Fimbul watched as the wargs tore Yazneg to pieces

For a moment he feared he might also be killed in Azog’s rage over letting the Dwarves slip from their grasp, but the Master seemed satisfied with the death of the weak Yazneg!

Azog stared without pity as the wargs did their work.

Fimbul thought Yazneg a fool and knew that he deserved death. Even as the flesh was being torn from the still living Yazneg, Fimbul reached down and took his scimitar for his own as the screams died down to silence.

Azog whirled about, looking down at Fimbul and the assembled warg riders. The white warg sat on it’s haunches at his side and Fimbul lowered his gaze as the great beast looked down upon him growling hungrily.

“The dwarf-scum will show themselves soon enough. Send out word, there is a price on their heads!”

The wags riders mounted their steeds and descended from Weathertop to the plain below at the command of their Master Azog. Their howls filled the night. Fimbul tuned to go himself, when he felt the hand of Azog upon his shoulder. Fimbul turned about, fearful that his time had come at last. He turned to see the eyes of Azog boring into his own.

“You will take the place of Yazneg… and if you fail me as he did, you shall meet the same fate.”

Fimbul bowed and scraped before Azog, giving sideways glances to the great white warg that snarled and licked it’s large white fangs with a red lolling tongue. Azog raised his left arm with it’s savage iron claw, a fearsome look upon his face.

“You will ride now to the mountains and personally deliver this message to the Goblins, promise gold and weapons for any sign of the Dwarf-scum! I will soon have the head of Thorin Oakenshield upon a spike!”

Fimbul mounted his warg, which leapt forward into the darkness as the moon rose over the peaks of the Misty Mountains. Fimbul had lived to serve another day, but he must be tread with care. The world is changing, war is coming and only those who pleased the Master would survive.

Fimbul lashed at the warg beneath him with a whip of many thongs, the beasts head turned showing it’s teeth, but it took the lash and leapt forward even faster, making for Goblin Town deep within the Mountains.

Fimbul rode alone into the darkness of the night and would ride long and hard before first light.

The Mordor Appendices ~ The Time Line of the Year 2941 ~ 2942