Getting Company

Far in the north, Narzug stood on a cliff and could see before him the plains of what was once Arnor. Snow-covered meadows, frozen streams, and as far as the eye could see, there were only firs, spruces, and other coniferous trees.

He traveled quickly and lightly and had already penetrated deep into the north.

"Winter is coming," Narzug murmured aloud, enjoying the beautiful view and the last rays of the sun for a moment, which broke through the cold and warmed his skin.

"I should arrive in Angmar in a few days. Mmm, the only noteworthy city that comes to mind in Angmar is Carn Dûm, the former capital. Fuck you Gandalf... if it weren't for you, you old bastard, I would be in the warm south now and could sunbathe somewhere, but no, I'm freezing here in the north in this shitty winter weather.

Last time I at least had company... I wonder if Aragorn survived? Has his fate changed or was he magically saved and ends up sitting on the throne of Gondor?

Damn, I thought I was done with this asshole and now I'm racking my brain over him!"

Narzug shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts, then moved on.

One night, he heard wargs howling in the distance. He didn't really think much of it. Wargs couldn't really harm Narzug, and even though he would have liked to capture one as a mount, wargs were significantly faster than him.

In the following nights, he could hear them repeatedly; the wargs were on the hunt. The howling came closer and closer, and one night Narzug heard them in the immediate vicinity.

"I should be able to catch at least one. That could make my future travels easier."

He slowly moved quietly toward the howling. He could see a faint glow; a small campfire was burning ahead. He quickly realized, however, that it wasn't a Dunedain fire, for next to the fire sat a large troll. The troll was slowly roasting a fully-grown warg on a spit over the fire.

"Stop howling already! Tomorrow you'll roast over the fire!" the troll shouted at six slightly injured young animals lying bound on the ground.

"Why did Tom, Bert, and Bill run ahead without me? They betrayed me and left me behind!" the troll wailed, blowing his nose into a large handkerchief.

"A good opportunity!" Narzug thought, as one of the young animals would surely be strong enough to carry him. He didn't hesitate long and leaped at the troll with his axe drawn, splitting its skull with one blow. The troll fell backward into the darkness of the night, and Narzug turned to the six young animals.

"Is that the mother of the wargs over the fire? Or maybe just the matriarch or something else? Nevertheless, I should be able to tame the young wargs, and dinner is already taken care of."

Narzug sat down by the fire and cut off a hind leg with his knife. Although trolls aren't exactly Michelin star chefs, it wasn't the worst meal he had ever eaten.

The wargs howled indignantly and became wild as Narzug began to eat. "Shut up!" Narzug shouted and kicked at the wargs. These animals knew nothing but violence and strength, and only the strongest were accepted as leaders.

When the wargs didn't calm down, Narzug approached them and gave each a hard beating. In a short time, the young animals whimpered and lowered their heads, submitting to Narzug.

"Easier than I thought... Six wargs, should I take them all and form a small pack? Six wargs, hmm, I have fitting names for them," Narzug mused and then said aloud, "You are Ghost, Nymeria, Summer, Grey Wind, Shaggydog, and Lady," pointing to the various wargs one by one. "And since Lady is the biggest of you, you'll be my mount!" Narzug commanded, and the wargs understood his intentions. They weren't just dumb mounts but had their own tribes and communities in the wild.

"Fuck, will I now have to say that I ride my Lady through the wilderness?!"

The night passed, and Narzug kept eating until he finally threw the rest of the grilled warg at the feet of the young animals and ordered them to strengthen themselves.

"The journey will be faster and easier from now on. And a daily round of beatings should be enough to ensure they don't try to betray me."

Narzug stood on a small hill, gazing at the land before him. The morning mist still hung heavily over the valley, and the first rays of the sun tentatively broke through the cloud cover. On the horizon was the edge of the former kingdom of Angmar, a cursed place long abandoned and forgotten. But for Narzug, this place meant something different: it was hopefully a key to more power for him. Additionally, he could satisfy the curiosity burning within him by exploring.

However, between him and the border to Angmar lay an obstacle. The wargs had caught the scent of a group of Dúnedain.

