The Ork: The Desperation of Narzug

Narzug further explored his own source and that of his axe. He had found out that the source of his axe became stronger when he defeated opponents with it. For this, he went back to the arena and fought with a few weak orcs. But his axe quickly realized that it could not be proud of these executions, and he had to consider how to get to stronger enemies. The strength of his own source also began to stagnate because he had devoured all the artifacts from the treasure chamber with even a vague sense of greed. According to Morgash, he could also devour the remaining artifacts, but would only gain a microscopically small or no strength from them. So, he simply left them in the treasure chamber.

However, he made great progress in another area. He was now able to create better and better illusions. Narzug could now deceive any of the other orcs, except Morgash, with whatever he wanted. Narzug had even managed to cloak his entire body in an illusion, so he looked like a normal orc from the Misty Mountains. He also fought in the arena with this disguise to find any willing opponent at all.

But he was slowly getting bored in the tunnels. He could no longer fully indulge his greed for power and strength. Even Morgash could no longer teach him anything new, except for new runes in the dark language, which Narzug was now sick and tired of.

"I'm sorry, Narzug, but I can only teach you the basics. There is a third technique, but for that, you first need to saturate your source."

Narzug was bored and longed for new challenges or at least a new opportunity to pursue his greed. He also noticed how the Dwarf Ring on his finger only intensified his emotions. To his astonishment, Narzug realized that this didn't bother him at all. He was greedy, so what?

To relieve his boredom, he first became creative and wanted to forge armor. However, he quickly realized that this was not as easy as forging weapons. He had a clear idea of the exact armor in his mind but failed miserably in its creation. Narzug lacked both the knowledge and the right materials. With the simple metals and natural resources like leather and bones, he didn't get far. So, he resorted to the power of the ring, made it easy for himself, and cloaked himself in an illusion of his desired armor. Better than walking around half-naked for all the world to see.

The armor was apparently made of a black, shiny metal reminiscent of obsidian-like materials. The surface is adorned with fine, artistic engravings in the Black Speech of Mordor, which run like serpentine lines across the plates. The most striking features were the pointed shoulder pieces and the prominent breastplate, which emphasized Narzug's muscular body. The armor was designed to be both massive and flexible, providing the wearer with both protection and freedom of movement—at least it would if it ever ceased to be merely an illusion. The design appeared both menacing and majestic, with a touch of darkness that perfectly matched Narzug's glowing, menacing eyes.

And the boredom continued.

His greed now nearly drove him insane until he found a new distraction. Narzug began to torment and torture the weak orcs around him. He took out all his frustration on them and killed them for even the smallest offenses or disturbances.

No more songs were sung, and the orcs hurried through the tunnels with their heads bowed, so as not to lose them.

Narzug was sitting on his throne, being served. He was considering having a few pretty human or elven slave girls kidnapped when an orc rode into the throne room on a warg.

"Master Narzug! I bring news from Azog the Defiler! We..." He was interrupted by an Orc who brought Narzug a tray with a roasted chicken and a few enormous, meaty tomatoes. Narzug began eating and motioned for the Orc to continue. "We have been following the Dwarves' tracks and finally found them again. They are currently being held in the dungeons of Thranduil, the King of the Wood Elves of Mirkwood." He was repeatedly interrupted by the loud munching and swallowing of Narzug. Narzug took one of the tomatoes and bit into it with his sharp teeth, tearing it apart without commenting on the Orc's news. The tomato juice splattered and ran down his chin. The Orc grew increasingly nervous until Narzug reassured him.

"Messengers never die, so say what you have to say and then ride back to Azog to deliver my answer!"

So the Orc finally finished his message with the question: "Master, I am to ask you if your malice would be interested in an attack on the Elves. Azog does not plan to completely annihilate the Elven city, but only to carry out a painful and bloody raid for the Elves, with the goal of killing the Dwarves in their cells."

Narzug considered whether to join the raid or to wait. His original plan was to wait until the Battle of the Five Armies, but boredom was killing him. He longed for a fight, and the prospect of perhaps fighting with the Dwarves or the pretty Tauriel made him quite cheerful. Finally, he gave in to his greed and thought of a response to Azog.

"Can you sing, little maggot? I would like to hear a song while I think of a message for Azog."

When the Orc said no, a huge rage suddenly built up in him and he filled the Orc's heart with so much fear that it practically exploded from fright. As quickly as the rage had come, it disappeared again after the Orc's death.

