Third Place - Most Successful Usage of "Sniffing" and "Crossing Arms Beneath Breasts"
THE PONDEROUS PATH OF POINTLESSNESS
CHAPTER 1
"The Two Rivers"
"Well, what do you think we should do?"
Bran al'Vere sighed heavily. It seemed that since Lord Perrin and
Lady Faile had left the Two Rivers to go harrowing off to the Creator knows
where that the world had been stood on it's head. He looked at the Wisdom
and wondered how much longer it would be before he could retire from the
position of mayor and return to running his inn. He liked staying in Lord
Perrin's Manor, and the job sure did pay more now than it did before the
Trollocs came, but Bran wasn't sure the perks were worth the nuisance of
having everybody and their second cousin always asking him what he thinks
they should do. Just last week, old Cenn Buie drowned after he came to
Bran and had asked what Bran thought he ought to do about not having enough
helpers to finish all the jobs he'd been commissioned to do. "Well it's
not my fault if he took me seriously when I told him to go jump in a lake",
Bran thought to himself. "It's not my fault if the old codger never
learned to swim."
Bran sighed again and tried to focus on the matter at hand. The
new Wisdom, Gerri Atric, was sure a deep pool in and of herself. "Deeper
than the Waterwood by half", Bran muttered to himself.
"What was that?" Geri gave him a reproachful look and sniffed.
"I said that I think you ought to cut them in half."
"Well that's fine then," The Wisdom nodded and unfolded her arms
from underneath her breasts and began to turn to go, her braid turning and
following her out.
"No, Light, Woman!" Bran couldn't help but be exasperated by the
lack of brains present. "I'm not serious! Do you really think it's a good
idea to go cutting sheep in half because I suggested it?"
"Well, you _are_ the mayor. And Lord Perrin _did_ leave you in
charge here. If you think that cutting the sheep in half will solve the
problem, then I'm sure that's the right thing to do" Her nod punctuated her
statement as her arms refolded themselves beneath her breasts. "I'm sure
that Master Monhane and Mater Triam would approve."
Bran ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember the last good
night of sleep. "I'm sure they would, but you just don't go cutting things
in half because you can't decide who they belong to!" Bran sighed again,
and wondered where Tam and Abell and gotten themselves off to. They always
disappeared when it came time for these open hearings. "They never listen
to _us_", Tam would protest when he insisted they be here. They were
right, of course. To most people they were the smell of the cows on the
wind, for all they were concerned. Well, anyway, it would serve both
_Master_ Monhane, and _Master_ Triam right if their sheep got cut in half.
Besides, they were both new refugees. Master Triam, said he was up from
Saldea, or one of the other Borderlands. Had a hook nosed beak like you
wouldn't believe, and never smiled. Never seemed to sweat either, now that
Bran thought about it. And Master Monhane was from somewhere no one had
heard of, and was the ugliest, most country sumbitch Bran had ever laid
eyes on.
"Well? What do you think should be done with the sheep?" Geri was
getting on his nerves.
Bran had had enough. He told the Wisdom exactly what he thought
she could do with the sheep left the room. As he walked to the cabinet to
get a good shot of some hard liquor he wondered if the Two Rivers would
survive much longer. He filled a medium size cup halfway full of brandy,
decided better and filled the cup and tossed it down. If the weather
didn't change soon, there would be no peddlers coming down from Baerlon to
buy tabac next year. There was always the new strains of tabac that Mikal
Stev had been growing, but he wasn't sure the Two Rivers could survive on
that. He sighed and decided to drink a few more and then take the rest of
the week off and go fishing.
CHAPTER 2
"The Aiel Waste"
Sharn Atalwon was not sure that he liked Mashrin Tayem anymore. He
had known Mashrin for quite some time. In fact, they were near second
cousins thrice removed, which meant that if Sharn's whole sept of Payele
Aiel were destroyed, Mashrin would be his closest relative. But Mashrin
just wasn't the same since he had gotten back from the battle with the
Trollocs near the Blightborder. He almost never seemed to smile, and
sometimes, when you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, his nosed
seemed to be hooked. Sharn decided that maybe Mashrin just needed some
time to readjust to civilized society. He was still upset that their whole
Clan had missed out on He Who Comes With the Dawn. Living on the outskirts
of the Waste nearest Shara, they were often forgotten. As Mashrin had said
several times since his return, "The rest of the so-called Aiel have left
us behind again."
