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08-11-2007, 12:59 AM
Takes place immediately before the final battle for Emond's Field.
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The bright light of mid-morning glared in Tam's eyes as he left the shade of the inn. A sharp glance left noted that the Whitecloaks remained in the Green, left alone by a good twenty feet despite rampant overcrowding in the village. He didn't like Whitecloaks, he knew from experience that they were dirty fighters, but he was content to leave them there if Perrin was. Bran al’Vere, the Mayor, left the building behind him, shooting the Whitecloaks a look that was out-of-place on his face.
He took off up the street briskly with Bran, intending to find Perrin and let him know about the rapidly worsening food situation. It was getting desperate with no new food coming in and so many extra mouths to feed, but Perrin so far had shown no worry. It was good that they had someone to lead them, to give the younger villagers and even the older ones the right impression. He saw Perrin ahead; surrounded by the usual group of young men, a red banner flying above his head. Perrin’s face wore an irritated frown as he glared at that banner, but Tam barely recognized it as he stepped forward to relay the newest details, Bran right beside him and anxious to consult the younger man.
Yes, it was good Emond’s Field had a real leader.
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Ryuichi
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08-12-2007, 12:42 AM
I grabbed book seven instead of six today, so this is a bit out of order.
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A young Elaida a'Roihan, daughter of the noble house of a'Roihan, sat in a shaded garden of her family's estate and watched some servant's children play.
It wasn't that she wouldn't like to play with them - the game of tag seemed very fun, from the delighted shouts of those playing it - but she had already been caught doing so once, and her family was of the opinion that it was not appropriate for a lady of her standing to do.
So she sat and watched.
Smoothing her blue linen dress down over her thighs, she sighed lightly and shifted her gaze to the birds. They were generally dull in this part of the world, but her uncle had paid a large sum of money for prettier ones, which sang prettily in the flowers.
They couldn't entirely drown out the noises of the children, and for the rest of the day, Elaida sat there, musing on the differences between herself and those who played.
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08-12-2007, 02:51 PM
I was this close to tossing book six by mistake today. Whoops!
--
It is a strange thing, to be a voice inside a head.
Of course, Lew Therin knew he was mad. He had known since that day moments - years - ages ago, standing in the Hall of the Servants, watching the golden hair of Ilyena turn slowly pink with her own blood. He had known since he saw the small bodies of children, his children, strewn about the wreckage of what had once been a glorious monument to the Light. All his doing, and he had known he was mad.
But this, this went beyond madness. He knew, knew with a terrible certainty, that he was not inside his own body, that he did not control his own actions. He was... behind... another, in the back of a dark space, watching everything strange that happened (untrained "Aes Sedai", people using horses for transportation, the barbaric new "Aiel" - this was a very different world) through the eyes of another.
An angry other, who ordered funnily-dressed lords and ladies about, who stormed after Rahvin into the depths of tel'aran'rhiod, who confronted Lanfear burning with rage for a girl who looked rather like Ilyena had before she -
He screamed with the pain of it, the terrible, horrendous pain of killing her.
And Rand al'Thor looked up out of his blankets at night and listened to the futile anguish.
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Ryuichi
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08-12-2007, 03:48 PM
Not sure where this came from, and it doesn't end very well. I might fix it later.
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Moiraine remembers the first time she managed to embrace saidar...
Her Accepted tutor looked bored as she went through the rote again.
"Picture a rose in your mind. See it, smell it, taste it. It is smooth and soft and beautiful. You know every detail of the rose. You are the rose. You feel the warm sunlight on your petals and you open yourself up to the sky, slowly, gently..."
Moiraine was the rose, the felt the warmth of it, of saidar, not the sun. She opened her petals... opened herself... to that wonderful heat, and the joy of it rushed through her, warming her, so sweet and so joyful that she wanted to sing. That joy was so delightful she had to do something with it, had to show the world, so she channeled and -
The next thing she knew her Accepted tutor was on the floor, drenched in the water of what had been a vase of flowers. Siuan, beside her, roared in laughter.
...as she falls through a gateway into Hell.
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08-12-2007, 05:21 PM
A long, long time ago, Asmodean had pledged his soul to the shadow.
It was a multitude of little things rather than one huge problem which caused it. Frustration with the outdated hierarchy of Aes Sedai. Irritation at "perfect" Lews Therin, whose ego was so inflated it could support an aircar by itself. Anger at the way the battles were continually fought without ever gaining ground.
So one day, he simply decided to quit and go to the side which seemed, at the time much more probable.
Standing in Shayol Ghul, he breathed in the acrid air for the first time, still wondering that outside this pit it could be so clean and unperturbed by the darkness below. The world was like that, he reflected, completely unknowing of the dangers that lay beneath it, dangers of complacency, dangers of idiocy, dangers of refusing to look at what was really there. He quietly vowed, to himself, never to be such a person even as his lips formed another vow.
"I will never let myself be bound to one thing so much that I cannot see what is in front of me."
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08-13-2007, 09:58 PM
The heat struck Perrin like a fist as soon as he stepped outside. Although nowhere was really cool anymore, the shade of the semi-constructed manor house had at least taken the intensity out of the sun, and hidden the fact that there was still no snow to be seen on the ground. He leaned heavily against the railing of the small balcony he had stepped on to, and let thoughts chase each other 'round his head.
She doesn't understand it, one part of himself said. She doesn't even want to understand it.
That's not true, another shot back. She just wasn't raised to understand it.
Perrin clenched his eyes against the glare of the sun and contemplated his wife. Raised as a noble in Saldaea, she had no idea of how difficult it was to order about those who helped raise you, to receive awkward bows and curtsies from people who had switched you as a child for nicking fruitcakes. Light, now she even wanted him to hand down judgements, like some kind of - some kind of -
"My Lord?" A wry voice stated.
"I should have put a stop to that nonsense as soon as it started," He grumbled, but as Faile wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his back, he realized that he would put up with any kind of idiocy to keep her happy.
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08-15-2007, 02:07 AM
An old man walked down a road damp with snow, glaring ahead through the bright sunlight streaming down from the heavens. Despite his age, he walked without a stoop or a limp, appearing limber as a boy half - a third - his age. Breezes caught his cloak for a moment, swirling the colorful patches sewn on to the thick, serviceable fabric.
A gleeman, and only a gleeman.
Once he had been more, once he had played the Great Game with the best, had danced with a Queen, had held the Daughter-Heir on his knee and had her look to him as she would a father. Now he did not, had not, for some time. Long years, but the memories never truly faded.
Trudging along, his eye caught a small sign in the distance. His stomach rumbled at nearly the same time, extinguishing the slight prick of curiosity the sign had evoked. Ruefully he picked through his pack while walking. Nothing worth eating. There was hardly a scrap left to be bought in the last town he had passed through - nothing worthwhile, anyway.
Eying the sign again as he re-shouldered the pack, his feet trudged along. Maybe they'd have some decent food here. It was so for out-of-the-way he doubted they knew what a gleeman was - but then again, they might not have ever heard the best stories. He would eat and sleep free for the next few days, and leave with a bit in his pocket, beside.
The sign was now close enough to make out some letters scrawled across it, mostly worn away by time. He squinted. T-A-P-F-N F-E-P-P-Y? What on earth was Tapfn Feppy?
It sounded like a village fool of illiterates, that's what. He resolved to spend as little time there as possible, and keep on moving west. Maybe someone further west would be worth talking to.
Maybe.
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