The Warg and Warg Rider Appreciation Thread

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

That sounds like a nasty little tale Samwise, though compelling certainly.

It is interesting that we touch on the subject of songs, for songs about Wargs were the norm in Middle-earth (or so I am led to believe). Easterling marching songs would probably have sounded terrifying to a lone Warg, especially if the content concerned Warg murder.

There was once a time when Elrond and his Elves were hunting troublesome Wargs near Imladris. They had surrounded the last remnant of Wargs and before long, the fight was under way. Most Wargs were slaughtered, but around 40 of them managed to escape. For the next few days Elrond and his following hunted the last remaining Wargs and would sing

"Oh! Forty Wargs remain!"

over and over, until they found and destroyed them. A sad story I think, but the origins of a famous chant.

[Maeggaladiel]

Dear Esteemed Eomer of the Rohirrim and Company:

It has come to the attention of the Society of Nearsighted Elves (otherwise referred to in this letter as "Society", and "We"), for which I am founding member and spokesperson, that a number of wild wargs roaming the plains of Rohan are in danger of extinction due to ignorant civilians who believe them to be evil. The Society believes this to be a problem worth consideration. Although normally the Society champions efforts to aid visually impaired fey folk with our Foundation for Nearsighted Elves, we have agreed to start a campaign to raise citizen awareness to protect the elusive and often misunderstood Wild Warg. We intend to collect enough signatures and donations to write a formal letter to King Aragorn of Gondor and the current rulers of your kingdom, Rohan, to create an international Warg Protection Law.

Under this new law, the following proposals would be addressed:
*An area of land to be set aside as a wildlife reserve to allow the wargs to run freely.
*A national quota for the amount of wargs hunted each year.
*Scientific investigation into the natural habits of the warg.
*Warg breeding programs to help raise the failing warg population.

We of the Society would like to ask your esteemed group if you would support us in this crusade to save the wild warg. Have you any concerns that you wish to be adressed?

Save the Wargs
Maeggaladiel,
Public Relations/ President/ Founding Member/ Poster Child,
The Society for Nearsighted Elves

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

I am sure you all mean well at the society, but I'm not sure you really understand the Warg, wild though these Wargs may be. Wargs are many times more powerful than Men and Elves and I am not sure that we could wipe out Wargs, whether by accident or even if we really put our minds to it.

However, it is nice to meet another Downer who is concerned about Wargs as we at the Appreciation Thread are.

I'm going to Madrid. There are several legends and myths concerning Wargs in the Spanish capital. I'll share some of them when I come back.

[Maeggaladiel]

The Society for Nearsighted Elves would like to offer Eomer and Company our humblest apology for the misunderstanding.

It would appear that SOMEONE at headquarters was not wearing their prescriptive lenses while reading about the so-called "Warg Issue" before proposing an action to the rest of the sociey. This elf will remain annonymous, but offers his most humble apology. It just goes to show how important funding nearsighted elves really is. Because without our glasses, we're just a bunch of near-blind idiots with pointed ears.

Sorry again for the misunderstanding,

Maeggaladiel of the Four Eyes
The Society for Nearsighted Elves

PS-- Have fun in Madrid!

[SamwiseGamgee]

With Eomer gone it appears I must take the warg and run with it, so to speak, as regards this thread. And so he goes to Madrid. Perhaps he will from afar sight the Great White Warg of Portugal. I can only hope.
I myself travelled over 350 miles yesterday in an attempt to sight that most infamous of wargs- the Greater Govan Warg. I was unfortunately denied this opportunity, but thankfully I was able to visit a Lesser Spotted Tree Warg in its natural habitat. a beautiful sight. with the Easter holidays on I'd be interested to hear of any warg sightings on the holiday travels.

