As the leader of the Nine Nazgûl, the true identity of the Witch-King of Angmar remains unknown. It is believed that only the Dark Lord Sauron, who corrupted these once-great men with the Rings of Power, knows their identities.
The Ringwraiths, once mighty kings, sorcerers, and warriors among men, were transformed by the Rings of Power. These dark relics granted them the ability to walk between the physical world and the wraith world, bestowing invisibility and rendering them immune to many physical attacks. They became Sauron's most feared servants, and a terror to all in Middle-earth.
What makes the Nazgûl most terrifying is their immortality. Even if they are defeated and destroyed, they will only return after a time, whole and unharmed. They can only truly be vanquished if their master, Sauron, is destroyed. This cursed existence has made them the bane of Middle-earth for thousands of years, leaving a trail of death and destruction wherever they go.
Among the Nine, the Witch-King of Angmar is the most powerful. Often called the Lord of the Nazgûl, his name strikes fear into the hearts of all. Once, he ruled the kingdom of Angmar and brought devastation to much of Middle-earth. Many races fell to his cruelty. Though he was eventually defeated and cast down by the heroes of the age, his legend lives on as the most feared among the Ringwraiths.
After several days of hard travel, Bolg, mounted on his warg and leading his warriors, finally reached Dol Guldur. Even before entering the ancient fortress, he could feel the dark power radiating from it, growing and swelling with each step closer.
The sky above Dol Guldur was dark, thick clouds swirling ominously, a reflection of the evil force gathering below. While most races would feel dread, discomfort, or even physical weakness in such a place, orcs thrived in this dark energy. It made them stronger, more dangerous, and more determined.
Bolg inhaled deeply, finding some of his rage over his father's death dissipating as the darkness around him seemed to fill him with strength. He marched into the fortress with his men, sensing an overwhelming power beckoning him, urging submission and loyalty.
Before he could fully comprehend this force, a cold, menacing voice, devoid of emotion, filled the air, freezing Bolg in his tracks.
"You must be Azog's son. What is your name, and why is Azog not with you?"
As the voice echoed through the dark chamber, a figure emerged from the shadows. Draped in a black cloak, wearing a simple iron crown upon his hooded head, and his face obscured by a dark, metallic visor, the Witch-King of Angmar appeared before Bolg.
Feeling a wave of anger rise within him, Bolg quickly suppressed it, knowing he was in the presence of an overwhelming power. Lowering his head in submission, he responded respectfully:
"My lord, Witch-King of Angmar, I am Bolg, son of Azog. My father was slain by the vile dwarves. The skull I wear belonged to him."
"Moreover, the Orc Town in the Misty Mountains has suffered a devastating defeat. Most of the orcs, along with the Orc King, have been killed. The town is now in ruins."
The Witch-King was silent for a few moments, contemplating the gravity of Bolg's report. Then his cold voice cut through the darkness once again:
"Tell me everything you know. In detail."
For the next ten minutes, Bolg recounted the tragic downfall of the orcs, explaining the events that had led to the massacre at the hands of the expedition party. When Bolg finished, the Witch-King's tone grew more solemn.
The Witch-King of Angmar pondered for a moment before continuing:
"That's settled, Bolg."
"From today onward, you will lead the Orc clans of the north. Moria and the orcs of the Misty Mountains will follow your command."
"I will personally oversee the matter of the Lonely Mountain dwarves."
"Your mission now is to head north, gather an army, forge armor, craft weapons, and prepare a powerful force to await the master's call."
"Our great master will awaken soon, and our time is coming."
Bolg was overjoyed upon hearing this. With the Witch-King's appointment, though he might still face challenges from other orc clans, having the backing of this powerful dark lord would reduce much of the trouble on his path to dominance.
"As you command, Lord Witch-King of Angmar, Bolg will always be ready to follow your orders."
Meanwhile, as the orc forces in the north began to assemble under Bolg's leadership and the Witch-King took notice of the Lonely Mountain dwarves, Wayne and the others, led by Gandalf, arrived at a large wooden house on the edge of Mirkwood.
Wayne and the others carefully observed the massive wooden house and noted that it seemed fit for a creature of enormous size. Many of the items were several times larger than usual, but everything around the house was orderly.
There were wells, farmland, fences, and neatly maintained paths. Fruits and vegetables grew in abundance, clearly indicating that this was a place inhabited for a long time.
Thorin, who had regained much of his energy, couldn't help but ask Gandalf:
"What is this place? Does someone you know live here, Gandalf?"
Gandalf, puffing his pipe, responded vaguely:
"Yes, this is the home of an old friend. We might be able to stay here tonight."
Before Thorin could ask more questions, Bilbo, always quick to notice things, suddenly pointed towards the north and shouted in alarm:
"A bear! A huge bear—it's charging toward us!"
Everyone turned to where Bilbo was pointing. Sure enough, they saw a colossal brown bear, six or seven meters long, with thick brown fur and powerful limbs. Standing on all fours, the bear was about four or five meters tall. It came charging at them like a moving mountain.
Its size was five or six times that of a normal bear, and even at a glance, its strength and power were clear.
None of the group had ever seen such a massive bear before, and they instinctively wanted to flee. Gandalf shouted:
"Run to the house and hide inside! The bear won't be able to get in!"
Everyone panicked, turning their horses and preparing to flee when Wayne spoke up, his tone calm:
"Why are we running? It's just a giant bear. What's there to be afraid of?"
He whistled sharply and then asked Gandalf with a meaningful look:
"Gandalf, is this bear a friend or a foe? Shall I deal with it?"
Before Gandalf could respond, Deathclaw Robin, upon hearing Wayne's whistle, let out a thrilling roar, eager for action.
Without any hesitation, Wayne rushed towards the giant bear at incredible speed.
If this massive bear, five or six times the size of a regular brown bear, appeared to be a fearsome beast, then the Deathclaw Robin charging at it was like an apex predator from the age of dinosaurs—a true overlord of the wild.
In terms of both appearance and size, the Deathclaw easily overshadowed the giant bear.
Those who had witnessed Robin's power, including Gandalf and the others, knew just how formidable the Deathclaw's strength and defenses were. What had initially seemed like a terrifying foe now appeared far less intimidating. The dwarves, having abandoned the thought of escape, turned their attention back to the clash between the two titanic creatures, almost as if they were watching a show.
Even Gandalf, who had seen the Deathclaw in action, grew anxious at the sight and shouted to Wayne:
"Wayne! Don't let Robin hurt him! That bear isn't an enemy!"
Wayne had already anticipated this, and he had given Robin the appropriate command.
The two beasts charged at each other with immense speed, and within moments, they collided.
As expected, despite the bear's formidable appearance, it was no match for the Deathclaw. When the two giants crashed together, the bear was instantly knocked off balance, and within seconds, Robin had pinned it to the ground. The Deathclaw's powerful hind legs pressed down on the bear's chest, and its bloodstained jaws, lined with sharp teeth, closed around the bear's neck.
The overwhelming strength and the hot, foul breath filled with the scent of blood snapped the giant bear out of its frenzy. Helpless beneath the Deathclaw, it struggled with all its might.
Gandalf rode up quickly and called out urgently:
"Beorn, please! Shift back to your human form! We mean you no harm!"
Even though the bear was known for its great strength, it was no match for the Deathclaw's immense power. Try as it might, the bear couldn't break free.
Finally, after several tense moments, the massive bear began to shrink in size. Slowly, it transformed into a towering man, wearing only a pair of shorts, lying beneath the weight of the Deathclaw.