First Place - Most Humorous
First Place - Most Successful Usage of "MPS"
(NOTE: This entry was unusually long, and has been broken up into several sections, because my HTML editor wouldn't allow me to present it as one piece)
(Continued from Part Two)
*************
Far to south and west, Rand's mind spun in wild circles as servants placed tray after tray of food on the huge table before him. The various lords and ladies, though, seemed to pay it no mind even though Illian was supposed to be experiencing shortages of food. "I guess the shortages hadn't yet affected the wealthy," he mused. He couldn't get over the variety or the quantity. Back when had lived in Emond's Field, he would have considered himself fortunate to receive a bowl of sawdust and some fresh goat-chips. Nothing could have prepared him for the coronation feast that the Council of Nine was holding in his honor. As Rand scanned the table before him, he didn't think it odd that he, a shepherd's son from the ass end of nowhere, could be the guest of honor at such a banquet. After all, he was the Dragon Reborn, and therefore better than everyone else, including Egwene, who thought too much of herself anyway. The thought of Egwene made him smile. Once they had been promised, but she had spurned him. "Well, you blew it sweetie," he mused. Besides, what was the hand of one girl in marriage, when he had _three_ chipees ready to spread for him in a heart beat. He grinned and drummed his fingers on the table, scanning the people assembled.
Of all the people seated around the large rosewood table, Rand only knew Bashere and Jor Grady for more than two days. The rest of the Illianer nobility were little more than names to him. Maybe Bashere, being a Queen's uncle and all, would have been accustomed to such a banquet, but Rand would wager that Grady was as amazed as he was. The meal laid out before them was staggering.
Roasted chickens vied for space with basted geese and huge joints of what Rand sincerely hoped was beef simmering in gravy. Enormous bowls of Sea Folk porcelain filled with turnips and greens sat side by side with tall elaborate structures of cheese and eggs. Roasted onions and sausages on skewers arranged outward like hedgehogs, quivering molds of gelatin, and great heaping slabs of headcheese jostled with glazed hams, dressed lambs, bubbling kettles of stew and buckets of aromatic lutefisk. And there was seafood! Platters of large fish baked with herbs in pastry were stacked next to trenchers of tiny fish swimming in a tangy wine sauce. Clams and oysters baked with stuffing, or served raw as Rand was revolted to learn, competed for space with ugly creatures that looked like large insects with shiny red shells. They were allegedly a delicacy though, fresh "labstras" shipped in from Mayene. Rand had looked askance as those "labstras," having no idea how to even begin to eat them.
Noticing his unease, a young Illianer noblewoman, Islyn, volunteered to show him. Rand watched in amazement as this demure dark-haired girl used a small silver mallet to smite the shells of those creatures with disturbing ferocity. Then she told him to do it himself, and showed him how to dip the pieces of white flesh in dishes of molten butter. It was rather tasty, and he thought he had gotten the hang of it. Still, he did feel stupid wearing that ridiculous bib.
The night air was thick with tabac smoke and pefume and the rich smells of so much food when one of the Council of Nine came to his feet and announced "To Rand al'Thor, Keeper of the Southern Coast, Lord of the Dance, King of Illian!" Lord Estan Andreanos was a fat man and he wore a blue silk coat, with a sash of green silk embroidered with nine golden bees slung across his chest. "May he reign in peace and prosperity!" The assembled throng of highborn were on their feet, raising their silver goblets high.
Rand removed his feet from table and swung them beneath him. "Ah, thank you Lord Estan, but never forget Tairmon Gaidon is just around the corner-" His voice trailed off as a statuesque lady in a pearly grey gown, cut low, embroidered in gold to match her slippers, raised her goblet again. "To the Lord Dragon, Prince of the Morning, Conqueror of Tear, Ruler of Andor!"
"Um, my Lady Carinde, we would do well to dispense with idle pleasures and-"
Another lady was lifting her cup. Lady Farian Coronaleos was stout, in a blue and silver gown that was cut daringly low to reveal her hills and valleys. She wore a silver circlet set with blue gems in her iron grey hair. "To the Dragon Reborn, Keeper of Cairhein, He Who Comes with the Dawn, Master of his Domain!"
"Lady Farian, titles may all well and goo-"
A lord this time, Rayle Bartelemeos. "To Rand al'Thor, Warden of the Sea, Marshal of the-" He words died as Rand deftly wove a flow of Air and flung one of the gilded carving knives to pass over the man's shoulder and embed itself in the dark wooden chairback, where it quivered menacingly.
Rand rose to his feat, snarling. Poor Islyn jumped away just in time as he wove a shovel of Air and mercilessly swept the table clear, splattering the finery of the nobles with sauce and juices and the occasional of blob of grease. And then, just because Rand loved to show just how manic-depressive he was, he drove a wedge of Fire and Spirit into the heart of table, exploding it in a shower of sparks and splinters.
