Summary: Who knew Rand could make a joke that not just wetlanders understood?
Disclaimer: I own my OC and the alternativeness of this plotline. Everything else belongs to Robert Jordan. No dirt was harmed in the making of this fic.
Authors notes are at the end of the chapter.
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CHAPTER FIVE- Where Rand and Loran Have a Duel of Wits
The fall from the walkway roof was quite a disorienting experience for Loran. One minute he was tumbling head over heels down a ten-foot drop to a certain death- or, at least, a certain broken neck- and the next he was splayed over a very exhausted, very angry Rand. He tried to will away the sore feeling that was consequential to having the air knocked so forcefully out of him, and quickly glanced around the immediate area. They were lucky no one had been nearby to see the catastrophe, especially one of the Maidens. They did not seem to mind the newcomer, but he could be sure they would not hesitate to interpret his surprise entry from above as an attack on their precious Car'a'carn. He would have been dead before he even reached the ground; that was for sure. Loran glanced at his temporary cushion and, seeing the irate look on the other boy's face, felt it was time to make light of the situation- or at least distract Rand long enough to make a clear break for the courtyard entrance. He chuckled nervously.
"You saved my life, my hero!"
"Nyur crnshghin muh," Rand groaned through a mouthful of earth and grass. Loran leaned his head sideways in a sign of incomprehension.
"What?" Rand spat out the last of the dirt and attempted to face his assailant, his line of sight falling just short of Loran's foot.
"Get OFF!" As if an invisible string were tied to his back, Loran was suddenly on his feet and extending a hand to help the Dragon Reborn to his feet.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he uttered sheepishly. Rand grabbed the offered hand and pulled just a bit harder than he needed, almost sending the two back to the ground. He swatted away the dirt that clung to him, frowning at the brown and green stains on the front of his shirt and pants. Chiarid was sure to make a joke about his rolling around in the dirt like a child if she ever caught wind of this. His side twitched in protest of being treated so roughly, and he hoped silently that being landed on wasn't enough to reopen the wound. He gave Loran a stern look while catching his breath.
"What in the Light was that?" Loran grinned timidly, looking very much like a child caught with his finger in the pudding bowl.
"Gravity? A very spiteful thing it is-"
"No!" Rand sputtered, pointing to the roof, "What were you doing up there?"
"In all honesty I thought I was dreaming. You literally appeared out of nowhere!" Rand had to back up to stay clear of Loran's hand gestures.
"Of course I did. Listen, from now on, I want you to tell me before you go wandering off. I would rather not come between you and your quarrel with gravity again," Rand was taken aback as Loran burst out laughing. He had meant his last comment to be sarcastic, but Loran seemed to take no offense to the rebuke.
"My 'quarrel'- hehe- that's good!" Loran slapped his comrade's back lightly, "Can't think of a good comeback for that one." Silence filled the moments after Loran's comment, and it occurred to Rand the reason he had been frozen in shock when Loran fell on him. A reason which happened to be standing in front of him with pieces of leaves sticking out of his hair. Rand lowered his voice despite the fact that no one else was present.
"A few days ago, you said something about promising you wouldn't do anything to make people chase you. You knew I was thinking that didn't you. You also knew exactly where I was. How? How can you know that?" Rand stopped short after noticing he had backed Loran against a tree and was two steps short of grasping the other boy by his collar and shaking him. Loran's eyes widened in remembrance and he looked away, unconsciously scratching the bridge of his nose.
"Well, I was running from Grandma- I mean Amys, and I needed somewhere I'd be able to get away from her. I knew you have at least some control over those loonies- uh- and began searching for you. And then it just…came to me- your location, that is. After that, Amys appeared around the corner and I got really panicked and took off. That's when I got this image of me being chased by a bunch of people with pitchforks and stuff, and I knew for sure it wasn't me thinking that so...um- yeah. I didn't even notice anything was off until you brought it up just now," Loran was leaning into the tree, trying to get as far away from Rand and his anger as possible. Rand crossed his arms and hung his head in thought. A tiny voice at the back of his mind muttered a soft 'kill him now, while you have the chance' and was gone before he could even push it away. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. There were just too many voices in his head. He thought back to the different times during the past two weeks when he felt different emotions and snippets of images come unbidden to his head. There had often been times of unconscious awareness as well as periods where there hadn't even seemed to be a connection at all. The awareness of Loran seemed more like something both of them could turn off and on, which he was assuming Loran was doing now, as he could feel nothing from the other boy.
"It seems we are both affected by this. Perhaps…we can try to practice keeping our thoughts separate," mused Rand. Loran nodded enthusiastically.
"Great. Brilliant. Glad we figured that out. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to get ready for dinner. I'll be in my room- that is, on the second floor of the palace- that is, four doors down from your room- that is, probably in the northwestern corner of the room, since that's where my closet thingie is-"
"Yes, yes, I understand," urged Rand, waving him toward the courtyard's main entryway.
