AU: The Taming of the Warg (Russ)

[Damien Tremblay]

Scouting was boring. That was what Damien had decided as he stood on top of the pile of ruins he’d scaled. His bow was held loosely in his hand, his quiver on his back, ready for action. The problem was, there wasn’t any. Not even the scent of an orc on the wind for miles. He was starting to think that their uncle had sent them on a wild goose chase just to get them out from underfoot from within Erebor.

He knew his brother couldn’t be far away. They worked best in a pair, always having one another’s back. ... Or getting one another into trouble. Which was probably why they were here, instead of running around the stone halls of the fortress they called home.

A noise caught the young dwarf’s attention, and he twisted around to see a lone Warg, minus an orc or troll or whatever else could have been responsible for it. Keen brown eyes searched, but there was nothing else on the wind. Just the one Warg.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Damien jumped down from the stones. “Heeeey Warg.” The large dog-like beast stopped dead and stared at him, a low growl coming from it’s mouth full of sharp teeth. “Hey boy. Nice Warg.” Maybe it would let him get close to it. He’d never seen one up close, mostly because whenever they were around, there was usually an orc equally close, and most likely trying to kill them. Now he had one close, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

What he hadn’t factored in was the fact that without direction, apparently wargs weren’t all that friendly. One moment the animal was just looking at him, and the next it was charging. This was so many levels of not good.

Dwarves were durable, yes, and had stamina to spare, but speed... was one thing they fell short on. He didn’t really want to shoot at the warg if he didn’t have to, but if it was life or death...

“RUSS,” he yelled as he ran, glad they hadn’t armored up prior to leaving Erebor. Okay, it might have come in handy if the warg tried to make him lunch, but if he was weighed down then he would have already been at least a snack by now. “RUSS, WARG. DO SOMETHING. BUT DON’T KILL IT.” How that was supposed to happen, he had no idea, but he still wanted to SEE the thing. Preferably before it ate him. Maybe Russell had a better idea other than running in circles.

[Russell Sands]

Unlike his brother, Russell adored scouting. To him it was all one big adventure and there was always something new to explore and to see. It didn’t bother him when days went by with nothing happening; he just adored being out and experiencing the world that lay outside the wall of their home.

He would of course be lying if she said there wasn’t any other reasons for his love of scouting the lands around their homeland. If he was out there, it meant he wasn’t having to be inside and learning all the ways of the court and ruling. He was still young and impatient and eager to see the world, and though he knew he had to take his responsibilities seriously, he really wasn’t quite ready to yet. He had a lot of weight on his young shoulders that he just did not want to carry yet, and while he knew that was not acceptable, it was difficult for him to feel any other way. His mind wasn’t one for sitting in halls and studying the history and laws of their kingdom. That could wait a while longer.

Sadly, his uncle didn’t always seem to agree.

Thankfully Russell was still allowed to go on frequent scouting trips with Damien. Whether that was because they were genuinely the best ones at it or because it got them out from under the feet of the other for a while, Russell wasn’t sure and frankly he didn’t care. Any reason was a good enough reason for him.

He had just scaled a small rocky overhang when he heard Damien calling from a short distance away. Despite the obvious worry in his brother’s voice, Russell couldn’t help but grin slightly. Finally, some real adventure! Running along the rocks as fast as he was physically capable of, he looked down into a little gully to see that there was indeed a warg chasing after his brother. The question was, how to stop it without killing it…

Russell moved along the rock ledge slightly ahead of the fleeing pair, and a mad thought occurred to him. Well… if it didn’t work, it would certainly be a tale to be recorded in the history books. When the pursuing warg was just about to pass below where he was stood, Russell leapt off, landing on the creature’s neck and grabbing fistfuls of fur. The massive beast let out a yelp of surprise, falling heavily onto its side as Russell’s weight threw it off balance. Russell clung on as tightly as he could, trying to use his weight to hold it down. It snapped its powerful jaws and writhed on the ground, but from where Russell was behind its head it couldn’t quite get to him. “No! Calm down, ya stupid animal. Settle now!”

[Damien Tremblay]

Scouting was only fun when something was happening. With the peace that seemed to have settled across Middle Earth for now, that was the problem. Very little happened, yet the boys were sent to scout regardless. Though it really was better than running around the fortress causing mischief, it was currently, very, very boring.

Damien didn’t envy Russell and his lessons and responsibilities. He was the heir, after all, while Damien himself was what he jokingly referred to as ‘the spare’. Yes, his mother often smacked him with something when he said it, but it was true. He was the spare, and while Russ had to learn about being a king, Damien could come and go as he pleased. That suited him just fine, as learning had never been something he’d enjoyed. He’d had more fun drawing in his books and inventing answers to questions about their history than taking things seriously. It had earned more than a few stern words from their instructors, not to mention their mother and uncle, but at Damien had pointed out repeatedly, he didn’t really need to know all of that. As long as he practiced swordsmanship and archery, he would be useful as a warrior. He could leave the learning to Russell, and be happy about it.

