Series: Simple Questions
Pairing: QG/OW
Category: Humor, Pre-Slash
Rating: G
Archive: MA and anyone else who's interested. Just let me
know!
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Not everything can be "handled" by even the best of
Jedi.
Feedback: Yes, please! Always appreciated!
Disclaimer: These characters are so not mine. They belong to
Lucas That Is. I make nary a cent.
Note: For most of these stories, Obi-Wan is fifteen.
The Smorl were a strange species, even in a galaxy full of
more leg, arm and torso variations than one could see in a
lifetime. On average near six feet tall, shaped like a pestle
gone astray of its mortar, they clumbered slowly here and there
on thick legs averaging four to six in number. Obi-Wan's first
impression was of churba fruit gone ripe, only without the
spikes. It was most disconcerting.
"Master, how does one tell the males from the females?"
Qui-Gon opened his mouth, then hesitated to watch as a
particularly large Smorl lumbered by. "I don't..." It gathered
its five stumpy legs and veered slowly to the left. "I don't
think we need to know."
All of Obi-Wan's fifteen years needed to know, but his Master
had spoken. And that was that.
And as for their Mission of Inquiry, well, all of Obi-Wan's
fifteen years still couldn't see the point to it. The most that
the population of this muddy green planet seemed to do was
stroll around, snack on the bushes and roll in the mud. And now
he was bored.
So, he'd tried meditating.
First, on the deep blue-green of the large bushes that
surrounded their hut. They were lush and full and the gentle
winds of the planet whispered through their broad leaves. It
seemed to be the favorite choice for grazing, so it should have
been full of meditation potential.
That didn't work.
So, he'd tried meditating on the shimmering surface of the mud
flat just a short distance to the East. It was actually a
rather interesting color. Sort of like melted sibble blubber,
but without the lumps. And it seemed to have its own internal
current, the eddies moving in unpredictable swirls here and
there.
That didn't work either.
When he'd suggested to his Master that they practice his
newest kata, that had been vetoed. Didn't Obi-Wan remember the
briefing outline? Perhaps the young Padawan should take some
time and refresh his memory. The Smorl were a peaceful race and
abhorred all weapons and any movement even vaguely smacking of
violence. So, perhaps some time spent in studied reflection,
Padawan?
Yes, Master...
Than had been yesterday taken care of. And now there was all
of today. With more bushes, leaves, mud, and strolling Smorl
for doubtful entertainment.
Obi-Wan leaned on the windowsill of the little round hut and
glanced at the mud flat, not thinking of much at all. It took
him a moment to recognize the heightened activity taking place
in the normally placid area. With a little smile, he leaned
farther out of the window. Now, this was interesting.
All around the pool, mostly deserted since their arrival,
milled a rather large number of Smorl, all apparently adult by
their size, although he'd yet to see what could be called
children. And in the middle of the pool stood a particularly
large Smorl, slowly stamping its legs and successfully stirring
up the mud.
Obi-Wan grinned. So, these things didn't believe in violence,
huh? And now that he was paying attention, he could feel a
thrumming through the branchwork of the hut, a sort of deep
base rumble which seemed to strengthen even as he listened. An
argument, maybe? A feud? The outer ring of Smorl were now
stepping in and out of the mud at the edge of the pool, almost
in rhythm. A ritual challenge? Obi-Wan turned to go for his
Master, only to see him coming through the door, a worried
frown on his face.
"Master! Look at them!" He whirled back to the window. "I
think it's a fight of some kind. See how they're all taunting
that big one in the middle?"
Qui-Gon studied the scene a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps it's
time to interfere just a bit, Padawan. If there are hidden
conflicts here, the Council must be informed. Come."
Checking his saber, Obi-Wan followed his Master as they left
the hut to hurry to a point of better observation. As they
neared the group, the central Smorl bellowed and began swaying
forward and backward, side to side. His long torso seemed to
ripple as he pointed one by one to the encircling creatures.
The Jedi were alarmed to see each one in the outer ring begin
stamping and bellowing in turn upon selection. The noise was
fearsome.
"Master?" Obi-Wan was breathless with excitement. "What can we
do? If they rush the big one, we'll never be able to stop
them!"
"Perhaps he is not meant to win. This may be a deposition of a
leader whom the rest have decided is no longer useful." His
expression was serious, his eyes never leaving the scene for a
moment. "There are still some things we do not know of the
Smorl, including local politics. So, for now, we observe."
It was at that moment that observation became a thing of the
past. With a particularly resounding roar, the big Smorl
dropped into the mud, rolling over and over, covering its torso
with a layer of the slick goo. As it pounded the ground, gobs
of mud were thrown right and left, splattering Jedi and Smorl
alike. The outer ring of creatures moved rapidly into the mud,
now spinning in slow circles, hooting and thrumming as they
closed in on the downed Smorl.
Jedi instincts took over. To see a creature in distress was
impossible to ignore. Rushing into the pool, Qui-Gon called
upon all of his training, all of his skill at negotiation, and
shouted to the excited group.
"Hold, I beg you! This is not necessary! Peace, peace, I say!
Discussion rather than violence! Please, hold your actions, we
must talk!"
The biggest Smorl gave a low bellow, sounding strangely like a
Wookie discussing the state of the galaxy, only backwards, as
the rest of the creatures, having spun the mud into a slimy
concoction, crowded even closer to it. The bellowing and
roaring had shifted into a deep and complicated rhythm, shaking
the ground and setting the bushes on all sides to trembling.
Qui-Gon was now staring, eyes wide, at the scene before him.
For a moment, he stood frozen, a stunned look upon his face.
Then, slowly backing up, he grasped Obi-Wan's upper arm and
pulled, quietly, but none too gently. "Time to go, Padawan."
Obi-Wan could hardly believe his ears. "But, Master! We
should...!"
"Back up, Obi-Wan. And bow."
"What?! Master! We can't..."
"We can! And we will. Now. With dignity." Boots splucking at
each step, Qui-Gon continued to back up, bowing as well as the
slick surface would allow.
"Master, we are Jedi!" One boot sailed sideways, but he pulled
it back before disaster. "Don't we go around saving...?"
"Padawan, not now. We are going!" He was tugging Obi-Wan at a
smart clip through the shallow end of the mud pool.
Hopping and slipping, robe dragging in the noisome goo,
Obi-Wan yet tried to reason with his obstinate Master. "They'll
kill each other! Why are we leaving? Shouldn't we being doing
stuff?"
Qui-Gon skidded the last three feet to the bank of the mudhole
and with patent relief hauled himself and his Padawan onto dry
land. "Obi-Wan, there is a lesson in this, which I shall
explain fully in a year or two." He looked back in awe at the
scene behind them. "Perhaps."
With alacrity, he bundled them into the hut, where he kept
Obi-Wan well away from the windows until all was silent
outside.
And much later, in the deep of the night, he wrote an addendum
to the official report on the planet. It was very brief, but to
the point. For who would have guessed that mud was the going
thing in sexual lubricant for the average Smorl...
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