"Mama, Mama! Look, Mama." Stubby fingers pointed at the cloud of dust traveling east toward them from across the desert.

     "What is it, little Dark Sun?"

     "Mûmakil, Mama, Mûmakil are coming."

     "Run and get your sister and father, Dark Sun, maybe we will see a little Mûmakil." She watched her Dark Sun, Nyesjua, dash around a large tree and into their home to fetch Uzuri. His high, child's voice rang in the dry air as he shouted "Uzu'i, Uzu'i" and "Baba, Baba" frantically. Nyesjua loved the Mûmakil and feared them not. The tribe knew him to approach the massive creatures without hesitation, giving many fright enough to faint away. He oft exclaimed his wish to be a herder of the Mûmakil. No reprimand from his father dampened that desire. Even now, she heard stern words coming from her beloved, even as he followed Nyesjua outside with Uzuri trailing behind them.

     "Baba, see? See the Mûmakil," Nyesjua said, pushing himself up on his toes as if to see over the horizon. By then, hearing Nyesjua's excitement, much of the tribe gathered around them to watch the herd approach from the west. The setting sun glowed orange in the dust they kicked up.

     An awed silence fell over the crowd gathered at the edge of the jungle. The Mûmakil migrations had begun. This would be the first herd they would see returning to the jungle to escape the desert summers and burning sun for the cool, protective shade of Far Harad's jungles. Every year dozens of herds traveled hundreds of miles to the center of the desert to form one massive herd. No one knew why for sure, but some said that wherever they gathered was holy ground, for flocks of birds, and other animals would also travel there. No one had traveled there. The middle desert was too dangerous.

     Nyesjua's short hand slipped into hers. "Mama, I'm going to go with them some day. I will ride on their backs and lay in the sun while they take me."

     "You will burn up like a little leaf in the sun if you do that, Dark Sun," she replied with a sinking heart when she saw the conviction in his round face.

~~~

     "Mama?" came Nyesjua's voice over the sound of frying rabbit. Her little Dark Sun's clear voice never failed to bring a smile to her face. He sat beside her, long, thin legs folding in half. His brown hands twisted a piece of leather nervously.

     "What is it, my Dark Sun?" she asked, taking her eyes off their dinner and the fusing newborn baby by her side and looking at her son. Nyesjua reached over and picked up his sister, Mwezi. He left her play with and suck on his fingers.

     "Baba says the Mûmakil herders will come tomorrow. He says it is all right if I go see them."

     "If your father says you may, then you may."

     Nyesjua pulled his forefinger out of Mwezi's small mouth. She cried pitifully, quieting only when he let her continue gumming his fingers.

     "I wanted to ask you if I may go see them tomorrow. May I?" he asked. She looked down with a soft sigh he couldn't hear.

     "If you wish to see them so much, I will let you, but-" she wagged her finger before his delicate nose, "you must come back for meals else you shan't have anything."

     Nyesjua grinned widely and nodded. His dark hair fell into his eyes.

     "I will, Mama."

     "Now, go fetch your father and little brother for dinner," she said taking Mwezi back.

     "What about Uzuri?"

     "She dines with her betrothed tonight, Dark Sun."

~~~

     "Mama, don't cry." Nyesjua said kissing her teary cheek. When had he become tall enough to kiss her cheek? She wrapped him in a tight hug, hiding her face against his neck. She felt his arm hugging her shoulders.

     "You come back, do you hear? Every chance you get."

     "Yes, Mama, I will."

     She hugged him tighter for a second then stepped away. Nyesjua embraced his father quickly, ruffled his little brother Mashari's hair, kissed Mwezi's rotund cheeks, and tugged on Uzuri's hair. She swatted his hand away with a thin smile and tear-filled eyes.

     "Be safe, little brother. Eat your dinners."

     Nyesjua ducked away with one last glance back at her and clambered up onto one of the Mûmakil's back. He had only ridden a Mûmakil once before, but she thought he looked more at home up there than anywhere else.

