The Woodmen have dwelled in the Vales of the Anduin, between the Misty Mountains and the great forest, since time out of memory. Even their oldest tales do not speak of where they came from before, only that they were kin to the other Men that dwelled in those Vales, like the horse-riders farther north. It can be inferred that they used to dwell mostly within the forest itself, if only because of the name in the common tongue, "Woodmen", that other peoples call them by. But long ago the forest became hostile. Many of the Woodmen stayed in it anyway; it was their home, and they were strong and used to a struggle to survive. But they were pushed to its edges, where they could hold back the anger of the woods and carve out a place to dwell in spite of the darkness. Others made homes in the foothills of the mountains, or in the valley, though still within sight of the forest, still visited for lumber, hunt, and forage.
No one knows when Radagast, the Brown Wizard, came to the woods. Perhaps he was there even longer than the Woodmen, in his dwelling called Rhosgobel, under the boughs of Mirkwood, or perhaps when he came the Woodmen already dwelled between its boles. It is not even remembered when the Wizard first approached the Woodmen, save that it was already an old tale in the time of Heriwulf's grandfather's grandfather. Radagast came to the Woodmen to forge an alliance, though not an alliance of mutual exchange -- you do this for me and I will do that for you -- but rather, the alliance of those with a common enemy. He taught the Woodmen that the hostility of the Mirkwood had not always been, and that it had a cause: the Shadow, which took up residence in Dol Guldur, and spread poison and corruption through the forest. There was a time when the Great Enemy had been driven out of the woods; but the forest is slow to change, and corruption, once rooted, runs deep and is hard to root out. The wizard taught the Woodmen ways to survive that were also ways to oppose the corruption of the Shadow, to drive it back; to slowly, over many lifetimes, restore the Mirkwood to the healthy forest once it was.
Radagast knows much about many subjects. All wizards do, one must assume, if there are even are any other wizards but him. But what Radagast knows best is the ways of living things. So what he taught the Woodmen was just that: subtle lore of bird and beast. He taught them salves and simples made of herb and root, by which they could heal themselves, drive back dangers, and survive through hardships. He taught them signs and signals by which they would know of the passing of enemies before they could be seen. He showed them ways to track prey that made them greater hunters and trappers than any other Men in the lands. He taught them of the balances and flows of the forest, and how all things within it affected one another, that they might take lumber and forage and meat without destroying the very things that kept them alive.
But the greatest of all the sorceries of beast he taught them was the taming of wolves.
A wolf is a wild animal, fierce, strong, and unhesitating in violence. They are savage, but they are not evil, like the Wargs that so resemble them, nor are they cruel. They fight back to defend themselves, their young, their pack, their territory, or their hunting grounds, or they attack for food; and for no other reason, in the normal course of things. And they know that Men are the greatest danger they face, so they avoid Men when they can, unless forced or desperate.
But for all that, they remain wild, and a grave danger, and Men have no methods of changing that. Rarely, a Man might come upon foundlings, wolf pups lost from their parents and pack when too young to survive on their own yet; and by raising these pups, she might have a loyal companion for life, still wild and dangerous, but steadfast. Some say the hounds, or "dogs" as others call them, that are kept in places like Combe, descend from such foundlings, while others say that hounds been with us since the days when the world was young. Perhaps Radagast, or the Elves, know the truth of it. But whatever those dogs are, they may be like wolves, but they are not wolves.
It is only through the magic of the Brown Wizard, subtle and complex and dangerous to carry out, that a wolf can be turned into a hound, a loyal member of the clan, hard-working, strong, and as loyal as any Man who goes on two feet, if not more. A hound thus tamed must necessarily lose something in the taming, for reasons perhaps known only to Radagast. They are less strong, less swift, less fierce. It would be foolish to assume they are thus weak, slow, or docile. They are still formidable guards, hunters, scouts, and workers. They are simply not quite a match for a wolf anymore, at least not in a fair fight of equal numbers. But their pack and the Woodmen's clan become nearly one thing, like threads interwoven.
The means of taming wolves are a secret that the Woodmen keep even to this day, because even though those first wolves they tamed, generations ago when Radagast first taught them the spells and charms of taming, have been bred time and again, their blood still flowing in the veins of the hounds of today, the Woodmen need to bring new wolves into their pack from time to time, to keep the blood strong. Without it, the hounds become more docile year after year. So in each clan, at least one keeps the ways, and teaches them to those who will come after. There are herbs which must be prepared in particular ways to make salves whose scent befuddles the senses of the wolf, or potions which make the wolf more pliable; there are words in an unknown, harsh language, whose meaning the Woodmen do not know, which must be spoken; there are postures and gestures which must be carried out or avoided, part of the language of wolves; there are subtle and cunning traps that can hold a wolf in place long enough to begin the ritual without doing grave harm; and there are subtler techniques than these of which no Woodman will speak, which make up part of the sorcery Radagast shared with them.
