DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters or happenings of middle earth. They belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and sometimes Peter Jackson's stuff might fall in too. I only any OC that happen to fall in. Please, feel free to leave any comments and questions. Follow the story in which ever way you would like, but make your thoughts known. Thank you!

CHAPTER 3

And return he does. Within 3 years Thror returns and behind him stands a mighty dwarven army that fills Azog with twisted glee. The giant orc's sensitive ears can hear their approach from miles away, not that the dwarves were quiet. Quite the contrary; they stomped their boots in time with the beating of their shields, frightening every beasts that thought to come across their path. It is an ancient tactic that all creatures know to use. The power behind a roar is to warn the enemy of the strength in the bite. Azog recognizes it as simple noise to be outmatched, and soon the valley is clear of all living creatures save for the opposing sides. He tears his sharp gaze from the approaching army to command his own to the ready. Each militia marches forward, hungry for the battle the have spent the last few years preparing for. Both sides halt when they are within a hundred yards of each other, waiting for further instruction from their leaders. Thror is the first to make his move, calling out to all who will listen.

"Your reign over my halls has come to an end, Azog!" he spits the orc's name with such venom, it is a wonder his tongue does not fall from his head "Come! Face me, and pay for your crimes!"

"Is my name not carved into your flesh, dwarf? All that is yours now belongs to me." The defiler steps forward to stand before his men. Spreading his arms wide, he lifts his head to sneer at all those below him "Bow to the master of all, for if I own a king does that not make me a god?"

"You own nothing! You rule nothing! You ARE nothing!" A young dwarf with a mass of raven hair and icy blue eyes that rival the orc's own pale orbs steps up to stand beside Thror. One by one the king is joined by his kin, unknowingly presenting themselves as targets for Azog's flesh game. Though most are nameless, the orc can easily pick out the one eyed son and two younger dwarves sharing a strong resemblance to Thror and are most likely his grandchildren

"I bought his flesh, did I not?" Azog cackles as Thror purses his lips in remembrance of the coppery taste of retreat and soiled metal "Unless payment is returned, he is indeed owned by me."

"I'll shove that 'payment' up your arse!" Thror raises his battle ax to signal his army as he finishes speaking "Bring me that filth's head!"

"I shall pluck the skulls of your spawn from their spines." the giant orc returns with delighted rage "I will however, start with yours."

And thus begins the battle of Azanulbizar. It rages like wild fire under the gates of Moria, painting the earth in black and red. Azog stands tall and watches it all in silence. Unlike his opponent, he will allow his men to tire his enemy before he joins. Each massive army is well equipped for battle however the orcs are better prepared for the terrain. Though the valley sits beneath dwarven ruins, no dwarf has lived inside for many years. Unlike the orcs who have trained upon the loose and rocky soil all their lives, the dwarves find difficulty in gaining purchase. The orcs beat back the dwarves, physically throwing them from the claimed land. It is a serene scene for Azog to gaze upon but soon he decides that enough time has passed and joins into the fray. With a mighty roar, he smashes anybody that is close enough for his mace to reach. To him, there are no allies or enemies, only those who will fall to his might. Spying his prey battling against a lowly goblin, the mutation draws his mace back and strikes the dwarf before he has time to acknowledge his presence. Such force is put into the blow that Thror's head is nearly wrenched from his neck. As he falls, it hangs on by thick cartilage and fleshy meat before the pale orc rips i completely free.

"Father, no!" a horrified cry is let out

It draws Azog's attention to the new but uncrowned King however, he finds the passion that he seeks in a much younger dwarf. The same one who attempted to defend the former king's honor. Smirking cruelly, he hefts the head of the dead king across the field to show it off to the young prince. The stunned dwarrow watches the bloodied sphere bounce towards him, leaving behind wet imprints on the already blood soaked ground. The other dwarves call to him, giving the orc the name of his next kill: Thorin. Movement from the corner of his eye shows Bolg dragging the struggling new king into the depths of Moria. What he plans for the monarch is not Azog's concern however.

"I offer you the same oath I gave to those of your line who fell before you." He calls to the prince, nearly singing in mirth "Are you ready for death, Thorin?"

"Keep my name from your mouth, filth! You shall pay for your crimes!" he retaliates without a tremor in his voice "The line of Durin is stronger than even your taint upon the world!"

"Your grandfather is dead, your father has fled," here the crowd looks round about them only to find the new king truly vanished. Without a leader, they begin to crumble at the edges as Azog continues "Your brother lies in pieces scattered around the field. Are there anymore Durin pests I need to remove?"

"I-"

"You shall fall soon enough." Azog speaks slowly, being sure that every word can be heard over the melee "It is time to end the wretched line of Durin!"

Wasting no more time with words, the gundabad orc begins batting his way through the war zone fully intent on killing the Durin prince. The pure joy written across his enemy's face is enough to shock the young dwarf into stillness at advancement of the charging killer.

Heeeeey, sorry for the wait. I had some trouble in RL and just couldn't get the chapter written. But here it is now! I hope you enjoy it and if you do, dropme a review or a PM. Thank you my faithful reviewer. Yes, I mean you. Buh bye now!