"I'm just joking with ya," Loran elbowed Rand and jogged ahead, adding over his shoulder, "Lighten up a bit, okay?" Rand sighed and wiped more sweat off his face. If anything, Loran would certainly keep him on his feet. He ambled slowly back into the palace. Chiarid stood chatting with a fellow Maiden in hand-talk. She caught sight of her victim and the tanned face lit up gleefully.
"Have a good roll around in the dirt, boy?" The other Far Dareis Mai joined in with Chiarid's laughter. Rand let out a huff of air and turned determinedly in the opposite direction. Perhaps he would take the long route to his quarters.
Later that evening, as the nobility made small talk, asking Rand if his day was productive while at the same time not really caring, he was sure he heard Loran make a sound akin to holding in a sneeze followed by a low snicker and glanced casually at the boy sitting several seats down the expansive dining table. Still facing his charge as if addressing solely him, he replied that he had been most productive in drawing up new measures for maintaining Caemlyn's security. As he had planned, all eyes followed his. A smirk spread across the Dragon Reborn's face. Making Loran the center of attention, Rand observed, not only brought him a much-needed break from scrutiny, but also promised to be exceedingly entertaining. We'll just call this payback, the Dragon Reborn thought smugly to himself. His fellow channeler had simply raised his eyebrows, still wholly focused on his food, and ignored the stares of the nobles who had until then been unaware of his existence. As soon as the courtiers began questioning as to his place under Rand's leadership, Loran scooted his chair away from the table and stood gracefully.
"If you will excuse me, Lord Dragon," he said in a manner very unlike his usual speech, "I must attend to the duties you requested of me before the reports from my colleagues arrive." Hiding his surprise, Rand granted his charge leave, the other bowing deeply in respect before leaving the dining hall. He then realized the nobles still sat in earnest silence, leaning over the table and failing to notice they were dragging puffed sleeves and lacy ruffles through food-laden plates. Obviously, Loran's impromptu performance had not settled the scheming curiosities, but had instead heightened them. That sneaky- A thought came unbidden to his mind and he spoke the words before understanding himself what they meant.
"He is my specialty advisor, that is all," he explained in a completely disinterested voice. Amazingly, that seemed enough for the nobles, and they quickly returned to gorging themselves. However, Rand was anything but relieved. You promised you wouldn't do that! He thought furiously in hopes of Loran at least feeling his perturbed stated of mind. If he did, Rand did not sense any acknowledgement.
-Somewhere in Altara-
The figure sat up with a gasp, a dark silhouette in the darker shadow of night. Moghedien put a hand to her chest, instantly feeling the cold metal of the cursed ter' angreal necklace that kept her prisoner, and reminded herself not a moment too soon to not try and channel. Her lips curled into a silent snarl. Those girls- those bitches- dared to keep her, a Forsaken, a prisoner like this? She had been humiliated day after day in this town, and today- the dark-haired woman suppressed a shiver- they had used her as a test to inspect those Severed women.
Those poor women.
Perhaps if they had not been- no, no, she would not have truly regretted what happened to them no matter who they were. Anger welled up inside Moghedien. Anger and fear. With the ter' angreal- the a'dam as those wenches called it- trapping her like this, she was powerless against the same person she had almost so easily snapped in half not so long ago. But there was nothing she could do, and she was weaker than that wilder while imprisoned like this. Luckily, none of her captors were willing to wear the other end of the ter' angreal at night, and she was free to think and feel without gaining punishment. She pushed back a lock of curled hair, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the other hand. What was it that had awakened her? That feeling; it had been taking root in the corner of her mind for a couple weeks now, and all of a sudden… It felt so familiar- perhaps something from…before? A cold feeling spread down her face and seeped into her entire body along with a mix of dread and awe. Could it be? A hand covered her mouth as she bit back both a sob and a laugh.
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Sadly, that's the last time we'll be hearing from Moghedien for quite a while. The only thing I have to say about her is, "Well, she obviously knows what's with Loran," and that's it (Yes, I'm a mean little authoress.) I'm just glad I finally got this thing moving into book six (well, I got to the prologue, at least.)
Soooo…do you think Loran's humor is more Aiel-like or what…I'm having trouble telling. Apparently, it took a very long time for the nobles to notice the guy who's been eating dinner with them on and off for the past month shrugs. This chapter was mostly for closure of what happened in chapter 4, as well as to get Rand and Loran interacting more. I'm still trying to decide what "specialty advisor" actually means..eh-heh.
For the next chapter, I'm hoping to get right into chapter 1 of book 6, and possibly include some of the alternate storylines (like Salidar, or Morgase, or Mat, or..uh, yeah.) I'm just afraid of those things sounding too much like quotes straight from the book, since they don't have an OC to interact with… If someone has any idea to help with that, I'd like to hear it!
Does anyone know of an alternate WOT fanfiction site that's still active? All the places I've looked up so far have been inactive for a while…
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really am interested in what you guys have to say about it, as some of the paths I might take with this storyline will weigh completely on what the majority of the reviewers feel, and I admittedly am in need of constructive criticism.
