T.A. 2770
Raug was still shorter than Smaug. He looked up into his fiery eyes.
"You were dead," Smaug said deeply and slowly, slithering to the other side of his son and examining him. He noticed the scar on his face. Raug continued to stare forward as his father slowly lowered his head and took a deep sniff from the wound. "Mithril," he growled and raised his head.
"I was tortured. By Thorin. The young prince," Raug hissed. Smaug let out a low grumble and slid through the gold.
"The Dwarves are ruined. I fulfilled my goal," Smaug said as he grabbed one of the great pillars holding the ceiling up. His tail whipped back and forth in anger, sending coins flying everywhere in the dim cavern.
"You do not understand, father. They will return. They are stubborn as-."
"And so am I!" Smaug roared as he turned around and bared his teeth in his son's face. "I avenged our race! If they are to return, so be it! It will be yet another mistake on their part!" Smaug backed up. "By Morgoth's crown, I will not let the Dwarves reclaim Erebor!"
Suddenly, Raug's eyes became glazed. At hearing the name of the ancient enemy, Raug felt his consciousness fall away. It was as if something, or someone, was pushing his mind out of the way. He fell to his feet and drifted into a restless sleep. But Raug's body lifted itself back off of its feet. Smaug sat in confusion.
Raug's eyes were much brighter, as if they were burning. They turned a deep red-orange. His pupil became a perfect, cat-like slit. It was deep, and dark, void of any light. Raug walked around the treasure trove, sniffing rapidly and grunting. He began to mumble in an unknown language to Smaug.
"Ash…nazg," he growled loudly. His voice was not his own. It had a much deeper and darker tone. Raug began frantically digging through the pile, opening chests and pouring out their contents.
A realization came to Smaug. Yet he did nothing. There was a slight tug at the back of his mind. Some memory that had been long forgotten. Smaug slipped back into the shadows. He could not help his son now.
T.A. 2742
The massive wagon traveled in the direction of the forest. It could barely hold the weight of its cargo. Ten of the Orcs tugged on long, thick ropes. The party moved very slowly over the plains.
"This beast will surely kill us!" the dark-skinned Orc talked to his leader as they walked behind the train.
The leader was covered in silver armor. Chain mail sleeves covered his arms and a heavy silver breastplate covered that. He wore a giant helmet, with a warg carved into the crown. The helmet covered all but his eyes. He pulled off his metal glove and shoved his large, gray hand under the Orc's throat.
"We do what the Master says," he said as he threw the Orc to the ground and slipped the glove back over his fingers. The Orc's small face and rabbit-like teeth contorted into a nasty wince.
"Ulogazurm! Get up!" the giant Orc screamed over his back. The short, wobbling Orc lifted himself to his feet and ran to catch up to the wagon.
When the party had reached the northern border of the forest, they turned west, then south again, avoiding the trees and rugged path of Mirkwood.
…
As the party came to the gate at near the south of the forest, it began to spit rain. Huge, dark clouds had formed over the southern part of the forest.
"Keep on the path!" the giant Orc yelled to the laborers. The once green and lush forest was slowly becoming tangled with weeds and vines. Leaves and trees were starting to rot. The constant, spitting rain clinked on the heavy armor of the captain.
…
Night was just falling on the forest. The party continued to trudge over the rugged, unused path. Deeper and deeper they went into the trees. After some time, they came to a large hill, the only one nearby. The trees were now blackened and the leaves were crunchy and stale.
"We're here!" Ulogazurm yelled to the laborers. They continued toward the hill. At the base of the hill was a large entrance of stone. It seemed to be part of an abandoned fortress or dungeon. The party halted and Ulogazurm walked up to the load. He untied the ropes attached to the front of the wagon and tied them to different parts of the cargo. The laborers grabbed the ropes and remained where they were. Ulogazurm waddled to the entrance and walked inside. Two more Orcs came out. They walked in unison to the back of the wagon and stood there, holding spears at the ready in protection. Ulogazurm screeched and the laborers began to pull the massive thing inside the fortress.
Sweat was pouring off of their faces when they finally reached the great room. Much of the ceiling had fallen away. A very wide stone bridge stretched into the darkness. The bridge ended after a long way and became a sort of throne room. Two torches lit the room dimly. The laborers untied their ropes and walked back down the bridge as the heavily armored Orc walked towards the ruined stone throne. When he reached it, two guards of the same armor came out from small gates next to it. They pulled off his breastplate, shin guards, boots, and chain mail. Finally, they pulled off his helmet. The Orc now only wore a simple brown tunic and leather boots. The silver helmet was lifted slowly off of his head.
