Not What I Am Supposed To Be|
Orcs, bah. I hate them. Snarlers they call my kind, or knife-fangs. They force metal into our mouths, straps around our heads and stomachs and then sit there on top taking all the glory. And they stink
I am a Warg, master of darkness. Misfitted in the eyes of Valar, forced into this shape by Melkor. Faugh. If I had my way we would turn on these orcs and Uruk-hai, rip them to shreds. Vengeance, oh it will be sweet. To taste black flesh rather than the pinkness of these humans.
We were not built to kill two legs or flowery Elves. We were built to find a carcass and tear it. Killing is not in my nature, I don’t understand why they make me do it. I am a scavenger…
I am a Warg, a black side, but I will change my coat. Long live the Horseriders, Long live Elves, Dwarves and the Northern Rangers. May Sauron fall and we of darkness return to our former haunts
I am sorry rider, who I hear being called Hama, I am sorry for what I am being driven to do.
Please shoot me pale-furred Elf with keen-sight and swift arrows from Golden-W
ood bow… end this slavery.
As I believe you say in your sleek gentle tongue; Hannon le, mellon.
Hannon le, mellon = Thank you, friend