"Weakling... only cameramen can truly not die!" he said contemptuously and barked orders at the Orcs around him.

"Feed this heap of meat on the ground to the Warg. I will ride to Azog myself with the Warg and give him my answer. Morgash and Tragar will be in charge in my absence!"

Then he withdrew and packed everything for a journey. For the first time in days, he had a goal in mind again and an honest smile on his face, which shone with anticipation and not with sadistic desires.

Then he set off for the main gate and, following an inspiration, began to sing in a deep, bass voice:

🎶

Home is behind

The world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow

To the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight

Mist and shadow

Cloud and shade

All shall fade

All shall... fade

🎶

All the orcs watched him in amazement and admired the beautiful song. They watched with anticipation as Narzug mounted the warg in front of the gate and then rode out through it. As soon as the gates were closed again, they all began to cheer and celebrate by throwing a party. With shouts of joy like "Finally he's gone" or "We're on holiday from the chief," they danced like crazy, and you could even see a tear of joy rolling down here and there.

Decades later, when one of the orcs was asked on his deathbed what his happiest memory was, he told of that day. Only Margosh was annoyed by the orcs' loud celebration and retreated even deeper into the tunnels.

Narzug noticed nothing of all this. He rode down the slopes of the Misty Mountains as fast as the warg could go. Narzug was lucky because the wargs possessed a small part of the intelligence attributed to them in the books. He only commanded the warg, "Take me to Azog," and the warg immediately dashed off.

"This is the first time I'm exploring Middle-earth alone. No pauses during the day, no consideration for others. I feel truly free right now!"

Narzug rode on his warg through the vast landscapes of Middle-earth. The path led him down from the Misty Mountains into the valleys, past rugged rocks, and through small forests. The warg moved smoothly and swiftly, its breath steaming in the cool morning air. Narzug felt the strength of the animal beneath him and simply enjoyed the freedom that the ride offered him.

The first rays of sunshine broke over the peaks of the Misty Mountains, bathing the surrounding hills in a golden light. Narzug could not deny the majestic beauty of the landscape, even though his thoughts were mostly dominated by darkness and greed. The lush green of the meadows, crisscrossed by clear streams, formed a stark contrast to the gloomy caves and tunnels he had left behind.

As he rode, the narrow mountain paths gave way to broad valley trails. In the distance, he saw the imposing silhouettes of ancient trees marking the border to Mirkwood. Narzug let his thoughts wander, remembering stories about the elves who called this forest their home. The prospect of soon meeting these mysterious beings filled him with a mix of anticipation and unbridled greed.

The journey was not without dangers. Occasionally, he encountered wild animals or small groups of wild orcs who tried to attack him. But these were no great challenges for Narzug. With a brief command, he directed the warg into battle, his axe flashing in the sun as it struck down his opponents. Each of these encounters was brief and bloody, and Narzug left a trail of destruction.

As the day progressed, the landscape around him changed. The wide meadows gave way to denser forest areas. The trees grew taller and the shadows longer. The air was filled with the scent of pines and moss, and the chirping of birds accompanied his journey. Narzug loosened the reins and trusted that the warg would find the best path.

The narrow forest paths forced him to ride more slowly. Narzug used this time to observe his surroundings more closely. Everywhere around him, the undergrowth grew dense and wild, and the sunlight struggled to reach the forest floor. Occasionally, a deer broke through the thicket or a fox darted across the path. These peaceful scenes stood in sharp contrast to the dark thoughts in Narzug's head. But Narzug also noticed how his mind was clearing. The thoughts of torture and killing the weak orcs no longer amused him. The greed that had driven him almost mad under the mountains receded the further he ventured into nature. "As if I were following the will of the ring," Narzug pondered aloud and a shiver ran down his spine.

The deeper he ventured into the forest, the denser the canopy above him became. Soon, he reached a clearing where he paused briefly to let his warg drink. The water from the small stream was cool and clear, and Narzug took a moment to gather his strength. He knew that Mirkwood was not far away, and his destination was getting closer.

The last miles were strenuous. The terrain became hillier and the paths more confusing. But finally, after hours of riding, Narzug saw the first signs of the Moria orcs. A small camp fortified with logs and a few rough tents. In the middle of it stood a larger tent from which Azog emerged after the guards announced the arrival of a warg rider.

"Hello there, Azog the Defiler."

"Welcome, Narzug the Mist Demon."