No one spoke. Lady Carinde and Islyn were weeping. Bashere looked askance, and Grady was grinningly maniacally. Then again, Grady did everything maniacally. Rand gathered his cape of cloth-of-gold, and strode into the center of where the table used to be. "I take it have your attention," he inquired softly. No one dared move. "Now, as I was saying-"
"Now as you were saying," began a familiar voice, " you are little more than a small toddler who has barely learned not to soil himself, let alone walk."
Astonished gasps followed as the banquet-goers sought out the owner of that voice. Rand recognized it, though. He recognized it all too well.
"Cadsuane! How dare you interrupt me!" He grappled with Saidin, and cobbled together a brutal weave. "I have put up with your impertinence for too long!" Directing it with an outstretched hand, he pushed his woven flows across the room, over where the table used to be and slowly past the assembled men and women, and held it just before the grey haired Aes Sedai's face. "I allowed you to attend me, but I think it is time you learn who is the shepherd and who is the flock!" He tried to envelope the woman in his Saidin construct, designed to cause her incredible pain, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Cadsuane merely looked at him, her ageless face a study in composure, her very posture demanding obedience. If she feared anything, Rand doubted it was him. His eyes saw only her, everyone and everything else forgotten.
"Bloody Ashes!" He tightened his hand, and the construct tightened as well. He couldn't! His partially clenched hand was shaking violently with tension. Burn me! He couldn't force himself to close his grasp. With a sound of exasperation, he dropped his hand. She simply looked at him with a knowing smile. Rand would take a dagger in his heart before he would harm a woman. He would have an arrow through his throat. Did she know that he would endure anything rather than raise a hand against a woman? Anything. Hot pincers and needles, plums and squirrels, chocolate milk enemas...
The ancient, grey-haired Aes Sedai cleared her throat, gathered her dark velvet robes, and approached him in her usual rushing glide. Rand did have to concede that she was quite impressive and dominating. Her many golden ornaments chimed as they swayed on their fine chains, suspended from a neat bun at the top of her head. For her part, Cadsuane ignored everyone else present. "Little boys, they do like to play, but you should not be wasting your time in such nonsense!" She gave him a back handed slap. He was stunned, but secretly hoped for more.
"Come, my Lord Dragon. Indeed, it is high time we established who is the shepherdess and who is the flock." Her cool, commanding voice put no hint of respect on his title. She ran her dark eyes up and down him, and grabbed him fiercely about the wrist. She led him from the banquet hall saying "and the _shepherdess_ says it is time to get the _flock_ out of here." He followed her out of the room, and down the hall in silence, subdued by her very presence and bearing. It was almost as if she had used Compulsion on him.
Rand paused for a moment. Compulsion? What was Compulsion? He had no idea. Another bit of information that had come from Lews Therin, back when he was still riding around in the back of his mind, giving Rand all those odd ideas about women and dicipline, delightful discipline. Good riddance to him. In any event, he was certain she was not using the One Power on him. Rand would have felt it, he was sure. Her ability to dominate was more than just Saidar. She pulled him further down the hall, and into her apartments.
As soon as the doors slammed behind him, sealing him in this lavishly appointed sitting room with her, she rounded on him. "Foolish, impetuous child!" She forced him backwards into a padded armchair with Saidar. She then seated herself in a similar chair, and assiduously arranged her robes over what Rand desperately prayed was a night-dress. The other alternative was too scary. Cadsuane then reached over and touched his knee, the Great Serpent ring gleaming on her finger. She was wearing perfume, a strangely exciting, spicy fragrance.
"Now, Master Rand, I have been talking with your Min. She has a wondrous gift, and she has been telling you things about me, yes?" She didn't wait for his reply. "I know she has, so don't deny it." She raised a canny brow at him, and tightened her grip on his knee. "Well, boy, answer me!"
"Fine, Cadsuane, she has told me!" He leaned forward and caught a terrifying glimpse down her robe. He bolted to his feet and demanded "Aes Sedai, where is she? If you've harmed her, I'll-"
She rose to meet his gaze, her face implacable and seemingly carved in stone. "You'll what?" He glanced away. She reached up and patted his cheek. "I thought so. Now sit down so I don't have to crane my neck up at you." She paused while he seated himself. "Now, you will repeat for me what she has told you." The words crackled, like cracks of a lash. He glumly complied, riveted by her commands.
He glared sullenly up at her, standing in her robe. Rand noted she had kicked off her slippers. "She told me that you have something to teach me, something I won't like to learn," he muttered reluctantly, as he stared at her bare, bony feet on the plush, patterned carpet.