"This could be a good test for you," said Narzug, looking at the five wargs around him. "Lady stays with me and the rest will fight!"

Narzug was a mediocre tactician but knew well the importance of fear and surprise. He had trained the wargs accompanying him well during the short journey. Each one was a deadly hunter, large and terrifying, with sharp teeth and an insatiable hunger for blood. Leading them were Shaggydog and Grey Wind, after Lady who served as his mount, the most dangerous wargs in his group. Shaggydog was a fearless fighter, with thick, scarred skin that testified to many battles. Grey Wind was faster and smarter, a master of shadows and silent attacks.

The Dúnedain were an obstacle he did not want to ignore. These former guardians of the north had banded together to stop intruders like Narzug from roaming the land. They were skilled and brave, but Narzug was determined to eliminate them to the last man.

He raised his hand, and the wargs fell silent. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, their muscles tensed under their fur. Narzug sensed their impatience but knew that patience and timing were everything. He had observed the Dúnedain, who had set up their camp a bit too carelessly, trusting the cover of the mist that lay over the landscape like a white blanket.

"It is time," murmured Narzug and lowered his hand. The wargs charged silently and deadly, their movements rehearsed and precise. Narzug followed them, his eyes never leaving the target.

The attack was sudden and brutal. The wargs burst from the mist, a howling storm of teeth and claws. The Dúnedain had little time to react. Narzug watched as Shaggydog pounced on one of the men, his jaws snapping shut and pulling him to the ground. Grey Wind emerged from the shadows, silent and deadly, tearing out another's throat before disappearing back into the mist.

The fight was short but fierce. The Dúnedain were brave, but they stood no chance against the overpowering wargs. Narzug observed the battle from a safe distance, ready to intervene if necessary, but it wasn't needed. The wargs performed their task with deadly efficiency.

But victory did not come without loss. Narzug saw Shaggydog struck by a sword blow, the life leaving his eyes as he fell to the ground. Grey Wind also fell, mortally wounded, but he took two Dúnedain with him in death.

As the last Dúnedain fell, Narzug stepped forward. The three surviving wargs gathered around him, their eyes gleaming with bloody satisfaction. Narzug looked at the bodies of the Dúnedain and then at the dead wargs.

"You fought well," he said quietly, kneeling beside the dead wargs. "Clean this place up! Don't let the good meat rot!" Like a pack of piranhas, Ghost, Summer, Nymeria, and Lady fell upon the fallen men and wargs.

When everything was devoured, Narzug turned to the surviving wargs. "Move on," he ordered. "We still have a long way to go."

The march through the desolate land was long and arduous. The landscape was barren and unfriendly, a reflection of the darkness that once ruled Angmar. Narzug felt the shadows of the past lingering over this land, but he was undeterred. He had a goal in mind, and nothing would stop him.

The days passed, and the journey became increasingly difficult. The wargs grew tired, and Narzug also felt the mental exhaustion, but he drove them relentlessly onward. Each night they made camp in a different place, always vigilant, always ready for another attack.

Finally, after many days of marching, they reached the border of the former kingdom of Angmar. Narzug stood on a hill and looked at the abandoned land before him. This was the place where his revenge would begin, the place where he would consolidate his power.

He knelt and touched the ground with his hands. "This could be my land," he whispered. "But I have other plans..."

He rose and turned to the wargs. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded. "This is only the beginning."

The wargs howled in agreement, their eyes sparkling with determination. Narzug knew that the road ahead would be difficult and dangerous, but he was ready. With each step, he came closer to his goal, and nothing would stop him.

Narzug felt the power of the place, the ancient magic, the incredible mass of negative emotions that lay dormant in the land. He knew he could use this power for himself if he were clever. He had to find a new way to harness the negative emotions in the air for his benefit. The ways of the shamans he had learned from Morgash would not help him here. They were like a drop in the ocean compared to the powerful forces at play.

With one last look at the land behind him, Narzug turned and led his wargs deeper into the abandoned kingdom.

--

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The age of Men is over. The time of the Orcs has come.

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