Get ye gone from this place!
Return to your master Morgoth!
We do not want your kind here, #!
Already our soldiers hunt your trail, #!
What are you doing this side of the Girdle?
This knife cuts more than just bread!
Our blades will cut you down.
Do you fear death, #?
Begone, #, and do not return.
We do not want your sort here.
There is no place for foul things like you in this forest.
You foul the earth on which you tread. Let us see that you do no more.
Feel the bite of our blades!
Tell me, how does it feel to die in Doriath?
Your master Morgoth will not hear back from you!