Somewhere south, Azog was riding his white warg at the head of a vast company of Guldur Orcs that were all armed for war. They are crossing a rocky plain which leads straight towards the Lonely Mountain in the distance as their destination. During the long march, Bolg, riding his Warg, charges in from Esgaroth to deliver his message to his father.
"Shâkh, gaûnash!" (Woodland Elves!) Bolg shouted as he rode towards his father. "Kolôgdo, ghônish, ogh-bandesh mârgenish" (The King's son and a She-elf - They tracked us down to Esgaroth.)
Azog raises his arm, the hand of which Thórin cut off. Now replaced with a large blade, and the legions of Orcs stop at his command. He circles around his son and asked. "Môrgh shilîzh?" (And you killed them?)
"Kolôgdol shazâlish ashadôr." (They fled squealing like cowards) Bolg answered.
"Gîanish!" (You fool!) Azog yelled in disgrace. "Undakôsh nâk shazôg!" (They will return with an Army of Elves at their backs!) He calms himself down and gives his son another task. "Arsh gâd-biar Gundabadûl. Makrâhl na-kâsh." (Ride to Gundabad. Let the Legions come forth.)
Bolg grunts in assent and rides off.
Azog turns and faces his Orcs, raising his bladed arm. "Golgai! Bânain! Khôzdar! Gô kôhr-lag! Obishîr!" (Elves! Humans! Dwarves! The Mountain will be their tomb! To war!)
He turns and begins riding toward the Mountain.