Maybe he could convince Mashrin to go looking for the Car'a'carn in
the wetlands. Then again, Mashrin didn't seemed to be inclined to do much
these days. Maybe a good quest is what he needed. Then he would come back
as the Mashrin Sharn originally knew, and all would be well. He would stop
mumbling about being "chosen", although by whom and for what was anyone's
guess. Mashrin was well past twenty, and all Aiel knew that those "chosen"
to hunt the Dark One discovered it before they were twenty. Surely, that
could not be what Mashrin meant.
Sharn picked up the spear that he had been working on and grunted
admiringly at the work he had done. Being a Blacksmith was a good trade.
He hefted the spear and not for the first time wondered if he had chosen
the wrong lifestyle. Of course, if you believed the man he had talked to
in the Shara trading post, Fla'vio, or something like that, the raids and
battles the Clans waged upon each other were all but impossible. Sharn
could almost make sense of what the dark Sharan was saying, and found
himself regretting his choice in his simple lifestyle. If only he could
get over the nausea he felt at the sight of blood, he could join his
brothers in the Dance, maybe even be a battle leader. No, a simple
blacksmith was all that he was, and he knew that his spears would be needed
if the other Clans ever came back, regardless of what the stranger said.
CHAPTER 3
"The Borderlands"
"It's incestuous, I tell you!"
Bil Gar'Rhet groaned and rolled his eyes. He could here the
imbecile from across the bar, ranting again about the relationship between
the Dragon Reborn and the Queen of Andor. He had been at it for several
weeks, talking to anyone who would listen. Few people still did. Those
that did stop and listen or reply to his incessant ramblings were quickly
found shunned by the rest of the regular patrons of the bar and inn, which
was aptly named Rest And Sleep, For Weary Road Journeyers. This did
little to stop the dung heap from getting his idiotic opinions heard. The
noise level since his arrival had been unbearable. Bil sighed and took
another pull of his ale, and looked around the bar to see if anyone was
going to do anything about it, this time.
At the end of the bar, Jon Nevak sat talking quietly to three other
regulars, Mikal Kwolsty, Davin Gran'gre, and Pwal Cangurae. Color shifting
cloaks marked two of them as Warders. In fact, those two were bonded to
Scota. She had bonded _seven_ Warders, which even made the Greens shake
their heads. What the four of them were talking about Bil was uncertain,
but he was sure it had nothing to do with the current state of the
Borderlands. Or any other land from Shara to the Aryth Ocean for that
matter. They were probably discussing the newest and greatest invention to
come out of Cairhien, from that "school" that the Dragon Reborn had founded
before he became King of Illian. Jon always seemed to be on the cutting
edge. Being second in charge of the defense of Saldea did have its
privledges, it seemed. He had been the first to pick up on Kaff, which
came from the western lands of Arad Doman and Tarabon. Where they had got
it from was anyone's guess, of course.
Next to them was Chias Orlsell, who was currently talking to Laral
Beston. As far as Bil could tell, Chias was quoting old prophecies in the
Old Tongue and Laral was translating them. Bil was sure he could find
much more productive things to do with Laral, but she seemed to be content
where she was. Besides, she lived too close to the Blight, nearly in the
Blight as far as Bil was concerned. Best not to get involved, her place
could be run over by Trollocs in the small hours of the morning.
Loud laughter cut off his thought, and Bil looked over at a table
near the center of the bar, where Em Ell was currently entertaining another
group of regulars. Drel Gilm was laughing at the witty quips coming from
Em Ell, while Natan the Bold was doing his best imitation of a sheep in
heat. They were probably talking about the new bit of gossip up from the
Two Rivers, the bit about the new Wisdom that had sex with sheep, out in
broad daylight. Bil shook his head. It would be just the sort of thing to
set that group off, even if it weren't true.
More familiar faces flitted by. Tibit, Himing, Mintidin, Biye and
Tshin were off in the corner talking low. Scotia was nowhere to be seen.
Funny, she was rarely far from her Warders. Thinking of Warders brought
his attention to the back of the bar, where Ann Gel's Warders sat.
