A/N: Tada! And thus part 2 begins! Sorry for the delay. Much busy, such college, very frustrating. xD I did originally want to upload this and the first chapter together but it was taking too long so it turned out like this instead. After reading this you'll probably wonder what the hell is going on. Don't worry; tis all part of plan. Just an insight to the vargkyn's beginnings really. Thought it'd be interesting. Anyway, chapter 1 should be uploaded soon once I get the damned thing finished. Ta x
Vargkyn of Mordor
Mordor, during the Second Age
Cerin took shelter from a rain shower in a tent of the military camp on the plateau of Gorgoroth, attempting to remove bits of meat from his previous meal that got stuck between his teeth with his claw-like nails. He was a vargkyn in his prime, a magnificent jewel in the crown of the Dark Lord's newest creation. A ruthless, merciless killer and loyal in the face of great peril, Cerin was the one of the most favourite and trustworthy of Sauron's servants. He was in command of his own group of vargkyn troops, of which he dominated, and led them on missions at the Dark Lord's request. Cerin's dominant personality was favourable and meant that subordinate vargkyn troops respected him, which in turn led to richer reward.
The Vargkyn of Mordor, while in the same military force, had a separate society to the Orcs. The tension between the two races was nearly always high and often led to brutal squabbles ending in serious injury or death, and so the two kept apart as much as they could. Vargkyn, having an instinctive sense of loyalty, were fiercely protective of their comrades.
Cerin was surprised to find that the Messenger, the Mannish Lieutenant, had been searching for him. As he entered the tent, Cerin bowed his head respectfully. He had only three superiors – the Witch-King of Angmar, the Mouth of Sauron, and the Lord of Mordor himself.
"Our master, Sauron the Great, wishes to speak with you immediately in person," the Lieutenant spoke in that gurgling, growling voice.
Cerin froze. This was a great honour; very few had the opportunity to meet with the Dark Lord in person. "Right away, sir," the varg complied, and hastily made his way across the ash plains to the Dark Tower.
Barad-dûr was a foreboding place and caused the vargkyn to tremble fearfully. Upon meeting his lordship, Cerin knelt and bowed his head. Though determined to not show fear in front of his master, Cerin could not help be frightened in his presence and refused to look up to see what the Dark Lord's face looked like.
The vargkyn suppressed a whimper when his master addressed him. He commended his loyal servant on his work that continued to impress him; thanks to Cerin's efforts, many of the Elendili, or the Faithful as they were also know, were hunted down and killed by Cerin's hands or paws as it were. However, four of the Seven Rings of Power that were gifted to the Dwarves were still missing and Cerin and his unit of vargkyn troops were to be the ones to retrieve them.
Intent of not disappointing his master, Cerin gathered his troops at once and left immediately on a quest to recover four of the Rings of Power gifted to the dwarves. For months they searched over and under the mountains of Middle-earth, all the possible places that dwarves would be found, but they was no trace of the Rings; only treasure hordes guarded by sleeping dragons. What was odd was that amidst the gold, silver and jewels of the dragons' hoards, none of the vargkyn could sense the presence of power. Cerin's second-in-command suggested many times that the Rings were lost forever and that they should return home, but he refused to listen. He even resorted to asking a dragon if they had seen a powerful ring lying around his gold piles, much to the dragon's distaste as the beasts are very territorial and protective of their treasure.
And so the vargkyn group went home, a sense of dread growing in Cerin's stomach. What would his master say when he returns empty handed? Cerin had never returned without what the Dark Lord asked for. The consequences were worse than Cerin could have thought; he was punished severely by his master for his failure, despite the varg telling him about the dragons' hoards. Cerin returned to his home that day sulking, sporting bruises and cuts from his punishment.
Pronunciation
Cerin – seer-in meaning 'little dark one'