The Warg and Warg Rider Appreciation Thread

[One of the Nine]

As for winged wargs, why not? That'd be a cool ride for a warg rider.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

One of the Nine, so nice of you to join us here at the Appreciation Thread.

Regarding languages, it is widely believed that Wargs spoke many languages, due to their immense capacity for learning.

Regarding the movie-Wargs, they were the single biggest mistake and act of disrespect in the entire trilogy. Compared to the movie-Wargs, movie-Pelennor fields was majestic. There was actually a website which is now closed (unfortunately) which listed everything wrong with the movie-Wargs. I believe the final count was in between 650-660.

[Osse]

<Walks up late to the conversation, carrying a poor, sick, bloodied Warg in his arms...>

Sorry I am late oh Lord Eomer! I recieved notice of this thread and immediately ran to be by your side, however, I was waylaid upon the road! A rather foolish old man thought it would be funny to throw pinecones at Phillipo here and myself as we rode unaware under a pine tree...

After a brief halt to lick our wounds, we continued valiantly on to this great warg-moot!

Alas! For once again we were attacked as we journeyed southwards... cruel, tall men, looking somewhat like yourself hacked at us! It was only through the cunning and strength of Phillipo here that we were able to fight our way through to you.

I Osse, lord of storms, pledge to thee!

[Mithalwen]

Erm is there a vet (possibly one whose youth was marred by Lycanthropy and therefore has chosen this unusual specialism) in the house? And is there a sanctuary for elderly and maimed wargs somewhere in ME? Like the home for dragons in Ankh Morpork?

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Hail and well met Osse and Mithalwen! So wonderful to have more subscribers to the Appreciation Thread.

Osse, your tale startles me, yet as I consider the long and unhappy history betwixt Wargs and Men, it merely follows a familiar pattern. Suffice to say, Phillipo is not the first Warg to be attacked by humans, and you are not the first person to be attacked by other Men for supporting a Warg. It is such a cruel world in which we live. Yet, all is not lost. I am honoured to recieve your pledge, and I only urge you to appreciate Wargs such as we here do.

Mithalwen, you touch upon a subject not yet discussed at the Thread. What of the aged Wargs? In which ways do they weaken with the years? As for maimed Wargs, I am of the belief that Wargs have amazing regenerative powers of healing and thus do not remain maimed for long. Is there a Man left alive who is skilled enough to treat a Warg? I don't know.

[Diamond18]

Originally Posted by Eomer of the Rohirrim

Mithalwen, you touch upon a subject not yet discussed at the Thread. What of the aged Wargs? In which ways do they weaken with the years?

Funny you should ask. In my ongoing quest to answer the question, "Are Wargs Immortal?" I have recently been traveling the world over, searching dark alleyways, old libraries, rock concerts, and fishing festivals, for clues to the natural life span of the Warg.

Due to the Warg's often dangerous and sometimes evil lifestyles, many die in ferocious battles before getting a chance to live to a Ripe Old Age. And most of the old tales focus on such Wargs; the deviants, the adventurers, the war-lords, and the tragic heros. Therefore, it is quite difficult to read up on the ones who go quietly in their sleep (if they indeed die without the help of blade or tooth or TNT). But I endeavored to do so, and here are my findings:

1.

In modern days, Wargs are extremely rarely seen. This fact has been established by many of our resident Warg Enthusiasts. I have discovered that the reason for this dwindling of such a magnificent species is none other than that they have lost the Warg-Wives.

Yes. I was in Mongolia at the time I learned this, rooting through an archeological dig in a cave once believed to be inhabited by Mongolian Warg-Rats (a derisive term for the local Wargs, who are considerably smaller than your average Warg. However they are just as, if not moreso, ferocious than other Wargs. So I would not call them that to their faces.) I found an ancient document which I spent many days translating from the Ancient Wargish. I have the first stanza done, and it goes thusly:

Where have all the Warg-Wives gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the Warg-Wives gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the Warg-Wives gone?
Damned if I know. Anyone?
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

Needless to say, I was tickled pink to have come across one of the only known documents of Angsty Warg Poetry. But before I go off making broad, definitive statements about the status of Warg-Wives, I should point out that it is unclear whether or not this was a widespread occurance. This may simply have been an event particular to the Wargs of the Mongolian plains, or the pack which lived in that one cave, or maybe the Warg who wrote the poem had been married lots of times. It is hard to say. I just know that the poor fellow was depressed, because some other documents found nearby contained such heartfelt laments as I Can't Get No Red Meat 'r Nuthin', I Howl When the Moon Isn't Even Full and I Wanna Be Domesticated.

