A/N- Just Another Guy- Don't you have anything better to do than flame me? Personally, I couldn't care what you think. You're just adding a review count to my story. But…keep insulting me and I will promise you that I will never, EVER touch my other stories again…how's that "Jack-ass?"

To all other reviewers, though there aren't a lot of you, I hope you enjoy this story. Though I will admit, I'm used to writing HP fanfiction…I've unconsciously written Harry instead of Rand seven times already.

Note: I've never read New Spring, though I know it's about Lan and Moiraine meeting. I actually don't know if they've met by this time, or what they would have been doing in the series.

Patrak was a middle-aged man with thick brown hair and a crinkled smile. He had been hauling furs and rugs from Illian since he was fifteen and was moderately average in the use of a broadsword. He also had a fair amount of skill with the flute, and when the caravan was settled down for the knight and the horses fed and groomed, he would teach Rand some simple songs.

Rand and Patrak travelled for two days before they reached Baerlon. As Rand gazed at the walled city, he shudder slightly as he remembered the last time he had visited- attacked by street youths, wielding the dangerous, tainted yet oh so perfect and intoxicating saidin, being discovered and kidnapped by Aes Sedai. Still, he had a few good memories in the town, including a friend he had almost forgotten.

"Patrak, my good friend!" Boomed the innkeeper of Stag and Lions.

"Master Fitz, age has dulled your looks!" Patrak exclaimed with a smile on his face, embracing the old man.

"Your father would thrash you solid if he heard you talking about me like that." Master Fitz scoffed.

Rand watched the exchange neutrally, lurking in the shadows. His hand flittered towards his sword for a few seconds as he noticed several patrons of the inn glance up from their food.

"Was the Two River run successful?" Master Fitz asked.

"Quite. The economy there is quite pitiful, only a silver for my best rug! But Two Rivers Tabac is the best leaf this side of Andor, and I managed to buy several barrels quite easily, the proceeds should fetch me several gold marks." Patrak answered. "I also picked up a temporary guard."

"Yes, I heard about the bandit attack. It used to be that the Queen Guard would patrol the highway much more carefully than they do now." Master Fitz said, rubbing his beard. "I heard that the Whitecloaks are beginning to stir trouble in Caemlyn. Maybe that is the reason for the lack of guards…where is your guard?"

Patrak turned around and spotted Rand skulking the shadows. "He is young, but a brilliant swordfighter. Come from under the shadows."

Rand moved reluctantly from the dark corner of the room, his dull eyes sweeping across Master Fitz. "Hello Master Fitz."

"Rand al'Thor!" Master Fitz said, a little nervously. "I heard about the business with the Aes Sedai…terrible thing to happen but it was for your own good, no?"

Rand nodded slightly as Master Fitz turned to Patrak. "Why did you hire a child as a guard?"

"I am thirteen summers." Rand interjected coldly.

Master Fitz nodded guiltily and a little fearfully.

"Why, he is a Blademaster! Taught by his father apparently." Patrak said, noticing the nervousness between the two. What was this about Aes Sedai? "Have you met?"

"Once." Rand said softly. "Is there anything else Master Patrak? If not, I would like to explore the town. It has been years since I last stood here."

"Very well, but we must travel in two hours if we wish to make good time on this journey." Patrak consented.

Rand quickly left the Inn. As soon as he did, Master Fitz sighed with relief.

"Are you crazy?" He asked Patrak, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"What is wrong?" Patrak asked.

"That boy could channel once…killed somebody, or so I heard. Hurled lightning and fire from his hands, his eyes coal black! But the Aes Sedai found him and gentled him."

"When was this?" Patrak asked slowly.

"Maybe seven summers past." Master Fitz.

"I see." Patrak said softly, more to himself than Master Fitz.

Rand strolled through the streets, his eyes seeking somebody. He had never known where Min had lived, only that she had been close to the marketplace near the south section. As he glanced over the marketplace stalls, a section of books caught his eye. In Two Rivers, books were very popular and usually bought as soon as they were displayed by the Peddlers. He glanced through the titles, The Adventures of Jain Farstrider, Tear and Illian, Legends of the Blight, The Fall of Manetheren. His eye held the last book, for the picture on the cover of a red eagle was familiar. He had once seen an ancient banner with the same picture in the Two Rivers.

"Interested in Manetheren, boy?" An old crone croaked, her fingers caressing the dusty tome. It was quite slim, but still large enough to hold his interest for several days. "The dead nation once occupied these lands. Thorn in the Dark Ones foot, they were." She cackled loudly, before her face went hard. "Ten Silvers."

Rand thumbed his money pouch, where his deposit of twenty silvers clinked. "For a dirty, ratty book?" He asked.

"Eight silvers." The old crone snapped.

"Two."

"Six."

"Four."

