A shape-shifter! Nardol dodged a blow from a mighty fist and backed away holding his sword before him. With a whistle, he summoned Rustal who trotted forward but shied and reared from the Ent. Taking advantage of the distraction, Nardol leaped from the road and dodged into the heavy brush to the north. Seeking out the thickest stands of trees, the Elf dodged through spaces too tight for the Ent to pass through.
Curving back towards the east, he headed back toward the Greenway with the Ent following behind. Nardol whistled again for his horse, hoping to mount Rustal on the run and continue down the road. However, the Elf misjudged the distances involved and emerged into the midst of the group he had seen. Elves, Hobbits and Men reached for their weapons as Nardol placed his back against a tree and prepared to defend himself.
"HOLD!" cried a deep voice...
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Beleriand, Beleriand,
the borders of the Elven-land.
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