The Warg and Warg Rider Appreciation Thread

[Kransha]

Ah, the noble warg and his master, the unsung heroes of unsungedness. What a marvellous concept has taken shape. I shall add my humble contribution, the lovingly paraphrased ballad. It is the sad story of the death of the regal Rawrrar, known to most as the Warg of Wantley, a vicious, gargantuan creature who wrough beautiful havoc on the small towns of the Westfold, and how he was smitten by the cunning Folc of Meduseld. So, without further ado.

The Warg of Wantley

Old stories tell how Gamgee, Sam
A spider slew at Ungol,
With six great legs and fourteen eyes,
To see and never bungle:
But he had Sting, this spider nothing,
Or he ne'er had done it, I warrant ye:
But Folc of Med-hall, with nothing at all,
He slew the Warg of Wantley.

This warg, he had two furious arms,
Each mounted 'neath each shoulder;
With a whip on his tail as long as a flail
Which made him bolder and bolder.
He had long claw's, and in his jaws
Four and forty teeth of iron;
With fur as tough as any buff,
Which did him round environ.

Have you not heard how the Trojan horse
Held seventy men in his belly?
This warg was just not quite so big,
But very near, I'll tell ye;
Devoured he poor children three,
That could not with him grapple;
And at one sup he ate them up,
As one would eat an apple.

All sorts of cattle this warg would eat,
Some say he ate up trees,
And that the forests sure he would
Devour up by degrees:
For houses and churches were to him geese and turkeys;
He ate all and left none behind,
But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack,
Which on the hills you will find.

Hard by a furious knight there dwelt;
Men, women, girls, and boys,
Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging,
And made a hideous noise.
"Oh, save us all, Folc of Med-hall,
Thou peerless knight of these woods;
Do but slay this wolf, who our homes will engulf,
We'll give thee all our goods."

This being done, he did engage
To hew the warg beast down;
But first he went new armor to
Bespeak at Upbourn town;
With spikes all about, not within but without,
Of steel so sharp and strong,
Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o'er,
Some five or six inches long.

Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he looked, and how big,
You would have thought him for to be
Some Egyptian porcupig:
He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all,
Each cow, each horse, and each hog:
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange, outlandish hedge-hog.

To see this fight all people then
Got up on trees and houses,
On churches some, and chimneys too;
But these put on their trousers,
Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose,
To make him strong and mighty,
He drank, by the tale, six pots of ale
And a quart of aqua-vitae.

It is not strength that always wins,
For wit doth strength excel;
Which made our cunning champion
Creep down into a well,
Where he did think this wolfhound would drink,
And so he did in truth;
And as he stooped low, he rose up and cried, "Oh!"
And kicked him in the mouth.

"Oh," quoth the warg with a deep sigh,
And turned six times together.
Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing
Out of his throat of leather:
"Folc of Med-hall, O thou rascal,
Would I had seen thee never;
With the thing at thy foot thou hast pricked my throat,
And I'm quite undone forever. "

"Murder, murder," the warg did cry,
"Alack, alack, for grief;
Had you but missed that place, you could
Have done me no mischief."
Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked,
And down he laid and cried;
First on one knee, then on back tumbled he;
So groaned, and kicked, and died.

[SamwiseGamgee]

Bravo, Kransha!
This tale of brutal warg murder, whilst thoroughly dispicable for its subject matter, is trully a delight to read. Your prose has raised the bar here at the Warg Appreciation Society's thread. I shall have to make sure that my next tale of warg mystery and intrigue is particularly superb. (Of course it shall be, due solely to the fact that it is about wargs!)
Today I depart for a two night trip to Dublin, Eire, with one of the fairest maiden's that ere man hath seen. I must beseech the gods that they shall send a warg to guide our path and make our footsteps swift. I look forward to coming back and readind hundreds, perhaps thousands, of new warg-related posts!

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Kransha, that poem was truly magnificent! You have surely embiggened this thread with your wonderful tale and I applaud and salute you for it.

In my next post I will tell a tale which shows the flip-side of Wargs. These treacherous rogues are not exactly a good advert for the sublime majesty of Wargdom. Nay, these Wargs typify why most of Middle-earth was so distrustful of Wargs. As Tolkien would surely agree, one of the greatest crimes is the misuse of power. When the power in question is that of the Wargs, devastation shall occur.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

The tale of the forgotten Men of the Grey Mountains.


