[Kransha]

I hope no one mind if I randomly interlope again but, as the Poet Laureate of these forums (proclaimed by some, not all) I felt it my duty to compose a ballad to rival those of my mighty mentor and yours, something of a Warg. So, I conclude that the tale of Beren and Luthien, a stirring story indeed, was in fact gleaned from another tale, one involving a wise Warg of Morannon. So, without further ado.

The Lay of Rärmfurmf of Morannon & Mithwen of Lothlorien

A Warg there lived at Morannon who lay each day upon the rocks
Reclining most resplendantly, considering each paradox.
Of nature and philosophy considered he each postulate,
His jaws a-snapping, tongue a-lapping, and his head would occilate.

Tremendous was his knowledge, an unending cornucopia.
He read each volume, great and small, despite his slight myopia.
Consulted he the books of yore, from Orodruin to Barad-dur.
Of things bizarre from lands afar, including the rare Harad Stoor.

Upon his head, 'neath beady eyes, some spectacles were neatly perched
As sat he on the jagged earth, as sun and moon above him lurched.
Immobile, without motion for a century he held that spot.
Despite the cold, the blist'ry wind, the eerie nights and sunlight hot.

Scorched he was, and frozen too, for never would he move an inch.
Regardless of his brother's taunts and all the foulest orcish stench.
Just at his side, piled skyward high, a stack of every book he'd skimmed.
And on his face, marks of that stood, a drooping nose and eyes red-rimmed.

At last, one day, a saturday, the twentieth of December.
His brethren sought him out and said, "You're but a dying ember!"
"If you stay here yet one more year you'll be naught but a pile of bones,"
"With no sound left to comfort you save all your cousins saddened moans."

Suddenly then, he looked at them, and shifted from his stool.
"You're right," he said, "I'll soon be dead. I'm nothing but a fool."
"I've lingered here so long, so long, I've read so much!" He bleated.
And with peep, that Warg did weep, and to his cave retreated.

The next day came, both bright and lame, and his unhappy kin.
They rapped concernedly upon the door of his tepee, and he swiftly let them in.
"How have you been," they said to him, "since from your perch you ran?"
He answered not, they said "Fear not! We have a cunning plan."

"You've got a lot of smarts, that's true, but we've a good position"
"For you to fill, you lucky Bill, it's a good proposition."
"The army's the thing, to put step in your swing, and your shame shall be lifted."
"You dashing pup, we've signed you up! Good lad, you've been conscripted!"

The warg was most confused at but nodded through the speech duration.
When they were finally complete, they dragged him to the nearest station.
“This bonnie lad,” said that Warg’s dad, “he wants to be enlisted.”
“I’m not quite sure,” the bookwarg said, but all his kin insisted.

So in the army he was now, a military fellow
Whose breast did blaze with medals raised, his belly never yellow.
But that Warg was not all content, he moped and sobbed and moaned
For he still mist his learning and the lit’rature he’d owned.

But, as time passed, his fervor grew, and marched he each new day.
Whene’er a fight reared up its head, he soon would join the fray.
And with a smile upon his lips, a grin upon his muzzle,
He’d bravely fight, and then, that night, much Warg-draught would he guzzle.

And then, one cold and stormy night, the Warg-troops, in disguise,
Did happen on a band of Elves, and, taken by surprise,
Were captured by the troop of folk who knew not who they were.
The wargs did mope and had no hope that they’d not lose their fur.

One elf, though, took pity on them, and spoke then to her kin.
“It would be a most horrible thing,” she said, “a veritable sin”
“To slay or hurt these innocent beasts, they know not what their fault.”
“So now I say, send them on their way,” and the company did halt.

This maid was light that lit the night, a woman pure and fair.
Her eyes were blue as ocean pools and sunlight filled her hair.
She wore garb neat, from head to feet, which glowed a radiant blue.
She was so perfect; it was thought she must’ve been Ainu.

Heeding the word of the Elven maid, most beautiful and regal,
They freed the Wargs in captivity, and gave them draught illegal.
The Wargs departed, fleeing quick, back to Morannon.
But told they were to go back in force, their masters said “Anon!”

So, angered in verve, but ready to serve, the Warg-troop hurried back,
And found the elves who’d captured them asleep on that same track.
There was a battle, very brief, which ended without blood.
But plenty of mess, I must confess, as they rolled in the mud.

The Wargs, they say, then took the day and all the Elves were taken.
They were thrown down, and there were bound, and thought themelves forsaken.
But, he who this song talks about looked down on them with pity.
He felt for them in this dark place, so terrible and gritty.

The prisoner elves were taken off to the great Dark Lord’s hideout.
He was so pleased, he burned his knees. His messenger did ride out
And greeted he the victory-ous army coming hither.
With long tirades and some parades, he halted all the dither.

Before Sauron the elves were thrown. He jeered for quite a time.
And then he said, “Ye should be dead, you filthy Elvish slime!”
“Warg guards, most honored by my hand, I have a great solution.”
“Take every elf to the weapon shelf, and prep for execution.”

Suddenly, through our Hero-Warg, a pang of pity shot.
From all these elves, a day ago, more pity had he got.
Without a thought, for good or naught, he stepped before the Eye.
He said with grace and a brave face, “I shall not let them die!”

“They spared my life, and many more, they are good folk and kind.”
“And I feel that I must help them when they are in a bind.”
“So Lord so Dark, please hear me, Hark! Accept my humble plea.”
“If you have heart, release their part, and give the elves to me.”

Though the Dark Lord was by this soured, the plea had touched his soul.
He was no heartless wretch or fiend, no rat or mouse or mole.
His eye was great, but in that state, his heart he could not see it.
So with a sigh, and a blink of his eye, he rose and said, “So be it!”

The Elven maid who our Hero saved was unbound and arose.
She sprinted to our Wargy friend and, in most flashy prose
Outpoured her thanks to him, her friend, but ended that with this.
Upon his wet and dirty snout, she planted a small kiss.

Without warning he got the thing, and, though he hadn’t earned it.
He turned to her with bristling fur, and readily returned it!
And set they were, with gold and myrrh, to be a bride and groom.
Without delay, the very next day, they married ‘neath Mount Doom.

They lived in happiness extreme for many merry years
Inhaling grog and rum and ale and several orcish beers.
On Gorgoroth, in a shack they lived, with their bouncy boy baby
Until one day, as the storytellers say, their cousins came for tea.

They asked him then, “So, laddy Ben, are you really happy, son?”
“With all your mad adventuring are you really truly done?”
“What of you’re learning, all your books, what of your myths and lore?”
“Has all that been forgotten now and do you want no more?”

He looked at them most happily and straightaway did say.
“The greatest piece of knowledge known I learned upon that day.”
“For all my reading, all my trips, it surely was to end.”
“Because I needed but one thing, and that thing was a friend.”