A/N: Written for a prompt over at hobbit kink meme:
I keep seeing all these prompts asking for 'everybody survives! (except the orcs, goblins, wargs - they're dead)' I feel this is a little unfair :( Can't goblins and orcs catch a break too?
Like, they turn up at Erebor and see three armies waiting for them instead of thirteen dwarves and a halfling, and just go 'Blow this for a lark, let's go raid Gondor for a bit'.Or maybe Bilbo negotiates a truce with them as well. Azog's all 'But I want to destroy the line of Durin!' and the rest of them are all 'Do it in your own time, mate. Your math sucks. I'm going home to me mum.' Even goblins have mums, right? I'm less sure about orcs :/
Sounded just like something to write to break myself from all the angst I wrote recently, yes? YES?!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the copy of The One Ring. That one is mine. My precioussss!
Mom, not in front of the armies
Today, Azog thought, was really a shitty day to get up from bed. He should stay there, he thought, and not run around like headless chicken (although these were mighty fun to watch), because ever since he rode his white warg to the Lonely Mountain, everything went south.
Like – he had been expecting about 13 dwarves to slaughter, and a whole of a mountain to pillage and destroy. Would have been nice, no? All those statues he could topple and do unimaginable things to, all those wooden things he could set aflame, all this gold he would own (minus the small part of the hoard he would have to share with others)…
But nooo, of course it couldn't be that easy.
Instead, he got several armies at the bottom of the bloody mountain; Elves (as much as he liked their ears on his necklace, there was only so many times he could wrap the said necklace around his neck), Men (those were so nice to slaughter – they tended to scream like little girls when… well, better not let his mind wander there), dwarves (the wargs referred to them as 'tins' for whatever reason), he spotted a pointed hat of a Wizard and from above he could hear Eagles flying closer.
He turned around to command his forces to attack (they were orcs and they were many!), when what one of the closest orcs was saying reached his ears. "Azog gotta kidding us, right?" The orcs said, turning to his closest fellow fighter. "Because really, it's one way to tell us there will be 13 dwarves to kill, and then coming here to see several armies waiting."
"Yeah," other orc nodded. "And all of them ready to fight."
"I want to go home – me wife promised me to cook a fresh pony today."
"Tell me 'bout that – why can't Azog ever take us anywhere nice?"
"Yeah, for change!"
"I vote for going home."
"Yeah."
Now wait a minute, Azog though, feeling his blood rushing to his head as his anger grew. And then was when he thought things couldn't get any worse when they went exactly that.
"Azog the Pale Orc, Rider of White Warg and my baby boy, what by the Morgoth himself you think you are doing here?!"
Crap.
"I was just about to give order to attack," he said, clearly on defensive. His mother always could drive him there, oh damn. And the beauty that was his mother (although she would be much prettier, if she never opened her mouth, his father used to say) had the gall to roll her eyes and say impatiently: "I could see that, my dear boy. What I really wanted to know was - shouldn't you be at home? You promised me that you will be."
"That was before I got the chance to..." Azog never got to explain that he just had to take this chance, otherwise he would never be able to get the bastard who took half of his arm off. Mom just looked at him and by each passing second he could see her eyes getting wider and wider, her lower lip started to tremble with tears welling up in those big eyes and he knew he was fucked.
"But you promised me you will be at home with me, my coochie little boy!"
"Mom!" he hissed at her desperately, since the closest orcs were starting to snicker at seeing him squirm like that. Morgoth himself, he would swear he could hear the bloody Men, Elves and Dwarves calling something dangerously along the lines of mommy's boy. "Not in front of the armies!"
"You are never there! You do not love me anymore! Me, who gave you life, and you are never there!"
In one last attempt to show at least some dignity he slashed at the closest snickering orcs, cleanly separating their heads from their necks, enjoying the splash of their blood. "Alright, you win!" he pouted at his mother, who beamed with pride and happiness. "We're going home!"
He pretended not to hear the catcalls of the gathered armies, but silently he swore revenge to everyone who was there. And he will follow up on every single one of them - once his mommy's back will be turned.