"Yrch," spat Nardol. He stood and took up his bow, nocking an arrow and holding it at ready. A whistle and a few quick words sent Rustal along the road towards the west. The stallion leaped over the pit and disappeared into the trees south of the path.
Nardol shrugged his cloak back from his shoulders, exposing the hilts of his blades at his waist. As the Orcs approached the fire, he let fly an arrow at at the foremost of the creatures...
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Beleriand, Beleriand,
the borders of the Elven-land.
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