Manetheren

"Is this what Aemon's blood has come to?" The Aes Sedai's voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed every other sound. "Little people squabbling for the right to hide like rabbits? You have forgotten who you were, forgotten what you were, but I had hoped some small part was left, some memory in blood and bone. Some shred to steel you for the long night coming."
  No one spoke. The two Coplins looked as if they never wanted to open their mouths again.
  Bran said, "Forgotten who we were? We are who we always have been. Honest farmers and shepherds and craftsmen. Two Rivers folks."
  "To the south," Moiraine said, "lies the river you call the White River, but far to the east of here men call it still by its rightful name. Manetherendrelle. In the Old Tongue, Waters of the Mountain Home. Sparkling waters that once coursed through a land of bravery and beauty. Two thousand years ago, Manetherendrelle flowed by the walls of a mountain city so lovely to behold that Ogier stonemasons came to stare in wonder. Farms and villages covered this region, and that you call the Forest of Shadows, as well, and beyond. But all those folk thought themselves as the people of the Mountain Home, the people of Manetheren.
  "Their King was Aemon al Caar al Thorin, Aemon son of Caar son of Thorin, and Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan was his Queen. Aemon, a man so fearless that the greatest compliment for courage any could give, even among his enemies, was to say a man had Aemon's heart. Eldrene, so beautiful that it was said that flowers bloomed to make her smile. Bravery and beauty and wisdom and a love that death could not sunder. Weep, if you have a heart, for the loss of them, for the loss of even their memeory. Weep, for the loss of their blood."
  She fell silent then, but no one spoke. Rand was as bound as the others in the spell she had created. When she spoke again, he drank it in, nd so did the rest.
  "For nearly two centuries the Trolloc Wars had ravaged the length and breadth of the world, and wherever battles raged, the Red Eagle banner of Manetheren was in the forefront. The men of Manetheren were a thorn to the Dark One's foot and a bramble to his hand. Sing of Mantheren, that would never bend knee to the Shadow. Sing of Manetheren, the sword that could not be broken.

Profile(s)	Character & RPer details	Short summary of the character
	Perrin t'Bashere Aybara Wolfbrother Ben AIM: WolfManBen ICQ: 108546766	It was not the image he had made, a young man with heavy shoulders and shaggy, brown curls, a young man with an axe at his belt, who others thought moved and thought slowly. The man was there, somewhere in the mind picture that came from the wolves, but stronger by far was a massive, wild bull with curved horns of shining metal, running throuhg the night with the speed and exuberance of youth, curly-haired coat gleaming in the moonlight, flinging himself in among Whitecloaks on their horses, with the crisp air and cold dark, and blood so red on the horns, and... Young Bull For a moment, Perrin lost contact in his shock. He had not dreamed they had given him a name. He wished he could not remember how he had earned it. He touched the axe at his belt, with its gleaming, half-moon blade. Light help me, I killed two men. They would have killed me even quicker, and Egwene, but... Pushing all that aside -- it was done and behind him; he had no wish to remember any of it -- he gave the wolves the smell of Rand, Loial and Hurin, and asked if they had scented the three. It was one of the things that had cometo him with the change in his eyes; he could identify people by their smell even when he could not see them. He could see more sharply, too, see in anything but pitch-darkness. He was always careful to light lamps and candles, now, sometimes before anyone else thought they were needed.
	Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	At the top Perrin paused to look back. He heard the murmurs of "Lady" and "Ogier" down there, could feel all those eyes, but it seemed to him that he felt on pair of eyes in particular, someone staring not a Moiraine and Loial, but at him. He picked her out immediately. For one thing, she stood apart from the others, and for another she was the only woman in the room not wearing at least a little lace. Her dark gray, almost black, dress was as plain as the ship captain's clothes, with wide sleves and narrow skirts, and never a frill or a stitch of fancy-work. The dress was divided for riding, he saw when she moved, and she was no older than he was, perhaps--and tall for a woman, with black hair to her shoulders. A nose that just missed being too large and too bold, a generous mouth, high cheekbones, and dark, slightly tilted eyes. He could not quite decide whether she was beautiful or not. As soon as he looked down, she turned to address one of the serving women and did not glance at the stairs again, but he was sure he had been right. She had been staring at him.