[SamwiseGamgee]

Where have all the wargs gone? Who knows?
Anyway, I shall answer the question earlier posed regarding sightings of holiday wargs. It was on my recent trip to Dublin that I saw the Green Warg. Many have thought it a legend, but the green fur of this creature is indeed fact, though a misleading one. The green is, as you may have suspected, moss and fungus which thrives in the unusually long hair of what is in fact the long haired genus of the Celtic Warg, common in the highlands of Scotland and Eire.
The warg in question is known by the locals as 'Ivan' and his escapades are fondly recounted in folklore, often accompanied by the beat of the bodhram and the blow of the whistle. There is little which compares to an Irish folk song regarding wargs!

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Thank you Maeggaladiel! I did indeed have fun in Madrid and I recommend that you and the others check it out at some point in your lives.

Hail Samwise! I am glad of the effort you have put into the thread during my absence. I have heard of the Celtic Warg but have not yet seen it, Scottish though I am. One of these days I shall indeed go on a trek through the Highlands in order to discover this grand creature.

Little did I know that the Spanish hold Wargs in such high regard. I visited a quiet part of Madrid, where the tourists go not and the locals are generally left to go about their humble ways. In a small square call Herrera Marchena, there is a fabulous statue of a Warg, nigh on 30 feet high. Wonderful so it is. It dates back to the 17th century, and the inscription roughly translates as; "Oh Warg! Recieve our love and protect us throughout. We are your people." Its not exact but that's pretty much the gist of it.

Truly a sign that the Madrilenos love Wargs in much the same way as we love our Gods.

[SamwiseGamgee]

