Lan, Rand, Mat, Perrin, Thom, and three Aielmen are still in Rhuidean, and are still drinking. Selene has run off with Fred Saberhagen. Beyond the portal stone the musical WOT world still waited, and in *finnland, Moraine is alive and well and teaching the *finns how to Macarena. Perrin has been tattooed, but got more than he bargained for. And Rand, well he's just a little madder than usual that's all.

About the author: Darkhound aka Cecil Theobald Lazarus Bicarbonate Dave Podium was born in the circus, his father a Ringmaster, his mother a Sword-Swallower. Trained as a circus clown, he forsook the big top and run off to join some accountants. There he gained a love for accruing, depreciating, rounding, and most of all, ledgers. He began writing on a tuesday teatime two years ago whilst sitting on the toilet and hasn't stopped since, not even for number two's. Cecil says that writing is the most fun thing you can do with a sharp pencil and a lot of toilet paper. His favourite word is "Pamphlet".

Perrin: Help me Rand! Do something with the power! (wriggles his fingers and makes a spooky face)
Rand: I hate that, I really do.
Mat: Hate what, Rand?
Rand: People that wriggle their fingers, scrunch up their face and go "maaaaaa-jick!"all mysteriously. I mean, have you ever seen me or any one else for that matter, do this when we channel? Have you?
Mat: No, but I remember you pulled that Rabbit out of Min's.....
Rand: MAT! If you breathe one word of it....
Mat: My lips are sealed, Rand.
Rand: Good.
Mat: Mind you, her lips wer....
Rand: MAT! Once more and I swear I'll melt your earwax till it runs out in luminous green streams!
Perrin: Erm, hello? What about me? If Faile sees this, Rand, Tarmon Gaidon is the least of your troubles.
Rand: (examining the tattoo) Well, we can't remove it, it's too large. We'll have to change it.
Thom: Maybe there's something in the old tongue that will look like it.
Lan: You any good with the old tongue, Thom?
Thom: Morgase thought so.
Lan: No, I meant.... forget it. I don't want to have the conversation.

Aiel#1: (looking around nervously) Erm, thomethingth not wight here.
Aiel#2: Yeah, salmon, something smells a bit.... fishy, cod.
Aiel#3: It fer... fer... fer... feels like der... der... der.. danger!
Lan: Y'know, now you mention it....

[just then a party of Trollocs come screaming into the valley]

Lan: Brace yerselves, here comes trouble!
Aiel#1: Twollocth !
Lan: It's true, I tell you!
Aiel#1: Erm... No, I meant Twollocth, ath in "Here comthe Twollocth" ath in more than one Twolloc, as in lotsth of Twollocth.
Lan: It's worse than that, it's..... light no..... it's a Trolloc Hen Party!

[Fortunately Lan posseses a sense of Shadow Sworn so accute, that he can tell the sex of the trollocs without needing closer examination Telling the gender of a trolloc is not an exact science in that due to the mixing with animal stock, if you look down the front of the Y-fronts, you might just find a horn. Then again, look down the front of my Y-fronts any time and you'll find a horn....]

Everyone: GET ON WITH IT DARKHOUND!

[....yeah, alright, alright. Anyway, female trollocs are essentially the same as male trollocs, but they don't leave the seat up on the toilet, and they own lots more shoes]

Trollocette#1: OOh hooh, boyth! Hewo boyth!
Trollocette#2: Hey, warm ripe men, shrimp. Lots of 'em! prawn
Trollocette#3: Ger... ger.. get your ber... ber... ber... bits out for the ler... ler... ladies!

[Lan looks up at the sky]

Lan: This is terrible Darkhound. Couldn't you think of any better way to get rid of the Aielmen?
Darkhound: Yeah, but then I won't be able to do my joke where the Aielman wake up next to them in the morning and I say "Oh well, we've all woken up next to a trolloc in our time"
Lan: And do you know what The Great Mistress of the Dark would do to you if you try that joke?

[(pause) (sweat) (tremble)]

Darkhound: I guess you're right.

