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"And [the Númenóreans] sailed now with power and armoury to Middle-earth, and they came no longer as bringers of gifts, nor even as rulers, but as fierce men of war. And they hunted the men of Middle-earth and took their goods and enslaved them, and many they slew cruelly upon their altars. For they built in their fortresses temples and great tombs in those days; and men feared them, and the memory of the kindly kings of the ancient days faded from the world and was darkened by many a tale of dread." - The Silmarillion, "Akallabêth: The Downfall of Númenor"
"...[A]nd at last when [Ciryaher] had gathered enough strength he came down from the north by sea and by land, and... his armies utterly defeated the Men of the Harad, and their kings were compelled to acknowledge the overlordship of Gondor. Ciryaher then took the name of Hyarmendacil 'South-victor.'
"In his day Gondor reached the summit of its power. ...The Men of the Vales of Anduin acknowledged its authority and the kings of the Harad did homage to Gondor, and their sons lived as hostages in the court of its King." - The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, "I. The Númenórean Kings, (iv) Gondor and the Heirs of Anárion"
~*~
Boromir dodged and avoided colliding with passing servants and loitering nobles with practiced agility. He had been overseeing the soldiers running practice drills when he received a message from Faramir to meet him in the archives. Faramir knew the library of Minas Tirith and the archives below were not places he frequented very often—if he could help it—but for Faramir to invite him there meant that it must have been an important matter.
As he descended the stairs that led down to the archives, the smell of dust attacked his senses. He made a face, already feeling like he was covered in cobwebs and needed a bath to wash off the dust. He found Faramir standing in front of a table with several unfurled scrolls before him, stones and other heavy knickknacks being used to hold down the corners. His brother appeared to be deep in thought, because he did not react when Boromir approached the table.
“Do you think perhaps it is about time we clean this place up a bit, now that we have a king?” Boromir asked. Faramir hummed and nodded, but Boromir couldn’t tell if he had actually heard him. “What are you focusing on so intently? And what did you wish to speak to me about?”
Faramir stepped to the side and gestured for Boromir to read it for himself. Boromir’s brow furrowed but he came forward. As he leaned over the table, he suppressed a sigh. Of course it was written in Sindarin. He knew enough to be dangerous, but he hadn’t engaged in his studies when he was younger, and so a lot of the time he had to make guesses. He saw several mentions of the Númenóreans and the Haradrim, but for the most part he couldn’t make heads or tails about what he was reading, which only made him more frustrated.
“What does this word say here?” he asked as he pointed at a word in one of the sentences regarding the Haradrim.
“'Sacrificial offerings.'”
“So… the Haradrim were sacrificing people to Sauron?” Faramir let out a quiet sigh and shook his head.
“Read it again.”
Boromir scowled but did as he was told. He read the sentence over and over again, trying to remember what his tutor said about sentence structures. Since his original guess had been wrong, he went from there.
“Wait… does it say that the Southrons were sacrificed?” Faramir nodded. “By the Númenóreans?”
“By the King’s Men who followed Ar-Pharazôn. Not the Faithful.”
Boromir’s stomach clenched. They sacrificed the Southrons on their altars. Altars to whom?
“Why would they do that? Did the Southrons attack first?”
“No. And they did it because Sauron had seduced Ar-Pharazôn into worshiping Morgoth, who Sauron claimed was the true creator of the world while Eru Ilúvatar was a false god created by the Elves. The King’s Men started wars with the native people of Harad and enslaved them or sacrificed them after stealing their goods. All of these things, as well as Ar-Pharazôn’s violation of the Ban of the Valar which forbade Men from entering Valinor, led to the fall and destruction of Númenor.”
Boromir leaned forward on his hands and stared unseeingly at the script. For his entire adult life, he had been fighting Southrons and other Men of the South and East who chose to follow Sauron. How many of his brothers had been slain by their scimitars? How many men had he lost to their poison-tipped arrows? It made his blood boil just thinking about it. The Southrons had been attacking Gondor for hundreds of years, and his ancestors had defended the White City and neighboring Osgiliath just as he had. And now King Elessar wished to seek peace with them.
“If Ar-Pharazôn started sacrificing them because of Sauron’s influence, then why did they join Sauron’s side in the war? Did they know he was the reason their ancestors were sacrificed and enslaved?”
