EPISODE 2: LAN DISCUSSES THE LAST BATTLE WITH THE DRAGON REBORN
Lan walked along the top of the highest wall on the north end of the Stone of Tear, the wind flapping his many-colored cloak about him, making him sort of invisible from certain angles, but not really because he was huge and completely noticeable, and he walked around like he owned the place, which he may as well have. He showed no emotion, for he had none. His face seemed carved into a boulder, sitting on top of a larger boulder, his eyes like polished stones, his shoulders the rocky peaks of mountains. More stone than man, he walked stonily, at times indistinguishable from the stone wall of the fortress below.
"Lan, are you listening?" Rand Al'Thor walked beside him on the wall, his head turned slightly, an expression of irritation on his face, as usual. He had been talking about the wound in his side. Again. Lan met his eyes with no expression on his face whatsoever.
"So anyway," Rand went on, "It's like one of the wounds has regular darkness inside of it, and the other one has this OTHER, different kind of darkness in it, and they're fighting each other inside MY body! Can you believe that? I think I'll have Asmodean write another song about it."
"Fascinating," Lan said, without a hint of sarcasm in his expressionless voice. Silence filled several awkward moments.
"You know," Rand finally said, "These heron marks on my hands, the ones BURNED into my hands, are from blademaster swords. I killed a blademaster in single combat, so I'm a blademaster too. What do you think about that?"
Lan said nothing and kept walking. Rand looked at him sideways for a moment, then turned his attention forward again.
"I got these dragon tattoos on my forearms in Rhuidean," Rand said. "I was in Rhuidean. No one was allowed in there except Aiel, but I went. I learned the secret history of the Aiel. Then I united all the clans." He paused briefly. "Except the Shaido," he muttered, with a sullen, childish look on his face.
He brightened again, suddenly. "You know, Sevanna wants to marry me. She's attractive and has a gratingly terrible personality, so I'm thinking about giving her a call. She's obviously perfect for me. You know, Lan, I have three wives, but four is an even bigger number, so it's a win-win situation if you think about it."
He looked at Lan sideways again and said, quietly, "It's a shame about what happened to your wife, Lan".
Lan stopped walking for a moment. "Yes, a real shame," he said without looking at Rand.
"Not that I liked her, of course," Rand said. "Nobody could, really, I mean, we all just put up with how awful she was because she was such a huge bully, and she was supposedly the strongest in the One Power and all, but then Cadsuane showed up out of nowhere, and everyone likes her, so as a character, there wasn't much point to Nynaeve anymore, if you think about it. Anyway…"
Lan had stopped listening. He relaxed his mind and went to his quiet place, tuning out the insufferable drone of Rand's useless, stupid voice. He concentrated and was surrounded by the sounds of swords clashing and men screaming and dying, of villages burning in the night, of horses' hooves thundering to war, to victory, to death. He would have smiled if his face were capable of showing human emotion.
"Lan!" Rand said, turning to face him with his hands on his hips. "You're not listening again! I was saying how I was going to take Nynaeve to Tarmon Gai'don, but now I'll have to get someone else. I'd take Cadsuane, but she's not nearly annoying enough. Elayne?" He fingered his chin, apparently deep in what he considered thought. "Hmm. Maybe too annoying..." He trailed off momentarily.
"Lan! Did you know it's my destiny to fight in Tarmon Gai'don? It means Last Battle in the old tongue. Tarmon Gai'don. The last battle. My destiny. Lan! Lan!"
Lan finally turned to face Rand and looked directly into his eyes with a level, expressionless gaze. Rand stared back with a dopey smile on his face, his eyes signifying nothing at all. Lan thought he saw a tiny string of drool forming in the corner of Rand's mouth.
An age went by, the silence between them only broken by the sound of the wind whistling through Rand's ears. "Tarmon Gai'don," Rand said, again.
Without pausing at all, Lan lifted Rand from the ground by his throat with one hand. Rand's eyes bulged from his head, and he tried to claw at Lan's giant fist with his tiny, pathetic baby hands. With no expression on his face, Lan hurled Rand from the wall as hard as he could, which was very hard. As Rand plummeted toward his death, the wind carried his last words back to the battlement where Lan stood.
"I looooooove yoooou!"
Lan heard footsteps behind him and turned. Davram Bashere, one of Rand's generals, was walking toward him.
"Finally," Bashere said, looking down at Rand's shattered corpse hundreds of feet below. "Everybody hated that guy." He looked up at Lan, questioningly. "So, if you killed the Dragon Reborn, does that mean you're the Dragon Reborn now? Is that how this even works? I don't think anyone really ever understood."
"No," Lan said. "Thank the Light, it doesn't work that way."
Bashere shook his head, then grimaced. "What am I going to say to Rand's three irritating wives?"
Lan's expression never changed and never would. "You let me deal with those three, Bashere. I know just the thing for them." He was fingering the hilt of his sword. Bashere nodded. There was nothing else to say, really.