Quick word from the author: So, I kinda owe everyone a bit of an apology and explanation for my too long absense. I had written a few chapters after the last one I had posted on here. Unfortunately, the following chapter (25) got lost, which delayed me uploading anything. Then I got sideswiped by the beginning of college and got extremely busy. For those outside of fanfiction who read this story, it got stale and old and there seemed like less and less of a reason to finish it.

However, that wasn't fair to you on here. While it's still a rediculously long lag inbetween updates (not to mention it's not like I had the greatest following on here to begin with), there may be some of you who were interested in the story and wanted to see it follow through. Admittedly, there's a lot of themes and plot devices I still had planned and had halfway worked out through the story thus far.

So, in the event that you really liked the story, I'm going to try to finish it. Uploading may not be as good as I used to do it, and I'm like to get busy. But I'm going to try to finish this, finish developing the characters, and finish laying out the story I started here. I'll have to catch myself up again with the geography and history I had laid out, but I'll certainly try my best.

So, my apology and promise made, I need to end this with a note - I was never able to find chapter 25, it's still missing. So, I don't remember what happened nor do I know how that may impact the story. Chapter 26 doesn't seem to through too much off track (it starts with what happened to Melissa and Henry after they were captured by the Orchs and continues the story of Laura, Kristi, Mike, and company as was started in chapter 24). So, hopefully, not much was lost. Enjoy.

Chapter 26
A Snatch of White In the Forest

I'm not the kind of person
You think I am
I'm not the Antichrist or
The Iron Man
I've got a vision that I
Just can't control
I feel I've lost my spirit
And sold my soul
-Ozzy Osbourne

"And who are you to command us?" the hissing voice came back again.

"Dare you to test my strength? Come now, worm, I dare you," the looming figure threatened. "Enough of this rabble. We have a long way to go. Grab those prisoners and carry them. I'll take the small one."

The next thing that Henry knew, he was roughly hoisted under someone's arm of huge stature and being carried brusquely at a running pace. If there was anything he would always remember from that moment, it would not be the pain of having his rib cage smashed over and over again into the forearm and rib cage of the orch and it wouldn't be the sweltering heat from that particular night or the orch carrying him.

It would be the stench that Henry would carry with him (quite literally) for much longer after that night. He found it ended up preoccupying much of any other thought he might have pondered, such as getting away. What made it all the more terrible was that he had no diversion. He could see little and he struggled just to keep down his stomach between the bad smell and the constant lurching in the orch's movement. He thought with envy that Melissa was unconscious through all of this.

In another surprised turn of events, he was hurtled to the ground quite roughly. He started to wonder how these orchs possibly had interpreted the command to deliver him and Melissa unharmed.

"I grow tired of carrying you," the orch spat to Henry as he yanked Henry back up to his feet by the back of his shirt. "You two shall run now." Henry happened to notice that some lump (which he assumed was Melissa) was still lying on the ground. His stomach became uneasy and did a flip at this continued lack of consciousness from her.

"The female has a cut!" one of the orchs shouted with a wheezy laugh.

"Then patch her up!" he heard the coarse and huge orch shout back, bellowing across the field they stood on. "And stop looking at her like that. They aren't a meal, but baggage." Henry was knocked over at this point, so he missed what seemed to be a sexual joke that came after. His stomach flipped again from the crassness with which they talked.

"Blasted, bastard swine! What are you doing on the floor?" An orch had spotted Henry, though he hadn't bothered to move anyway. This time, both his hair and shirt were grabbed as he was hoisted upward. "Rowumell may not want you harmed, but there're parts of you which I'm sure will go unnoticed missing," the orch sneered in his face. For a moment, it seemed he was about to lick Henry. Then, thinking better of it, he kicked Henry in the back of the knees. "Stand up, swine!" he shouted again.

A girl screamed then, which could only be attributed to one person. "She's trying to be stoic!" they shouted in mocking glee. Henry had to assume that was true; he didn't hear anywhere near as much emotion or display f obvious pain from Melissa the rest of that night.

"Why so sullen, –" an orch asked, finishing his question in his own language. "Give us a smile."

"Don't be so selfish," another orch's vocal cords scrabbled out. "Speak not in your own tongue, but the Common. We wanna hear the beautiful names, too."

"Enough!" the leader bellowed. "Her head's stopped bleeding. Let's keep going. March them!"

Henry felt himself pushed forward and started running, more so than marching, across the field. He would have preferred marching. He would at least know when to stop and when to start and sight would have been less of a requirement. As it was, he found himself tossed from side to side often as he ran into the shapes around him. It all looked the same in that dark of night and with the amount of bodies surrounding him. Plus, the running wasn't consistent. Sporadically, the group would stop and stand there for a period of time. Then, just as sporadically, they'd start again, kicking him when he didn't know to start moving once more.