Everytime he saw them, he was sure she must be Black Ajah, even though he
never admitted his suspicion to anyone. Still the conglomeratoin of
Warders was not as distressing as the missing and long gone faces.
--
"Look, The King of Illian and the Queen of Andor are related,
because they are both related to Lord Galad. If they get married, there
will be major problems, I tell you!"
Bil tried to block out the words. He shifted his color shifting
cloak, which made several nearby people simultaneously lose their lunches
and whatever beverages they had drank, and looked over to see who the
Blight taken fool was that was listening to the pile of Trolloc leavings.
A man of middling height was seated attentively beside the troublesome
noisemaker. Even in the heat that had passed all the way through winter,
not a drop of sweat rolled off his hooked nose. The man wore a serious
expression, and was frowning in a way that suggested permanence. Bil
wondered if the man ever smiled.
"We should do something about that idiot," Rhobwhyn commented
disapprovingly, "but that I could convince myself that he's Shadowspawn I
would Balefire him into last Tuesday." Bil shifted uneasily, feeling the
distaste that passed from his bondholder. He loosened his sword, preparing
for any sort of order that might come from her. Rhobwhyn was a good
companion. In the years since she had bonded Bil, he had come to know her
_very_ well. In many manners as well as forms. His fellow Warders often
did not realize just how much time they had spent together, disappearing on
some errand or mission by their Aes Sedai. That was one thing he liked
about his "mistress", things were never dull around her. He also liked her
name, which in the Old Tongue meant "Hawk".
"Do you want me to take care of it?" Bil asked. "I'm quite sick
of him myself, and a good fight is just what I need to work up another good
thirst. I sort of lost my appetite when he showed up, and you know me, I
like to get the ale that eats like a meal."
"I don't know," Rhobwhyn responded, "I don't think it would be a
good idea to draw the night watch here. Everybody has been so touchy since
the attempt on Queen Tenobia's life. I'd hate to have to go through all
the trouble of getting you pulled out of a cell. Besides, I like putting
you *into* chains, not getting you out of them."
Bil grunted and returned to his silent scan of the room. Over by
the door, things began to escalate. Kristain Conrate had had too much to
drink, and was getting into a yelling match with the dolt. Names were
starting to fly. Bil pushed his chair back and looked around the room.
Everywhere, people were getting up out of their seats and staring in the
idiot's general direction. It seemed readily apparent that he was quite a
bit more stupid than Bil's original estimate, because despite the growing
sentiment against him, he began to issue personal challenges to everyone in
the room. As one, the group descended upon him and carried him outside for
a long beating. Many chairs and tables were carried out the door to be
used as tools to punish the infadel.
--
Bil picked up his ale and pulled an unbroken chair from nearby and
sat down across from his Aes Sedai. He grinned.
"All taken care of." He said and took a long hard pull. It seemed
his thirst was back.
"Any trouble with the night watch?" Rhobwhyn asked. "Am I going
to need to pull you and the rest of the bar from the Palace dungeons
tomorrow?"
"Nah. In fact, the night watch helped. Seems the schmuck has been
making trouble in other bars, too."
"Ah. I see. Well, all is well that ends well, and what will be,
will be. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills." Bil grinned and took
another drink, and was surprised when he came to the bottom of the glass.
"Where was he from, anyway?" Rhobwhyn asked.
"Seems he was from someplace across the ocean. I've heard the Sea
Folk call it the 'Land of Madmen'."
"Ah. That would explain it."
Bil nodded and got up to get another ale.
CHAPTER 4
"The Darkfriend Social"
The man who called himself Hal took the steaming cup of Kaff from
the lightly clad servant and muttered his thanks, which fell on deaf ears.
The servant turned without a response and headed off to pass out steaming
cups of Kaff to others that were gathered here. Where "here" was exactly,
Hal wasn't inclined to venture a guess on. He also couldn't tell what
lands all the other "guests" were from, although all of them seemed to be
taking the Kaff with eagerness. Which in itself was not surprising. Kaff
was a rapidly growing new fad, next to bestiality. It seemed that everyone
these days were sleeping with his or her livestock. It all started with
that cutting edge Wise Lady in the Two Rivers, but had rapidly grown across
the land. Glancing across the room Hal noticed that someone had brought
their horse, a shaggy gray mare. Definitely not a riding horse. Well, at
least not for the *typical* style of riding, at least. Hal tried to draw
his thoughts away from those avenues, but couldn't help but hope that there
would be a ewe in his quarters when he retired from the meeting. Their
host was always quick to reward those that he favored, and equally quick to
punish those that had fallen out of his favor.