“It is unlikely that they knew. Sauron is called ‘the Deceiver’ for a reason. He can manipulate others to do his evil works without them realizing that their actions are not their own.” Boromir’s expression darkened. He knew a little bit about that, he thought to himself as he remembered the pull of the Ring and the moments of time he had lost awareness of. Faramir pulled out another scroll and laid it on top of the first one. “Read this one, as well.”
Boromir groaned and shot Faramir an annoyed look. At least this one was written in Westron. It appeared to be a first-person account written by King Hyarmendacil about his victory over the Men of Harad and how their kings sent their sons to live in his court as hostages. He definitely didn’t remember ever learning this from his tutor.
What he wondered was why they had given up their sons as hostages. Because it happened after King Hyarmendacil defeated them and brought about Gondor’s peak strength, he had to guess that it was appeasement. But even that did not last long, because the fighting picked up again, and he figured that there would be more Southrons living in Gondor. He could not imagine the Kings of Rohan sending their sons to Dunland as hostages, or the Gondorian Kings sending theirs to Harad or Mordor. He did not think that the Stewards would have done it, either. But as he glanced over at Faramir, who seemed to be deep in thought again, Boromir came to a disturbing conclusion—their father might have given Faramir up, or would have at least considered it, if it was his only option to preserve peace.
No, Father would not have done that, even if he did not view Faramir favorably. He was far too proud to resort to such things.
“This appears to have been written by King Hyarmendacil, and it says that the Southrons sent their sons of their own accord instead of the king demanding it. Is that the case?”
“It would appear so, but it is hard to say for certain because we do not have a written account from the Southrons.”
“Who wrote the first one? About the… sacrifices.”
“It was written by someone named Morinehtar.” Boromir frowned.
“Isn’t that a Quenya name?” Faramir nodded. “Was it an Elf?”
“I do not believe so. Although there are Elves dwelling in the East, they are of the Avari who did not make the journey West, and so they did not learn to speak the High Elven tongue.”
“Then who was he?”
“The only individuals I know of who bear Quenya names are the Istari. Like Mithrandir, who is also called Olórin.”
“Then there are other Wizards besides Gandalf and Saruman?” Faramir rolled his eyes.
“Yes, brother. There are five Istari. Did you sleep through all of your lessons?”
“No…!” Boromir’s face flushed with indignation. “Although I may have dozed off during a few of them.”
“Just as I thought. But all jokes aside… what do you think?”
“What do I think about what?”
“The king’s decision to seek peace with the Southrons and Easterlings. Do you agree with it?”
“I think… it will take some getting used to. I have seen so many soldiers die upon their blades and be pierced by their arrows. But I am beginning to understand that they were not wishing us harm because they were inherently evil, but because of what happened in the past, perhaps. At least, I believe that to be a part of it. One day, I might be able to see past the lives they took, but I am not so closed-minded that I refuse to even consider a path towards peace.” Faramir nodded but said nothing. “What do you think?”
“I think I am tired of fighting and taking lives. I wish for the world to heal. Winning a war as momentous as this one and defeating an enemy as formidable as Sauron, only to allow conflict between us to continue is not right.” Boromir offered him a small smile and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I agree. I, too, am tired of fighting. All my life I have been fighting enemies, real and imagined. I just hope that the Southrons want peace instead of war as much as we do.”
“As do I.” Faramir rolled up the scrolls and placed them on the shelves where he found them and followed Boromir up the stairs. After they had made it across the library and into the corridor, he said, “I will inform King Elessar of what you said.”
“Why did he not just ask me, himself?”
“Because he was busy. And because he thought I would have better luck at convincing you to agree to the idea.” Boromir snorted.
“Since he values my opinion so much, then perhaps he will do something about the dust.”
“You could always plug your nose,” Faramir said half-jokingly.
“And breathe the stuff in through my mouth? No, thank you.”
“Does this mean that, if the archive room is tidied up, then you will use it more often?”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I would rather clean Gimli’s toenails than hole myself up in the archive room for hours reading dusty old tomes.”
“Be careful what you say. Gimli might take you up on that.” Boromir grimaced.
“Yes, he might. I just hope that Legolas didn’t overhear me and tell him what I said,” he replied with a shudder as they made their way through the Citadel.
After they had gone their separate ways—Faramir going in search of King Elessar and Boromir returning to the training grounds—Boromir thought of something he had meant to ask him. Did the rest of Gondor know about the atrocities that had been committed against the Men of Harad, too? Surely, he would have heard someone speak about it before now. But if it was not common knowledge, then was it because the Kings and Stewards kept it hidden from them? And what would happen if Elessar brought it to light?