The Warg and Warg Rider Appreciation Thread

[SamwiseGamgee]

Well all this talk of seeing wargs leads me nicely into the legend surrounding wargs according to the Dunlending Wildmen. Why? Well, the Dunlendings had a great respect and fear for wargs. They had no rightful name for them, they knew them only by the same name as they referred to gifts. This is because the Dunlendings believed that wargs were gifts, sent from their angels to guide and guard the Dunlendings.
One of the most famous Dunlending legends tells of Musht, a Dunlending who once met with a Warg on the highest summit of Middle Earth and was there imbued with super-human strength for having passed all the tests of that particular warg. It was after this that the Dunlendings told of how if any man looked upon a warg without a worthy soul then surely death would become him. I certainly hope your soul is worthy Ravenhill!

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Interesting Samwise. I would like to hear the other legends regarding Wargs from the People's of Middle-earth, that is, of course, if you know any others?

[SamwiseGamgee]

Well, of course, Eomer. I know many more. Perhaps you would like to hear what the people of Rohan thought of the wargs? I shall tell thee, though I am sure you already know, Rider of the Mark.
As you can imagine the Rohirrim were not great fans of wargs. When they clashed with enemy cavalry it was usually warg mounted orcs, and hence the bitter rivalry.
The legend of the Mark goes that wargs were once normal wolves who roamed the plains, quite happy and contented in their packs to live a life of peace. However, Morgoth in his evil plan took many of these wolves captive and much like the elves who would become orcs by his Morgul ways so would the wolves warp and transform into wargs, sent to forever blight humanity.
Of one warg in particular many stories are told in the eoreds, he who was named Ghrag the Awful. For many long years he reigned in terror on the eastern borders of Rohan, causing great fear and terror wherever he roamed. It was on hearing of this great plight that Eorl rode forth from Edoras on Felarof, his great steed, to meet this sore on his fair kingdom. When the two met the locals said that the sky darkened and a great chill covered all the land. For hours the two great foes battled, locked in a duel of fates. In the end it was Eorl who drove his sword through the throat of Ghrag and did spill his blood. It is said that upon the ground where the blood of Ghrag was spilled no thing has ever lived, and that any who step there will be taken by a deadly fever.
PS- Eomer, how do you spell eloqution?

[Kransha]

As a follow up to "The Warg of Wantley," I dug up this old work or rustic Germanic folklore. Its a primitive, one-rhyme-scheme verse about the daughter of the last warg king and how a band of motley elk hunters from Hamburg slew her most ignobly (told from the point of view of one Eglebert Saxonhead, one of the hunters). If only I could locate something good about wargs, rather than all this morbid stuff about killing the noble beasts. What a pity...

Das Letzte Warg - Daughter Der Warg König
(The Last Warg - The Warg King's Daughter)

The last great warg king left a daughter
Who bounded her way here over water.
For sport, so we thought, we bought guns and we sought her.
We hunted and hounded and cornered and caught her.

A lumbering, cumbersome, grumpy old snorter,
She turned out far tougher than we had first thought her.

We gave her no quarter, but faced her and fought her,
Lost count of the means we were forced to resort ta
Yet, to cut a quite cruel account shorter,
We blew her to bits with a shell from a mortar.

Of course, they brought in a sort of reporter,
A devious, merciless story distorter,
Who wrote of a glorious slaughter.

Brings a dreadful tear to your eye, don't it? What a waste, what a waste. This just shows the lower class under-appreciation of the flawless wargs and their kin.

[SamwiseGamgee]

