Disclaimer: I own nothing

Series: To Learn To Understand

The First Meeting: Azog

Summary: Azog had not expected to meet his soulmate that night.

In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.
Maya Angelou

It was suppose to be easy.

Get in, get out. Few casualties, fewer survivors.

They had been following the Dwarven cavern for three nights now when Azog finally decided it was time to strike. The refugees, for it was obvious that these were the Dwarves of Erebor who had lost their mountain to the Dragon, had begun to weaken from the strain of marching through the hills that bordered the Misty Mountains but had yet to run low on supplies. The haul left from this raid would stock Ev's* stores for a good three months alone. This plus the new farms would allow his kingdom to prosper through the winter months instead of just surviving.

He had not been planning on finding his könül*.

He had been making his way along the perimeter of the cavern's camp grounds to his designated position when he came across a young dwarves resting against one of the sturdier oaks of the forest. It was obvious the youth had fallen asleep while on watch for he was sitting in the most awkward position against the tree with his sword half drawn and his horn lying within reaching distance.

Azog had seen this dwarf before. He was always running about, helping others in the cavern. He appeared to hold a great deal of respect amongst the dwarves, placing him as either a high officer in the military, a skilled craftsman (though Azog doubted it for the lad appeared far too young to be more than an apprentice), or a member of royalty. And while he had taken the dwarf into consideration when preparing strategy, he had not really paid attention to any real attention him...how foolish was he to not have recognized his soul, his könül.

Squatting down to get a better look, he ran a clawed hand along his pale cheeks. He was so very fragile, his dwarf; so soft to touch. Azog wishes to take him far away from here to his mountain where he could keep his könül safe, forever.

This world, rife with danger and hate and cruelty of all kinds, was not worth his dwarf's presence.

And as he traced the soft pout of his lips, up to touch the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, Azog wondered what color his dwarf's eyes were and if they twinkled when he smiled. He hoped so. He would be beautiful, his dwarf. With his head thrown back in a roar, lips curved in a open smile, his eyes light with love and happiness. His laugh would be the most beautiful sound Azog would ever here. It would be loud, he was sure of it, with a slight ring like that of the Great Bells. It would ring through the air, clear and sharp and lovely. It would settle in his ears, down his throat, and around his heart where it would sit warm to starve off the colder nights.

He only hoped his dwarf would give him a chance to see his smile, hear his laugh.

Azog was no fool. He knew what he was and what he looked like to the other races of Middle Earth. He was a monster to them. They had not understood the Orc's position and they still did not. They did not realize that in the beginning, his ancestors had but little choice but to side with Sauron, their creator and master. They had not realized the joy the Orcen race had felt when his ancestors had finally been freed of their bounds. No, the other races refused to acknowledge their suffering. Instead, they thought Orcs were creatures with no souls, no culture, and no thoughts. They did not realize that Orcs only raided for they were refused land to till and grow. That without the raids, his people would starve in their exile. Perhaps, one day, when the sun smiled upon his great-great-grandchildren, the other races would realize the error of their ways and accept his people as one of them. But for now, they refused to listen. They refused to learn.

He could only pray that his dwarf would be different.

And then there was a noise: "Sir?"

Spinning, Azog unsheaths his sword and snarles whist crouching to protect his könül. For a moment there was silence as his dwarf murmured and shifted against the tree, but still he remained, blessedly, asleep.

Azog let out a low sigh of relief.

"Fool," Azog hissed, "I thought you a threat."

"Apologies, sir," his second-in-command and good friend, Boldog, grunted, "But your men grow restless in their waiting. When shall you give the signal?"

"We do not raid tonight," Azog whispered, turning his back to his companion to once again gaze at his könül, his dwarf. "A complication has arisen."

"Is he the one? Your könül?" Boldog asked, stepping forward as if to gain a better look and only stopped when Azog snarled possessively, posture tensing as if prepared to fight.

Once again, his dwarf murmurs in his sleep. His face scrunched up and for a brief moment Azog is overjoyed at the chance to look into his könül's eyes before remembering his position. For his dwarf to wake up with an Orc leaning over him...

So with great reverence, for he knew he had not yet gained permission to touch his könül in such an intimate way, he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss upon his dwarfs forehead.

"Rest my dwarf," he whispered in Common.

Shifting closer, his dwarf sighs against his chest. For a moment he appeared to say something but Azog could hear only one word, "...Dwalin..."

Silence.

And then in a great furry, Azog moved as if to punch and scream before remembering himself. Who had dared to touch his könül? To force on him such reverence? It was only his name that should pass his könül lips, only his face that his dwarf should think upon when at peace. For it was only he that could and should provide for his dwarf in the way that he deserved.

