W - like wet Wargs
1. The River - by Dwimordene
Mountains. It laughed its way through channels, splashing and foaming
against rocks, rushing through the Riddermark's rare gorges.
Green-blue-brown, with little white caps and bubbly trails, it swirled
and flowed through sun and the shade of cliffs, collecting trinkets:
Grassy drifts uprooted from wintry soil; silt that had settled on the
riverbed; the new seeds that came to rest on the waters and would find
a home downstream, there to grow greenly in the summer; blood...
And bodies. Two tumbled free of each other, choking and coughing when
the battering rocks broke the bond that held them fast. Then one clung
to the boulders, `til cold and hurt sapped his strength and left him
to the mercy of the river. The other, brute in strength and being,
howled the pain of bruised ribs and bones and broken claws as the
river swept onwards, tossed its foundling here and there, ducked that
great bulk beneath the waters `til at last, paws struck shoals.
The drenched, brown form heaved itself from the flood, water gushing
from mouth and abused nostrils. The warg shook herself, sending up a
spray of water, moaning and complaining a bit at the pain this caused,
but she was strong. She had survived. And now, free of all her
masters, `twas time to feed her own vengeful appetites...
But the river was merciful. Perhaps it remembered a certain kinship
with the other foundling?all waters recall the sea and the One Who
Sounds in the Depths, and the blood this one had left in the river
spoke of sea-salt.
Thus while the warg followed along the stony bank, too fearful of the
water's wrath for even hunger to drive her back in, the river bore the
other safely upon its breast. When at last the glitter of the sun upon
the water grew too bright, and the weight and chill of wet fur too
great for even hunger to overcome, the warg gave a last, disappointed
snarl, and made off to find a warm cave to rest in `til nightfall and
Only then did the current turn to wash its bounty up upon the shore.
The river flowed onward, then, as ever it had, slipping down its
channel, for 'tis not in the nature of rivers to linger. But for those
who had ears to hear it, the waters sang softly, repeating words more
than half-forgotten, but still flowing in the watery veins of the
world from out of an Age long past:
Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinomë maruvan.
Author's Notes: This is obviously drawn from "The Two Towers"!Movieverse. The Sindarin line at the end is a part of what Elendil said, when he made landfall in Middle-earth after the Akallabeth.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.