Hal shuddered. Not that he had done anything that would betray his
oaths to the Great Lord. No, he had fully meant those oaths when he had
taken them, and had completed every order that had been given to him,
although some of his orders made no sense. Who washe to question the Great
Lord?
Suddenly, a figure appeared from the doorway. A too tall Myrdraal
that seemed to be thinking of a joke that he wasn't inclined to share with
everybody. Not that anyone would really want to hear the Myrdraal tell the
joke, as it were.
"I am Shadar Haran! On your knees! The Great Lord of the Dark
comes! " As one, the guests fell out of their seats and onto their knees,
Hal no less quick than the others.Hal noticed the mare also bending to its
knees and did not make a mental note of it. Hal kept his eyes on Shadar
Haran, as sweat began to form on his brow.
In the front, next to where the Myrdraal stood a great sheet of
cloth was draped against the wall. The lights dimmed, and on the cloth
pictures began to appear, pictures of two Myrdraal, some woman, and a horse.
Hal's eye's bulged at what he saw, and this time he did make several mental
notes of things to try with his wife when he got home. Shadar Haran ran
back through the door, and some swearing and a lot of noise echoed through
the room. The pictures stopped, and the words "WE ARE EXPERIENCING
TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, PLEASE BE PATIENT" flashed onto the cloth. Hal
looked around, and noticed that his companion that had been seated across
the table from him was as close to a smile as Hal had seem him come all
night. Hal wondered if the man knew how hook nosed he was.
Finally, the lights came back on and the Myrdraal reappeared
through the doorway. "Never mind the cloth, we're going to do this the old
fashioned way," he stated. "I am Shadar Haran, you will obey me."
Hal watched as around the room, people would stiffen, and then nod
at some unheard voice, and then bow or curtsy and leave. He was surprised
to see the mare suddenly start and then shake it's mane, as if it didn't
like what it was hearing. Finally, it shuddered, and then bobbed its gray
head up and down and trotted out of the room. Amazing, Hal thought.
"HAL." The voice struck into his mind like a splash of ice cold
water. "YOU HAVE DONE WELL, HAL. WOULD YOU BE CHOSEN?" Hal nodded and
began to listen to the voice thundering through his head. He closed his
eyes and began to laugh as the voice continued.
CHAPTER 5
"Caemlyn"
She had been employed in Caemlyn just since the Dragon Reborn had
killed Lord Gabriel and as some people said, but not her, Morgase. It was
a good job, and kept her family well fed, but she was not sure if she liked
being in the palace with a man who could channel. Sure, the Queen Elayne,
the Light illumine her soul, was planning on marrying him, but what did
that say for the sanity of the Queen?
Tilly decided that those were problems for the Nobles to deal with,
after allwasn't that what they were there for? She picked up her bucket
and rags and headed down the lesser-traveled corridors down to the wine
cellars and storage rooms. It was time for their yearly cleaning.
She sung softly as she cleaned, like she always did. She liked
these sort of jobs, that took her away from the crowded parts of the
palace, where a Noble would stare down his or her nose at you, or just
plain ignore you like you didn't exist. She also liked them because she
could sing more loudly than she normally did, and no one seemed to care,
unless you counted the spiders and mice, but who knew what they thought?
Not her, surely.
Tilly finished the first wine cellar and then continued through two
of the lesser storage rooms and began to work her way down the hall towards
the darker colder rooms that were saved for those years when the harvest
was more bountiful than could be sold. By tradition, the Queen would buy
up the overstock and store it down here to be passed out in the winter to
needy families. As she approached the first of the doors, she noticed an
awful smell. She couldn't quite place it at first, and then realized that
it smelled like that old milk cow that had wandered off and died last year.
No one had found it for months, and when her and Bessie had gone for that
walk they had happened across the carcass, which had rotted and was half
eaten.