In Middle Earth there live many strange and mysterious creatures. Those known as shepherds of the forest, great mountains which walk at night and demons of fire inhabit the same lands as halflings, giant spiders and men. There are legends and stories surrounding all these beings- man, elf, dwarf or otherwise. None, however, is surrounded by quite as much lore as the story of the Warg Rider.
In elder day if ever a young child were rude to his parents or would not sleep at night he would be warned: 'Hush, or the Warg Rider will get you!' And trust, that always hushed them, for they knew well of the Warg Rider. Black Scourge he was known as, or Cam Beleg, that is Mighty Hand. Some said that to stare into his eyes was to stare into one's own nightmare, and few who looked upon that terrible gaze slept another night soundly until they travelled West, for his eyes were not that of any creature from Middle Earth.
The Warg Rider was no mere mortal. The warg bows to no man. His ways are mysterious and for any to try to control him would be folly. The warg does as he pleases, and whether time or history judges him great or fell he concerns himself not with, for he is a warg and as such he thinks on greater things than any mere mortal such as you or I could ever contemplate. The Warg Rider was of the lesser Maiar. His will was furious and as steel. Long had he learned at the feet of Melkor, and when his deceitful Master rebelled so too did his student. For many years the Warg Rider served his Master, until greed and ambition overcame him. He was the master of Caracharoth, and long had he fed that fell beast at the feet of Melkor, and it was there that he hatched his foul plan.
As he sat with his Dark Lord he looked upon those most beautiful of things ere shaped by the hands of any: the Silmarils. And as he looked upon them so his heart grew envious, and day by day his jealousy grew and grew so that he could restrain himself no longer. He spake to his beloved friend Caracharoth, saying: "Surely we could have those for ourselves. Then we could rid ourselves of all opponents and become Lords of the Earth!"
Caracharoth was not so sure, though. He was weary of the Warg Rider's inane babble and so, in a faceless act of self-promotion, he went to the Black Throne and told Melkor of the Warg Rider's fell plan.
Melkor's fury was as the stampeding hooves of the Rohirrim, and the sky was filled with thunder as the Dark Lord poured out his fury upon the Warg Rider.
"So you would have us all bow to you, mighty Cam Beleg? You would take the jewels of Feanor from my crown and have them for yourself? Your treachery runs blacker than I had imagined, and your heart is of deceit and nought else.
"You could have been my mightiest Lieutenant had you not had delusions of grandeur. Instead, you will become my most accursed foe!"
And with that the Dark Lord struck down on the Warg Rider and restrained him to a body of an orc, hunched and ignoble with all the glory he once held dear but a distant memory. His black skin was a mass of open sores and pox and a great stench followed him everywhere.
"Go, now, treacherous spawn of the maw. May your days be many and each as unpleasant as the one before!" And so did Caracharoth chase the Warg Rider from the fortress of Angband and into the wilderness, where he roamed for many a year. In that time he committed many a foul deed and found himself many foes and allies alike by his deceitful tongue and eyes. Among those allies were the wargs, and from there begins the true story of the Warg Rider.
For some unknown reason the Warg Rider had a natural affinity with wargs. After all, was that not why the Dark Lord had chosen him as the keeper of Caracharoth? And so, by means foul or fair the Warg Rider grew a great number of wargs unto himself. Never did he make an attempt to take land or establish his own fell kingdom. He simply roamed from land to land with his armies making war with all he encountered.
It should be noted that the Warg Rider had also drawn a great number of men, orcs and other fell beasts unto himself. His army was not simply of wargs, though it was strong. Strong enough, in fact, that the Warg Rider judged his arm was long enough to avenge his humiliation: he would seek out Melkor and show him just how strong he had become.
In preparation for this most audacious of attacks the Warg Rider called all strength unto himself. All his allies were made to repay their favours and so his army was vast. As the sand upon the shore the men numbered, and twice as many orcs marched. And there, at the head of the army were the wargs. Few have ever dared estimate just how many wargs the Black Scourge managed to recruit. Some say one thousand; some say one thousand times that number. None truly know, though, and it would be useless to suppose. Suffice to say that when Melkor heard of the great host that marched upon his fortress he did sit up on his Black Throne and take notice.
At the very head of the army the Warg Rider rode upon the mightiest of wargs known to him. Some called his the Red Fury, and yet other Devourer of Souls while the Easterlings had named him the Dream Eater. Truth be told, all but that warg himself had forgotten his name: Kharak the Great, great grandfather of Kharak the Cruel, King of Moria, named the One Eyed. He was the greatest warg who ere walked upon Middle Earth. Blacker than the night was his fur, and his eyes were blue and brown and green and red all at once. His frame was as that a score of massive bulls and his strength beyond double that. He was the greatest of the great and all who were in his presence were at odds with themselves as to whether they should fall to the ground in awe or flee in terror. Kharak cared not what others thought or said of him, he lived only for his destiny: to slay a child of Arda and bring a time of peace in Middle Earth. Such had the Lord Ulmo told him and such would come to pass, of this Kharak was sure.
And so after a great trek came the army of the Warg Rider to that great Black Gate of Angband, with the Thangorodrim casting a dark shadow across his path, and thus he spake: “Here returns Cam Beleg, the Black Scourge, called the Warg Rider. He that was accursed and cast out by that most jealous of Masters has returned and wishes an audience with the Dark Lord!”
There was a gasp in the fortress. Few had dared to even look upon its walls, much less challenge its Lord. Nonetheless, from his Black Throne did Melkor stir, and answered him thus: “Your nerve has changed not, little creature. Do you not realise you are as a speck to me. I could crush you like rotten fruit if I pleased.
“My mercy has been great in allowing you to live, now get thee hence before that mercy runs out!”
In his very soul the Warg Rider was set alight with fury, and with a wrath which took even Melkor by surprise he screamed: ‘I shall not be gone! Open your Black Gates, or have them opened for you!”
At his word his army was inspired and he let out a mighty shout, but Melkor’s wrath was now ignited and so the Black Gate of Angband was opened, and its terrible retribution poured out on the Warg Rider’s army. From Angband came orcs, men, balrogs and dragons, and their anger was awful.
Of the many battles fought that day surely one of the greatest was between Ughruk, Prince of Moria and son to Kharak and Morthlak, Lieutenant of the Balrogs, second only to Gothmog. These two creatures did clash at the gates of Angband, and their battle was consuming to the last. Though Ughruk’s fur was on fire he fought on, determined to slay his opponent and go on to help the Warg Rider in his quest for justice- for as such did the warg Rider legitimise his attack upon Angband. His determination would prove for little, though. The two locked in mortal combat, and though his silver fur was ablaze and it filled his mouth with the pain of one thousand burning brands Ughruk drove his fangs deep into the throat of Morthlak. The fell demon of fire was wounded beyond repair and knew so as he fell to one knee, his great wings casting a shadow across the battlefield as though the sun had been pierced through her heart. His treachery was not satisfied, though, for as he fell he drove his sword of flame deep into the heart of his foe and the scream that Ughruk let out is still referred to today when a mischievous child asks what that noise was his mother tells him it was Ughruk’s death cry, and to hush now. And so these two foes fell side by side at the Black Gate of Angband.
Meanwhile, Kharak the Great and the Warg Rider dove through the throng of Melkor’s armies and ever closer to the Black Throne. As they went they slew man and orc indiscriminately. The fury of the Warg Rider is still talked of this day, and it is said his eyes glowed redder than the blood of a lamb as he and Kharak burst into the Great Hall of Angband and there he set eyes upon the Dark Lord, Melkor. From the back of Kharak he slipped as he stood and addressed Melkor.
“Cower now in your throne! I have earned my audience with you now, Dark Lord, so hold silence while I speak!” And so did he speak: “You cast me out when you should have taken me closer. What is it that is oft said in the drinking halls of men: keep your friends close but thine enemies nearer!
“Well, Dark Lord in your Dark Castle sitting on your Dark Throne, what say thee now? I am Fausiel that is named the Mighty Hand, and the Black Scourge and the Warg Rider. I am a child of Arda and I have come to claim what I deserve: the jewels of Feanor you wear upon your crown!”
At that Melkor stood, and the very earth trembled and battle halted as his voice filled the air, and it was like thunder and lightning. Deeper than the depths of Ulmo’s oceans and yet shriller than the cry of the lark, and it froze the blood of all who heard it.
“You have grown strong indeed if you think you can challenge me. I too am a child of Arda, do you forget? I am the mightiest of that family and as such you should fall to your face and worship me. But no, you challenge me. So be it.”
And at that moment from behind the Warg Rider pounced Kharak the Great, and he sunk his great claws deep into the chest and his huge fangs deep into the throat of the Warg Rider!
“What is it they say: keep your friends close, but thine enemies closer?” said Melkor, his laughter filling the sky and trembling the roots of the mountains, “That doesn’t seem to work, now, does it.
“This is Kharak, son of Caracharoth!”
And so all at once the Warg Rider realised that the power and deceit of Melkor ran deeper and blacker than he could ever have hoped to fathom. As he died he stared deep into the eyes of Kharak, and there he saw all the pain and suffering of the wargs at his own deceitful and brutal hands, realising he had grown overconfident in his own accomplishments. And so died the Warg Rider.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Lots and lots of respect your way Samwise! That story was awesome!