     The rising sun tinted the desert pink and orange as he rode away, swaying with the rolling motions of the Mûmakil, already talking animatedly with the herders. He looked back once, just before descending down a sand dune. She tried to memorize the lines of her Dark Sun's face, they way his lips stretch over his teeth when he smiled, the faint dimples of his still-round cheeks, and his bright, happy eyes.

     "Be safe, my Dark Sun."

~~~

     "Mama?"

     The jar in her hands shattered against the ground. A cry escaped her lips as she spun around and saw him standing in the doorway, the setting sun cast his face in shadow, but she knew his voice, his sweet, gentle voice that was so much deeper now.

     "Nyesjua, Dark Sun, my son," she cried throwing herself toward him in a passionate, warm embrace only a mother could give. He stooped down so she could reach him better. He had grown so much and now stood taller than his father. She pulled away, set her hands on her hips, and frowned in anger. "Five years, Nyesjua, five whole years."

     "I am sorry, Mama," he said trying to make himself smaller. She could not be angry, not when he was home. How he had changed. The round, childish face had melted away, leaving a firm, yet gentle man. The dimple in his cheeks had deepened and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She could feel the callus on his hands through her clothes and smell the sweet, but pungent odor of Mûmakil on him.

     "My Dark Sun," she crooned softly, warm tears slipped down her face. Nyesjua fell to his knees and wept from homesickness and sorrow for leaving his mother for so long. She stroked his hair and held him against her chest, the way she used to when he hurt himself or was frightened.

     "Forgive me, Mama. I should have come home sooner."

     "Hush, my Dark Sun, you are home now," she said wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Come rest and you can meet your siblings when they return. You have a new brother and sister, and two nephews with one due any day now. Mashari missed you dearly." She pulled him inside and set him on what used to be his bed. "Now rest, they shan't be home for some time yet. Your Baba will be so happy to see you." Nyesjua's eyes were already closing. She gazed lovingly at her son's beautiful face. A dark scar the length of her smallest finger cut into his cheek. A small, strange tattoo hid behind his ear. She wondered if he was still the Dark Sun she remembered. He seemed so different now.

~~~

     "Mama?" Nyesjua stumbled out of the sleeping room, eyes still glazed with sleep. Everyone fell silent. He stopped where he stood and looked at all the faces, some were the same, others familiar, and the new faces of his youngest siblings. He smiled sheepishly. "Hello, Baba." His father let out a choking cry and embraced his eldest son. Mashari began weeping where he stood, clutching young Mwezi's hand. Mwezi, Dunia, and Nywele, who could barely walk, stared wide-eyed at the tall stranger hugging their Baba.

     "Hello, brother," Nyesjua said to Mashari.

     "Nye," Mashari whispered. "You came back."

     "I told you I would, Shari."

     She watched Nyesjua greet his three youngest siblings. Dunia and Nywele hid behind her, but bold little Mwezi marched straight up to him and declared that he was very tall had she had never had a tall brother before because Mashari was still growing Mama said. Nyesjua laughed.

     "Would you have me as your brother?" he asked. Mwezi said she would like that very much and stomped off, leaving Nyesjua standing in confusion, but smiling.

     "Come now, everyone, it is late and Nyesjua has not yet eaten. Off to bed and in the morning we will all visit Uzuri to surprise her. Heaven knows she needs something to take her mind off her children for a short time." She shuffled the young children off to bed and fetch Nyesjua the leftovers from dinner.

     He ate quickly while telling Mashari, Baba, and her about the places he had been, training Mûmakil, and living always on the road. Throughout the entire conversation his eyes sparkled. He loved his life among the herders. They often traveled at night, especially through the hottest parts of the desert, but in the jungle they walked by day. He had met many strange people and seen creatures only known as myth.

     Some small, deeply buried part of her wished that he did not love his life, that he would return home to stay. It was hopeless to ask him to leave his Mûmakil herd.

     "When do you return?" she asked.

