Chapter Four.

Gimli's foot-in-mouth disease, a regrettable discovery and a surprise reappearance of the bearded kind.

Morning cloaked the plains of Rohan, as Aragorn, Angela, Legolas and Gimli continued to track Sarah and the two hobbits.

Legolas stopped in his tracks, eying the sunrise.

"A red sun rises," he began, softly. "Blood has been spilled this night," he said, a regrettable tonality evident in his voice.

Angela looked up, hoping that her friends were ok; she then looked towards Aragorn, the ranger dropping to look at the ground. He stands up abruptly, gesturing his companions to follow him, hiding them behind a rock. The sound of galloping horses is heard, travelling down the hill. Aragorn steps out from the hiding place to observe who these riders were.

"Riders of Rohan," Aragorn yelled to them. "What news from the mark?"

The horsemen begin to turn around, almost in sync, riding towards the four and encircling them, spears out.

"This can't be good," Angela muttered, eying the spears.

"What news does a man, two elves and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" the leader of the group snapped. "Speak quickly!"

"Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine," Gimli grinned at the horse rider.

"Not a good idea, Gimli," Angela said, nudging Gimli in disapproval of the dwarf's chosen time of displaying his wit.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," the horseman sneered at Gimli, who reciprocated a glare of daggers in response.

Legolas drew his bow in defence of the dwarf.

"You would die before your stroke fell!" the elf exclaimed, as the spears of the riders suddenly turned their attention to him. Aragorn grabs the elf's arm, pulling it down from the bow which he clutched in his hands. Gimli let out a sigh of relief at this, rather shocked at the fuss which had been caused all over his remark.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn began his introduction, then continuing, incorporating his counterparts into it, gesturing to each of them as he spoke their names. "This is Gimli son of Gloin. Legolas of the woodland realm and..."

Aragorn stopped, and looked at Angela, unsure of what title to give her.

"Lady Angela of Rivendell," he nodded, impressed with how he handled it, continuing. "We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden your King,"

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," the rider removed his helmet, continuing. "Not even his own kin,"

"You're Éomer, aren't you?" Angela asked receiving a nodded response from him, as his fellow Rohirrim riders lowered their spears.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed lordship over his lands," Éomer stated.

"That's terrible," Angela frowned at the misfortune suffered by the Rohan citizens.

"My company, are these loyal to Rohan," Éomer explained. "And for that, we are banished," he continued regrettably. "The white wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked, and everywhere his spies slip passed our nets,"

"We are no spies," Aragorn stated sternly. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain,"

"They have taken two of our friends," Angela nodded, adding to Aragorn's statement.

"The Uruks are destroyed, we slaughtered them during the night,"

"But there were two hobbits," Gimli said, concerned.

"And another elf," Legolas added, nodding sternly.

"Did you see them?" Angela enquired abruptly.

"The hobbits would be only small children to your eyes," Aragorn muttered to the fellow human. "And the elf would not have been easy to miss,"

"We left none alive," Éomer stated, lamentably. "We piled the carcasses and burned them,"

"Dead?" Gimli asked, sensitively, his heart sinking into his stomach at the thought.

Éomer nodded slowly. "I am sorry,"

Legolas put a comforting hand onto the dwarf's shoulder. He thought about Sarah lamentably. The elf had her annoying qualities, but he didn't think she was so bad. His thoughts were interrupted by the whistling of Éomer.

"Hasufel, Arod, Minenúl," Éomer yelled, as three horses stepped forward. One horse was a deep brown in colour, which almost reminded Angela of chocolate as the horses coat was such a deep shade of brown. The second horse was a chestnut colour, it had a white patch between its eyes bridging down its nose. And the third was white, its eyes dark and mysterious.

"May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters," Éomer said, sternly. "Farewell,"

Éomer climbed back onto his horse, but turned back to the foursome which stood, still in shock of the news of the death of their companions.

"Look for your friends, but do not trust a hope," Éomer said, giving some advice to his newly found acquaintances. "But do not trust to hope. It is forsaken in these lands," he added, sneering and glaring around in suspicion of any spies of Saruman which could be lurking around.

Éomer turned to his company. "We ride north!" he announced, as the riders followed their leader, riding away and off into the distance.

The four climbed onto their respected horses. Aragorn rode Hasufel who was the horse with the chocolate coloured coat. Legolas and Gimli took Arod, the horse who was white. And Angela rode on Minenúl, finding the respected horse quite easy to ride.

The group rode up the hill towards the burning pile of slaughtered orc, the black smoke rising thick into the air, rising up and blown about by the soft breeze which blew in the vicinity. Gimli and Angela searched through the smoldering bodies, although Angela soon walked away to regain her mind. She did not want to give up on Sarah, Merry and Pippin. She had a feeling they were still alive.

As of Aragorn and Legolas, they looked around the ground for any other clues of signs which may have been left behind, like the elven-brooch found earlier.

Gimli's heart fluttered as he found a small sword belt, nestled in the pile of orc carcasses. He picked it up in his hand, and held it sorrowfully.

"It's one of their wee belts," he said, sighing in despair.

"Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath," Legolas said, taking his right hand and resting it on his chest.

"May they find peace after death," Angela said, feeling tears swell up in her eyes at the realization her friends may have been killed in the slaughtered the night before.

Aragorn began to shout, kicking one of the orc helmets which lay on the ground next to him. He sunk to his knees, putting his head down in lament and anguish.

"We failed them," Gimli said, disappointedly.

Aragorn looked at the ground, dazed. His eyes spotted some tracks embedded in the ground. Angela, who followed Aragorn's gazed, noticed them also and slowly walked over to the ranger to investigate.

