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 5

It is not long before Azog discovers just who his new 'Master' is. At first, the orc believes the being to be a powerful necromancer. His magic was dark as the defiler's blood however that belief is quickly eradicted. It begins with whispered stories of the Nazgul, more specifically the Witch-King of Angmar. He was forced to offer his services, just as the orc is, and Azog came to realize just how powerful this 'necromancer' is and was. For in order to control such a being as the Witch-king, he surely must be influential. Bit by bit, information is gained about the elusive creature that trapped he and his men within his clutches. It is not until a grey wizard entered the hidden fortress that Azog is positive of the necromancer's true identity. He is Sauron, Chief Lieutenant of the first Dark Lord, Morgoth. It angers the pale orc that such vital information was not only kept from him, but also that it is given. There is no doubt in his mind that the information was purposefully spread in order to incite fear into his masses. Fear is a powerful weapon, not that it diminishes the effect of Sauron's magic in the least. No, his strength is felt daily for centuries, delivering painful reminders of his supremacy. However, it is not Azog who suffers under his ire. That place is occupied by the uncrowned King, Thrain. What the darkness desires from the dwarf is of great importance, clearly shown by both parties refusal to relinquish it even years into their feud.

"Why did you bring him here?" Azog questions his son after half a century with his days punctuated by Thrain's agonized howls. The sounds have long since lost their appeal and have more or less become part of the fortress itself "You had never shown any interest prior or since."

"I wished to try things differently." The heir sneers in distaste at the sound of the dwarf retching for the third time today "I found that death screams hold more pull than tortured ones."

The defiler offers nothing more than a low growl, dismissing his milky eyed son from his presence. This is where they differ the greatest. The mutation watches his son disappear around a corner, only to be replaced by his second in command, Rogdul. He is large orc, though not as large as Agog, with skin the color and toughness of leather. The orc has been by Azog's side since they were imps and has proven time and again his nearly unmatched prowess in battle. He approaches his chieftain, taking in the scene before them with sickly green eyes.

"Your heir understands the importance of fear." He begins in an uncharacteristic show of speech. Rarely does the brown orc resort to words, a trait the defiler has come to prefer in his men "It is a great turning point for battles; a fearful opponent ia a hesitant one and hesitation means death."

"He is still young. Foolish." Azog responds, scoffing as another cry pierces the air "He still believes his most powerful weapons are his fists."

Azog knows from experience that with enough fear, a battle can be avoided completely. The orc is not averse to violence yet, he can keep his numbers high if he does not battle daily. The pale orc built his reputation to the point where he could enter a city and raid it without ever lifting a sword.

"Bolg is young." Rogdul agrees with a slight inclination of his bulbous head. His fangs curl over his thin lips in a rare show of amusement "Strong, but inexperienced. You were once empty headed."

"He knows little." the sire responds, ignoring the jab "He refuses to fill his head."

"Teach him." His lieutenant answers, dismissing himself "If he will not learn, kill him and begin again."

The statement brings a low chuckle to the pale orc's chest. Yes, he could kill Bolg easily and start over. It is why the young orc exists in the first place. His elder sibling, Grukk was a large, burly, half troll whose physical prowess was surpassed by none. He was a simpleton however, refusing to learn that the battlefield is not where the fighting ends. The fight never ends, ever. Azog personally ended his pathetic life and spawned Bolg. It would be a shame to have to start over once more, but not impossible. The pale mutation can be killed but can not die on his own, similar to the elvish roots he was honed from. He calls for his son, able to hear his heavy approach from across the encampment.

"The fear that is instilled into that dwarf's heart," he begins once his current heir arrives. He bathes in the tormented screams that his son deems unnecessary "will be felt by every other for years to come. That is true fear. That is true power. See to it that you learn quickly, for even you can be replaced."

A sickening crack is heard throughout the formally abandoned fortress and the screams are unnaturally cut off. Sauron's shadowed form exits the room where the dwarf has been housed for over 50 years. All present wonder if he has finally grown tired and snapped the stubborn creature's neck. Eerie silence follows the cloaked figure, as if he snatches the sound from the air itself. What used to be a mass of dark energy now holds a fluttering form of a large man. It is plain to see that he has gotten stronger. A sudden choking sob alerts the orcs that Thrain is indeed still alive. Angered by his father's words and eager to show his mettle, the young heir unwisely challenges the necromancer.

"Why have you let him live?" Bolg demands to know, storming up to the cloaked figure. His insolence is quickly dealt with as he is flung into a wall as easy as if he were once again fresh to the world

"I have what I desire." It answers coldly, as Bolg stumbles to his feet. "His mind is broken, but you may do with him what you will."

"I've no use for a broken dwarf." The defiler answers without raising his voice, not wishing to earn the dark lord's wrath

"Then kill him. Or leave him to rot. He will die on his own in due time." The figure throws a ghostly hand towards the stronghold's entrance "Go. Expand your army once more. Orcs and goblins will not be enough. I will call upon you when the time comes for your dues to be paid."

With a scowl, the orc quickly does as he has been instructed. He does not even attempt to end the dwarf's life, the satisfaction vanished with Thrain's mind. Azog's desire to be free of Sauron's power is stronger than his natural instinct to rebel against an order.

"Move out!" he roars and all are quick to follow, deserting the fortress in minutes

Years pass and Azog's hate for all things Durin related grows in ferocity. Two of the line escaped, though one will surely die on his own and the other Azog swears to disembowel. While the weapon embedded into his arm is useful, it does not compare to having a hand. The pale orc does not dwell on what has been lost however, only how he will repay the debt to the dwarf who placed him in the predicament. It is for this reason that he grows his decimated lesions into stronger ones. Orcs, goblins, and trolls race to his side and those who do not are swiftly dealt with. The orc soon settled his growing army in Guntabad, a stronghold formed in the far north of the misty mountains. Here they train day in and day out for the war they would wage on the world. Oliphaunts and wargs are bred for battle, beasts of war that will serve as both supply carriers and weapons.

"WEAKLINGS!" an orc bruiser roars out, lashing a trainee for his lack of concentration "You think this is a game!?"

"Father." Bolg greets his sire as the chieftain watches the scene unfold with a bored expression "There has been word from over the mountain. It passed through towns of men that-"

"There are many words exchanged by men." He responds, deceivingly calm. Azog stands from his place, grabs the offending foot solider, and tosses him into the warg pit where he is soon devoured "I have little need to hear them."

"They concern Oakenshield." he continues, knowing it will be enough

"Oaken shield?" It has been too long since the orc has hear that name, though he never forgot it "What do they say then?"

"That he is gathering an army to retake the dragon's mountain." for it is the dragon's mountain now. Resting at a highly influential point in middle earth, the location is sought after by many. The necromancer had sent word a for months early about a possible alliance with the fire drake "What shall we do?"

"Simple." he answers, a cruel and malicious leer etches itself across his face "We hunt until I have a dwarven rug."

FIN

Goodness gracious me, this took forever! Thanks for sticking with me to the end and yes, this is the end. I don't feel the need to go farther as the rest is pretty much self explanatory. The entire point was to give Agog some depths. I think he's a formidable villian and should be shown to have some stuff going on in his life. Liiiiiike a teenaged son who just won't join the family business! But! Now that its done, I can start posting chapter for my new story! Its the sequel to 'An adventure of a lifetime' with our favorite character Thia and many more! Did that sound like a commercial? I think that sounded like a commercial. A good commercial but a commercial all the same. Any who, get excited because I sure am. Bah bye now!