"Hold it, rats!" the leader let out after a time, halting abruptly and holding his arm out. Henry hadn't known he was so close to him (Henry had slowly moved towards the front of the group as they ran, unknown to him). Instead of just clotheslining the orchs to the right and left of him, he forcibly threw them down.

"Get some firewood and start a fire. Set camp! We rest here, tonight."

Henry felt himself hoisted and thrown to the side, somewhere. He heard an audible thump and release of air to the side of him. He turned, best he could, to face her. While still hard to see, she looked a mess. Some grayish, green gunk had been smeared along her forehead, getting caught in her hair in the process. As for her facial expression, he couldn't see.

"Melissa?" he coughed out; the orchs had given them little water, so his through was parched.

"Yeah?" she asked, almost calmly. He was surprised by the quickness of her reply. It seemed she was lying down, facing upward, with her hands behind her head.

"You okay?"

"Just fine," she lied.

It didn't take long for it to click for him. "Don't let them see you cave?" he asked.

He didn't even have to see to know she was smirking then. "Exactly," she told him after a deep exhale.

Henry tried to look up as well, but there was little point to it. Smoke was starting to build in the air to aid his poor eyesight. It slightly stung as a red glow was building. "What're you looking at?" he asked her.

"The sky." She sighed. "It's something I used to do when I got bored in the Nyre. Before I met you or Mark or Melissa, I spent a lot of time on my own. So I'd just spend the time thinking, kinda dreaming, by myself." He could hear her smirk to herself. "The things you can think of in your own time. It passes the time well." She sighed again. "Imagination is sometimes so much better than reality."

But reality was insistent. Hands dove onto Henry in the next second, digging through his clothing. The voice was muttering frantically as the hands searched. Henry then realized it was the same voice that had challenged the leader about heading back to Miengard, after the orchs from the Mines.

"You'll never find it, at that rate," Melissa said, interrupting Henry's thoughts. The orch stopped. He then dove towards Melissa, grabbing her by the throat to hoist her up.

"Find what, might I ask?" he whined menacingly in her face. She visually moved her head away from him, making an obvious facial expression that his breath was unbearable. However, her heart gave her away.

The orch placed one finger where her heart would be, delighting immensely at the look of discomfort that came upon her. "Someone's nervous, it seems," he slithered, drunk with the moment.

"And if I am?" she asked back, the confidence in her voice not giving way. "You'll still never find it. They'll find you and rip you from limb to limb first."

A scowl replaced the orch's joy. "I'll rip you first and enjoy every delight the flesh has to offer, if I have to find it," he snapped.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy your coming death," she responded back, not meeting his gaze.

His grip tightened around her throat, yet she didn't yield to him. He dropped her and grasped Henry by the cheeks. Licking his teeth frantically, he asked, "You need your glasses, right? Can't see without your stupid lenses. Where is it? Tell me and I'll give you them back."

"I don't think you're in a position to be setting terms," Melissa said, still coughing from the orch's previous grip.

The orch tried to slap her but she moved beforehand. Immediately angered, Henry bit into the other hand near his face as hard as he could. The orch howled in pain before forcing himself to stop for fear of detection.

Grabbing the two, he took off while grasping them by their hair, screeching under his breath in his own language. When he finally stopped, right before the forest, his breathing had become extremely labored and he was wheezing heavily.

"Now – what Rowumell wants – give it to me!" He stood up to tower over them, but to his own undoing. A spear pierced his back and he fell to his knees, blood coming out from his mouth. The pounding of horses' hooves filled the area. Melissa wrestled a knife out from beneath the fallen orch and cut the ropes binding herself and Henry. Henry then searched through the orch's clothing and found his glasses. Without looking back, the two took off into the woods.

XXX

Chelsea, Jeff, Jonathan, and Mike sat off to the side. Kristina was busy watching over Laura. She still had yet to regain consciousness.

Jonathan was scribbling in his notebook again, stopping every once in a while to think.

Mike was looking over his Saxophone. In the hurried attempt to escape the orchs, his case had been dragged and trudged over the ground, mud, and nearly through water. He looked over the pads, making sure they were still dry. He then inspected his reed.

He muttered something under his breath. "Everything alright?" Chelsea asked him, glancing around the area as she talked.

"My reed," Mike told her. "It bent and I only had one left."

"That's the benefit of not having reeds," Kristina said under her breath, so that the others couldn't hear her.

Chelsea glanced towards Jonathan. "What do you always write about in there?" she asked him at length.

He didn't look up. "In here? In this notebook, generally, lyrics, but that's not all I write about on a daily basis."

"What do you normally write about?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Things that concern me, I guess."

Chelsea laughed. "Well, then, where do you get your inspiration?"

He gave a slight smile as he continued to write. "Generally from life experiences, people I know."