It makes me think that other Orcs since then have taken up the title of 'The Warg Rider', though they are not the original. Perhaps a sign of respect to their hero. I say this because there are definitely records of Third Age characters such as Theoden of Rohan being tormented by The Warg Rider. A very interesting revelation.

[SamwiseGamgee]

Thank you for your kind words, Eomer. The story, of course, isn't mine, though. I have merely shared history with you and so no glory can be mine.
I think you are probably right as regards your supposition on others taking the name of the Warg Rider. After all, that was a title given to him much as Cam Beleg or Black Scourge, so it is possible that others were given that title.
However, none would be quite as great as the 'original and best'.
Eomer, as far as a warg protection society goes- it may not be possible to protect the warg- for he needs it not- but we could always line our own pockets with the donations. What think thee? Choose swiftly!

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

It would be most dishonest to steal from other Warg enthusiasts (regardless of how much leffe we could buy with the earnings!).

The name Cam Beleg, Samwise, I have heard it before. Wither have we seen it in modern times? Do you know?

[SamwiseGamgee]

Cam Beleg, literally translated, means Mighty Hand or Fist.
In recent times there has appeared a superstar in the crazy business of sports entertainment who goes by this name. He is showcased on WWE SmackDown! and is a fearsome creature, though not the scelerious wretch that the original was!
I hope that answers your query, Eomer. And by the way- surely a lifetime of warg burgers and Leffe could justify anything?

