Moiraine surveyed the tall, red-headed kid standing in front of her.
"And what's your name?"
"Rand Al'Thor, Aes Sedai."
"Randal? Randal Thor? What kind of whacked-up name is that?"
"No, Rand. Rand Al'Thor. Not Randal."
Although it did not show on her ageless face, Moiraine was very, very old. Ridiculously old. Her hair had long ago gone white, so she had to dye it. And then it started falling out (she was that old). Her luscious brown tresses were actually a wig, made from the hair of a particularly beautiful Black Ajah she had once scalped.
"You're going to have to speak louder, peasant. There's too much background noise."
She glanced pointedly at Mat, who guiltily tried to hide the pair of cymbals he was holding.
"Now continue."
"Um, my name is Rand Al'Thor."
"Randalf? Like Gandalf? Oh, please. You sicken me. You will never be able to pull off Ian McKellan's beard and eyebrows, a flaming ginger like you."
"No, Aes Sedai!" Rand was started to get frustrated. "It's RAND. I'm just Rand, okay? Just. Rand. Forget the rest."
"No, no, it's not random; it's completely relevant. I need to know your name. The importance of my task would blow your tiny little mind." And indeed it was an important task. Moiraine had hunted for the dragon reborn for years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and more years and a few more years and here we go a few more years in addition to that.
She was not just about to put her faith in some random farmboy who had a fatuous name. But, Moiraine was at an impasse. If she asked him for his name again, she would reveal her absurdly old age, and lose her hard-earned spot in the 'cool kid' crowd. But if she just stopped, she would never be able to call him by his first or last name, which would really suck, you know?
Desperate times call for desperate measures, she thought. She carefully wove that one weave that her homies in the white tower often used for eavesdropping, but she used to make up for her old age-induced hearing loss.
Rand, unaware of her enhancement, bellowed, "MY – NAME – IS – RAND – AL – THOR!"
Even all the way across the Green, sulking in a corner and tugging her braid, Nynaeve could hear Moiraine's eardrums explode.
Flash forward to Fires of Heaven.
Moiraine had gotten pretty darn good at lip-reading. Unfortunately, she could neither see nor hear Lan yell "MOIRAINE! STOP THIS GODDAM STUPID PLAN! I'VE GOT A GUN, I'LL JUST SHOOT HER IN, OKAY?" before she tackled Lanfear and shoved her through that freaky red stone doorway with her old and frail but still powerful body.
The wheel weaves as the wheel wills, you know.