I do not own Robert Jordan's world nor any of his characters. This is merely an idea that swam around in my head and I thought a few people might enjoy this. Let me know what you think! I also apologize for any tense jumps and any other errors I have inadvertently missed!!

The old man came out of the blue painted wagon and sat down on the sturdy wooden steps. He pulled his bright green hood over the dark curls of his hair. His old gray eyes watched the play of the younger boys. The man smiled at the innocent play of the children and remembered a time when he played the same way. He then turned his gaze towards his belt and the weapon hanging there. The Tuatha'an were generous letting him stay here when he was a man of violence. Each day he killed his food to eat, yet in the peace and serenity of the wagons he ate the fruit of the earth like those around him. The carefree lifestyle was much to behold after having been a hunter of many things for his whole life.

The old man remembered his wife and a tear coursed down his grizzled face until it became absorbed into the white fluff of his beard. Alaina had been a strong woman, strong and beautiful. Tall and proud she stood with long brown hair and green eyes. She had not liked his career but she loved him for his ideas not the way he put bread on the table. More tears came as the man, Branthell, remembered her tender gaze and her last words as she lay dying in his arms.

"Branthell, forgive him, he is lost. I love you." Alaina's last words and the lifeless stare of her green eyes haunted him to this day. She had died two years ago and he had not killed anything since. The leader of the caravan, Alric, believed Branthell would eventually throw the sword away and completely give in to the Way. Branthell really did not know why he kept the sword, but for him it was something he clung to. He had killed with the sword and something told him he would kill once more.

After Alaina died, the Tuatha'an caravan found him one night in the snow face down and stinking of ale. Alric knew Branthell from a few encounters and took the man in. The next morning, as Branthell had prepared to leave, Alric came to him.

"Branthell, you are a good man." Alric began looking sadly at the sword hanging by his side. "You are a good man that has fallen by the wayside. Alaina only wished for your happiness. I wish for you to be at peace. Stay with us and find your peace."

Branthell looked wordlessly at the man for a few moments. Alric spoke again. " You do not have to give up your sword until you are ready…"

"I will keep my sword, Alric, but I will kill nothing while I am in your home. I will be as one of you and quest for the Song until I leave."

Alric looked at the man, with sadness still in his eyes. "You need not leave. I respect your decision. May the Light shine on you."

"Thank you Alric. May the Light shine you as well." From that morning forward, Branthell was a man of the caravan. His sword drew looks at first, more than a few were frightened, but after two years, the people had become accustomed to the strange man with the sword and accepted him as a seeker of the song.

Branthell knew Alaina would be proud of his acceptance of the way, and he also knew the whole caravan knew he had not fully accepted the Way and Alric suspected why but he never accused Branthell of anything. So Branthell set up with the people and traveled were they traveled and they all respected each other.

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The children were playing in front of the city walls as a soldier on the watch passed by. He noticed the garish wagons nearby and his lip curled in contempt what he termed the peace loving fools. The soldier headed towards the children with an unhealthy look in his eyes.

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Shouting startled Branthell out of his reverie and he looked towards the children. He saw a middle-aged soldier shouting at the children and brandishing a heavy club. Branthell surged up and run to protect the younger members of his family.

"You pacifist fools. Fight me! Fight ME!" The soldier was in a frenzy brandishing the club at the frightened children. The older members in their teens had shoved the young ones behind them.

"RUN!" The oldest yelled at the youngest…"Just run!" The small children began running and wailing at the same time. The rest of the Tuatha'an began running out of their wheeled homes. The soldier began swinging at the boy just as Branthell reached the scene. He jumped in the way of the club. "Run Jarred, just run." Jarred began to run as Branthell hit the ground hard. Anxious mothers were herding the children back to the wagons. They believed more violence would follow.

Branthell picked himself up off the ground and stood up to face the soldier. The soldier stood there shocked to see a mismatched Tinker standing there with a sword hung at his side.

"You will not harm these children. Walk away." Branthell turned. He knew he could not harm this man in front of his family. They would not understand his return to violence.

The soldier was incensed when this man with the sword turned from him. The green eyes of the soldier fell upon the sword that hung at the man's side. He recognized the sword. His eyes traveled to the hair and he saw it as he knew it from two years ago.

"Branthell….you will die!" The soldier began to rush the man and found himself restrained. The Tuatha'an had quietly surrounded the man. They held his arms back until the man began thrashing and then they let him go seeing Branthell had walked far enough away. The soldier turned away and in his heart bided his time. After all, Branthell had been his original target until the beauty Alaina got in his way.