"A hobbit lay here," Aragorn said, brushing the ground where the imprints were. "And the other here,"

He then noticed another mark. "Sarah kneeled here," his gaze then followed off. "They crawled," he stated, following their tracked. "Their hands were cut," he added, picking up the strands of rope which lay on the ground.

"They ran over here!" Angela added, excited that there was still a chance.

"They were followed," Aragorn uttered, adding more to the puzzle, and continued. "The tracks lead away from the battle, and into Fangorn Forest,"

"Fangorn Forest," Gimli said in awe. "What madness drove them in there?"

The four looked at the entrance of the forest, the trees on the edge of the forest reminding Angela of a wooded gate, which held mysterious happenings behind it.

The conclusions of the investigative group were correct. Merry, Pippin and Sarah were in the forest.

"Did we lose 'em?" Pippin asked, panting from running as they stopped briefly, laying in a hole created by the roots. He is followed by Merry, Sarah keeping a watchful eye of the following orc. "I think we lost 'em," Pippin added, nodding in belief.

"I don't think so," Sarah squealed, as an orc bombarded its way through the trees.

"I'm gonna rip off your filthy heads," the orc snarled at the three.

Merry and Pippin get up and run, hiding behind another tree. Sarah followed, picking up a large stick, wielding it as a weapon.

"Stay back or I'll clobber you with this!" she said in her best confident, hero, protective type voice, waving the stick at the orc.

"Come 'ere!" the orc growled at the elf.

"Eep," Sarah yelped, dropping the stick and running behind the tree with the two hobbits. The three decided to press on.

"Trees," Merry said, looking up.

"Yep, plenty of them," Sarah nodded, anxiously.

"Climb a tree!" Merry exclaimed, as Pippin began to climb the nearest tree. Merry followed, and soon so did Sarah, who found it quite difficult to climb. She made her way as high as she could, trying to stick with her hobbit companions.

"He's gone," Merry stated in triumph. Suddenly, that triumph was soon overshadowed by fear as the orc unsuspectingly reached up, and grabbed the hobbit's ankle, dragging him from the tree. The orc leaps on top of him, receiving a kick to the face.

"Merrrrry!" Pippin yelled after his friend.

"Hold on Merry! I'll get you," Sarah yelled. "As soon as I get down from here..." she added, muttering to herself.

Suddenly, Pippin's attention turned to the tree which he was situated in. He looked mortified as two, big yellow eyes blinked at him. He looked away, then looked back, incase he was imagining things.

He wasn't.

Two yellow glowing eyes stared at the hobbit through the thick, tree bark.

"Augh!" Pippin muttered in a mixture of surprise and disgust, released the tree, who reciprocated with a stern look. Pippin fell backwards out of the tree, suddenly caught in the branched-palms of the monstrous tree.

Sarah, who was unaware of the current aliveness of the tree, was trying to slide down to save Merry.

"Let's put a maggot hole in your belly," the orc sneered, raising his sword.

"This is dejavu...where's a rider when you need one," Sarah muttered, hoping for something to happen.

And it did.

The tree she was situated on was moving. It was actually moving. Sarah tightened her grasp on the bark of the tree, her grip so tight her hands throbbed from the pain.

The orc who was attacking Merry stopped abruptly, after hearing a sound coming from behind. He looked out of the corner of his eye, turning and seeing a monstrous tree coming towards him. He scrambles out the way to try and escape, but is trampled underneath on of the tree's colossal legs.

Merry gets up, and looks up, horrified at the gigantic tree-monster heading towards him.

"Run Merry!" Pippin yelled to his friend. Merry ran, but it was too late. Within two striding steps, the tree picked Merry up and held him in his other hand.

"Little orcs, bu-la-rum," the tree growled.

"Ohmygosh," Sarah looked up, almost losing grip of the bark as she held on tightly, her hands becoming slippery from sweat, which was starting to appear on her palms.

"It's talking Merry," Pippin said, surprised. "The tree is talking!"

"Tree?!?" the tree gasped in protest. "I am not tree. I am an Ent," it added.

"Yes, but you're still talking," Sarah pointed out, yelling up at the tree from her awkward position on his leg.

"A tree herder," Merry stated, excited. "A Shepard of the forest!"

"Don't talk to it Merry," Pippin warned his friend. "Don't encourage it,"

"Treebeard some call me," the tree added into the conversation.

"And whose side are you on?" Pippin dared to ask the tree, afraid he was one of Saruman's allies.

"Side? I am on nobody's side," Treebeard announced. "Because nobody's on my side, little orc,"

"I'll be on your side," Sarah announced, still holding onto Treebeard's leg.

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore," Treebeard said, regrettably.

"We're not orcs," Merry protested. "We're hobbits,"

"And don't forget the elf here," Sarah also protested. "Who is going to fall to her death soon...and trampled by an enormous walking tree!!!"

"Hobbits? Never heard of a hobbit before," Treebeard sneered at Merry. "Sounds like orc mischief to me," he added, tightening his grip around the hobbits, who begin to squirm uncomfortably.

"They come with fire, they come with axes," Treebeard growled. "Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning. Destroyers and usurpers. Curse them!"

"Sounds like a few people I know," Sarah said, nodding to herself.

"No, you don't understand," Merry stated, trying to negotiate with Treebeard. "We're hobbits. Halflings. Shire-folk," he added, gasping from air in Treebeard's awkward and painful grip.

"Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't," Treebeard hummed. "The white wizard will know,"

"Oh no," Sarah muttered.

"The white wizard?" Pippin whispered in confusion to Merry.

"Saruman," Merry answered, anxiously.

Suddenly, Treebeard came to a rearing halt. Sarah lost her grip, flying forward and landing on the ground.

"Ouch," she muttered, trying to lift herself up.

Treebeard dropped the hobbits onto the ground, landing on Sarah. The three look up as a white light surrounds them, and the white wizard appears.