Hearing all these wonderous tales, I have been inspired to tell you my tale, it is not a very long tale nor does it have a story to tell. Infact i just wanted to tell you all that during my extensive travels, i happened upon an outcast warg, shunned for not taking part in the slaughter of women and children. We came to an agreement to become partners, him allowing me to ride on his back while i protected his flank with my mighty recurve bow, and together we roam the lands killing whomever we please, good or evil. But we have drawn the line at killing women and children. Together we search, looking for our next prey. For those who frown upon us, take into consideration that we kill the bad guys too and if you still don't like us, stay out of the way. Simple as that. We are currently searching for other wargs and riders who share our feelings, so as to make a pack.

Just wanted to inform you all of that fact, so i shall take my leave now

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Debate currently rages in the N & N forum concerning that mysterious Tolkien character, Gothmog of the Third Age. The aim is to discover who this Gothmog was, for Tolkien gave us but small scraps of information concerning him (or indeed her - though I shall use the term 'he' henceforth). He was lieutenant of Morgul. He assumed control of Sauron's army after the death of the Witch-King. These are givens, and the rest is clever detective work.

For many suppose he was either Orc, Man, or Ringwraith. I think that Gothmog was none of these.

I believe he was neither orc nor (ordinary) man because he had to command orcs and men. Orcs would dislike following a man and vice versa. For such a major role a bigger character is required. Sauron surely thought this too.

Some believe that the answer is now simple: to lead the army, in the event of the Witch-King's death, another Ringwraith is needed. But I find this unlikely too. An interesting point concerns the name itself. No other Ringwraith is named personally; the Witch-King is a title; Khamul is mentioned but not in a finished work. This is probably to make the Ringwraiths more detached and impersonal; possessions of Sauron.

But what also gets me thinking is that Gothmog was not described at all. There would be no reason not to mention that another Ringwraith took the Witch-King's place. The compiler loved Ringwraiths, as is shown by other chapters of the book. I believe Gothmog was left out of the story as much as possible due to a grudge on the part of the compiler of the story (biased Hobbits).

Whom do Hobbits hate, and are powerful enough to lead armies of Orcs and Men? Gothmog was a Warg, I deem. We know that Witchy was Sauron's favourite, that's probably why Gothmog did not have full command regardless. Or it could be that Gothmog was actually a weak, wretched, corrupted Warg, able still to lead Orcs and Men but actually below the level of the top Ringwraith.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

In the Barrow-Downs section of the forum, Lalwendë has provided us with the link to a very interesting piece of equipment. Google trends gives information on search terms entered into Google, and arranges it by location. Thus we are able to discover places in the world where folk are particularly interested in Wargs! If I can copy a post...


Regions

1. Sweden

2. Poland

3. Finland

4. Germany

5. United Kingdom

6. Canada

7. Australia

8. Netherlands

9. United States

10. France



Cities

1. Stockholm, Sweden

2. Szczecin, Poland

3. Wroclaw, Poland

4. Poznan, Poland

5. Lodz, Poland

6. Krakow, Poland

7. Warsaw, Poland

8. Gdansk, Poland

9. Katowice, Poland

10. Goteborg, Sweden



Not to disparage famed Warg-appreciating lands such as Peru ( ) because of the language issue, but my goodness! My respect for the wonderful people of Sweden and Poland just increased tenfold!

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

You had no idea what I had to bribe Mandos with before he let me read this.

And then I had to bribe him some more to get him to translate it.

Praised to the highest be the One, the Father of all.

Praised to the highest be the creator of the Grawlar, the ever-discarnate, the offsprings of his spirit.

Seven Grawlar he created, the true Firstborn, the Wargs of Might, ere the Timeless Halls were builded.

Princedom he conferred upon Varsur, first of the Firstborn, mightiest of the created.

With precious stones he clad him, symbol of his office, mark of his authority.

Oushd afh Aghia [meaning unknown - translated from the Wargish by Námo]

This is not the entirety of the manuscript, but I ran out of Gummibärchen with which to bribe him.