It is a perilous endeavor, since a wolf is a wild and ferocious beast that will defend itself, and the taming must be done close, and over a great length of time. The men of Dale, hearing of the taming of wolves, if they believe such a thing can be done at all, imagine a spell where a Woodman waves his hands at a safe distance and the wolf bows and is pliant, all in an instant; but if there is such sorcery, it is only for wizards. Woodmen must do it close, in sweat and blood. And it is an undertaking that can be done only very seldom, because wolves are rarely seen alone, and one cannot tame an entire pack; even to tame one wolf is a weighty act to be done with reverence and the full focus of the Woodman. A wolf found alone is usually one that is weak, injured, or ill, and of no value to the clan. Finding a strong, healthy wolf away from its pack is an opportunity exceedingly rare, and the hound-friend of the clan must always be ready for that moment; thus, hound-friends usually carry the salves, potions, and traps they need wherever they go, or at least within wild lands, in case such fortune smiles upon them. If luck is truly on their side, there might be an apprentice with them, to help and to learn; or there may be clan-mates nearby who can assist. But so singular is the opportunity that the hound-friend must be prepared to act with no help but that of his steadfast hounds.
When that moment comes, the tamer must act with great care and deliberation. The area must be scouted and any hidden perils identified and dispatched first, all without losing sight of the wolf, for any interruption in the process will almost surely be fatal for the wolf and may well be so for the Man as well. The contours of the terrain must be studied, not just in the lay of stone and soil, but the paths of scents that the wolf will follow even if a Man cannot detect them (one of many reasons the tamer will have a hound with him to help), so that once the effort begins, the paths the wolf might take are all known and prepared. Traps are set in many places, any the hound-friend believes he can guide or drive the wolf to, that will be safe enough to keep it in for some time after. Salves are placed on the tamer and his hounds, that give off scents that will confuse, attract, or repel the wolf.
Then the beast is threatened. The dance has begun, and how it goes depends on how clear are the senses, and swift the reactions, of the tamer and his hounds. The wolf may run from the salves, or towards the threat, and change between these at any moment, and the tamer and hounds must constantly shift just as quickly in their motions to guide the wolf into one of the traps. If all goes perfectly, this might be done without Man or hound being injured, but this is rare; instead, there is almost always blood and hurt, and the blood itself becomes part of the landscape of scents, so the plan must account for that as well.
As often as not, the wolf gets away. It may simply be too swift, or it may take a turn that the tamer could not anticipate. Or the injuries to tamer and hound may be too great, and the effort abandoned. Or some other beast comes into the area and proves a threat or a distraction. Or, most grievous of all, the wolf may attack so fiercely that the tamer and hounds must defend themselves without reserve, and the wolf must be killed. Any of these reasons will leave the hound-friend saddened, tired, hurt, and frustrated, for the opportunity itself was so rare, and hours of work and struggle have been lost; but the death of the wolf is the saddest of all, for each death is a loss to the whole forest.
But if all goes well, the wolf is now in its trap, and more salves and potions can be employed. First the wolf is lulled into a soporific stupor, through the use of meat laced with a potion of cunning make. The salve that baffles the wolf's sense of smell is used to bring this meat close enough to be fed to the wolf, though even this is perilous, for a trapped wolf is even more desperate, and no salve is so strong as to make a strong, fierce wolf harmless. Now follows a long wait while the hound-friend and his hounds collect fresh meat to feed to the wolf, each steeped with drops of the potion, carefully measured. The hound-friend and his hounds take the proper postures, which speak to the wolf of leadership, of dominance, the same postures and gestures that the pack uses to decide who leads and who follows. The gruff words are spoken at carefully chosen times. The tamer may take time during this to tend his injuries or those of his hounds. And there must always be an alert scouting of the area, for another wolf, or any other beast, coming along at this time, may prove disastrous, if it is not swiftly driven off or slain.
And at the last, when the hound-friend believes the craft and the art have been carried out as they ought, he releases the trap. If he has chosen wrong, if the wolf's will to be wild was stronger even than the spell of sorcery, the wolf may turn on him now, or simply flee, and be forever after more wary of Men, and more disposed to attack them on sight.
But if the tamer has done everything well, the clan has a new, true-hearted member, to bring strength to the bloodline and to help the clan survive, thrive, and ultimately, drive back the Shadow. One day, through the actions of Radagast and his many allies in the battle, the wood will again be Greenwood the Great; and when that day comes, the Woodmen and their hounds will stand proud of their part in the struggle.