"Probably some poor cat that came down here to die," she thought to
herself and opened the door. She didn't recognize the headless man that
fell out of the closet, but she wasn't sure that anyone would recognize
what was left of him. The last thing she noticed before she fainted was
that he was holding a harp in his hands.
--
When she awoke a short time later, the dead man was still there.
She took a moment to look at him, and wondered what he had done to make so
many people angry. In his side an Aiel spear was buried a good six inches
into him. From his back protruded a funny dagger, with nine golden bees
inlaid into the hilt. His fine clothes, which marked him as some Noble's
bard, were burned beyond recognition. Hishead, which lie a few feet from
his body, had a cut that looked like it had festered and gotten infected,
and the skin around was blistered and puckered, like it had been burned.
The funny thing, Tilly thought, was that there was no blood. It was almost
as if none of the things that she had seen killed him. The head wore a
shocked expression.
"Enough of this," Tilly said to no one in particular, "even if he
has been long dead, I'm not going to stay down here in the cellar with
him." As she turned to leave she bumped hard into a man that had been
standing behind her. She jumped and looked up at the young man who was now
blocking her progress. "Oh, you scared me, I was just on my way to tell my
supervisor about this body I've found down here. The man stepped around
her and bent down to look at the body. As he stood up she got a good look
at his face, he appeared to be in his early twenties, well built and broad
shouldered. He was tall, she noted, and had blue eyes. A white lace shirt
spilled out of his dark coat. He was very finely dressed. He was just the
sort of man that her eldest daughter would swoon over. She wasn't sure
that she herself wouldn't.
"You will have to pardon me. I have no idea who you are, are you a
Noble come to visit with the Queen and the Dragon Reborn?" She asked the
stranger.
The man laughed and looked at her. "No, I have no doubts that I
will get a chance to.... visit...with the Dragon Reborn and his bride to be
at some later time. As for who I am, you may call me Moridin." She felt a
chill run down her back as the young man looked at her. He was very
pretty, if she had been ten years younger....
Moridin pulled off his cloak and rolled the body onto it, and then
placed the head next to the body and began to wrap into a bundle. Tilly
wasn't sure if she should help in someway, or if she should be going to get
someone to help, or anything. She finally decided that if he needed
anything of her, he would tell her, and she began to gather her water
bucket, rags, and dusting feathers.
"Where do you think we should take him?" she asked.
"Oh, I'll be taking him far from here. Don't trouble yourself
about it anymore" Moridin smiled at her and stood up. " Just go about your
business, and be sure to tell the Dragon Reborn that I'll be coming for
him, eventually.
With his last words, he turned and began walking away. The cloak
wrapped body floated up off the ground and began to follow it, and for the
second time, Tilly fainted dead away.
--
"You are sure she said that 'death' took him?" Rand was very
quickly getting irritated. The lesser Noble that had come and brought him
news about a decapitated body that had mysteriously disappeared shifted his
feet nervously. They had been going on about this for a few hours now.
"Uh, well... no my Lord Dragon, she said that 'moridin' took him,
but she is in quite a state of shock, and were sure that 'death' is what
she means." Rand gave the Noble a cold stare, and he shuffled his feet
again. "You see my Lord, 'moridin' is the Old Tongue for 'death'. We're
not sure how a peasant lady could know that, maybe she overheard a
conversation and is trying to sound sophisticated." The Noble shrugged as
if to say who knew how peasants acted the way that they did.
"What about the man she claimed took the body away. She says it
_floated_ after him?" Rand made a mental note to pass the description of
the man on to Taim, there might be an Asha'man that fit that description.
"Yes my Lord, she claims that he said he would take care of it, and
then walked away. She says the body floated up off the ground and began to
float after him. That's when she fainted, so she claims." He shuffled his
feet again, which irritated Rand further.
"Did she happen to find out his name?" Rand asked.
"Well, not that we can tell. She just keeps saying 'Death took
him, death took him' over and over again. We think she might have gone
mad, and made the whole thing up. I've checked, and it seems she spent a
lot of time alone. No one really knows her, but those that have worked
with her say she is quite solitary. We believe that she might have been
going insane...." He looked sharply away from Rand as he realized what he
was talking about.