The Orc had deep, golden eyes. His gray skin blended in with the stonework of the fortress. Brown vines climbed the walls and ate through the rock. The Orc had no nose, and his face was cut away just above the jawline. Dark red scar tissue was stretched out where his face was so strangely deformed. His hands were massive, and his muscles were the greatest of any Orc in Dol Guldur. He fell to his knees and faced the throne.
"Master?" his gravelly voice asked the chair of rock. The guards returned to their posts in the darkness.
"Rise, Sharbator" a deep, bone-chilling voice whispered. The great Orc brought himself back to his feet and rested his arms at his side.
Upon the throne, a body began to take shape out of a black cloud of void. From feet to hair, the specter filled his spot on the throne. His body was outlined in a strange silver light, like a star through morning mist. He was clothed in complete black and silver, great shiny shoulder pads rested on either side of his neck. His face was very fair. He had high, prominent cheekbones and smooth, soft lips. His eyebrows were black as well as his long hair, which floated and rippled slowly behind his head and over his shoulders as if he was without gravity. His skin was very pale, and long white fingers gripped the front of the throne's armrests. But, contrasting from everything else about the spirit, his eyes were bright, shining orange and red. The iris in his eyes flickered and changed colors as flames in a fire. Even the barbaric, ugly Orc was chilled at his presence.
"I bring you a gift. For your War," Sharbator said quietly, pointing to the giant, dark lump across the bridge. The spirit stood up, and looking forward, glided quickly over the stone bridge, without even moving his feet.
"Awaken," the spirit said over the great beast. Immediately, the Dragon's eyes shot open. He was still bound at the feet and wings. He attempted to burn the fearsome sight before him. "Silence!" the spirit screamed in a blood-curdling yell. The Dragon fell back to his original position. The spirit was barely taller than the beast's snout, yet he could control it however he wished. "Tell me your name." The Dragon heard the strange spirit speaking inside of his head now, yet his mouth did not move. "I am Sauron the Great, Servant of Morgoth," it whispered quietly.
"I am Raug…Son of Smaug," the Dragon told Sauron. Sauron turned to his left.
"Where did you come upon this beast?" Sauron asked Sharbator.
"We were on our way back from Mount Gundabad. We found a Dwarvish mine in the Grey Mountains. It was asleep in the base of the mine. There was a pile of bones next to his body," he told his master.
"Were you bred in the Withered Heath?" Sauron stroked Raug's great snout. His golden-red scales shimmered in the dim light.
"I was," Raug said carefully.
"Are there others?" Sauron asked, his burning eyes staring into Raug's very being.
"We were murdered by a Dwarf army. My father left me. I have no idea if he is still alive," Raug muttered. Sauron closed his eyes and stroked Raug's snout once more.
"Do not fear me. I am your friend," Sauron said softly. "Snaga," he whispered in his ear. Suddenly, Raug lost all ill feeling and suspicion. He contorted in pain. The wound of the Black Arrow was going to kill him. It still had not healed. Sauron placed his hand over the wound and spoke strange, dark words. The wound was instantly healed and all pain vanished. A small hole still remained, but the infection and sickness had disappeared.
The great Orc remained at his master's side, not moving or speaking. Sauron turned to him and began speaking. He looked at Raug out of the corner of his eye and smirked. The tiny, echoing whisper rang through his head once more.
"The East will rise once more. Mordor will conquer this earth. You will serve me, as your kind once served Morgoth. Come," Sauron spoke to Raug. Raug had heard stories of the first Dragons. Suddenly, Raug saw an image of his father flash in his mind. "Raug and Smaug. We will build an army. The Orcs are coming down from the north. War will come," his voice faded away. Raug shook his great head and looked at the specter and the Orc. "Your father is coming. I will return soon," Sauron said as he was bathed in thick, inky shadow. The vision disappeared.
"My Master says that you must rest. There is a cave," Sharbator looked the Dragon in the eye and pointed to the dark, foreboding area under the bridge. Raug took his first steps in almost two-hundred years, shaking the bridge and causing pebbles to fall from the ruined walls. His amber eyes shot through the darkness of the pit as he flapped his wings and landed in a large, cool grotto below the bridge. Raug was anxious, yet also nervous to see his father. Before long, he fell into a deep sleep.
