The smell of burning made me feel ill.

Hell of a smell of burning now, a lot of smoke.

Smells of burning, but there's no sign of fire.

A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age.