Chapter 23
The Riders of Norr-on

Eight years and it feels like you're gonna die
But you get used to anything
Sooner or later it just becomes your life

Kitchen floor in the evening tossin' my little babies high
Mary's smiling but she's watching me out of the corner of her eye
Seems you can't get any more than half free
I step out onto the front porch and suck the cold air deep inside of me
Got a cold mind to go tripping 'cross that thin line
I'm sick of doin' straight time
-Bruce Springsteen

They gazed around, a confused and somewhat off-balanced group, due to fatigue. The stars shone above, giving little light with the aid of the moon. Upon the highlands of the Amon Ruil, they viewed the downward sloping valley into which the Orchs had descended. Andrew and Victoria together, Michelle, and Emily all sat by themselves and rested as Strider debated where they would move on to.

Looking around her, Victoria glanced towards Michelle. Catching her glance, Victoria raised her eyebrows and smiled towards the Flute. Shuddering, Michelle scooted farther away. Leaning towards Victoria, Andrew whispered, "You can have the front side if I get the backdoor."

"Which way would they turn, do you think?" asked Emily at last, breaking the silence. The sun was rising, ever so slightly, upon the horizon. Emily removed a snack she had packed with her and started to eat it, awaiting Strider's response.

"They won't head to the river; I'm absolutely certain of that," he told her slowly, still surveying the land. "And unless Norr-on is more fucked than is expected in these times and Rowumell's power has increased greatly, they'll take the shortest way their asses can find over the fields of the Norirrim. Let's head northwards."

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Moaning and sighing slightly, she arched her back. It seemed almost too big. In fact, it was really starting to hurt by now. She pulled back only to feel it push towards her farther, going farther into where it poked her. Flat out groaning by now, she used her elbows to prop herself up and face the quivering thing.

It was a barb of branches, pushing into and scratching her skin. Somehow, during the whole ordeal, someone or something had loosed them from a tree and she found herself pinned under them.

Sighing, Mallika looked about to see if anyone was around to help her. A little bit off, she saw the percussionist who had joined them in Mornia. She had forgotten his name.

"Hey!" she shouted, trying to get his attention. "Can you come over here?" He didn't seem to hear her. Muttering, "Ow!" as she shifted herself, she tried again. This time, he looked in her area, though he still seemed lost. Slowly, he made his way over towards her.

"Hey! Pinned down, now are we?" he asked with a grin.

"Does everyone in band have to be perverted?" Mallika thought to herself. To Tommy, she said, "Can you help me get this off?"

He stood there, as if pondering the notion. He was jerked from his thoughts by a quick rap to the back of the head.

"Stop messing around, Tommy," Rebecca Tauber told him. "Help me get this off her." Together, the two freed the trapped clarinetist.

Turning towards the two to say something, Tommy was cut off by a slight commotion farther off. Simultaneously deciding to investigate, the three set off for the general area of discontent.

Peering down into a shallow ditch, they saw Monica with the Flute from Keeremp-ierkay clutching to the Clarinet's side, not willing to let go. The look of sheer terror explained the poor girl's reluctance to Monica's now desperate attempts for departure.

Kyrstin made her way up near the other two, flag in hand and looked down at the Flute and Clarinet. "Aw, Moni, you picked a cute one," she cooed to them.

Monica just shot her a look of disdain.

Also making her way to the top of the slight hill, Laila appeared. She just gave the two a look of amusement.

Laughing at the quickly awkward situation, Tommy looked around the group and then the surrounding area. "Well, at least we'll all get along okay."

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"Those wretches cannot stop for sleep, at a pace like this," Emily let out, stopping for breath with the rest of the group. Andrew was busy looking about, keeping his eyes peeled. A slight smile formed as he and Victoria met eye contact.

As for Victoria, she sat down as she took in air. Michelle, too, seemed particularly winded.