…
Raug awoke in what he thought to be the middle of the night. He looked up and realized that a very faint light touched the dark clouds spinning overhead. They gave a feeling of constant dusk. A low horn blast pierced the morning air. Raug shifted his weight and stood up. He was large enough to peek over the bridge, even though the pit was very deep for an Orc.
A line of about one hundred Orcs marched through the entrance and over the long bridge. Several Orcs looked in surprise at the giant, scaled head that stood to their left. The scent of their kind filled the already foul air. Raug could tell that these were Gundabadians. Rarely, Gundabad Orcs would travel over the ridge near the Withered Heath, and Raug had smelled their kind before. They marched in unison, boots and armor clanking and crashing on stone. A stream of about fifty walked over the bridge to the throne. A small gate was raised behind it. The Orcs marched single file inside.
Sharbator wore his full armor, his helmet covering his torn-up face. An Orc carrying a black flag stopped before Sharbator and let the others pass him.
"Is Azog with you?" Sharbator asked the flag-bearer. They seemed to know each other well.
"He is still young. Give him time," the Orc told the taller one before him.
"The Master needs him for the War. He would be a formidable leader," Sharbator growled at him.
"Give him time. He will soon be ready," the Orc repeated, reentering the march towards the end of the line. Sharbator followed the line inside the gate. With a loud metallic crash, the gate fell, and the loud clanking echoed away.
A light rain began to fall from the gray clouds above. Raug looked up at the sky and looked in amazement at the ruined towers and bridges that stretched far above his head. Raug climbed upon the stone bridge and walked slowly about. He was used to being lonely, but he had a deep longing for company. Raug thought about Smaug.
A loud roar shot through the air, bouncing off of the walls. Raug looked up into the air and saw a huge Dragon hovering above, slowly flapping its great wings as it descended to the bridge. Smaug landed right in front of his son Raug. Raug immediately nuzzled his snout against his father's neck and closed his eyes. A deep rumble of happiness echoed from his throat. Smaug did the same.
"Raug…I am deeply sorry for leaving you. I…I was too afraid to help you," Smaug said, pulling away.
"Do not worry, father. I had been through a lot before I woke up here, but I knew that you were still alive," Raug said quietly. He looked almost identical to his father, and was much larger than the last time Smaug had seen him.
"Why are we summoned here?" Smaug asked, looking around at the ancient architecture. At the exact moment the words had left his tongue, a large cloud of black shadow emerged from a wall. It hovered over the two Dragons for a moment.
"Yes. Good," a chilling and sharp whisper radiated from the blackness. "Smaug, I am Sauron the Great. Servant of Morgoth. I am glad that you have arrived," the voice trailed off as the shadow floated onto the bridge in between the Fire Drakes.
"And why would I have any business with you?" Smaug looked down his snout unfavorably at the cloud, but an air of apprehension and uneasiness rose from his body.
"I am forming armies. Long has the Watchful Peace lasted. Too long. I have been summoning Morgoth's old servants. Orcs, Goblins, Spiders, and my beautiful Flames of the North," he cooed at the Dragons. Now that he had mentioned it, Raug knew that it was a Spider he had seen crawling in the darkness the night before. "Not to mention the Nine Kings," Sauron whispered. As if they were summoned, silvery-white specters drifted through the walls. Their eyes were missing, and their faces were shrunken and wrinkled. They wore sharp, jagged crowns upon their heads. Sauron hissed at them, and they faded away slowly.
Both Smaug and Raug took in the knowledge that they had heard.
"And why are you forming an army?" Smaug asked skeptically.
"My Master's goal was to destroy Arda and its entire people. Therefore, he created everything that I am gathering here. If I could unite all of these races under my command, the world that we know will fall," Sauron said quietly. "My Orcs are made for fighting. But for you, as well as the Nazgûl, I have another task in mind," Sauron let out a deep cackle. "More than a thousand years ago, I crafted the One Ring of Power in Mordor. You know this," the shadow whispered to Smaug directly. "I was defeated in battle by Isildur. He took the Ring from me. And I know that he is still alive with it somewhere," Sauron hissed in rage.