"Five Silvers."

"Five silvers and that book there, the black one." Rand haggled, pointing out another thin tome written in a language that seemed very familiar yet foreign to him. He didn't know why he wanted that book as well, but something in him urged him to get it.

"Six Silvers for both."

"Done." Rand agreed and handed over the shiny coins. He took both books and placed them in pockets under his cloak. He turned around, only to stop as he viewed somebody.

A teenage girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, stood with her back faced him. She had short-cropped hair and stood in the breaches of boys with a basket on her arm. Rand knew only one girl that would dress like that and a true smile came to his face.

"Min Farshaw." He called out loudly.

The girl stiffened and turned around, revealing an older version of the child he had once known.

"Rand al'Thor." She said in amazement.

"How did you know it was me?" Rand asked lightly as he walked up to her.

"Age can change a person in the face, but it leaves some places alone." Min said mysteriously, a smile curling on her lips. She placed the basket down and leapt at him, hugging him furiously.

"You woollen-headed sheepherder!" She said, her voice muffled in his cloak. "I thought you were dead! When Moiraine said that she hadn't seen a young child in the Tower…"

"It was something almost as bad," Rand said grimly as she pulled back. Moiraine? Who was that? Rand was about to ask when Min shoved a basket into his hands.

"Help me with my basket and you can tell me all about it."

"I have only two hours. I'm a merchant guard."

For the first time, Min noticed the sword strapped to his belt. "You?"

"I'll tell it to you over lunch." Rand said.

Min's house, owned by her Aunt, was messy and small. It didn't seem to have been tidied for several months at least, and dirty clothing lay skewered around the floor. Min noticed Rand's glances and cringed slightly.

"I usually do not wash until the winds arrive." She explained hastily.

Rand nodded as he sat down at a small table. "You look well."

Min's lip curled as she sat down opposite him, placing the basket to the side. "I'm not…but first, tell me what happened to you."

Min was horrified to learn of his gentling, not because he could once channel but because of the effect it would have had on him. Rand felt himself appreciating Min's quick wit as he told her of his training with Tam, the Bel Tine festival and the agreement with Patrak.

Rand went silent and Min just stared at him with those sorrowful brown eyes. "Poor sheepherder." She said. She gave a quick grin as Rand rolled his eyes.

"So, what about you?" Rand asked.

Min lost her grin. "Remember how I could see things about people?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Rand said.

"Well, some people got interested and there's a…" Min started, before the door opened.

Rand turned his head and immediately jumped to his feet, alert and wary, as an adult woman who only reached his height, with dark hair and wise brown eyes walked in. She wore fine robes, with a sky-blue velvet cloak and a golden ring with a serpent biting its own tail, and her face was neither young nor old, but very beautiful.

Following her was a giant of a man, with long hair that was grey at the temples that was held back by a narrow leather headband. His face was carved from stone, unmoving and flat, and his wore a cloak of greenish grey that would have faded in leaf or shadow.

"Hello Elmindra." The woman said calmly, her eyes flicking to Rand. The giant man shuffled closer to the woman, his eyes gazing unblinkingly at Rand, who had his hand on his sword, and his hand hovered over the hilt of a large broadsword.

"Moiraine, this is my friend, Rand." Min said sweetly, a little too sweetly. "He was just leaving."

Rand said nothing; his body tense and he admitted to himself that he was a little fearful. An Aes Sedai stood in front of him, a woman from the group that destroyed his will to live. He was also fearful for Min. She had attracted Aes Sedai attention and it would be her doom, sooner or later..

"Hello Rand." Moiraine said, smiling slightly.

Rand stared stonily back at her. "As Min said, I was just leaving." He said roughly.

"Watch your tongue, boy!" The large man said curtly.
Rand flicked his eyes to the man, travelling over the sword and removed his hand from the hilt and revealing the heron-mark. The man's face didn't twitch but his eyes showed a flicker of surprise and wariness.

"That's a fine blade." Moiraine said calmly.

"Yes, it is." Rand said flatly. He turned to Min and his demeanour instantly changed. "I'm heading off now. We'll meet again."

"Yes. We will." Min said with a certainty that made Rand wonder if she had seen something. "Goodbye Sheepherder."

Rand made his way to the door, his eyes sweeping over Moiraine. The man looked skilled with the sword, but it was the woman who was dangerous. Her use of the One Power could disable him faster than any swordsman. He opened the door and stepped outside, quickening his place as he left.

Moiraine frowned after the young boy. He had looked no older than thirteen yet he had carried a heron-mark blade, the blade of a Blademaster.

"Who was that boy?" She asked Min, who looked away and folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"A friend." Min said sharply.

"He had a heron-marked blade." Lan said softly.

"A Blademaster at his age? It is unlikely." Moiraine said, but her brow creased in thought.

