Be aware that this is just how my character would fit in the story if she was real. Tell me if you guys like it and I will continue.
Part ONE
It wasn't an easy life... Being the offspring of a monster and always knowing that you were nothing more. Her brother Bolg was use to it, but since females were rare in the race of Orcs it was not such a blessing to be an Orc at all. The only reason Mazoga was ever respected was because her father was Azog the defiler. If this was not so, then the others would have taken advantage of her human like qualities and she would have been raped by every Orc alive.
It sickened her, her bright blue eyes shined like moons, blind to the sun and superior in the night. Her skin was pale and untouched, not one scar wrecking it's smooth surface. She was short for an Orc simply because she was half human. Her height reaching up to Azog's mid chest. Her hair, it was the whitest silk and swayed over her shoulders with majestic. Many of the race of men had claimed her to be the most beautiful sight they had ever seen. Her cheeks were acute and her jaw set and narrow. She had an athletic and agile build that made her a worthy adversary if anyone was lucky enough as such to make it through a challenge as broad as fighting her.
Azog kept her close at all times, she was strategic and wise which are things that Bolg did not possess. In other words, he favored his daughter over his son, only with the desire that she be a man, but that was an impossible want. Needless to say Azog trusted very few people and as he trained his son, he trained his daughter more. She had become his personal adviser and assailant, he had become the only one he trusted.
Since the discovery of Thorin Oakenshield's location it had been her job to keep a close eye on him. She had no interest for the banished prince and letting off some distance had taken this night to check in with her father. She had caught up on suspicious activities and had come to many assumptions on the prince's intentions. She had left for Amon Sül on the large panther mount she had found in the cold mountains of Esgaroth.
She knew her arrival would not be welcomed. A cloak of black wrapped her body keeping her isolated from the cold air of the night. In matching color a long sleeved metallic thin leather covered her torso and leggings went down her legs disappearing into the fastened boots ending beneath her knees. She dismounted her noble steed pressed her forehead against the purring feline patting her nimble uncovered fingers over the silky fur.
Her weapon of choice was obvious, the bow, a quiver hung from her back. Something quick and far away despite her impressive skills in close-quarters and
hand-to-hand. She took a heavy breath whispering sweet words to her pet before retreating to her father. Stepping up the stone steps to the hill's peak, the many orcs made a path leaving behind their unpleasant scents. She always smelled of lilac and fresh-water, it was her natural scent, a scent that she had grown bored of, the vicious looks from the other Orcs all yelled mating season, she would not allow that.
She was stopped as a more dominating Orc stepped in front of her... Bolg. He was not pleased at all to see her and the scowl on his face proved as such. He was taller than their father, her head ending at his waist. He stared down at her, but she did not fear him.
"Mok'ra Brother. I need to speak with father." Her accent was thick, but the origins unknown, her tone was languid through every word.
"Why? Surely what you have to say is important. Tell me."
"No hello? I expected no more from you." She awarded him a forced smile and moved to venture past him, but he placed his arm out as a bar.
"You will tell me first." Mazoga angled her head up just enough to stare her brother in the eyes firmly. Many fights had broken out between them but never finished due to their father's interruptions.
"Bolg!" An angry shout sounded further up the steps. "Let her pass." Bolg scoffed before stepping out of the way, Mazoga started up the stone stairs until she came to the precipice of the fortress. Wargs were at their resting places, taking a gentle rest for the night. The one awoke was the pale mount belonging to Azog, who had stood facing away from the steps. His eyes scattered over the open field that the cliff gave view of. "What news do you have?"
"It's Oakenshield. I have means to believe he is planning a quest of sorts. My followers had witnessed him speaking with Gandalf the Grey." Azog glanced over his shoulder.
"What do you say of this?"
"Durin's day is not to far away father. I do not doubt that he is trying to t-"
"Nonsense. He would be a fool." Bolg interrupted coming up to stand beside her, crossing his arms. Mazoga rolled her eyes and averted them from his ugly vessel her opinion was something her father valued, but no one else.
"I do not think that Oakenshield is a fool to crave the lands his people were raised on. I am not surprised to find that he seeks refuge to the mountain, but the dragon will deem difficult."
"He only seeks for the Arkenstone." Azog ground out, he turned and stepped forth to stand before his daughter. "Do not let him leave your sight. I will start the hunt as soon as he has begun his journey."
"He will not be alone father."
"Then send him a message. Let him be aware that others know of his quest." Mazoga nodded with respect, backing away to leave she was stopped by a hand to her shoulder. She looked up to her father, into his misty white eyes. "Aka'magosh (I respect)." Mazoga nodded silently, that was the one ounce of love her father ever shed on her and she was not to let it go to waste. Bolg's teeth gritted as Mazoga left the hill.
"Glor'dü Kahg (She will die)." Bolg mumbled, Azog's gaze shooting to him.
"Lok'Noroche Zug Lo'Gosh (Have faith in your sister)." Azog plainly stated, turning back to face the field. "She has the likeness of a General."
"And I do not?"
"You have work to do, Bolg." Bolg did not argue with his father. Mazoga had won this battle, but not the war.