"Isildur was killed on the Anduin long ago. The Ring has been lost ever since," Smaug said to Sauron, surprised at his lack of knowledge. The shadow rapidly grew bright orange veins and shook mightily. Both Fire Drakes backed away slowly. The shadow calmed and returned to its solid black state.
"Your race was created to serve me and my Master. You will search and raid every treasure horde in Middle-earth until you find the One Ring. It is essential to my goal," Sauron once more floated into the air.
"Why should we serve you? We have nothing to do with your machinations and schemes," Raug burst out in a low, angered voice.
"Snaga!" Sauron shrieked. Both Raug and Smaug fell upon their bellies in pain. "You serve me!" Sauron stretched into an orange, glowing, fiery eye. It flickered in the dim light of Dol Guldur. A single, solid black slit went from the top to the bottom. Flashes of yellow fire and lighting made it painful to look upon. The Dragons closed their eyes and bared their teeth. Sauron's voice became much deeper and darker. "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul. You will tell no one of my plans. You will search for the Ring. You will fulfill my plans." Sauron the Deceiver, however, decided to complicate the matter. "Raug, you have not seen your father since he left you. Fly to Erebor. If I should call on you, you will answer. Smaug, you will plunder every Dwarf mine and dungeon until you find the Ring. You will forget that any of this happened until I decide that it is time for you to remember. Go now." Eyes still closed, the two Fire Drakes flapped their wings and glided away in opposite directions. Sauron, still in the form of the Eye, let out a horrendous shriek. He spoke in the minds of the Orcs. The Nazgûl were summoned before the Eye. Sauron watched in gladness as Orcs brought black cloaks and metal claws into the throne room. The armored Orcs pulled the great, black cloaks over the spirits before them. The metal claws were now slipped on their hands. Now, the spirits faded away, yet the cloaks still moved. Where they had once had pale and shrunken faces, now there was nothing, only darkness.
"My Nazgûl," Sauron's deep voice whispered. "Seek out the One Ring and bring it back to me. You will not stop until you have found it." He paused, and the great Eye looked back and forth. "Search the shores of the Anduin. And you, Angmar." Eight of the Ringwraiths stepped back, leaving one looking up at the Eye. He fell to his knees before Sauron. "Go to Minas Morgul. Some of my Orcs will await you there. And take this." Angmar rose from his knees and looked at his metallic claws. A blade began to appear out of shadow and silver in his hand. He gripped his claws around it and held it into the air, letting out and ear-splitting shriek. A whirlwind of fire spun around the short blade, stretching into the air. He stepped back and joined the line of black-clothed wraiths. "Horses are tethered near the front gate. Find the One Ring," Sauron whispered in thick, deep Black Speech. He began chanting the Black Speech of Mordor as the hunched-over Nazgûl ran silently over the bridge. He became a regular shadow once more, and floated to his throne, where he vanished. The Nazgûl galloped loudly west on their dark horses. A grim rumble of distant thunder rolled through Mirkwood.
Raug crashed into the trees before the gates of Erebor. He came out of the trance and blinked his eyes, a soft whisper falling away from his ears. He felt tight ropes being wrapped around his body. Out of fatigue and weakness, he became unconscious. When he awoke, he was lying on his stomach in a cold dungeon, pickaxes clinking against the walls.
T.A. 2770
Suddenly, Smaug remembered everything that had happened at Dol Guldur. He looked around the treasure pile. He felt a pull in his chest to dig through the pile. Raug was still furiously shuffling through gold and muttering. Smaug tried to fight Sauron.
"I do not want this!" Smaug yelled, spreading his wings.
"Snaga! You serve me!"a shrill whisper shot through his head. Smaug shook his head and clutched a nearby pillar with his claws as he was slowly dragged across the endless piles of treasure.
"Raug! Fight it! Fight him!" he growled. Raug turned and looked at his father. He shook his head rapidly.
"Father! What is happening?" he asked. Smaug settled down. He felt that the Enemy had left his mind. Smaug's chest heaved up and down for many moments.
"Leave, Raug. Fly. Do not return. Sauron is going to hunt you. Save yourself," Smaug said quietly. Raug attempted to interject. "Do as I say!" Smaug screamed. Raug turned and slowly stomped out of the room. "I love you, Raug," he said sadly. Raug turned with teary eyes and flew out of the mountain.