Strider glanced to the ground with fervor, looking for signs of tracks or some way to follow. "Orchs normally never travel by light. They're unused to it, due to their performance areas and too long a time in the Pit. Yet there is no way they could have traveled this far and long without traveling during the day as well. It's odd," he muttered as he shifted some dirt around and twigs.

A worried look came over Andrew. "We can't travel at night or there won't be a path to follow. When would we rest, if we plan to keep up?"

"We shall continue as we have been," Strider answered simply.

Andrew shook his head. "Man, I could really use some pork up my ass right about now," he muttered to himself.

"They still head to Miengard," Strider told the group. "We shall continue during light: to continue in darkness would be to miss any signs we need."

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The night air was cool as it filtered through Andrew's upturned hairdo. Unable to find any blow-dryers, Andrew had somehow still managed his signature style out in the wild. He was keeping guard that night.

Looking about, he noticed Michelle was up and looking off herself, seemingly caught in thought. He softly crept towards her, with Woodwind-like silence, and whispered into her ear, "Are you lost, little girl?"

"Holy shit!" Michelle let out as she spun around to Andrew's laughing face. "You stupid Sax, I'll kill you!" she whispered angrily as she got up with her flute case ready to strike his head.

Ducking her blows, he said with complete amusement, "Hey, I know being out of the kitchen for so long has made you anxious, not knowing what to do with yourself for this period of a time, but don't take it out on me!"

However, before Andrew could say anymore, he was tripped and fell downward. He looked up to see Victoria. "What was that, Andrew, about the kitchen?" she asked in a sweet and childish voice, her signature threat.

"Oh, not you Tori. I'd expect to see you at some feminist rally dressed in all leather," he told her, laughing harder.

"Baka!" she let out in a high pitch, raising her hand as if to strike him. While flinching, he laughed all the more.

She just smiled slightly and shook her head. "Forgive him," she said to the still flustered Michelle. Andrew just laughed as he followed Victoria to continue his watch.

Michelle started back to her spot when she stopped at the sound of soft laughing. It was coming from Strider, as he lay there. Michelle just rolled her eyes in frustration as she headed off.

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As the group continued their daily marching, Andrew fell along the way. Unnoticed by the rest of the group who was marching ahead, Emily slowed her pace. Making her way back to him, she helped him up. "Thanks," he said to her, nodding in her direction.

She returned some approval as they continued with more dedication onward.

Reaching yet another hill, they stopped. Glancing down, Andrew immediately noticed horsemen some leagues off.

Pointing them out to Strider, he acknowledged them. "We ought to wait and see what news they bring. They travel the path of our Orchs."

"They have empty saddles, yet I don't see Henry or Melissa," Andrew told them.

"I didn't say it would bring good news," was Strider's only response.

The ground started to thunder as the riders approached. Taking a few steps out, Strider called, "What news from the North, riders of Norr-on?"

Almost instantaneously, the riders shifted course, charging towards the five companions. Soon, they surrounded.

Immediately, brass spears were lowered at the group. "Who are you and what are you doing in this land?" the apparent leader immediately asked.

"My name is Strider. I'm a Clarinet and we hunt Orchs," he told the horseman.

"I thought you for Orchs, when we passed by at first," the rider told him. "Though if you chase Orchs, you do so poorly in that fashion. They were heavily armed when we met them and put up quite the fight." He paused and viewed the other four. "Why do you not speak, silent ones?" he asked of them.

Starting to smile, Emily responded cheerfully enough, in almost a joking fashion, "Tell me your name, and I'd be glad to tell you mine."

The rider didn't smile. His horse came forward slightly, he glared down at her from where he sat, and he said evenly, "I would cut of your head, red hair and all, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

With Woodwind agility and the strength of a Brass, Andrew brought his hammer up and said, "She stands not alone."

Lagging late, the spears of the group tensed and readied themselves for whatever may yet unfold.

The flustered Emily looked towards the rider with distrust. "Is this how you treat your fellow French horn?" was the only question she asked.