As the expedition entered the Black Forest.
Within the fortress of Dol Guldur, a pitch-black phantom emerged from the high tower, looking down over this land steeped in shadows.
"Azog..."
A fearsome voice rang out in the pale Orc's mind. Azog abruptly opened his eyes and gasped for breath. The first thing he did was feel his chest twice, only to discover that the enormous gash running from his shoulder to his waist had completely healed, leaving behind only a long scar as proof that he had indeed been wounded.
He raised his head and gazed up at the dark shadow calling his name from atop the tower.
Instinctively, Azog felt anger, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was not the person he hated.
That was... the Dark Lord, Sauron.
"Azog, lead the army and prepare to wage war."
"What about that Dwarf?" Ignoring his healed wound, Azog questioned Sauron.
"You promised me he would die!"
Had any other Orc dared to talk back like that, he might well have lost his life on the spot. But Azog and Sauron had more of a cooperative relationship, and Azog had the right to make demands.
Clearly, Sauron had made some kind of promise. Yet now, he did not answer the question at all, merely issuing a forceful order for Azog to lead the army.
Azog's chest heaved with rage, but circumstances were stronger than Orcs. No matter how angry he was, he still had to obey the order. Left with no choice, he summoned his son Bolg and had Bolg lead a force to continue hunting the Dwarves.
As Azog's son, Bolg had inherited Azog's physique well. He was just as tall and just as strong.
"That human—if you see him, I permit you to retreat for the time being.