Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable characters, sadly.
Author's Note: This was first written and published in on the 14/4/2003. This is the extended and revised version. Enjoy!
The revered lord of Imladris stared blankly down at the official document waiting for his approval before him.
'Ada! Ada!' cried two identical voices, jolting him from his reverie.
Lord Elrond glance up in time to see the door to his study explode to reveal his two sons.
'Ada! they cried again, hair knotted with leaves and twigs. One of them, Elrond noted with slight disapproval, sported a fetching mud smear on a cheek.
One darted forward, panting, 'Ada!' he cried.
Elrond briefly wondered to which twin he was speaking to. Elladan? Elrohir?
'Yes, yes… You called?' he asked dryly, wondering what could have excited both elflings so to reduce them to calling him over and over again.
'What is it, children?'
Immediately, both started explaining, making incoherent and disjointed sentences, that left Elrond more confused.
'-We found a…'
'-I think it's wounded, ada!'
'-It was by the old tree stump-'
'-We heard it whining and so we-'
Half exasperated, half amused, Lord Elrond lifted a hand to stem the torrent of explanations.
'Now, what is it that you both found?'
'A warg, ada!' both chorused in unison. Elrond paled and sank into his seat in shock.
'A warg? But-'
Before he could continue, however, Elrohir interrupted him, 'Hurry, ada!'
His youngest pivoted on his heel and grabbed his brother before racing out of the room, with the latter calling over his shoulder for their father to make haste.
The elf-lord was helpless to stop his wayward children. He frowned, but could do naught but to follow his obediently.
The elflings led him through the courtyard and into the dense forest, weaving in and out between the trees swiftly. Words of encouragement floated to reach his keen elven hearing.
'This way! By the oak stump, ada! Here!'
Elrond struggled his way through a particularly stubborn undergrowth, snagging his robe in the process. He raised a slender hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he stepped into the clearing. A numbing chill gripped him.
The two sat on their heels, and in cradling between them was the unmistakable black shaggy head of a full grown warg. Elrond's eyes were immediately drawn to the great slathering jaws and gnashing teeth. Clear amber eyes, nestled in coarse black fur, met his gaze steadily. The warg shifted and Elrond saw that the warg lay with half of its long body hidden inside the hollow stump of the fallen oak.
'Elladan, Elrohir…' he said, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid that the beast would clamp its jaw over a tiny hand. 'Don't move…'
He ventured closer, inching slowly towards the trio. The cold yellow eyes narrowed and black lips lifted in a fearsome snarl. Suddenly, the growl turned into a piteous whine and the warg trembled, broad shoulders shuddering.
'It's alright boy,' crooned Elladan, 'that is our ada, and he loves you too…'
At first Elrond thought that his hearing was deceiving him. It was almost impossible! As his sons lovingly caress the animal, the gentle thumps of its great tail beating against the walls of the tree stump could be heard.
Nevertheless, as a father, the elf-lord felt compelled to get his sons to safety, 'Elladan, Elrohir,' he called, voice low, his eyes never leaving the sharp incisors which could tear effortlessly into flesh, 'Put his head down and come to ada…'
The twins seem reluctant to leave their new friend, 'Come on,' he coaxed, 'we'll go find help.'
Finally, the young elves kissed the warg on its black nose, rose to their feet and walked slowly to their anxious father. As father and sons retreated away, sad eyes followed them and then the warg's head sank tiredly to the ground.
Holding each elfling firmly by the hand, Elrond walked back to the Last Homely House and sped to the library where he knew Glorfindel and Erestor would be.
'Elladan, take your brother and go to my study. Wait for me there,' he ordered.
To his advisors he said, 'Glorfindel, Erestor, come quickly. The twins have found a warg in the oak stump in the woods. I fear it could pose a threat.'
The three elf-lords hastened outside with the Lord of Imladris leading the way. Moments later, they reached the oak stump. They stood at some distance away from the beast. Glorfindel eyed the warg intently and the beast whined.
A breeze blew gently and Elrond caught the smell any experienced healer would know. The pungent smell could only identify as gangrene.
'It is wounded badly. Shall I end its suffering?' asked Glorfindel, reaching for his bow.
The word "yes" was on the lips of Elrond, but was never spoken.
The bushes rustled behind them and his sons emerged from the thick foliage.
'Are you going to make him well, ada?' Elrohir questioned, grey eyes wide, moving to stand beside him.
Elladan pushed past the older elves and hauled the beast's head into his lap. He buried his face in the coarse, dark fur. This time, Elrond wasn't the only one who heard the thumping echo of the warg's tail.
Observing the trust the animal had in his son, Elrond made a sudden decision. 'Yes, Elrohir, I will make him better.'
His advisors stared at him incredulously but held their comment.
With the help of Glorfindel, Erestor, and many comforting words from the twins aimed towards the animal, Elrond managed to pull the massive body out of the stump. The animal was large, the size of a young horse, from snout to tail. Erestor estimated it to be well over one hundred pounds.
The warg was suffering a lot of pain – its lower body; hips and hind legs were coated with deep gashes and cuts.