The Withered Heath is a wretched, horrific, ghastly place on Middle-earth, yet it was once green and fresh, and merry Men were aplenty in the lush valleys (valleys considered even more lush than those in Chile on our world, which is really saying something. Have you ever visited Chile?). These Men lived in the Grey Mountains for parts of the year, and in the valleys in other times, especially summertime.

These people were protected by Wargs who lived nearby, though no-one ever found out where. The people had a huge respect for the Wargs, though there was never much contact between the two groups.

On the day of the terror, all the Men were in the valleys. It was summer, and a particularly fine summer too. They must have seen a great host of Wargs approaching them.

Here is where the story becomes difficult, as there were absolutely no survivors of the people. It was a massacre. Thousands upon thousands of corpses were discovered by other Men a couple of days later. There were also a few Warg bodies laying on the ground, shot with arrows. Only five; the Men were hopeless at defending themselves because they had relied on the Wargs for so long. The Wargs then torched the valleys, completely ruining the area, and so it became known as the Withered Heath.

The Wargs were identified as being alien to the Men, by travellers who had not been present for the massacre. They returned to their homes, and through their grief were able to pinpoint the differences between the Wargs. The dead Wargs were slightly smaller and had thoroughly different eyes to the Wargs who were recognised as protectors.

The Good Wargs were never seen again by Men. The Evil Wargs certainly did not remain in the same area. A couple more Warg corpses were discovered in open ground, probably around 50 leagues from the formerly lush valleys. These were identified as being protector Wargs. They had been murdered clinically.

No-one really knows what happened in those days. Most suppose that the Evil Wargs destroyed the Good Wargs before destroying the Men of the Grey Mountains. There are more outlandish stories as well. The problem stems from the fact that there were no human survivors.

[Maeggaladiel]

Hello, fellow Wargians!

Hast thou heard of the new Guide Wargs for the Blind program? Yes, warg breeders are sending warg puppies to Guide Warg school to help aid those with visual impairments.

Unlike Guide Dogs for the Blind, which use useless cuddly dogs like labradors, Guide Wargs not only guide but protect the visually impaired person from attackers!

Hope the program works!

***Guide Wargs for the Blind does not accept responsibility for death or dismemberment brought about by Guide Wargs.***

Wargies!
MAEG~

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

I can only imagine Great Wargs strolling down a busy street! Some Wargs have extremely short tempers, so I suppose that some people may die as a result of that scheme. But if I ever need looking after then a Warg would come top of my list.

So far the thread has been solely about Wargs but I'd like to talk about the Warg Rider. Rest assured, the Warg Rider is not a normal Orc as depicted in the movies. Oh no. The Warg Rider is a different being altogether. He is no mere Goblin. He is an intrinsically evil tamer of Wargs. He corrupts them to his will. He is very powerful indeed.

Just consider the list of foes who have tried AND FAILED to defeat him. Elrond, Theoden, Eomer, Faramir, Saruman, Galadriel, a host of Dunlending Wildmen and the ENTIRE RACE OF DWARVES! The only two foes he has ran from are Aragorn and Gandalf the White, for he knows that their ferocity is too much for him to handle.

The Warg Rider is cunning and feasts (not literally) on the weakness of some Wargs. He is a deadly enemy. Elrond once prophecised that the Great Wargs would one day seek for the Warg Rider and vanquish him for all that he has done to the good name of the Warg. Galadriel was not too sure whether Elrond was right or not.

[SamwiseGamgee]

Phew, back!
Well, the Warg Rider. I had been wondering how long it would be before we succumbed to the temptation of mentioning that creature. What an evil being he is. Few can comprehend just what he embodies in that evil green body of his. He is a walking (riding?) embodiement of fear and invokes terror in all who look on his face. Horrid.
I'm compiling at the moment some rustic legends and 'myths' as to the origins and roles of wargs, which I think would be interesting and perhaps even amusing for us to read. What, for example, was the Numenorean stance on wargs? All shall be answered.
PS Eomer, great signature!
This, Mrs Fawlty. This Mr Fawlty. This, slap on the head!