Standing quickly to ensure he did not do anything he would later regret, he cast one last longing glance at his könül before turning to leave.

Boldog did not say a word, but there was no pity, but only understanding in his eyes, and Azog was grateful for his friend's silent support.

It was only when they had called back the troop and where setting up for camp that Boldog said anything, "Worry not, qardaş*. Östa* has blessed you with the sight of your könül, Östa is not so cruel as to keep him from you now."

"I will strip this Dwalin from his mind," Azog snarled, his blood seething in his veins. Around him, his Orcs pauses to glance over at their leader but he pays them no mind. Let them know of what has come to pass and stay to remain witnesses. He places a fists upon his heart and yelled to the heavens, "I will destroy this Dwalin. I will ride him of this Earth. I will scourer every crevice, every corner, every hole until his very line is wiped clean from the very soil. For it is only my love that my könül, my dwarf, shall every know of. Only my name that shall pass his lips."

His men, awed and moved by his pledge, roared and pounding their fists against their chests in agreement.

"May you rip his head from his shoulders and mount it in the hall for all to spit upon," cried one of his Orcs.

"May he quiver in fear and in pain as you show your könül the better person," called another.

"And may your könül fall to his knees in awe on the battle field and pleasure in the bedroom," shouted a third, more brave and drunken of his Orcs.

Soon, Orc after Orc, soldier after soldier, came up to clasp their King on the arms and shoulder with blessings on their lips. To find your könül was rare for Orc's who where often too busy surviving to search. Such an occasion deserved celebration and Azog felt no guilt in breaking out the provisions and the alcohol.

Soon the party was in full swing and ever Orc in attendance was too busy attempting to drink the other into a stupor to care about their Dwarven neighbors. There was dancing and singing. Storytelling and jokes. Even Shagrat, the old veteran that he was, was wrestling playfully with the younger soldiers.

'May the Böyük Bircə bless my love and my könül and show me a red sun on the 'morrow' Azog prayed in silence to the sky before knocking back a drink and jumping into the fray.

A/N:

Notes about Azerdajin: It is actually the language Azerbaijan. There is no personal reason why I choose for it to be the language of the Orcs. I have nothing against this language. It was just that some of its words that I was looking to use sounded "right" in Azerbaijan compared to other languages. I just do not have the skills or patients to create an actual Orc language.

Why did I give the Orcs a language: Orcs, in the books and movies, are portrayed as mindless and uncivilized. They're monsters that hide under beds and in closets. Their only purpose is to play the part of the villain. I find this a fault in Tolkien's world. Nothing is that black and white. And perhaps it would be better to show this thought process in a more serious piece - we'll see over the summer - I figured it had a place in this story. And while, yes, Orcs do have their own languages, but their languages is derived from the Black Speech tying them directly to Sauron, something I do not wish to do. Another problem is that their languages differ so greatly between Clans that when speaking to one another they use Common or Black Speech. I want to show them as clever enough to have created their own language to unite the Orc Clans - there are 13 in the story, though there are more in the Lore - so that they may prosper in a united civilization.

Thorin is going to be entering this world that he sees as beastly to find that there is an intellect and a culture and a language that defines Orcs just as there is an intellect, a culture, and a language that defines any other race's culture. I hope the readers will be able to see this as well.

*Translations:

Ev - Home - The Orcish word for their kingdom in Moria

Könül - Soul, Heart, etc - for the context of this story think of it as the Orc's version of the dwarven "One"

Qardaş - Brother - can be used for a blood brother, in this instant it is used to signify a deep friendship. Boldog and Azog are not blood related though they do hail from the same clan, as such the similar "og" ending to their names.

Östa - God - This is not Azerbaijan. I made it up. It is the Orcen word for God, but it is NOT their god's name. You know how people refer to god as "Father" or "the Lord." Well Östa is the Orcen version of such titles. This will be important at a later date.

Böyük Bircə - Formal/official name of the Orcen God - It roughly translates in English as the "Great One" or the "Magnificent One."

Note About Translations: I am unsure whether or not to repeatedly define words used in previous chapters. These words are used because they will be used continuously throughout the story. Do you think you can remember them or should I repeat them?

Thoughts on This Chapter:

1 - Took forever to pick the language

2 - Boldog is going to be pretty important in the coming chapters.

3 - Thorin is next!

4 - READ THESE NOTES! THEY ARE IMPORTANT. THEY EXPLAIN CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THE STORY I CANNOT HASH OUT IN FULL IN THE IMMEDIATE TEXT. I AM NOT TOLKIEN! I AM NOT THAT GREAT AT WORLD BUILDING AS HE IS.

5 - Still looking for a writer who would be willing to co-write or at least edit the smut parts.