Sword and Arrow

Chapter 31

Fangorn forest was indeed a strange place. Though the sun was beating down on the earth and any poor souls that happened to be wandering Rohan, it was much darker under the boughs of the ancient trees. The air was cool and much more humid and the trees seemed to reach out and ensnare any traveler that would dare to venture past its boundaries. Roots protruded from the ground and gnarled branches hung low as their grey-green leaves shivered in the wind.

The Three Hunters plus Beruthiel cautiously proceeded into the dense forest, hands on their weapons and eyes wide for any threats. Beruthiel had retreated into the safety of her deep hood and had her cloak wrapped around her. Her bow was on her back again and she clutched her saxe knife in her hand.

Gimli stepped forward. The crack of the twig that he stepped on seemed to echo again and again throughout the forest, a deafening sound in the utter silence, and the old trees seemed to lean in. Beruthiel and Legolas simultaneously winced and Aragorn stood straighter, gripping his sword with both hands. Gimli, not seeming to notice any of this, dipped his gloved finger in a strange dark liquid that had pooled in a leaf and brought it to his mouth. "Orc blood!" he sputtered, immediately spitting it out.

Beruthiel had many questions, such as why he would taste a strange liquid in the middle of a creepy forest, and most importantly, how he knew what orc blood tastes like.

Aragorn nodded as if that was what he had been expecting. Resting a light hand on Gimli's shoulder, he stepped ahead of the dwarf, careful not to disturb any foliage. "These are strange tracks," he noted, studying the ground and the bent branches.

Gimli glanced around, only now noticing the complete silence and the difference in the air. "The air is so close here," he muttered.

"This forest is old," Legolas quietly said, looking up at the canopy that seemed to glow as the sunlight filtered through it. He rested a hand on Beruthiel's shoulder. "Very old." A tree that seemed to loom, with its old and twisted branches reaching out as if to snatch a man away, and bark that looked like a scowling face, caught his eye. The unfazeable elf shivered. "Full of memory... and anger."

And that was when the forest began whispering.

Voices, low and soft, emanated from the trees, not talking in any language that any of the four could decipher but bearing a distinct resemblance to Quenya. Their bass tones reverberated through the oaks and junipers and Gimli raised his axe higher, as if readying for a fight.

"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas said in a deceptively calm voice.

The voices grew slightly louder, speaking in wailing, mourning tones. It sounds like what a tree growing would sound like, Beruthiel suddenly thought. Or what an angry tree would sound like.

"Gimli!" Aragorn hissed as the speaking grew angrier. "Lower your axe." He motioned toward the dwarf and Gimli reluctantly lowered the axe, still warily looking at the trees.

The wailing dimmed to whispering and eventually became barely audible to even Legolas.

Legolas faintly smiled and said, "They have feelings, my friend." He took a few steps forward, still looking up at the trees. "The elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees," Gimli grumbled as he followed Aragorn as the Ranger picked out a careful path. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except for the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Legolas's head suddenly whipped to the side, trying to see something in the dim darkness. "Aragorn," he said slowly. "Nad no ennas (Something is out there)".

Aragor nodded, letting Legolas take the lead. "Man cenich? (What do you see?)"

Beruthiel stepped up behind Aragorn, trying to pass him, but he put his arm in front of her and shook his head, eyes still focused on a spot past Legolas's head.