Regarding the Southrons or Haradrim: > Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on

Regarding the Southrons or Haradrim: > Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on top of them. He came to rest in the fern a few feet away, face downward, green arrow-feathers sticking from his neck below a golden collar. His scarlet robes were tattered, his corslet of overlapping brazen plates was rent and hewn, his black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood. His brown hands still clutched the hilt of a broken sword. > It was Sam's first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad that he could not see the dead face. He wondered what the man's name was and where he came from; and he was really evil of heart, or what lies and threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace. That doesn't read as racist at all; rather, it reads like an appreciation of the humanity in one's foes. Given Tolkien's experience at the Somme, I imagine that he was writing from experience.