Being useful as a warrior did not include how to deal with living, angry Wargs, though. Especially when he didn’t want to kill it, but rather... well, an idea was forming. A very stupid, very reckless idea, which was typical for him. He wanted to try to tame the thing. How cool would it be to ride around on a Warg? Their cousin Dane had his crazy giant war pig, so why couldn’t he have a Warg of his own? He couldn’t think of a single reason.

As he ran, he looked up overhead at Russ, waiting for him to do something. What he did do, Damien hadn’t expected, but as the Warg tipped over the young dwarf skidded to a stop and turned to watch Russ. He cussed loudly in dwarfish before laughing. “You did it! You got him down!” Running back to his brother, Damien patted the Warg on it’s hindlegs, keeping away from the massive claws. “That was amazing, Russ!” Grinning, he looked at the snapping teeth. “Let’s keep it!” Because bringing a Warg home was just like finding a puppy and letting it follow you home. Only it was bigger, deadlier, and a whole lot meaner.

Which really, just meant it was more of a challenge. Damien liked challenges.

[Russell Sands]

If he'd have actually stopped to think about it, Russell would likely have just put one of his swords through the creature's back. He was opposed to cruelty and had a deep love of the natural world, but Warg's were corrupt beyond anything good, driven to bloodlust and carnage by the monsters that kept them as mounts. In all his years he had never met one that wouldn't have taken a chunk out of him on sight given half the chance, and Russell knew that killing this beast was the right thing to do, in the end.

Yet... his brother had all but pleaded for him not to, and to Russell, his brother was the most important person in the world. Idiotic, yes, but still someone he wanted to care for and bring happiness too. There was enough darkness in the world as it was.

With his weight behind the creature's head holding it down as best as he was able to, Russell clung onto handfuls of matted fur and kept himself hunched, avoiding the scrabbling claws and snapping teeth. “Aye I got it down; now help me keep it down, won't you?!?”

There was a part of Russell that was scared, of course. If this thing managed to get free now, it would likely make a meal out of both of them before they had a chance to bring it down. However, that fear was currently being crushed by a deep excitement. No dusty tomes, no boring politics and no courtly lessons to be learned. This was the adventure he craved! This was far more like it!

When Damien announced that he wanted to keep the damned thing, Russell shot him a look like he'd just sprouted another head. “Keep it? Are you out of your tiny mind? This is hardly one of Beorn's ponies, you know!”

[Damien Tremblay]

Thinking wasn’t Damien’s strong suit. Not by a long shot. He acted and reacted before thinking things through all the way, which was why he so often ended up in messes like this. No wonder their mother called him reckless.

The fact that Russ had gotten the animal down was impressive enough to render the dwarf temporarily stunned in awe. Thankfully, Russ’s question shook him out of it. After looking at the warg, he moved around it, careful of the claws, and joined his brother behind it. His arms locked around one hind leg, cranking it up slightly to keep it from flipping over. He was breathless, and a little scared, but this was what adventure was all about.

“God, it smells,” he complained now he was closer, curious eyes roaming the beast’s body. “What do they do to these things?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. Orcs were not known for their kind hearts.

“Oi,” he replied, reaching out with one hand to smack at Russ’s arm. “I’m not out of my mind! And I know he’s not a pony, or even a war pig like Dain has. But think about it! We’d be the only ones with a mount like him. We’d just need to... er... tame him. Somehow.” No, follow through was also not a strength, but Russs was the smart one. Surely he could figure it out.

[Russell Sands]

Russell always swore that whenever they went out scouting he would always bring his brother home safely... even though his brother sometimes made that promise a difficult one to keep. He adored Damien dearly, but sometimes he did find himself wondering if his brother had been born with the brain of a squirrel instead of a dwarf.

Still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was actually pinning down a warg, Russell shook his head to himself as he adjusted to try and get a better grip on the creature. In truth he didn't have a damned clue what he was doing, besides trying desperately to not end up a snack for it. When Damien grabbed its back leg the creature snarled ferociously and snapped its jaws, but it was well and truly wedged between them.

“Y'think that end smells, you should try coming up here. It's breath stinks like its been eating goblin sandals for a year!” The warg truly was repulsive, but Russell caught himself wondering what they might have been like before they had become enslaved to the darkness. No animal could be born with so much hatred and corruption tainting it. Maybe they had been faithful guardians and companions, once.