     "I am to meet the herd a month from now at one of the northern oasis. From there we will travel west across the desert. They are using the Mûmakil for war." His voice held restrained anger. She took his hand and held it. "Mama, they are gentle creatures. We should not be using them to fight." Rumors of a great war in the west had reached them, but here, on the edge of the jungle, war was only a story told in fearful reverence of its violence. Her son, her gentle Dark Sun, so alike to the Mûmakil in spirit, was to be sent to a war he should have had no part in.

     "Tell me more about your Mûmakil," she said, pleased to see the anger and troubled shape of his mouth fade away into joy.

~~~

     Mama,

     I never wrote to you before because there was no reason to. Nobody would take my letters all the way across the desert. The herd promised they would bring this to you when they traveled by.

     Five months ago the herd crossed through the very center of the desert. I wish you could have seen it, Mama. Hundreds and hundreds of wild Mûmakil were all around us. More than I ever imagined. Desert cats, all kinds of birds, every animal we know of and more! I would have liked to take you and Baba, Uzuri and her three sons, Mashari, dear bold Mwezi, Dunia, and Nywele there to see it all. Give my love to them all.

     We went beyond Harad and into the west where they have green grass. Mama, green grass is as soft as silk and the Mûmakil loved it. It was wet too. I wished you could have seen it before the war happened. It was so beautiful, but sad. They said an ancient and fair race once lived here, but they are gone now, sailing across the sea to a fairer land where there is no death. I do not believe there can be such a place with no death, but if there is, I would take you there with me.

     I wish I could share more, but I haven't time. An arrow took me and I fell from my Mûmakil, but she saved me, Mama, she caught me and carried me in her trunk away from the battle. I am sending her and this letter back to you with the herd. I named her after you, Mama, for she is as proud, strong, and loving as you. She will be good to you.

     I love you, Mama.

     Your Dark Sun

     Her tears stained the wrinkled paper, blurring the last few words together. The light paper was a rock in her hands, weighing her down, pulling her into the earth. Two years ago he had left her for the second time and now he would never return.

     "Where is he? Where is my son?" she demanded.

     "He travels the wind and rests among the grains of sand," the sun-wrinkled man told her. She nodded, tears splashing onto the ground. "He was a fine man. I am happy to carry out his last wishes." He whistled once. "Maua," he called. A Mûmakil, somewhat smaller than the others came forward. She towered over the two small figures. "Maua was Nyesjua's first Mûmakil. They shared a special bond."

     Sadness seemed to leak from Maua's eyes, as if she mourned the death of her rider. She reached out and touched Maua's trunk. Maua rested her trunk gentle over her shoulder and gave a low moan. Kissing her trunk, she pressed the letter against Maua's leathery skin.

     "Thank you," she whispered, "for saving him, for bringing back a piece of my Dark Sun."

******************************

I'm not sorry. Not at all. *sniff*

So, there is probably an explanation of the names in order. See, I was doing research, like a good little Illeandir, and looked up the Haradrim desert and the various languages there that are based off some ancient dialect of Quenya or another. I'm not entirely sure how it works, but it all boils down to the language of Far Harad being somewhat related to Swahili. Hence the names. Now, I don't speak/read/understand a lick of Swahili, so I apologize if you do and if I completely butchered it. My bad. Please help. Idk what I'm doing.

So, the names.

Nyesjua - a rendition of Dark Sun. Go figure.

Uzuri - moon

Mashari - a rendition of east

Mwezi - month (don't ask. It sounded cool)

Dunia - earth

Nywele - hair (also though it sounded cool)

Maua - flower

Again. Most of that, if not all, is likely incorrect and I'm going to be thrown in a Swahili grammat prison to rot amongst my mistakes. Love you all, this might be the last time you hear from me.

In all seriousness though, I had a lot of fun with this. It was a nice way to spend my first holiday break working on instead of catching up on homework and studying for my German test. Future me hates past me. It is a really emotional piece for me, for several reasons I won't get into here. I love my mom and this is a sort of tribute to her (hi, mom! *waves*), though it is very sad and she doesn't know a lot about M.E. and other stuff like this.

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