near Harad. We still have the Sietches of Far Harad! And more than that... the tribes from the Sub-Saharad regions. So lots more Southrons still to come! More Muad Dib riders and Mumakil. Oh did I say Mumakil?

Cheers,

Mar