"Very well. Let me know of any further information you get, or
assume. Good day." Rand turned his back to the Noble, so he didn't see
the relieved sigh or the bow he sketched before he walked out of the
colonnaded courtyard. Who could ithave been? Might the maid have been
making it up? The harp in the dead body's hands sounded too familiar. No,
it was too coincidental. Rand was sure that Asmodean had been killed and
someone had stuffed the body into a wine cellar. He sighed, and wondered
who had came to take the dead body away.
He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Elayne walking across
the courtyard. He immediately felt the sense of relief that he felt when
Elayne, Aviendha, or Min was around, and walked to meet her. They embraced
in the middle, and he kissed her hair.
"How are you doing?" She asked.
"As well as I can, considering the circumstances." He replied.
"How are you? I hope you are not too troubled by all this."
She shook her head. "It's not that I am troubled about a dead body
found in the wine cellar. I'm worried about you."
"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" He asked. He
could see the fear in her eyes.
"Didn't Lord Hal tell you? I guess not, Tilly is just now calming
down. I just heard the news a few minutes ago, myself." Elayne looked
away, towards where the sun was setting over the tops of the palace. The
bubbling fountain soothed Rand.
"Tell me what, Elayne?" He asked as gently as he could.
She looked into his eyes, and reached out for his hand. He let her
take it and walked her over to the edge of the fountain where they sat
down.
"Tilly says that the man _called_ himself Moridin. She had no idea
that it meant 'death' in the Old Tongue." Rand laughed, and relaxed a
little more. Elayne stiffened and gave him her frostiest stare. "That's
not what concerns me. What concerns me is that Tilly says that before he
left, the man said to 'tell the Dragon Reborn I'll be coming for him ' I
don't like it, Rand. We've been searching the palace for hours, with no
signs of him. It bothers me that he could walk in and out without being
seen by anyone." Rand was staring off at nothing, an introspective look on
his face. "You don't think it was one of the Asha'man, do you Rand? What
would one of them be doing down there...unless..." Rand was shaking his
head.
"I doubt it was one of the Asha'man, but I'll talk to Taim." He
smiled at her. "Don't worry about it. We'll find him. Besides, look
around you," he gestured to the Aiel Maidens lining the courtyard, almost
blending in to the columns "Do you really think anyone with any sort of
weapon is going to get that near to me? If they did, I could wrap them in
flows of Air," He noticed a manservent crossing the courtyard and seized
*saidin*, and channeled flows of Air around the manservent. The man was so
starteled he fainted dead away, and Rand deposited him at the feet of two
Maidens who flashed handtalk as they bent to drag the body away. Besides,
if I miss them, you could always freeze them with one of your stares." He
laughed as she stared at him reproachfully. Slowly she melted before his
eyes, and giggled.
"I guess your right Rand. I _am_ being a little silly." She
sighed and leaned into him. "Mmm..this is nice. Do you think that maybe we
can lose this Aiel guard somewhere? Find a nice little corner?"
"Later." Rand sighed. "Did you forget that you're supposed to
receive the oaths of several of your subjects, O Queen of Andor?"
She lifted her chin and looked at him. "No, I did _not_ forget,
King of Illian. Did you forget that you are also to be in attendance? You
are to become my Warder today, and you need a bath." She wrinkled her nose
as if smelling something rotten. Rand grinned and tweaked her wrinkled
nose. Sighing, Elayne stood up. "Later, then?" Her coy smile hid nothing
from him.
"Later, definitely. I'll tell Sulin to be discreet." He smiled as
she blushed and then kissed him. He stood as he watched her leave, and
then began to walk around the fountain. Who was Moridin? What relation
did he have to Asmodean? Why did he take Asmodean's body? Was he working
for the Dark One? He couldn't imagine anyone walking in the Light and
calling themselves "Death". His memories, the one from Lews Therin,had no
mention of anyone named Moridin. He sighed and thought of the message that
Tilly had passed along. "Tell the Dragon Reborn I'll be coming for him."
"Death comes for us all," Rand said to no one in particular, "death
comes for us all." He turned and walked out of the courtyard toward his
quarters. A Maiden flashed some handtalk and a small group of Maidens
followed after him, ghosting down the corridors.