Sam Gamgee listened, fascinated, to the stories of Bilbo’s travels. One day he asked, “And how could those wolves talk, when you were up in them trees?”
Bilbo shrugged. “I suppose because they weren’t true wolves as were the white ones that crossed into the Shire during the Fell Winter. Gandalf told me the proper name for them is warg. They were granted a greater intelligence than common wolves by the great Enemy. He said proper wolves would never ally with goblins, but wargs will allow goblins to ride upon them.”
It was hard for the young Hobbit to imagine….
There had been no bodies of the wolves that attacked them left the next morning, there in Hollin. Sam looked down at the charred remains of the arrow Legolas had fired at the leader the preceding night, the one Gandalf had set alight even as it flew toward the great beast’s throat. “Those were wargs, weren’t they, Mr. Gandalf?” he asked privately.
The Wizard nodded his head as he murmured, “Yes, they were. First, common wolves don’t attack people unless they’re starving. And, when slain, their bodies remain. But Wargs are not properly natural in origin.”
Sam nodded his understanding.