Kransha, once again your research to bring us new tales of warg butchery are, whilst enjoyable, grave and harrowing! How can one be expected to take this kind of abuse of wargdom in all its fair forms lying down! It's horrible!
Perhaps an account of the Numenorean legend of Tar-Aldarion and his famous encounter with a warg will lighten the heart. Tar-Aldarion, or Anardil, was of course a King of Numenor who sailed oft abroad to Middle Earth. There he would seek counsel with Gil-Galad and wander amongst the glades and forests, seeking new life and to learn of the quaint ways of the people there.
It was on one of these days that Tar-Aldarion met his first warg, though he named it Ancalime, after his daughter, for it was the fairest thing ere his eye had seen save his eldest daughter, to whom he would later surrender the sceptre.
It was on a fair summer morn, early so that the haze of dawn was still heavy, when Tar-Aldarion happened upon a clearing in a small forest, occupied by a great warg. Its fur was golden, and the light danced upon its tips in the morning sun. His face was noble, a chisseled visage with two great eyes of deep brown. In those eyes, Tar-Aldarion later swore, a man could have become lost and never again appear. The great creature was the first to speak, and indeed Tar-Aldarion was glad, for he had become speechless and would not have known how to address such an ancient creature of obvious nobility. It spake of how Tar-Aldarion must be careful of his kingdom. It told how while he sailed abroad his wife grew restless and longed for her husband's love. Tar-Aldarion vowed that in those deep, dark eyes he saw his wife, Erendis, on the coast of Numenor, longing for him. The creature urged him not to tarry too long in Middle Earth, ere he lose his grip with his left hand by stretching too far with his right.
Tar-Aldarion asked for the name of the creature, but it would not share. Long the pair tarried and spake of this thing and the next, and Tar-Aldarion did find the counsel as meaningful if not, indeed, more so than that of Gil-Galad.
When the sun was high and the warg's fur did glow golden so that Tar-Aldarion could not bring his eyes to look directly upon it the creature took his leave. For a long time after did Tar-Aldarion tarry at that spot, and to this day it remains a holy place, where few would dare to tred. The elven folk told Tar-Aldarion they had often seen the creature roaming through the woods near their homes, though they thought it a foe. Tar-Aldarion was outraged and beseeched Gil-Galad that he would ensure no harm would befall this Ancalime in his absence. Gil-Galad did not understand, but realised the importance of this and obeyed Tar-Aldarion, so that the penalty of death would hang over any man or elf who harmed this fair beast.
It was after this meeting that the warg became a creature of mythical power and greatness in Numenor, and folly would it be for a sailor to disembark from his ship without a prayer of thanks to Ancalime the Protector. Many songs were written in this golden period of Numenorean history regarding wargs, though they were never referred to as such, and it was not for many generations the warg became anything but a creature to respect and love.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

elocution - art of speaking clearly in public


Another great poem Kransha, and more wonderful legends Samwise. I salute both of you.


I have a story regarding one Vadim, who was a leader of a small group of Wargs who wandered in the Brown Lands some years ago. Now, these Wargs were not Great Wargs. In fact, they were rather small compared to other Wargs, and were not too renowned. These Wargs had wandered for years never roaming into legend or story. They had become quite shy to tell the truth.

Anyway, they were pressurized into cooperating with a very large group of Orcs who had a stronghold in Mirkwood. The Orc leader Gangamel was preparing a War with the Elves of Eregion, and needed all the force he could muster. The Wargs showed weakness (alas! tis true) and were forced into joining Gangamel's army. Gangamel was a particularly maniacal and evil Orc.

And so it came to what would have been Gangamel's first great stroke against Eregion. But oh joy! things did not turn out as Gangamel had planned. The Elves were strong, but the Orcs were vast in number and would probably have gained the upper-hand before long. It was not to be.

Vadim was very uneasy. He did not want to be in this battle. He felt terrible for the Elves who would probably be slaughtered. It was then, just as Gangamel had let loose his cry of War, that Vadim heard a great voice out of the sky, and all the other Wargs heard it too.

"Warg! You have no faith in Gangamel!"

No-one knew who's voice it was (though the Wargs themselves supposed it was the voice of the Creator himself) but at the hearing of it the Wargs leapt into a frenzy and started to unleash all Hell on Gangamel's Orcs! The Elves were delighted and joined in the slaughter. This was the vengeance of the Wargs on the Orcs for all the terrible things which Gangamel had coerced them into doing. Never again would an Orc fully trust a Warg.

Gangamel escaped to cause mischief in the future, but Vadim and his Wargs lived long and happy lives.

[SamwiseGamgee]

What a delightful little tale! It is true that a warg is rarely trusted by an orc, I had never realised that the story of Gangamel and Vadim was the reason for that. It's perhaps like that famous line of a song which goes:

This warg is outta control! Gonna burn this warg! Burn this warg!

Maybe you've heard it. It was a marching song of the Easterlings, part of a larger song about Lisiloth (pr. Li-sci-lo-gh) who was a warg running rampant throughout the lands of the East. He would often ravish sheep and feast upon young goats, that sort of devilry, you know. The Easterlings decided enough was enough and in an act of brutal vengeance they did ignite the pelt of Lisiloth and watch with massachistic delight as the warg burned and howled in pain. Lisiloth dived into a nearby lake, but by then it was too late, and his body was burned beyond saving. Perhaps I shall later include the full song.