Frightening to see a Warg fall so low. But I hear those Mongolian winters are nasty.

In summation of Point 1, the reason you have had such trouble sighting Wargs may be simply because they have little in common with rabbits, these days.

2.

If we speculate that the Wargs haven't got no satisfaction for a really long time, we would then have to formulate an explanation for why there are any left at all. Ruling out reproduction leaves only one obvious answer: Long or Infinite Life Spans. But which is it?

3.

After my Mongolian Adventure, I took my private jet to the Canary Islands in pursuit of a rumor that told of a Wargish Retirement home, where old Wargs sit on the front porch under afgans and reminisce about the Good Ol' Days. This would surely be conclusive evidence that Wargs age naturally (and therefore die naturally) so it was with great anticipation that I advanced upon the Islands. However, when I got there I found that it had all been a hoax and I ended up on the front page of the Canary Singer as their "Cuckoo of the Month". Needless to say, this ruffled my feathers.

4.

Regrouping, I went to Hawai'i and drank wine coolers with a Swedish Surfer Dude name Sven.

Er.

Actually, I went to Hawai'i with the express purpose of looking up Kakua Wakaka, the leading Polynesian Warg Enthusiast. I had heard from a sympathetic Canarian that K.W. houses a modest yet enthusiastic collection of little known Warg Tales, and I figured that even if that information proved futile I would at least be in Hawai'i!

As it turned out, however, K.W. and his Warg Library do exist. He graciously allowed me to pour over his documents, wine cooler in hand, and there I discovered the Single Most Fascinating Fact about Wargs that has, I believe, been shared on this thread to date!!!!!

It is a tale called Encyclopedia Brown and the Origin of Wargs and I will share it just as soon as I finish transcribing it from the ancient Polynesian Wargish.

[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.”

[One of the Nine]

Originally Posted by Eomer of the Rohirrim

One of the Nine, so nice of you to join us here at the Appreciation Thread.

Regarding languages, it is widely believed that Wargs spoke many languages, due to their immense capacity for learning.

Hmm... that leaves some open thought for me. Thanks!

Originally Posted by Eomer of the Rohirrim

Regarding the movie-Wargs, they were the single biggest mistake and act of disrespect in the entire trilogy. Compared to the movie-Wargs, movie-Pelennor fields was majestic. There was actually a website which is now closed (unfortunately) which listed everything wrong with the movie-Wargs. I believe the final count was in between 650-660.

Yeah, they definately got a lot wrong about wargs, not to mention the whole movie!

[Kransha]

O, Eomer of the Mighty Thread (and hair)! Alas, alack, too long has it been since I have driven my forceful hand into the beauteous mess that is this most noble of threads. But, anon I come again! With tales and tells, with lous and lays, to reminisce of the grand circumstance of wargdom!

Here, my friends, are some Fun!Facts! of Warg History.

- During the Third Age of Middle Earth, while Sauron kept himself in Mordor to muster his forces, an Warg League Baseball team, the "Gorgoroth Berserkers", embarked on a winning streak that has never been matched since in the annals of Middle Earth competitive inter-species sporting, defeating such favorites as the Osgiliath Sentries, the Lorien Rangers, the Rivendell Titans, the Harad Mumakil, and the Edoras Riders to finish both the 1348 and 1349 seasons undefeated, with a cumulative record of 263-0-3.

- It is said that when Luthien Tinuviel died, the whole world went into morning. This is true even for the Wargs -- over 6,000 Wargs held lit candles and arranged themselves at the Morannon to spell out the message "WE MIS U LUTHEN", which was said to have been visible by Eru himself. A Warg songwriter by the name of "Grrrrrrargh" composed a ballad to Luthien that was so haunting, it is still in use today as a drinking song in the halls of Rivendell.