	Berelain First of Mayene Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	Berelain was there, in a fur-trimmed red cloak, and Gallenne, the one-eyed Captain of her Winged Guards, and Annoura, who was shaking his head so hard the white plumes quivered on his gleaming helmet. The First of Mayene looked ready to bite iron, vexation showed through Annoura's Aes Sedai calm, and Gallenne was fingering the red-plumed helmet hanging at his saddle as though deciding whether to don it. At the sight of Perrin, they broke off and turned their mounts toward him. Berelain sat her saddle erect, but her black hair was windblown, and her fine-ankled white mare was shivering, the lather of a hard run freezing on her flanks. With so many people about, it was all but impossible to make out individual scents, but Perrin did not need his nose to recognize trouble hanging by a hair. Before he could demand to know what in the Light they thought they were doing, Berelain spoke with a porcelain-faced formality that made him blink at first. "Lord Perrin, your Lady wife and I were hunting with Queen Alliandre when we were attacked by Aiel. I managed to escape. No one else in the party has returned, yet, though it may be the Aiel took prisoners."
	Alliandre Maritha Kigarin Queen of Ghealdan Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	With even stiffer curtsies, Maighdin was offering a tray holding cups of wine-punch--made with the last of the dried blueberries, by the smell--while Lini folded the newcomer's dust cloak. There seemed something odd in the way Faile and Berelain stood to either side of the new woman, and Annoura hovered behind them, all focused on her. Somewhere in her middle years, with a cap of green net gathering her dark hair that fell almost to her waist, the might have been pretty if her nose had not been so long. And if she had not carried it so high. Shorter than Faile or Berelain either one, she still managed to look down that nose at Perrin, coolly examining him from hair to boots. She did not blink at the sight of his eyes, although nearly everyone did. "Majesty," Berelain pronounced in a formal voice as soon as Perrin entered, "may I present Lord Perrin Aybara of the Two Rivers, in Andor, the personal friend and emmisary of the Dragon Rebord." The long-nosed woman nodded carefully, cooly, and Berelain went on with scarcely a pause. "Lord Aybara, give greetings and welcome to Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Gheldan, Blessed of the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall, who is pleased to recieve you in person."
	Morgase Trakand 'Maighdin Dorlain' Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	Fists on her hips, Maighdin stood studying those rippling flags as her horse was taken off with the rest. Surprisingly, Breane had both their bundles, held awkwardly; she wore a petulant scowl directed at the other woman. "I have heard about banners like those," Maighdin said suddenly. And angrily; there was no anger in her voice, and her face was as smooth as ice, but her fury filled Perrin's nose. "They were raised by men in Andor, in the Two Rivers, who rebelled against their lawful ruler. Aybara is a Two Rivers name, I think." "We don't know much about lawful rulers in the Two Rivers, Mistress Maighdin," he growled. He was going to skin whoever had put them up this time. If stories about rebellion had spread this far.... He faced too many compications already without adding more. "I suppose Morgase was a good queen, but we had to fend for ourselves, and we did." Abruptly he knew who she reminded him of. Elayne. Not that it meant anything; he had seen men a thousand miles from the Two Rivers who could have belonged to families he knew back home. Still, she had to have some reason for anger. Her accent could be Andoran. "Things aren't as bad in Andor as you might have heard," he told her. "Caemlyn was quiet, last I was there, and Rand -- the Dragon Reborn -- means to put Morgase's daughter Elayne on the Lion Throne." Far from being mollified, Maighdin rounded on him, blue eyes blazing. "He intends to put her on the throne? No man puts a queen on the Lion Throne! Elayne will claim the throne of Andor by right!"
