CHAPTER – 24
THE BEASTS ARE FOUND

A red sky loomed above the icy grounds; the glow emanating from the western horizons. Night was coming at last. The company began to move. Amidst a huge hue and cry raised by the orcs, the easterlings could hardly listen to each other's words. They were far to the north now and away from the lands of their enemies. Yet the land northward seemed to stretch out for leagues and it was never ending. The land was a mountainous terrain; each mountain steeper than the next. The western borders were closed to them by huge mountain ranges that steeped westward. Far away they knew was the land of Forodwaith, north of Angmar. There dwelt the ice-men but that was not the way they needed to go. West was closed to them, north was their direction.

The mountains in the heath were tall and steep, the pathways made upon ridges. There were no roads in that area which troubled the journey-makers. They had to climb down steep gorges out of which icy water flowed sparkly blue. The sun was not so hot there yet its rays could be felt at the back of their heads, scorching it when the sun was high. And now it was night almost, the stars beginning to show themselves.

The orcs were muttering. They had not liked the news that their leader Gothmog was no more. The Dunedain were closer than they thought and they hated those rangers of the west, always harrying their lands and slaughtering their people. They did not like their mission almost failing. Their Master was not happy with them. The search continued.

Two months they had been out scouring the withered heath and the icy lands of the north for a sign of the dragons but nothing they found. The area was desolate. A scout had been sent to the dark fortress far south but he had not returned. Instead his head did, carried by an envoy of the dark fortress who came upon a black horse. He had come with a handful of soldiers and had made camp sixty leagues south of here. He gave creeps to them, sending chills down their spine. One of the Ringwraiths he was, the Nazgul. They feared to tread around him. After promising a search, they had left with these easterlings by their side sent by the emissary of their Master to keep a watch on their work. The orcs had spat when they were leagues away from the black horseman and yet they had shuddered after it.

Afraid of further retribution, they had hurried along the icy outlines of the north, yet carefully treading the way. They rested during the day and ran faster in the night.

Night was nearing. The torches were lit and orcs bellowed. Their leader, Grishnakh, led them now across a small gap between two barren mountains. The road suddenly led into a deep snowy valley with small clusters of pine trees, its rooftops white. Ashen grey mountains loomed ahead of them, tall and with sharp peaks covered with snow.

The orcs made a great clamor as had not been heard for many a year. Grishnakh knew this place. He was there when it all happened ages ago. He knew the ruins of Utumno were not so far away but he did not intend to lead his band to the dark fortress. It was likely there was nothing there but utter ruin. The idea that dragons may lurk there yet did not excite him. So far they had found no dragons. Bands of orcs had scoured the northern wastelands yet nothing.

Smaug must have come from somewhere. There must be a dragon pen. There had to be. The search had to go on otherwise his master would be angry.

Then Grishnakh stopped. He smelled something for his nose rose eagerly upwards, sniffing the cold air.

"This way!" he shouted. "Come along, scum!"

And so the band ran along a deep snowy trench towards the west. Soon they had reached a lone mountain set aloof from the other ranges. He signaled for his orcs to stay calm and hide themselves in the trees that surrounded. "Wait for me!" he cried.

He climbed up the stony slopes of the mountain, grasping the protruding boulders. His feet sent pebbles rolling on the slopes but he cared not. Intent upon his goal and sniffing the very air, he climbed making as little sound as he could. In time, he came to a rocky ledge upon which a huge cave was delved into the mountain. He silently padded his feet along the walls of the cave when he heard a deafening shriek. He covered his pointy ears and slowly, walked inside. The cave led him directly into the heart of the mountain. It was dark inside and he was forced to light a small torch. The fire illuminated a small tunnel and Grishnakh ran into it.

The tunnel was short and it led directly into a bigger cave. Hiding behind the wall, he saw it: a huge sleeping beast shaped like an eagle. It had huge black wings and its body was hued green. There were eight eggs around it, huge and oval shaped.

A wicked smile spread across Grishnakh's face. The Nazgul would be happy and Sauron too. He sped back the way he had come and carefully climbing down the sharp precipices of stone, he came at last to the pine forests his band had hidden.

A slimy orc came forward. He hissed. "What did you find?"

Grishnakh's eyes lit themselves green. "We found it. Master will be happy."

Orcs around jeered and men clapped and hooted.

Grishnakh got furious and shouted. "Silence! We do not want to wake it. We must take the news south to where the black man awaits us. Come, quick in the shadows we must be."

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