"No, the blade belonged to him. It was the way he held himself, the blade is a part of him as his arm is." Lan said thoughtfully. "He will become a dangerous man one day."

"Did you see anything from him?" Moiraine asked Min.

For a moment Min's eyes were unfocussed, emersed in memories. "Oh yes." She said softly. "I saw something. I saw many things."

"What were they?" Moiraine asked gently.

Min stared at her and smiles mysteriously. "He has a destiny," she answered and clamped her lips together when the subject was broached again.

Moiraine sighed and sat down. The boy was interesting, maybe she would seek him out one day, but for know she sought to unravel the mysteries of Min's gift. Rand…she would remember that name.

True to his word, Patrak left during the middle of the day. There was a particular camping spot that he wanted to reach before dark, an easily defendable position where Rand would truly do his job. As the two arrived at a low-cropped hill just as dusk was settling in, Patrak hesitated.

"I heard a disturbing rumour in Baerlon." He said conversationally, as Rand set up camp while he groomed down the horses.

Rand said nothing as he struck the flint against stone, the sparks glowing in the darkening sky.

"I heard that you could channel and were gentled. Is this true?" Patrak asked.

"Yes." Rand answered shortly.

"I see. Your father didn't mention it to me."

"It wasn't a concern. You needed somebody with sword talents, and here I am." Rand said simply. He struck the flint once more and the dry leaves cackled as a small flame enveloped them.

"So you are." Patrak said, before sighing. "I expect you to be on guard duty tonight. There are herbs that will keep you awake and your strength up." He reached into his caravan and pulled out a longbow made from black wood. It was a large bow, almost as tall as Rand, and came with a quiver of sleek arrows. The bow was unique to Two Rivers and the surrounding villages, and could fire an arrow at three hundred yards and if the bowman was a good shot, hit the target dead on.

Rand nodded as he drabbed himself in a warm cloak and settled himself next to the caravan, leaving the fire unattended. He made sure enough wood was on it to burn for a while and slunk in the shadows. If somebody came, he would catch him or her unawares with a scattering of brittle twigs he placed around the campsite. Not for the first time, he thanked the light that Tam had instructed him in the sword, the bow and the general rules of warfare.

Rand drifted close to the edge of sleep. The fire was still burning, but not as strongly as before. A loud crack from the dark made Rand stiffen and he quietly lifted the heavy bow. He armed and arrow and flattened himself against the caravan side. Then…

Four figures jumped forward into the light, all wearing pure white cloaks with swords up.

They were Children of the Light, a radical group that opposed the Dark One. While this may have seemed like a good thing, the Children of the Light (Also known as Whitecloaks), were horribly arrogant and needed little evidence when accusing somebody of becoming a Darkfriend. They way they saw it was that they already knew the truth and they used any method, including torture, to make the accused admit it. They believed that to defy them was to defy the Light, thus you were a Darkfriend. They also hated Aes Sedai with a passion and believed that they were in league with the Dark One and were planning on breaking the world again. Whitecloaks were very powerful in the southwestern nations and practically ran Amadicia. There had been wars in the past that Tam had served in against Whitecloak advancement and Rand, due to his father's involvement in the wars and the tales he had been told, didn't like Whitecloaks at all.

The caravan door burst open as Patrak appeared, bleary eyed but angry.

"What do you want?" He spat out. "Here to rob me again?"

Rand moved closer to the caravan door, sticking with the shadows with his bow aimed.

"Patrak Covin," One of the Whitecloaks, a slim man with a thin rapier held idly in his hand. "You are hereby under arrest on the charge of conspiring with the dark and resisting the noble work of the light."

Patrak gave a bark of a laugh. "So, because I don't bow and scrape when Whitecloaks try to steal my merchandise, I'm a Darkfriend?"

"Resist at your own peril." The man said smoothly.

Patrak hesitated, before bringing a short sword to bear. "I will defend myself against highway bandits!" He snarled angrily.

The Whitecloak leader sighed and motioned to the other three, who moved forward with raised swords.

Rand sought the void, feeling his emotions drain away and lifted his bow. There was only a high-pitched whistle as an arrow suddenly struck one of the men in the shoulder, leaving a blossoming patch of blood and a strangled cry of pain.

"There's somebody there!" The leader of them cried, just as Patrak launched himself at the two standing guards. He slashed with his cleaver, leaving a bloody gash on one mans thigh, before he was pushed and sent sprawled back. One of the men lifted his sword, intent on driving a killing blow, just as Rand jumped from the shadows with his own sword out. He deflected the thrust and performed Hammer meets anvil, the force of the blow making the other man stagger back.

There was a few seconds of peace as Patrak got up again; gingerly touching a bloody nose, and the Whitecloaks assessed the enemy. The man who had been struck with an arrow staggered away from the camp, most likely going back to his horse for medical supplies.