The healer studied the wounds gravely. Elrond dug deep into the recess of his robes and produced a small medicine pouch he always carried. Carefully selecting some roots and leaves, he crushed these into a messy pulp.
His sons managed to coax the warg to open its mouth and quickly, Elrond inserted the medicine ball and pushed it deep into the warm, wet throat with his fingers. As he wiped his fingers, Glorfindel held its mouth closed and blew gently into its nose to make it swallow.
The warg resisted, refusing to swallow, snaking its head from side to side, trying to free itself from Glorfindel's firm grip. It snorted and whined, trying to dispel the bitter medicine. Finally, making choking sounds, it noisily swallowed the herbs. Soon, the warg closed its eyes sleepily.
Elrond worked quickly, peeling away the rotten flesh. He dug out bone splinters, cleaned the wounds and treated it with herbs.
At last, he stood. 'Come, my sons. There is little we can do now. I have washed and dressed his wounds as best as I could. Do not worry, for he will recover.'
The half-elf forcibly steered his children back indoors and trapped them there by instructing Erestor to continue their history lessons.
Early the next morning, the twins went to visit their new "pet". They named it Mor, and dutifully carried water and food to the stump everyday.
Mor's recovery was not easy. For four months he dragged his injured hindquarters by clawing the earth with his front paws. From the way he closed his eyes when the elflings massaged him, the elves knew he endured excruciating pain, but not once did he try to bite the hands of those who cared for him.
Six months later, Mor finally stood unaided. His huge frame shook painfully as long-unused muscles were stretched and tested. Celebrian and the twins would praise and pet and kiss him and he would always respond to these lovingly gestures by swinging his great bushy tail like a pendulum and licking their fingers.
As his strength grew, Mor would loyally follow the elflings of Elrond all over Imladris. Together, the trio would roam the woods, the dark haired elflings often stooping low, sharing with the lame warg whispered secrets of nature's wonders. When evening came and stars appeared, Mor would return to his hollow stump like a silent shadow.
Although Mor seemed happy to be welcomed in Imladris, he often disappeared into the woods for several days at a time, leaving the twins and Celebrian to worry about his safety. But then he would return, tired and scruffy to his home with his beloved elves.
Seasons passed, spring to summer, and summer graduating to fall. The young twins, unable to contain their curiosity and eager to prove their bravery, ventured deep into the woods, wading through the icy water of Bruinen and out of the warm safety of Imladris.
'El! Look at me!' cried Elrohir, jumping from boulder to boulder, dark braids flying in his excitement.
Elladan turned and laughed as he caught sight of his brother falling on his behind, having slipped on the green moss.
A low growl startled them and to their horror, orcs emerged from behind tree to surround them.
'What do we 'ave 'ere? Two tasty little elves?'
Terror consumed both brothers and they clutched at each other. The orc who had spoken, a nasty brute, unsheathed his sword, whilst his followers chuckled and mocked their prey.
Looking back at this particular episode, Elrond was sure that his sons would either be captured and taken away or worse – killed.
Mor, who was at that time lazing by Celebrian feet as her embroidered, pricked up his ears and listened intently. With a distressed half whine, and leapt into the woods, surprising the elf lady.
The twins huddled closer together as the foul smelling creatures advanced, sneering and jeering when a dark silhouette leapt above the ring of orcs to their side. It was Mor.
He leapt at the throats of the orcs with such ferocity and obvious protectiveness towards the two that he later became somewhat of a legend to the Noldor elves of the valley.
Mor, with dark blood staining his snout, rushed to the twins and crouched low, allowed them to clambered onto his back. A heavy rain of black shafted arrow followed them.
The warg stumbled and emitted a sharp cry when an arrow buried itself deep into his shoulder.
When they were greeted by the welcomed sight of their home, elven guards were quickly notified of the gathering of orcs at their border.
As Elrond removed the arrow, his memory spun back over the years. His normally confident hands shook as he washed the wound – the arrow was poisoned.
He felt at lost as he gazed sadly down at the family pet. There was naught he could do. Understandingly, Mor licked his hand and laid down to rest.
Dawn rose and they found Mor dead in front of the oak stump that has since become his home. A lump rose uncharacteristically in Elrond's throat as he watched his sons stroke the shaggy neck, tears streaming down their faces.
As Celebrian covered him with one of their best embroidered blankets, they were startled by a strange rustling sound inside the stump. Elladan peered inside. Two tiny yellow eyes peered back and puppy fangs glinted in the semi-darkness - Mor's offspring.
Hot teats spilt on the soft fur as Elladan gathered the trembling bundle into his arms.
'It's all right, little...Mornië,' Elrohis murmured, 'don't be scared. That is my ada and my ammë... and they love you too...
'Had dying instinct told Mor to bring his offspring to them? Where little Mornië would be safe and loved?' Elrond wondered to himself.
He thought he imagined the low, muffled thumps of Mor, wagging his tail in the oak stump.
The End
Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it was much as I enjoyed writing this. A sequel has been planned and will be up soon.