As Damien revealed his plan, Russell just stared at him wide-eyed. It was just about the most stupid plan he had ever heard in his life... and yet it was also one of the most exciting. Lots of kings had ponies and dire boars, but how much more awesome would it be if he rode into battle astride a warg!?! “Tame it... right... Don't suppose you've got any ideas for how to do that, hmm?” At the moment Russell's only plan was to keep it down until it was too tired to keep fighting. Maybe then it would be more peaceful. Or less likely to chase after them, at any rate.

[Damien Tremblay]

Reckless was sometimes not a strong enough word for Damien. There were others far more appropriate, and though he knew he sometimes put Russ at risk just because he’d had a bright idea that did not pan out as he’d hoped... he also knew that Russell always had his back. Perhaps one day he’d settle down, but for now he was content with playing around and staying out of lessons more befitting a dwarf prince. Classrooms and studying were hardly fun. Scouting and causing trouble? Infinite fun.

Damien shifted as he made sure he had a solid grip on the warg’s leg, using his shoulder to press into its’ hip. He had no idea what he was doing, true, but at least they had the thing down now. It might have been snarling and snapping, but it was down and not trying to eat them. That was a point in their favor.

No, the warg was not the best smelling thing in the world, but maybe with a soak in some water... once it was calmer. Already he was thinking about how much fun having their own warg would be. His mind just... skipped the part where they had to tame him. It couldn’t be that hard, right? “I’d take warg breath over this end,” he griped, pressing his shoulder a little harder into the animal as it kicked out with the other hind leg.

Russ’s wide-eyed stare was met only with a cocky grin. Of course they could figure this out. They were sons of Durin, after all. Wouldn’t their ancestors be proud? Wouldn’t Thorin be proud? ... Or he’d question their sanity, but they could deal with that later. “I don’t know how, but it can’t be that hard. Orcs are beyond stupid, and they can do it, so why can’t we?”

[Russell Sands]

For as much as Russell was currently questioning his own sanity, along with that of his brother's... he had to admit, this was exciting. After so many mind-numbingly boring lessons about culture and history and keeping the peace scouting had been a blessed relief. But this? This was a true thrill, and it was impossible to get this kind of rush without a little danger. Or perhaps rather a lot of danger, in this case.

Russell still wasn't entirely certain what the hell he was doing, besides sitting on the damned thing. He knew that if he got up there was a very high chance it would resume its attempt to eat them both, but he also knew he couldn't just wedge it down forever. As rough plans came to mind he discarded them just as quickly, as they were all seeming to be either too risky or unlikely or just plain ridiculous. “Really? I'd have thought you got close enough to the teeth-end before, when you were running and shrieking like a startled rabbit.”

The grin curling Russell's lips gave away that he was merely teasing, but he turned slightly sombre again when Damien made the comment about orcs managing to tame them despite their stupidity. “Well, orcs are bullied. Look at the scars on this thing; not all of them can be from war. The orcs probably just batter them into submission, like they do everything else.” Russell adjusted his grip slightly, shuffling to try and find a more comfortable position. “You really want to try that on this one?”

As he adjusted he could feel the sweat thick on the wargs fur, its breathing slightly laboured from the exertion it had made trying to scrabble the dwarves off. It seemed to be settling down slightly, but Russell wasn't taking that for granted and certainly wasn't about to just let it go. Instead he ran a hand over the massively muscled neck. “There ya go, settle down now. No sense in all this fighting, is there, hmm?”

[Damien Tremblay]

Damien was used to others questioning his sanity. He was the reckless one, the one most likely to get himself killed doing something stupid, be it trying to pull off a stunt on a pony’s back, or showing off with a sword or a bow. ... Or trying to catch and tame a warg. At least if they got themselves both killed, he wouldn’t be around for the lectures about killing heirs...

Still pinning down the hind end of the beast, trying his best to ignore the smell, Damien rolled his eyes at Russell. “I wasn’t shrieking,” he shot back. “I was...” Yeah, no, he was shrieking. There was little denying that. “Okay, fine. You try to run away from a warg without yelling about it.” When it came down to it, Russell was still a big brother, and though he teased him, he was sure that he was at least happy Damien hadn’t been eaten already.

He honestly hadn’t really given much thought as to how the orcs tamed wargs in the first place, but once Russ had mentioned the scars, the young dwarf ran his fingers over a few darkened lines on the beast’s skin amid the fur. Swearing softly in Dwarvish, he patted the warg’s hip. “Maybe we can get it to trust us. Feed it, or something.” Food was always a good way to gain trust, wasn’t it? “... Or we could get it drunk.” That suggestion was more in jest. He didn’t want to know how much alcohol would be required to get a warg drunk.

Watching Russ with the big animal was a bit like watching him with some of the large dogs that ran around Erebor. Russ had always had a way with them, while Damien had liked romping with them much better than actually training them. More fun that way. “I think he likes you,” he said, scratching the fur nearest his hand. Maybe flattery would get Russell to take his suggestion of keeping it seriously.