They followed the rising black smoke in the distance until they came upon the source. The grass around the bodies had withered away and the breeze blew the smell of burning flesh onto their faces. Maith tried not to choke on the air as they neared.
The bodies were piled in a hideous mound of blackened cloth and limbs, and an orc's sneering head was speared on a wooden pole like some sort of marker. Maith took a blood stained stick from the ground and began sifting through the bodies with everyone else, trying to find any clues of the hobbits' fate, and desperately hoping that they would find none.
A sharp intake of breath brought Maith's attention to Gimli. The dwarf's stick hung in the air, and slowly he bent and grasped in his hand was rope of woven material. "It's one of their wee belts," he said softly.
Aragorn let out a cry of anguish and dropped to the ground, while Maith staggered back in horror. Legolas gently supported her arm, his head bent.
Gimli let the belt slip from his fingers, "we failed them." He said bitterly.
Suddenly, Aragorn froze, his eyes fixed onto something marked in the ground. Slowly he lifted his hand and ran it over the soil. "A hobbit lay here," he whispered at first, but his voice grew louder, "and the other."
He stood, pacing on the ground. "They crawled. Their hands were bound…" his eyes lit up as he retrieved something from the grass-a small piece of rope. "Their bonds were cut," Aragorn lifted his head to look at each of the fellowship in turn, "they ran," he pointed to a patch of yellowed grass, "they were followed." His pace quickened as the marks grew clearer, "their tracks led away from the battle…" the others had followed him, and now followed his gaze.
"…And into Fangorn Forest," Maith finished grimly.
"Fangorn," Gimli exclaimed, "what madness drove them there?"
"The madness caused by a hungry orc, I suppose," Maith said, for hope had nestled itself into her heart and she was not going to let go. "Let us hope that they were not followed when they entered."
Slowly, they entered the forest, dreading what lay ahead. The air grew thicker and heavier as they went deeper and deeper through the trees, clinging to their skin and clothes. The canopy above was thick, and they could see not an inch of sky through the green. A lazy light surrounded the branches, the little light that had managed to seep through the layers of leaves and form the dull glow around them.
A small pool of murky black liquid lay in the middle of a huge leaf, and Gimli tasted it. "Bah!" he spat it out, "orc blood."
"Oh, go taste anything you see, Gimli," Maith said irritably, "it might just be poisonous!" She feigned delight.
Aragorn stopped their bickering with a remark. "These are strange tracks," he muttered as he knelt down on the ground.
The dwarf made a choking sound. "The air is so close around here," he complained.
Legolas was studying the trees with wonder in his eyes. "This forest is old," he said absent-mindedly, "very old."
"Full of memory…" Maith continued.
"And anger," he finished.
Indeed, Maith could feel, pressing upon her, a sense of caution and wariness in the air, and she had the strange impression of something coiled to spring. She started as the trees around her suddenly groaned and creaked. Gimli gave a sharp intake of breath and – foolishly – brandished his axe, for it made the noise grow more consistent.
"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas murmured in awe, and put a hand on Gimli's axe. "Lower you axe," he warned, "they have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it, teaching them to speak." He explained, a smile growing on his lips, "what do you hear, Maith?"
Maith took a deep breath and opened her eyes, "we are not particularly welcome here," she answered with a wry smile.
"Talking trees," Gimli exclaimed, "what do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."
Maith's laugh faded on her lips when she caught phrase passing through the air, "Listen, Legolas," she urged, and her eyes widened as she heard the phrase even clearer than before, "the White Wizard is coming!"
That sent a shiver through the group and they gathered together, weapons raised. What match was them against Saruman? Dread settled among the them.
"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us," Aragorn said quietly, "we must be quick."
And at that moment he turned, the others following, to release a sword, an axe and two arrows into the air behind them. There was a flash of light and a sudden wave of power nearly swept them off their feet. Their weapons dropped onto the ground in mid-air, like a bird shot from the sky.
"You are tracking the steps of two young hobbits," a voice said. It sounded deep and old – almost friendly. Maith blinked, and then remembered what Aragorn had said of a spell.
"Where are they?" Gimli demanded.
"They passed this way the day before yesterday. And they met someone…they did not expect," the voice continued, it's tone deep and humorous, "does that comfort you?"
Strangely, it did.
Aragorn stepped back. "Who are you?" Suspicion crept into his voice, "show yourself."
The figure was still for a moment, and they watched tensely as the light surrounding him gradually dim and vanish. A small note of laughter escaped Maith's lips.
"You asked me to show myself?" Gandalf said.
As they finally emerged from the trees, Maith threw herself onto the grass took a deep breath of the healthy scent of grass and soil. She turned onto her back and noted that the sky was a brilliant blue and the noon sun heated her face. However, there was no time for rest.
Legolas approached her, and held out a hand to pull her up. Maith sighed, "could we not stop for a moment?"
The elf smiled, "Edoras is in two days' ride, Maith. Your rest lies there." He helped her up and Maith resisted the urge to glare, simply because after the last exhausting days her friend still seemed so…Tireless? Attractive? Dazzling? She mocked herself.
A high whistle brought her attention to Gandalf. She watched disbelievingly as a beautiful white stallion appeared, galloping across the landscape, by Gandalf's side.
"Mithrandir," she accused.
"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas murmured.
"Shadowfax," Gandalf proclaimed proudly, "he is the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers." He mounted the horse, "come, my friends, we have a long, hard ride ahead of us."