Announcer: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! We are here tonight to present the much-coveted Randland Character Awards! The first award that will be presented this evening is the “Best Male Non-Ta’veren Award”. This award is meant to be given to the nominee that is the hardest-working, least annoying, and most interesting male non-ta’veren characters in Randland! This Year’s nominees for Best Male Non-Ta’veren are, in no particular order:

Thom Merrilin, gleeman and former court bard of Andor! He spends most of his time playing the harp and juggling, but became interested in a career in revenge after a king had his apprentice killed.

(In the audience, Thom stands up and bows. Then he flourishes his patched cloak and begins to juggle. He is all the way to six balls, three daggers, and an orange when the announcer clears his throat.)

Announcer: Ahem. Ahem. AHEM!

(Thom stops juggling. The balls fall on the floor, along with two of the daggers. The third dagger stabs the utterly nondescript man behind Thom. The man falls to the ground, dead, a knife poised for attack in his hand. The orange hits Elaida, the Amyrlin Seat (who had been sitting across the aisle), on the head, and knocks her out. Thom is visibly annoyed.)

Thom: What? Can’t you see that I’m performing here? (He plucks a flower out of thin air and presents it to Semirhage, who is sitting on his left side. She twists it into bits with the Power, and gives it back.) Er, thank you, my dear lady. Now I am going to pull a rabbit out of thin air! (He does it, looks at Semirhage, and puts the rabbit back into his cloak.) Er, never mind. Go on, announcer. (He sits down.)

Announcer: (To Thom) Thank you. (To the audience) Our second nominee is Gala… Galadedeah… Galadada… Galadedidamoded… Er, that is, Galadadadamid. I mean… (He is interrupted by a handsome young man in a white cloak who stands up in the audience.)

Galad: That’s Galadedrid Damodid. I mean, Galadedrid Damodred. (Glares.) Thank you.

Announcer: (Embarassed) Er, sorry, Galadidabid. Er…

Galad: (cuts in) Just call me Galad.

Announcer: (relieved) Yes. Galad, the young and up-and-coming Whitecloak! He used to train with the Warders in the White Tower, but now he spends his time, uh, Whitecloaking. And get this: He always does the right thing.

Galad: (Stands up and bows) Thank you for nominating me. But I feel it is my moral duty to let you know that Gawyn Trakand cheated to get nominated.

Gawyn: (Stands. He’s in the front row, and is very nicely dressed.) What?! I did not! Galad, how could you even think such a thing of me! I can’t believe it! How long have we been friends? You’re second in line for First Prince of the Sword! What are you talking about?

Galad: I saw you near the voting booth. You put a slip into the box. Then you took another one out of your pocket, and put that one in, too.

Gawyn: That was the suggestion box, idiot!

Galad: (is suspicious): Yeah? Then what did you suggest?

Gawyn: I suggested that we have more of those little weenie appetizers. Then it occurred to me that the vegetarians may not want that, so I wrote another suggestion that they could be made of tofu or something.

Galad: Really? (pause) Gee, Gawyn, I’m sorry. (to the crowd) I shall now go and start my penance of crawling from Andor to the Blight on my knees, over hot coals. (leaves. Gawyn sits back down.)

Announcer: Uh… That brings me to the next candidate, Gawyn Trakand. He’s been training as First Prince of the Sword all his life, to help Elayne Trakand rule Andor. He also trained in the White Tower, but now he’s the leader of the Younglings, a group that supported the current Amyrlin Seat, Elaida, in her rise to power.

Gawyn: (stands) I’d just like to say thank you, to all those people who voted for me, and to all those who make those little weenie appetizers. (sits)

Announcer: Now we come to our fourth candidate, Mazrim Taim. Mazrim Taim used to be a profeesional False Dragon, but recently, he got a new job working for the Dragon Reborn. Rumours abound that Mr. Taim is really a nasty Forsaken called “Demandred”. Would you care to comment about this idea, Mr. Taim?