- Many know the tale of Beren and Luthien, but few know that Beren's cousin Earl married an Warg-maiden named Snrlaa. Earl and Srnlaa moved to a suburb of Minas Tirith after their marriage and raised five children, living in married bliss for over 50 years.

- Until the unfortunate incident involving a hobbit and great Elf warrior, the tower of Cirith Ungol was a shelter for abused and neglected Gondorian wives seeking shelter from their husbands, as well as Faramirs and Boromirs seeking shelter from Abuser!Denethors. Ruffff, Warg-steed of Gorbag, who operated the Cirith Ungol shelter out of his own personal funds, said that the work was the "The most rewardin' work me and me lads could eva dream a' havin." (Translated 'loosely' from Wargspeak).

- There is a Warg living six miles south of Mount Doom, named Grufflesmuk, who can cross one eye independently of the other, and can point his eyes off in separate directions. It's really freaky, you totally need to see it. (Ref: John Ronald Ruel Tolkien, Forgotten/Lost/Misplaced/Ignored/Silly Letter #987.2, February 29, 1952)

- Though Saruman took the credit, the Warg named Ruglnkurf attempted to patent a method that he had invented of reducing emissions and increasing efficiency in Saruman's pits of industry. Though Ruglnkurf was never officially credited, his methods are still in use today at most modern steel mills and foundries.

- At the end of the Seocnd Age, as the Last Alliance fought against the host of Sauron, one group of Wargs, after convincing their riders to accompany them, attempted to make peace with the Elves besieging them. As Isildur sliced the ring from Sauron's finger, a few scant miles away Warg, Orc, and Elf alike were merrily drinking and carousing, playing games and leering indecently at Elf- and Warg-maiden alike. After the war, the Wargs who desired peace attempted to live in Rivendell, but found that the job market couldn't support such immigration and that rent was too high.

- The record for "Most Foes Slain In A Single Battle" is held by an Warg named Mishwak, in the Four-Hundred And Ninth Battle of the Westfold, with 212 opponents to fall before his sword. Both the Mouth of Sauron and a representative of the Steward of Gondor were on hand to award Mishwak with a plaque recognizing his efforts and the severed head of the record-breaking 197th kill, bronzed, which he almost devoured at the after-party reception. Commented Mishwak, "This, this right here -- this is proof that no matter where you come from, anyone has what it takes to be the best. This is for all the Wargs watching at home who thought they could never amount to anything!"

- Uthmrfff, in addition to being a skilled commander of the Warg Legions in the Siege of Minas Tirith, was also a pioneer in the fields of radioactive chemistry and X-ray research. Tragically, it was only due to Uthmrfff's studies of radioactivity that we now know of its dangers, and Uthmrfff himself was so afflicted by the radiation from all the samples he had handled that he contracted numerous cancerous tumors all over his body, the largest one - on the top side of his head - estimated to weigh over 15 pounds. He said that he would not elect to have it removed, to serve as a reminder to all of the unquenchable Warg spirit and thirst for knowledge.

[Nirvana II]

Are wargs just really big Wolves?

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Nirvana II, so nice of you to come here to the Appreciation Thread to discover more about Wargs. Albeit, you have some reading to catch up on! Wargs and Wolves are like stones and Elves (a Wargish version of our phrase "Chalk and Cheese"). Though their bodies are usually similar in proportion, Wargs are far larger in size. The average Warg is also around 670 times mightier than the average Wolf. Blessed with a divine wit and marvellous conversational skills, Wargs are also far more pleasant to be around (when they are friendly).

Kransha, truly wonderful to have you return to us! My, my, those outlandish facts were a delight to discover (not to mention hilarious) and they will no doubt be shared in many a pub throughout the lands tonight, and indeed any other night.

My particular favourite was the revelation that Wargs and Elves and Orcs indulged in alcohol and merrymaking during the Last Alliance. It is an oft overlooked attribute of Wargs that they are extremely roguish and thoroughly enjoy the more *ahem* salacious aspects of life.

This is the main reason why the prudish 'Gondorian Families United' marched in protest of Wargs in the year 458 of the Fourth Age, demanding the imprisonment of all Wargs of 'low moral standards'. Needless to say, the protest group were duly devoured by the unimpressed Wargs of Anfalas.

[Nirvana II]

but..wargs...are evil most of the time right?