"A boy thinks he can defeat the Children of the Light?" The leader scoffed. "Darkfriends are surely recruiting much younger than usual."

Rand said nothing as Patrak scoffed at the notion. "This is my new guard, you may recall that you wounded my last one."

"In the name of the Light, disarm yourselves and repent." One of the men said grimly.

"In the name of the Light, repent your sins of thieving and leave." Patrak shot back.

"Very well then." The Leader said, and with a well-practised motion, the three of them jumped forward.

Rand met two of them, the Leader and the man who had asked him to repent. His sword flashed in the flickering firelight as he met blow with blow. His sword whizzed through the air as the two men worked together to defeat him. Parting the silk blocked a sword thrust, Bird over Sea sent the Leader on the defensive, while Fish Upstream inflicted a nasty slice on the other mans arm.

Patrak, on the other hand, was not faring well. He lunged with his meat cleaver, slashing the air as the other man bought his sword up. Patrak slammed into the man, both weapons dropping to the ground as he swung wildly with his fists. The other man grunted, before he lifted Patrak off him and delivered a sharp jab to the ribs. As Patrak groaned in pain, he fumbled to rip a small seam on his shirt, while the Whitecloak picked his sword up and lifted it past his head. Patrak finally managed to get the seam off and a pile of black powder dropped into his hand. He blew it at the man, keeping his eyes shut and stopped breathing as the other man inhaled the powder and gagged. It was a poison, an instant kill, but was not very useful due to the instability with the air. The pouch was sealed tight to keep the poison safe and the air away. The man dropped his sword, his hands at his throat as he dropped to the ground and lay limp.

Rand blocked another blow, watching the whole thing dispassionately in the Void. He lunged forward, his sword rising to meet the curved and thin rapier of the leader, while he dodged a powerful swipe by the other man with his large broadsword. With no emotion whatsoever, he turned aside another four blows and jumped backwards, before performing Sun rises over Mountain. The man with the broadsword gurgled as Rand extracted the blade from his chest, just in time to deflect Boar charges Wolf. He wasn't so lucky a minute later, as the Whitecloak blade slashed his face. But the leader paid for the blood a second later, he had left his right open and Rand cut deep into his side. The leader screamed and staggered back, making another wild swipe with his rapier before the Rand's sharp blade slashed his throat open. For a moment, Rand just stood there, a thirteen year old with blood on his sword surrounded by two dead men. He released the Void and the exhaustion, anger and fear he had been ignoring rushed into him

"Thankyou." Patrak said, limping slightly as he came up to him. Suddenly there was a horse scream and the sound of hooves beating along the ground as the injured Whitecloak with the arrow fled, most likely having witnessed the result of the fight.

Rand said nothing as he picked up his bow and staggered back to the fire. Patrak said nothing as he went into his caravan and retrieved herbs and cloth. He spent the next few minutes bathing and patching up Rand's cuts.

"Was this your first kill?" He asked gently.

Rand nodded, only feeling a hollow sensation inside of him. He was numb.

"It's alright to cry."

"I couldn't cy even if I wanted to." Rand said bluntly. "They tried to kill me…"

Patrak sighed and looked at the sky. In a couple of hours, the sun would rise. It would maybe take a week to reach Whitebridge, where he would meet his former guard. Maybe then, he would invite Rand to stay with him.

Over the next week, there were no encounters with Whitecloaks. They past several towns and Patrak bought food from some of them. Rand usually slept in the day and guarded the caravan at night. The slash he received on his face healed nicely, but it left a thin scar on his cheek. When Rand was awake with Patrak, he continued to learn the flute and had requested some of the poison that Patrak has used in the fight. After a week, they finally reached Whitebridge. Like it's name, a large bridge made of a white glass-like substance appeared. It was unknown what the substance was, but no hammer, knife or fire could dent, scratch or melt it.

"Rand, the is Ellessinde." Patrak introduced, handsome women with black hair and dark eyes with a large scar on her forehead and a sword strapped to her belt.

Rand bowed his head. "Mistress," he greeted. He turned to Patrak. "If I can have the rest of my payment, I'll be out of your way."

Patrak handed him a small bag of silver. "I am leaving for Illian, if you wish to join me, I will be glad."

Rand hesitated, before he shook his head. "I thank you, but no. I'm going to head to Caemlyn."

"Very well then." Patrak sighed. "Have a good life, Rand al'Thor. As a gift for saving my life, take my flute." He handed Rand a small case, which he accepted.

"Good luck." Rand said solemnly.

And with that, the two parted ways. With his new silver, Rand payed a cart heading for Caemlyn and waited in the back, occasionally playing a few tunes. If this what life would be like outside of the Two Rivers, he need not fear losing the will to live. The world was an exciting place.