Have you seen any Howlers in the night?

I speak of Werewolves, spirits which haunt and trouble lonely wastes, and so press to devour the peoples, and snatch up with their jaws all the light, if they could have it. Foul spirits they are, wicked creatures transformed thusly into fiendish shape; whether by their own will, or by the will of their evil Master, I know not. I have warned the men-folk of this land of these things, and it is very ridiculous that they disbelieve my words, and dismiss them as tales of fancy, or as a mad jest.

Had they lived in such a time as I, when armies of these beasts ran forth on all fours, slavering at the mouth, with red lolling tongues that speak like men, they would not dismiss my caution so easily. I am driven to find them, and drive them out from all dark places hiding, and so cut their heads off, and squash their skulls underfoot.

I ventured to a dreary land, a place of wights of Man, their houses all covered over by moss and a rotting dampness. And there I saw many sharp-toothed Barghests, weak cousins of the Werewolves, black creatures drawn to places of death and decay.  I listened to the ground, and it cried out in pain. And so I was led here, and that tall hill yonder. I saw traces of a campfire, and felt rumour of a shadow there. I have found many such echoes of the Evil One, and feel it to be true by experience. For I have unceasingly hunted werewolves over the long years, and thought them all perished, or driven utterly from the land.

Yet it seems my work is never done.

Still, I shall not rest until all of the Werewolves are found, and extinguished.  They like the autumn, I find, but their prowling increases in the spring and in summer: yea, it is during the hottest time of the year, when the East Wind blows, that they stir from their dens of filth, and run 'cross the land, searching, searching for the taste of living flesh to feast upon. But they do not like water, and will not suffer to cross rivers. So they must like this dry and dusty land very much, and find many creatures to feed upon. First the sheep disappear, and then the birds and deer, and then they devour unwary women and snatch up their children, and finally eat all the men that come looking, because their hunger hath no satiety. 

There is a wolfish melancholy upon the hill, and it is nothing else but a taint, an infirmity of the land arising from He Who Bids Them. I have sensed it before, many-a-time, and I will sense it again, I'll warrant! 

But I did not see any Werewolves on yonder hill, and so must continue my hunt.

Be ware, the Werewolf, for whatsoever they seem in form, they are but twists of the Dark One to deceive: and therefore I advise you to wend your way from this forsaken land with all speed, for fear of a mischief. And, because you may think this counsel I give to be but a dreaming device of my own: as so many have told me, I will yet further make known unto you, how many good folk, how so many of my friends, and how even my Lord, wisest of all the Noldor, have fallen victim to these fearful fell-spirits clothed in furry bodies - physical bodies, yes, but these spirits can shift into any body, and take up any form, when they are slain. That is why the neck must be cut, and the head thrown aside, and trampled underfoot, and all thrown into the fire, until it is consumed to ash, and then, only then, do you have no fear of the fell-spirit regaining form.

Mark my words, travelers, lest you be unready, when faced with the Werewolf.