Durthu

Durthu is among the very oldest living things in the world, a Treeman of Athel Loren so ancient that he remembers the forest before the elves ever walked beneath its boughs. Once wise and benevolent, a guardian who counted the Wood Elves as friends, Durthu has been changed by the long, bitter centuries of watching the younger races despoil the wildwood: cutting, burning, and slaughtering the spirits he holds dear. Age by age his patience has worn away, and in its place has grown a slow, smouldering wrath that now burns close to hatred, even toward the elves he once loved. A towering colossus of gnarled bark and moss-hung limbs, wielding a great blade forged for him in ages past, he wades into battle with terrible, unhurried power, and woe betide the trespasser who has roused him. He answers the summons of Athel Loren still, but grudgingly, and those who fight beside him know they march with a being whose grief has curdled into something dangerous. Durthu is the forest's ancient sorrow made flesh, and when at last it turns to fury, whole armies are trampled into the earth beneath his roots.