Mazoga had been patient, she was to deliver the message to the dwarven prince, while also counteracting her father's first order. She would make herself known so that the dwarves were more cautious, the more cautious they are, the easier they can be. She knew there was other dwarves that dwelled through the hobbit hole, she knew that wizard was there and luckily her intentions were not to harm them, but warn them as her father had requested.
Her mount was waiting patiently at the gate leading up to the circular red door, which she rose her hand and knocked her knuckles lightly against. The many voices of urgency that followed were expected.
She covered her face with a cloth and hooded her head, this way the halfling, nor the dwarves would expect her Orcish background. When the door was opened it appeared silent throughout the home behind the young hobbit who stood before her. Her eyes traced him from his hairy feet to his curly head. She was expecting someone more ferocious.
"M-May I help you?"
"I am seeking a dwarf by the name of Thorin Oakenshield. He came here I believe."
"Nope... No dwarves here." She smirked beneath the cowl and shook her head.
"I am sure he is here. I have a message for him."
"And u-um what might that message be?" The hobbit was nervous, strangers entering his home and one particular one standing before him. Mazoga was no fool, she knew kindness and sympathy where it was needed.
"I do not mean harm and I know he is in there. I must speak to him alone." Bilbo was hesitant to let her pass, taking a shaky breath in and letting it out he leaned to the side allowing Mazoga entrance. She stepped into the home decisively, her eyes wandering, searching, and even then her mind was not on killing. The home was spacey and welcoming, she had never felt the floorboards of such a home before.
She was brought up in a cave by orcs who barely shared a morsel of food, or any necessities for that matter. Yet, she still had that innocence that others could only assume was a heart. Her human side showed brightly through her everywhere she went, even in her father's eyes he could see that she was not entirely Orc.
"C-Can I take your cloak?" Bilbo muttered out in a nervous laughter, she shook her head.
"There is no need. I will not be long. Where is he?"
"Um. The question is, if he wants to come out?" Mazoga nodded in agreeance, Thorin was no coward, but he was cautious and that was what she wanted.
"So be it. Is there somewhere we can sit?"
"In here." The hobbit guided her through his house into a small room, she ducked her head to enter sitting down on a short stool beside a fire. He sat down across from her. "Whatever you are to tell Thorin. You can tell me." Mazoga was about to make a mistake, she did not want to be feared, she never wanted to be the topic of disgust.
She lowered her cowl, the hobbit's eyes widened and she felt the urge to run away, but she would not. Her expression blank she made a loud sigh.
"My name is Mazoga of Gundabad."
"Orc." A quiet shout was swiftly silenced from one portion of the room. They were hiding, but she could not say where at the moment.
"If my father knew of my intentions being here he would not be pleased. Where I come from, no one is treated with any ounce of mercy, or sincerity. I am here to give Thorin Oakenshield two choices. As always everyone shall take such a step in life, Thorin wishes to take back his mountain and I simply am here to dissuade him of that."
"Why?" Bilbo asked firmly, his eyebrows knitting together with confusion. Mazoga leaned into her knees, closer to the hobbit making him tremble in fear.
"Because of the way you are staring at me. I despise my father for who he is, for what he had made me out to be. I respect him however and so I am not here to give any assistance, but I am acting on my instincts. I am merely here to forewarn."
"Worthless Orc. Why does what I do have anything to matter with you?" It was that voice that she knew belonged to the prince, the thumps of his footwear hitting the wood brought her attention. She sunk her head down and stared at the floor. He moved to stand beside Bilbo.
"It doesn't. My choices are as said. You can go to that mountain and find your precious stone, not knowing your true fate. Or..." She finally matched her eyes with his and he went rigid as everyone did when they came face to face with her. "You can go back home, to your people where you are sure to live a long and prosperous life." His shock was cast to the side, Mazoga gazed over her shoulder to find that she was not alone.
"A life where my people will never see their true home again."
"Much less, a life that you will live." Thorin glared, but Mazoga glared back. His blue eyes caught her in its pull and she felt magnetized to his being, but he was just a dwarf. Nothing that could weigh her heart to the ground.
"In agony and pain, suffering as outcasts." His voice was raising, rage boiling in his tone.
"Do not tell me about agony and pain, or being an outcast..." Mazoga growled between her teeth and stood up straight to intimidate more fully. "I am forced to live a life where people stare because I am ugly and disgusting. Where people challenge for the sake of saying they fought an Orc. Where I have always learned to care for myself from the day I was birthed. You know nothing of agony and pain." She spat it out, releasing emotions that shouldn't be set free. She had broken every rule she made the moment she started talking to the hobbit. "I have no home. I have no family. And to many I have no heart. You'd be best to stay away from that mountain Oakenshield. There is a storm coming and I will not be the one controlling it." Before anyone could say their peace, before anyone could correct her, or even argue. She pulled up her cowl and stepped from the hobbit hole. The dwarves allowing her passage and the wizard watching with a sorrowful expression on his face. They didn't know agony like her, or perhaps she was wrong. This was after all Thorin Oakenshield, king under the mountain. A man who saw many wars, much death, and plenty of tears. A man who saw his home taken away, which sounds and looks much worse than never having one at all.