So. I'm doing this short ficlet as a background for why Azog is the only one with a white warg. I know most people probably didn't care about that, but I was curious about it. AU, obviously, with a caring!Azog in here. Based on the 2012 movie, not the book... because we all know he wasn't really in the book. Anywho... Enjoy!
The warg bitch upon which Azog had ridden during the war was birthing her pups… and with his bitch's failing health and her elongated pregnancy, Azog knew he would have to take one of the pups under his wing and train her as his new mount and partner in battle. There was nothing more important on a battle field than one's shield-brother, but a reliable mount and pet would always be as much of an asset as any sword wielding orc.
"She is dying, Master," snarled the scraggly, emaciated orc assigned to help with the safe birthing of the pups. With a snarl, Azog viciously shoved the mangy creature aside and strode to his once strong mount. Not wishing any of the orcs nearby to see the look of pain that had come over his face at the inevitable death of his only friend, the Pale Orc buried his face in the fur of the whimpering creature and laced his fingers through her matted fur with a growl.
No orc would approach him in such a state, this much he knew, and for this he more than a little thankful for.
The bitch let loose a small whine of appreciation to have her rider so near in her time of pain and leaned toward his smaller form. Azog's fingers tightened in the rank fur of the one creature he trusted in the whole of Middle Earth, tears pricking at his eyes but refusing to fall. An orc did not cry, and if one ever was to let loose any forms of sorrow besides pain, he was a weak creature worthy of death. Azog was thankful for his bitch to hide his face in and she seemed thankful for him.
He could smell death hovering in her form, in her every shiver, in her every convulsion as her body expelled each pup. Pulling away briefly, Azog met the gaze of his warg bitch, meeting the pain and sadness in her large brown eye, meeting the farewell deep within her hardened, motherly look. Tears threatened to fall once more, but the Pale Orc denied their existence with a growl, banishing them once more.
Azog watched the life wane from his battle-partner and friend's eye, and just before she released her final breath he gently kissed her muzzle, whispering the only kind words he knew. "Sleep well, my friend."
When he stood and moved away from her body, he looked directly at the pups lying near her tail; three small males, all the colour of dirt under the red of their mother's blood. All of them were much too small and even the most stupid of orcs knew they would be good for fighting without mounts, nothing more… or kept for breeding purposes. None of them would do. With a snarl of anger, Azog strode to the orc who had been in charge of birthing the pups with the intention of running him through with the claw of his left arm.
He stopped at the sight of what lay in the orcs arms. There was a large, wriggling warg pup in his arms, growling and yipping quietly and rather good naturedly. The pup attempted to bite its handler in its movements before it locked eyes with Azog. There was no doubt that this one of was the female of the litter, and when she saw the Pale Orc, her tongue lolled from her gaping jaws. She was happy to see him. The gleam in her eyes was much akin to her dead mother's.
It had to be fate, he thought with a sly smile, that she would be the same coloring as himself.
I imagine that pup must being freakin' adorable, all happy and squirming. And bloody. Oh, the little things in life. Hope you liked it, and if you didn't? That's your own fault, now isn't it.