"Wouldn't that make things difficult to write? You know, you wouldn't paint someone you know in a bad light," Mike said.

"Well, there is creative liberty. And people aren't perfect. I'd actually find it more an insult to say I am. Besides, the ends ought to be a statement of what you believe, in my opinion. Therefore, what ought to be should be the climax." He wrote something else down and looked it over. "Besides, I don't know anyone who's weak or not admirable."

"Guys, come here," Kristina shouted over to them, interrupting the conversation. "Laura's waking."

The four got up from where they were sitting and went over to observe Laura. Slowly, she was opening her eyes. She groaned. "My head," she muttered groggily, putting a hand to it.

"You got hit on the head by a tree branch," Chelsea told her. "You've been out for…well, a while."

With some effort, Laura propped herself up. "We need to keep moving," Kristina reminded them.

"But my hea-" Laura started to protest, clutching herself with more strength at the expense for her emotion.

"We don't have much choice," Jonathan cut her off, rising and putting the notebook in his clarinet case.

XXX

"And now we're lost," Kristina muttered, gazing around. "De we even know which direction we want to head?" she asked the rest of the group.

They all kind of looked sheepishly away. "Let's head this way," Laura voiced suddenly.

"Do we have a reason why?" Chelsea asked her, following after and dodging stray branches.

"Do you have a better course?" Laura asked back.

Laura led the way as they headed through the forest. As the group continued on, the branches grew thicker above them and the light was slowly blocked out.

"Laura, maybe we ought to head in a different direction?" Mike asked.

"Too late for that now; we're thoroughly lost," Chelsea responded.

Before another comment could be put in, Laura fell from sight into some tall grass. Mike and Kristina rushed forward, trying to make sure she was okay.

A look of smiling embarrassment was upon her face. "Yes…I'm okay," she said as she struggled up. She noted it was a good thing she had decided to wear her black A. F. I. shirt, all stains that were possible considered.

When she was finally standing again, she looked around. "What tripped me?" she asked aloud, though to herself more than anyone else.

"Probably a branch or a log," Chelsea told her. But Laura was already digging through the grass again, searching for her balance assassin. She ripped out a few pieces of grass and looked down at a seal.

"Well, there's something you don't see everyday," she muttered to herself.

"What is it?" Jonathan asked.

"I dunno," Kristina replied.

"We need to keep moving," Chelsea told them, watching the branches of the trees. Recognizing Chelsea's habit, Jonathan immediately rose as well.

"Chels is right," he told the rest of the group. She had an uncanny ability to sense danger before it came.

Before any of them could move though, as if to fulfill some premonition, a twig snapped somewhere near them. In the next second, knives, bows and arrows, and sword were pulled into view.

A soft snickering seemed to echo through the woods. Backs to each other, the group slowly circled, unsure of what, or how many, they were facing.

The unnaturally quick patter of feet caused them to freeze for a moment. Barely any sunlight could force its way out of the twisted branches above them. They mentally cursed themselves for going this far into the forest.

"Is it orchs that trespass of territory of the royal family of the Grendvall," a voice barked from what seemed like everywhere.

And then it, whatever it was, rushed the group, so that they fell cold and still. And in the next second, it was gone.

Silence, as if nothing were ever disturbed. And then, it seemed, that the trees seemed to part, making a path for them to follow. And more light entered into the previous darkness.

XXX

Strider awoke and put out the smoldering ashes. He saw, near the forest, that Emily was inspecting the area.

"Do you see anything?" he asked her as he approached. She stood up, her red hair glinting in sunlight. He laughed, the first time in many days. "We may have to cover that hair of yours; it might tip some orchs off as to our location."

Emily laughed as well. "It would be their undoing, lest cleaved heads is something they enjoy." She dusted some dirt off of her pants. "It's possible they headed in here. Henry and Melissa, that is. There seems to be a few set of feet that went in, so I doubt it a majority of orchs."

"Orchs wouldn't be so stupid as to enter the forest," Strider told her. "Let's head in."

The forest was thick and well-grown. While they tried to avoid it, they found themselves often too big to squeeze past anything without breaking branches and destroying some plant of some kind.

After a while, they found a small pond. "Of all things, imagine," Michelle muttered towards the body of water.

They all drank from it and decided to rest there. As they were resting, Andrew noticed a spot of white behind a tree trunk. He got up, though not without his hammer.

"Who are you?" he shouted, though he made no advancement. Andrew had said once, in some conversation, that his face was more suited to comedy than really anything serious, yet it was very difficult to not take serious a person holding a hammer that could crush your head to pulp.

The figure walked forward and they noticed a graying beard upon the face.

"Rowumell!" Michelle exclaimed and immediately an arrow was sent forth. It was easily deflected and the other weapons burned in their owner's hands so that they had to drop them.

"Who are you?" Strider asked.