Taim: (stands. Doesn’t smile.) Yes, Mr. Announcer, I would. (to the crowd) Read and find out. (sits)

(The crowd boos. Suddenly, a tall red-haired man jumps up onto the stage and grabs the mike.)

Rand: (points a shaking, unsteady finger at Taim) Kill him! Kill them all! They must die, don’t you see? … Hello, Taim. How are those Asha’man doing? Having any … Kill, kill, kill! You are too dangerous to … Troubles? How many burnouts during… Live! Far too dangerous! Must kill!

(Two blackcoated men with pins on their collars come onto the stage and lead Rand out, murmuring soothing phrases. The sound of Rand’s mutterings dies away.)

Announcer: Well, here we come to our final candidate: Al Mandragoran.

Lan: (stands and interrupts) That’s “Lan Mandragoran”.

Announcer: (points at paper) But it says “Al.” Right here.

(Lan goes up onto the stage)

Lan: (points at the paper) That’s “al’Lan”. The “al” is a prefix whose literal meaning is “son of”, but is now generally used to denote nobility.

Announcer: Oh. I thought “Lan” was a funny middle name to have. Anyway, al’Lan Mandragoran, King of Malkier, is a diademed battle lord of a kingdom that has been swallowed by the Blight. He was Warder to Moirane… (looks at the paper, and says, very carefully) Damodred Sedai. (He mops his brow with relief as the crowd cheers.) Currently, he’s Warder to Myrelle Sedai, and is married to … uh… How on Earth do you say this?

Lan: (Winces) Nynaeve.

Announcer: Yes. Currently married to Nynaeve, Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah.

Nynaeve: (stands, tugs braid, and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. Throws a sniff in for good measure.) And don’t you forget it! (sits)

Lan: (smiles weakly) Don’t worry. I won’t. (to the audience) I’d like to thank my wife, Nynaeve, for being my inspiration. (goes back to his seat and sits. We can hear Nynaeve muttering angrily.)

Nynaeve: This is all your fault…

Announcer: Wait. It seems we have a sixth category. It’s called “Other”. I guess this is the category for people that can’t decide who to vote for, or just haven’t read the book. Poor things. Anyway. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for.

(drumroll)

Announcer: And the “Best Male Mon-Ta’veren Award” goes to…. Mazrim Taim, M’Hael, with 32 %!

(Taim walks to the stage, still not smiling)

Taim: Thank you all. I’d especially like to thank the Dragon, and my mother. (He turns to leave.)

Announcer: Wait! Please, Mr. Taim, give us some inside information. (whispers) Are you really Demandred?

Taim: (whispers back) Read and find out. (takes a sha’ra board out of his coat and studies it gravely as he walks through a Gateway)

Announcer: Well, folks, there you have it! The runners up were: Al’Lan Mandragoran, with 29 percent of the votes; Thom Merrilin, with 16 percent; “Other” with 15 percent; Gawyn Trakand, with 6 percent of the total vote; and, um, Galad, with 2 percent. Thank you for attending this ceremony; the next award will be presented in a few moments.

Galad: (Enters, the door closing behind him. He walks up to the stage.) I’d just like to congratualate Mr. Taim and let him know that I have no hard feelings, despite having lost the award with such a low percentage.

(The sound of shattering glass is heard behind the curtain)

Announcer: There will be a short break, due to a few, ah, technical difficulties. Thank you! (he leaves the stage.)

(A loud boo comes from an audience member. A man runs up onto the stage. It is Gawyn Trakand, booing for all he's worth. He has finally cracked in the face of Galad’s self-righteousness.)

Gawyn: Booooo! Whitecloak! Sillyhead! Geek! Goody-two-shoes! Boo!

Galad: (Stands up) What are you doing, brother?

Gawyn: Oh, shut up. I'm not your brother. I'm your half-brother. I'm so sick of all your pompous self-righteousness. I almost gave up Egwene for you, and you joined the Whitecloaks! Traitor! Boo!

(The Announcer has been motioning to the side during all of this, and finally two men in black coats come and drag Gawyn away, still booing and screaming.)
 
 Author unknown