	Elyas Machera Wolfbrother Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	His companion, a head shorter in a broad-brimmed hat and coat and breeches of a plain dull green, was no Aiel. He had a full quiver at his belt, too, and a knife even longer and heavier than the Aielman's, but he carried his bow, much shorter than a Two Rivers longbow though longer than the horn bows of the Aiel. Despite his clothes, he did not have the look of a farmer, or a city man either. Perhaps it was the graying hair tied at the nape of his neck and dangling to his waist, the beard fanning across his chest, or perhaps just the way he moved, much like the man at his side, slipping around the brush on the hill so that you were sure no twig snapped in his passing, no weeds broke under his foot. Perrin had not seen him in what seemed like a very long time. Reaching the hilltop, Elyas Machera regarded Perrin, golden eyes shining faintly in the shadow of his hat brim. His eyes had been that way since before Perrin's; Elyas had introduced Perrin to the wolves. He had been dressed in hides, then. "Good to see you again, boy," he said quietly. Sweat glistened on his face, but little more than on Gaul's. "You give away that axe, finally? I didn't think you'd ever stop hating it."
	Aram Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	"The Aiel should put some clothes on them," Aram muttered primly, scowling at the ground. He squatted nearby, patiently holding the reins of a rangy gray gelding; he seldom went far from Perrin. The sword strapped to his back jarred with his green-striped Tinker coat, hanging undone for the heat. A rolled kerchief tied around his forehead kept sweat from his eyes. Once Perrin had thought him almost too good-looking for a man. A bleak darkness had settled in him, though, and now he wore a scowl as often as not. "It isn't decent, Lord Perrin." Perrin put aside thoughts of Faile reluctantly. With time he could puzzle it out. He had to. Somehow. "It is their way, Aram." Aram grimaced as if he might spit. "Well, it isn't a decent way. It keeps them under control, I suppose -- nobody would run far or make trouble like that -- but it isn't decent."
	Gaul Shae'en M'taal Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	Gaul, the Stone Dogs' leader, nodded, looking down at Elayne and her with a touch of respect. He was a handsome man, in a rugged way, a little older than Nynaeve, with eyes as green and clear as polished gems and long eyelashes so dark they seemed to outline his eyes in black. "They may be troubling him. He is in a foul mood this morning." Gaul grinned, just a quick flash of white teeth, in understanding of a temper when wounded. "He has chased off a group of these High Lords already, and threw one of them out himself. What was his name?" "Torean," another, even taller man replied. He had an arrow nocked, the short, curved bow held almost casually. His gray eyes rested on the two women for an instant, then went back to searching among the anteroom's columns. "Torean," Gaul agreed. "I thought he would slide as far as those pretty carvings..." he pointed a spear to the ring of stiff-standing Defenders. "...but he came short by three paces. I lost a good Tairen hanging, all hawks in gold thread, to Mangin." The taller man gave a brief, contented smile.
	Sulin Far Dareis Mai Also at Aiel Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ...	Gripping spears and buckler in her left hand, Sulin took one of the small bundles of cloth from the saddle before she came to him. The pink scar running down her leathery cheek twisted as she smiled. "Good news, Perrin Aybara," she said softly, handing him the dark blue cloth. "Your wife lives." Alharra exchanged glances with Seonid's other Warder, Teryl Wynter, who frowned. Masuri's man, Rovair Kirklin, stared straight ahead stonily. It was as plain as Wynter's curled mustaches that they were not sure it was good news. "The others press on to see what more they can find," she went on. "Though we already have found oddities enough." Perrin let the bundle fall open in his hands. It was Faile's dress, sliced down the front and along the arms. He inhaled deeply, pulling Faile's scent into him, a faint trace of flowery soap, a touch of her sweet perfume, but most of all, the smell that was her. And no hint of blood. The rest of the Maidens gathered around him, mostly older women with hard faces, though not as hard as Sulin's. The Warders climbed down, showing no sign that they had been all night in the saddle, but they held back behind the Maidens. "All of the men were killed," the wiry woman said, "but by the garments we found, Alliandre Kigarin, Maighdin Dorlain, Lacile Aldorwin, Arrela Shiego, and two more also were made gai'shain" The other two must have been Bain and Chaid; mentioning them by name, that they had been taken, would have shamed them.

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