[balefires the trollocs so that they never actually arrived]

Perrin: Do you mind? What about my tattoo?
Lan: Sorry, we were nearly caught by the Trollocs.
Thom: Sounds painful.
Perrin: What Trollocs?
Lan: Trollocs? Where?
Rand: Look, I think we all understand the effects of balefire, Darkhound. Now will you get on with it?

[A poodle falls from the sky onto Rand's head]

Rand: Stroppy Mutt....
Mat: I've got it! (whispers into Rand ear)
Rand: Y'know, that might just work.... (channels)

[Perrins tattoo begins to change. When Rand is finished it reads "Bela reigns 4 ever"]

Perrin: I could make this work! I've always been fond of Bela, y'know. She'll think I'm just stating my appreciation for Bela! Mat, Rand, I could kiss you guys!
Rand: Only if you want black eyes instead of golden ones....
Mat: No offense, Perrin, but I never kiss people with beards.
Thom: Except that wench in that tavern in Tear.
Mat: Except her, yes.
Lan: Well, if we're all done here, I for one, am not nearly as drunk as I'd like to be.
Rand: Queens Colon?
Lan: Yes Siree!

[Rand weaves a gateway. A horizontal one]

Meanwhile.....

Moraine: [singing] one hundred bottles of beer on the wall, one hundred bottles of beer, and if one of those bottles should happen to fall....
*finns: [singing] THERE'LL BE NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!
Moraine: ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer....

Meanwhile....

Nynaeve: (tug) Well, I say we go look for them (tug)
Elayne: No it's wrong Nyn. There just out having fun. If we turn up at the Queens Colon, we'll be as popular as a ginger step-son.
Nynaeve: (sniff) I just know they're getting themselves in trouble, Elayne. The kind of trouble only men can get themselves into (tug) (sniff)
Birgitte: You've got to trust them Nynaeve. You're marrying Lan, after all. Marriage is based on trust.

[from the doorway, a new voice enters the fray]

Faile: Trust? No man can be trusted.
Elayne: Faile? What are you doing here?
Faile: Well, I knew that at least Nynaeve would be concerned about letting men out on their own without us there to keep them out of trouble. Right Nynaeve?
Nynaeve: (sniff) Absolutely. I was just saying that very thing (tug) (sniff) (tug)
Faile: There you go then. Why, just the other day, I was out with Perrin and a woman walked by. Y'know what he did?
Elayne: What?
Faile: He... He didn't look at her! The (BLEEP)ing (BLEEP)er.
Nynaeve: (big sniff) Typical.... (tug) (tug) (hard tug)
Elayne: I'm not sure I understand....
Faile: It's obvious, you Andoran sop. He didn't look at her, so he must of been THINKING about her.
Nynaeve: (tug) Or perhaps he already knew what she looked like. Knew very well, most likely! (sniff)
Elayne: (to Birgitte, softly) I think these two are beyond help, y'know.
Birgitte: (to Elayne, softer still) Yeah, I'm hoping RJ will give them a painful death in PoD.

[Elayne and Birgitte descend into helpless giggles. Faile and Nynaeve look at them with simultaneously raised eyebrows]

Meanwhile.....

Masema: And you're sure about this Ragan?
Ragan: Absolutely holy one. Our spy says that the Lord Dragon had "Love" and "Hat" across his knuckles.
Masema: It can only mean one thing.
Ragan: What, Holy One?
Masema: That the Lord Dragon loves hats, you numbskull! Issue a proclamation, Ragan.
Ragan: And what shall it say, Holy One?
Masema: That any head spotted in Gheladan without a hat on it.... shall be removed from the body it was attached to!
Ragan. (gulp) Right you are, Holy One.
Masema: Of course I'm right, Ragan. And Ragan?
Ragan: Holy One?
Masema: Get me a hat, before I have to cut my own head off. You too.
Ragan: Any preference, Holy One?
Masema: Anything but them stupid felt hats from Tanchico. I don't know what RJ was thinking of when he came up with them.....
Ragan: Very well, most Holy. I'll get you a red one, Holy One. It'll match your eyes.