It agrees, to the least detail, with the account in Olórin's manuscript that I found in Ingwë's house. But interesting were the words 'true Firstborn'. Later in the manuscript I found the words 'true Followers' preceding the word 'Ainur' (I learned a few Wargish words from atarinya, who is, after all, a Warg-friend.) May it be that Eru's creation of the two Children in Eä parallels that of the Grawlar and the Ainur?

But, alas, the Ainur are offspring of his thought, yet the Grawlar are of his spirit.

(Must find more Gummy Bears--apparently he likes the orange ones.)

[Morthoron]

With all the controversy swirling about the underappreciated wargish population, I thought this would be appropriate to repost here. It is an interview I did with a warg soon after the debut of The Two Towers:

The Dark Elf discusses the finer points of cinema with a warg

The Dark Elf: Mr. Warg, it has come to our attention that the wolfish population of Middle-earth has been set on its collective furry ear by the dramatization of wargs in the film The Two Towers; which is to say, you feel Peter Jackson characterized you rather badly. That is, not 'badly' in an evil sense, which you certainly are, *The Warg nods approvingly* but rather ineptly.

Warg: Yes, my dear chap. Having reviewed the suspect footage, I must say I found it to be wanting in every respect. I mean really, the only time I have seen such a sunken gut on one of my kin was when poor Uncle Lupine contracted worms. Nasty parasites, those.

TDE: Yes, I suppose so. Then you feel misrepresented?

W: Certainly! As if to be continually associated with those foul Orcs wasn't bad enough, we are now portrayed as if we've been cross-bred with snub-nosed, gangrel hyenas! It's all too much, really.

TDE: How so?

W: Hmmm...aside from the horridly distorted image of wargs presented by Peter Jackson in his flawed film, another mischaracterization from a plot standpoint deals with warg-kind used as saddled were-ponies, which of course is patently ludicrous! This is primarily due to Mr. Jackson’s incessant pillaging of a non-canonical source: The Hobbit.

TDE: Then your characterization in The Hobbit was incorrect as well?

W: Good Lord, Man…I mean Elf -- pardon the slip -- The Hobbit was originally published as a children’s story; whatever resemblance it had with the Middle-earth cosmology as a whole was at first merely coincidental. This sordid juxtaposition was accomplished later via manic editing by the author in order to marry the plot of The Hobbit – however awkwardly -- with the far more serious storyline of Lord of the Rings. Nevertheless, the plot is rife with fairy tale elements. It’s Brothers Grimm meets the Völuspá! Talking trolls with Cockney accents? It’s absurd! Have you ever spoken to a troll? They are as dumb as doorknobs! One can’t expect more than a few grunts and a good deal of flatulence from the lumbering oafs.

TDE: And this rewrite of The Hobbit concerns your species in what manner?

W: Let's look at this logically, shall we? No self-respecting warg of some 500 pounds has the ability or inclination to carry about some pusillanimous Orc enmeshed in 50 or so pounds of chain mail. Their scent alone is enough to make one gag! We are not pack animals like those pompous Mearas (although I must say they are quite delicious in a bordelaise sauce with a nice glass of port to wash them down). I think it is a bit much to expect one of the proud lineage of canis lupus megaterribilis to accept the stirrup and bridle. It is far too over the top, even for a ham-handed director of Jackson’s ilk, don't you think?

TDE: Most definitely. Are there any formal protests planned?

W: No. The pack felt that picketing would be, if you will excuse the pun, merely 'crying wolf'. As nocturnal predators, we feel more direct action is called for. We shall be stalking Peter Jackson’s home in Wellington, New Zealand. If the bloated blighter should even pop his head out the front door, he shall make a tasty treat. After all, there is enough of him to feed the whole pack!

TDE: Hmmm...but don't you think large wolfish creatures slinking about in a modern city, even at night, would be cause for alarm?

*The Warg rolls his eyes*

W: Silly, we shall be in disguise, of course.

TDE: Ah, sort of ‘wolves in sheep’s clothing', as it were?

W: Quite.