To all those who reviewed: Muchas Gracias or whatever! Thanks for all the support!

wild black fire: No, I'm afraid you can't have Joren's cookie. It took my mom so long to fix my computer that the cookie got stale and I had to throw it away.

The Hobbit Lass: So sorry! I didn't get this up for ever because my mom tried to put the internet on my comp and it didn't work and she couldn't get it off... It was awful! Living without the internet for almost two weeks! Anyway, here's the newest chapter.

Silver-celestial: Thanks soooo much for reviewing. I'm really glad you liked this fic. I'll probably use your suggestion, but the trouble is that I don't really like the Aly books. I am running out of people to do, though, so thanks for the idea.

Chapter 4: Trial of Sir Alan a.k.a. Sir Alanna

Writer: Hi!

Writer: I'm back!

Writer: Are you reading this?

Writer: Aren't you tired of seeing "Writer" on your screen?

Writer: Well, too bad! Without me (and Ms. Pierce) this fanfic wouldn't exist.

Writer: Now are you glad to see me?

Several people glare at their computer screens while reading this.

Writer: Actually, there aren't several people that are reading this. There are only three that I know of. So if you are reading this, please, please review! You can say that this story sucks, but I just want to know if anyone is reading this fic.

Writer: Anyway, on with today's trial. Everybody poof!

Everyone poofs without much gusto, since it's the fourth chapter and they're tired of being poofed for the readers' amusement.

Writer: Where's Alanna?

Alanna: Yeah, where's Alanna? Oh, wait, I'm Alanna. Right. Heh heh.

Writer: Well...

Alanna: ???

Writer: GET ON THE STAGE!!!!!!!!!!

Alanna: Sheesh already! I'm coming.

Writer: Yeah, slower than...

Jon: Slower than the speed at which my blade can cut you in half, my lady writer person?

Writer: That's Writer to you, Prince Poodle.

Jon: Prince Poodle? Who here is called Prince Poodle? I'm supposed to be the only prince here! I'm the special one! I should be the Poo... Oh, I get it. Real funny.

Alanna: Hey, people, I should be riding off to do good deeds. Can we get on with it already?

Jon: You wanna get it on? Cause we can get it on, my squire.

Writer: No way is ANYONE "getting it on" during my trials.

Alanna: (pointing to Daine and Numair, who are making out in the wings offstage) How come they get to?

Writer: Because they aren't onstage, idiot. Now, let us begin. Alanna, you have been accused of various crimes, all stemming from the crime of being (dramatic pause) a cross-dresser.

Dun dun dun! Boom! Crash! (That would be the thunder and lightning effect after the scary and surprised effect.)

APTIWIJFTHOI: Oh me!

APTIWIJFTHOI2: Oh my!

APTIWIJFTHOI3: Oh... wait a minute. Why is that bad? She was just doing the only thing possible that would let her win her shield fairly.

Writer: Hey, I thought I poofed you away forever last chapter.

APTIWIJFTHOI3: Yeah, but number 5 had a doctor's appointment and you're going to need 4 later.

Writer: O-o-o-kay. So, back to the cross-dresser.

Alanna: Dude, what's wrong with cross-dressing to get what you want? Okay, that just sounded really wrong, but what I meant to say...

Writer: I'm not a dude and there's nothing wrong with cross-dressing, but this is like one of those contests where they say you have to be over eighteen to enter and you enter even though you are only seventeen or whatever and they tell you that you would have won if you hadn't been under eighteen (which basically means you would've won if you hadn't entered, which doesn't make sense), but you're disqualified.

Alanna: Huh?

Writer: See, you don't even sound smart enough to be a knight.

Alanna: I am a knight! I'm Sir Alan of Trebond. Bow down before me, you humble scribe!

Writer: No thanks. And you aren't Sir Alan, you're Sir Alanna.

Alanna: How dare you insult me! Are you calling me a girl?! I am not a weak little court lady who squeals at the sight of a mouse! I am all-powerful!!! Ya ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!

Writer: O-o-o-kay again. Getting a little freaky there, Alanna.

Alanna: My name is Alan! ALAN! Get it straight, you crazy writer!

George: Alanna, your name is Alanna! And I love you for yourself, remember? Jon just loves you as a challenge he can conquer, but I love you for being the first warrior maiden in a hundred years, remember?

Alanna: I don't know why you're saying those things, George. My name is Alan! (whispers to him) Don't give away my secret, you dolt!