Meanwhile...

[In the Queens Colon tavern,]

Man#1: It's true I tell you.
Man#2: What, earlier on today?
Man#1: S'what they say. Two men, sitting here like us, drinking "Leg Shortener" and suddenly PHWITT! Leg's considerably shorter on account of being sliced off at the knee
Man#2: PHWITT?
Man#1: That's the noise, alright. Then this shimmering appeared just above the floor, and a load of guys leapt through it, and it disappeared.
Man#2: Well, thank the light we're drinking "Strangely Brown's cold filtered Head Remover" then.
Man#1: Thank the light indeed. What's that noise?
Man#2: Sound's like a PHWITT, if you ask me.
Man#1: Y'right. It's a PHWIT if ever I heard one. [turns to Man#2] Oh (BLEEEEEP)
Man#2: (BLEEEEEEP)

[The tavern is filled with a noise like "PHWITT". Then: "THUD,THUD". A gateway appears at neck height, and out of it fall five men, carried through the horizontal gateway by gravity....]

Gravity: Yeah, don't mind me, will you. Muggins here will just make things fall from the sky, which isn't easy at all, by the way, and everyone just takes me for granted, oh yes, "what goes up must come down" they say, well one day it bloody well won't let me tell you, thing's will go up and they'll just bloody have to stay up there, they will, then we'll see you get's taken for granted, oh yes, they'll.....

Mat: (shouting) LOCK UP YOUR DAUGHTERS...
Rand: Just for once, Mat, it would be nice if you just said "Oh this is quaint. Anyone fancy a pint?"
Mat: And then the sun will freeze over, the Dark One will open a restaurant, and Perrin will be an exciting character.
Perrin: I heard that....
Lan: (picking up two severed heads) Look's like there was trouble.
Thom: (nodding) Earlier, two men lost their legs below the knee, so I heard.
Lan: Good job we've got Rand here then. He can make a gateway if things get rough....

Just then, the door to the tavern flies open....

Lan: Oh light no....
Perrin: My life is over...
Mat: Well that's this evening over and done with....

Nynaeve: Lan! Get your Malkeiri butt over here this minute, you stupid lug. (tug) (sniff)
Lan: (resigned tone) Yes dear.
Faile: Perrin! Get here now, farmboy, before I spank you in front of all your friends!
Perrin: (defeated tone) Of course, light of my life.
Nynaeve: You're drunk! You disgust me, Lan. Drinking on your stag night, whatever next? And what are these heads on the floor? You been fighting? Why, if I had a big stick, I'd thump your wooly head until you saw the pointlessness of violence....
Mat: (in a very, very, low whisper to Rand) Whatever you do, don't mention Selene, Rand.
Rand: (nods)
Faile: Selene? Selene? Who's Selene? Perrin, do you want to tell me about Selene before I rip off your beard and use it to scrub my boots? I suppose she's prettier than me, hmmm? Had a good look did you?

[Thom, Rand, and Mat make their way slowly to the exit, in the knowledge that for Lan and Perrin at least, the fun has stopped]

Faile: And another thing....
Nynaeve: ...I'll tell you, and if you so much as think of....
Perrin: .....yes, dear..... no, dear .....of course, dear....
Faile: ....and if you don't know what you've done wrong, I'm not going to tell you.....
Lan: ....yes, my love .....yes, but.... yes, but you.... yes, love...
Nynaeve: .....always leave the seat up on the toilet.......
Faile: ......squeeze the toothpaste in the middle.....
Nynaeve: ......always leave your socks on the floor....
Faile: ...wouldn't hurt to pay a bit more attention to me.....
Lan: ...yes, dear....
Perrin: ...absolutely dear....

Outside...

Rand: I'll tell you, I'm NEVER getting married, whatever happens.
Thom: You and me both, Rand.
Mat: Make that three. Mind you, not much chance of old Mat "one night stand" Cauthon settling down, no siree.
Daughter of the nine moons: Really Matrim?
Mat: AAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!

To be continued...

Raina's Hold / Raina's Library / Other People's Humour / Lan's Stag Party