[Mithadan]

Nardol peered suspiciously at Bethberry, but nodded. "Tea would be wonderful," he said without a thank you. He straightened himself on the log and carefully extended his wounded leg. Then he lifted the haft of the arrow that had pierced him and inspected it. With a scowl, he threw it down and turned to glare at the half-man that had tended to his wound.

"This is not an orc arrow," he said accusingly. Without waiting for a response, he looked back at Gandalf. Shaking his head, he began, "It is said by some that trouble follows you like a dog follows its master. But Castle Maladil? What business have you there? Is that not the ruin of the home of Maladil who misguidedly chose one of the Atani as a wife?"

Nardol shook his head again. "No matter. My path leads elsewhere. I will return to Imladris after I have rested. But Mithrandir, if you must journey towards danger, wouldn't you be best served if you chose companions with sufficient wit to tell a foe from a friend?"