APTIWIJFTHOI3: Hey! Can I say something?

Writer: No! You aren't even supposed to be here so shut up!

Alanna: Jo-o-on!!! Fix this! I don't wanna go to jail.

Jon: Alanna, I'll do the best I can, but the crazy person who writes all our lines is really mean and scary. I'd rather not do anything if that's alright with you, sweetie pie.

Alanna: IF YOU DON'T DO SOMETHING, I'LL KICK YOUR...

Jon: Okay, okay! Calm down. (to Writer (obvioiusly)) Writer, if you convict this woman...man... person, I will sentence you to death. So there.

Writer: Jon, if you say another word, I will poof you away forever like #3.

Jon: Uh, sorry, Alanna darling, but... um...

Alanna: I refuse to go to jail! It's not happening! No way, no how!

Writer: Listen, do you even understand the accusation?

Alanna: Of course I understand it. Something to do with blue pigs, right?

Writer: Not exactly. You've been accused of dressing like a man.

Alanna: ???

Writer: Alanna, you can't escape this one. It's true.

Alanna: Of course it's true, but I don't see why it's illegal. I dressed like a man because I am one. Would you rather I dressed up in a pink frilly dress with a big bow?

Writer: Uh, sort of. George, could you help me out?

George: Alanna, you are a woman, not a man. (to Writer) However, I don't see why that means that she has to wear dresses. I still think she's beautiful and feminine.

Writer: Yes, but George we all know that you are secretly gay.

APTIWIJFTHOI4: Oh my goodness!

APTIWIJFTHOI3: That is NOT true!

APTIWIJFTHOI2: And even if it were, that doesn't mean that his opinion is irrelevant.

Neal poofs in.

Neal: Hi, I just poofed in.

Writer: Really? I never would have guessed.

Neal: May I speak with Alanna?

Writer: I suppose. But every time you help someone out they get off free.

Neal: How would you know? I haven't helped a defendant yet.

Writer: Good point. Proceed.

Neal: Alanna, I advise you to plead innocent on the grounds that breeches and a shirt are not only men's clothes.

Alanna: Why should I take advice from you, pipsqueak?

Neal: Or you could just plead guilty and get it over with.

Jon: Ooh! Or we could not get it over with, but get it on!

Writer: That's it, Jon! I told you not to talk, and now you're getting punished!

Jon: Oh, come on. All I wanted was a nice, little make out sessiooooooooo...

Jon, who is now REALLY ugly and has HORRIBLE acne, disappears (FOREVER!!!)!

APTIWIJFTHOI3: Did you just copy and paste that from when you poofed me? It doesn't work, you know.

Writer: I did not just copy and paste it. I changed some stuff.

Alanna: Hey, people! Can we focus on me, Sir Alan of Trebond?!

Writer: We could, but then we'd all go blind because of your ugliness.

George: Hahahahaha! That's really (looks at Alanna, who is glaring at him)... Not funny. That's not funny, that's mean!

Writer: Okay. Okay. Alanna, how do you plead?

Alanna: Innocent.

Writer: Care to tell us why?

Alanna: Friends, Tortallans, knights, lend me your swords... so that I can wage war upon the Writer!

Writer: No waging war, Alanna!

Alanna: Fine, then lend me your stupid ears. I have committed no crime. In fact, although moments before I sounded very stupid, I was smart enough to try and free my fellow un-fellows from the tight restraints of society. I was only trying to let men see that women, too, should be aloud to wear pants and bang people with swords. I did not cross-dress, I dressed the way we were meant to dress! Freedom!!!

Anonymous Crowd of People: Freedom! Freedom!

Writer: Okay, let's take a vote. Who thinks Alanna's stupid?

George: Hey! That has nothing to do with the trial!

Writer: Picky, picky. Okay, who thinks Alanna is guilty?

About a third of the people raise their hands. All of them are men, of course.

Writer: Sh!!. Well, who thinks she's innocent?

Everyone else raises their hands.

Writer: Oh, come on! I want to send someone to the Dungeon of Terror with Joren!

George: You're outnumbered, Writer. Give it up!

Writer: Never!!!

Alanna: Dude, poof us!

Writer: Go poof yourself!

Writer poofs everyone away anyway.

Writer: Well, I'll see you tomorrow folks.

Writer: Oh, and remember pink cookies fly at midnight, so be careful when you're flying home tonight.

Writer: Goodbye!

Writer: Oh, wait! Remember to review by pushing the blue button down there.

Writer: Bye!!!