"Very good." She put her hand under his chin and forced his head up. "Look at me, " she said as she undid the sash of her robe. Rand tried not to look, truly he did, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. It was like watching a cart-accident, putting in mind the time he was twelve and saw Elner al'Morh run his wagon of slaughtered sheep into Mistress Borran's two-wheeled riding cart, piled high with chickens. It was horrifying, but he couldn't turn away then, just as he couldn't turn away now...
Cadsuane Meladhrin, Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah, so very commanding and imposing, stood before him bare as the day she was born, which Rand supposed was some time around the Breaking. Apparently the Ageless Look didn't carry down past the neck. It was truly a thoroughly stomach-turning spectacle. And yet she was so enthralling, so captivating. How did she do it? Was it some Talent of hers? He was as irresistibly drawn to this woman as he was repulsed.
"Yes, young Rand, it is true. I have something to teach you, and to teach all of your Asha'man." She slipped the robe from her bony shoulders and reached to undo the buttons on his coat and shirt. "I have discovered a way to fight off the madness," she began slowly. He started to rise in surprise, but she held him down with the lightest possible touch on his bare shoulder. "It involves a communion of the flesh, a joining of souls." She began to work on his belt.
"Long ago, I was chasing a False Dragon named Cual Collain. You know that name?" He nodded and she continued, her eyes moist with remembrance. "Well, Cual and I spent a good deal of time in each other's company, and we became, as you children would call it, 'hot and heavy.'"
She was busily unlacing his breeches, and took note of what must be a shocked expression on his face. "You are skeptical. Well, back in my day, I was a hot crumpet. A hot, tasty, moist crumpet," she turned to present him with a side view, which he most assuredly did not want. "Eventually, young Rand, young strapping, virile Rand, I discovered that poor Cual's condition was much improved after our 'unions.' I soon deduced that while he was seeking the void, if I was opening myself to the One Power, the Taint could not touch him. It simply went...elsewhere. We never learned where. It had to be perfectly timed, mind you, this alignment and it required much practice to get the timing exactly right." She was slipping off his boots.
Fascinated, yet appalled, he asked. "So what became of Cual? From what I can recall, history doesn't treat his story in detail." She paused in her act of removing his stockings, and looked up at him. "Oh, after a while I tired of him, brought to Tar Valon, and had his ass gentled." She then returned to her task.
"Anyway, since poor Cual, I have offered myself to every poor channeling man, time and time again. Even Mazrim Taim and Logain Ablar. Logain was an especially eager pupil, as I recall. And his hands-." She took a deep breath, which did alarming things to her figure and deflated bosom. "Well, that's neither here nor there." She pulled down his smallclothes now. Rand had not even noticed her removing his breeches. "And now I offer myself to you and your Asha'man. It will take a good deal of effort on your part to make sure we get it just right though. And a good many tries. It will not be easy, for _you_" she smiled, "or pleasant. You will have to learn, and I shall have to teach."
Rand was in shock. So _that_ was how they had held off the Madness for so long. He took a long hard long at Cadsuane's withered frame, and considered his options. It was either a hideous, decrepit, wasted body or take his chances with the Taint.
"Cadsuane," he asked, "umm, couldn't this 'teaching' be performed by...um, well, someone less 'experienced?'"
She smacked him again, a deliciously smarting smack. "You mean, someone younger, don't you? Well, the answer is no. I have never heard of another sister with this gift of mine, this Talent, if you will." She removed her golden wire hair ornament and let her iron grey hair spill down her back. Her tresses were still thick and lovely as a girl's, thought Rand, vainly striving to stay positive."Think Rand, my strapping young buck, what have the other sisters told you about me?" She turned her back to him, and gestured that he follow her to the wide, sumptuously appointed bed.
Rand realized he was naked at this point, but he was both too enthralled and too repulsed to care. He tried to answer her. "Well, Alanna has been telling me that you've had more warders than most sisters have shoes," he ventured. She chuckled, a low smoky chuckle that sounded like she had just heard a very filthy joke. She sat herself on the bed, her pale, flaccid skin in stark contrast to the luridly red satin sheets, the color of which set off her varicose veins nicely. He stepped closer to her, somnolently.
"What else does young Alanna have to say about me?" She stretched languorously, and what Rand could only assume she thought was seductively.
"She said that the men you bring to the Tower for gentling live longer than most others." She turned a very satisfied smirk up at him, and reached for his wrist.
"Yes, you see, I and I alone can save you, Rand, sweet, youthful Rand, powerful, well hung Rand. I will teach you what you need to know." He allowed himself to be drawn into her dry embrace.
She spoke again, a breathless whisper in his ear. "And did Alanna also tell you that among all the sisters of the White Tower, I hold the lifetime record for hickies?" Another low, delighted chuckle.
Rand allowed her to take position with a grimace, and closed his eyes with all the strength he could muster. Min was absolutely right. He was not going to like this. Not going to like it one bit.
(Return to Part Two; Return to Part One.)