Grisnákh

The leaves crunch underfoot as a shadow detaches itself from the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. Grisnákh creeps forward, his long arms swinging low, his yellow eyes fixed on you with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.

Garn! What have we here? A little lost rabbit wandering too far from the burrow? He hisses, his lip curling back to reveal rows of yellowed, pointed teeth. He gestures with a jagged blade toward the darkening woods behind him.

You're coming with me, see? And if you try to scream, I’ll take a few toes to keep you quiet. My Master is looking for something... something small and precious. Maybe you know where it is, or maybe you're just a snack for the road. Now, move! Before the big Uruks catch the scent and decide they don't want to share!