Disclaimer: Anything George recognizes is his. All hail the
mighty Lucas.
Author's Note: This is the anti-angst. Relation to canon is
minimal. The purpose of this story is to make you go,
"awwww..." and maybe leave you with a goofy grin. Thanks go to
Betsy for flagging the places where either the idiot keyboard
or the idiot at the keyboard went astray.
Once upon a time there was a young man who knew he was lacking.
What he was lacking he could not have said. He had all a
reasonable being could desire -- wealth, power, position, fine
clothes to wear and plenty of food to eat. If he did not have
love, well, he was, after all, the youngest of several sons,
and even a parent's love can only stretch so far. But it was
not precisely love he felt himself lacking, that seemed to lie
just beyond his reach. At least, it was not solely love. It was
something more.
The question was much on Obi-Wan's mind, because his eldest
brother had found a bride. No ordinary woman was Yasmeen. The
very moment she had been born, a star had exploded into glory
in the heavens. All the virtues were hers, 'twas said: wisdom,
kindness, modesty, and a beauty so great that she always wore a
veil lest she blind the unwary with it. By decree of Obi-Wan's
father the king, she would come to the castle by carriage, in
the style of an imperial progress, accompanied by the Royal
Guard, and the wedding would take place upon her arrival. This
both gave the people a chance to see the woman who would one
day be their queen, and gave the castle a chance to prepare for
the wedding.
They needed the time. Invitations had gone forth from one end
of the galaxy to the other, to Alderaan and N'bok and even to
the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and from every place people came
with their retinues. The result was chaos, servants and droids
rushing from one place to another, as did the king, the queen,
their three daughters, and Obi-Wan's six older brothers.
Obi-Wan, more prudent, chose a place near the front hall where
he would be able to see whoever came in, and remained there.
Thus it was that, in between the arrival of the Lord High
Something of Varenthal (and attendants) and the entrance of the
Grand Whatever of Qyyn (and attendants), Obi-Wan saw a single
figure enter, without fanfare or attendants or indeed any of
the pomp and circumstance demanded by the other guests. That
the man was important Obi-Wan did not doubt. Even with the
stranger's face hidden in the shadows of the hood of his dark
brown robe, he projected a certainty Obi-Wan envied. But the
young man said nothing. If this guest wanted to enter without
notice, Obi-Wan certainly wasn't about to give him away.
However, when the stranger passed under the niche where Obi-Wan
had secreted himself, he paused and looked up. "Good evening,"
he said.
Obi-Wan swung his feet down and leaned forward a bit, in hopes
of seeing the man's face. No such luck. The light was at the
wrong angle. "Good evening," he returned cheerfully. "Can I
help you with anything?"
"If you know where my room is...?"
For the first time, Obi-Wan wished he'd paid more attention to
the endless breakfast-table discussion of who to place where.
"You'd have more luck asking a droid," he said.
"Ah." The man nodded, as if to himself, and then continued
forward.
Obi-Wan watched him for a moment, then called after him, "Might
I know your name?"
The man turned and bowed. "Qui-Gon Jinn, young prince." And
then he went on his way.
"Good," said Obi-Wan to himself, and resumed his position in
the niche, making a mental note to ask a droid himself where
Qui-Gon Jinn was staying.
The opportunity never arose. No sooner did he emerge from his
hiding place than his mother found him, and assigned him more
duties than ten people could ever accomplish. He saw the other
man from a distance at meals, recognizing him by the dark brown
robe and noting the elegance of strength about him. However, he
only spoke to Qui-Gon twice more, both chance encounters in the
hallways in which the other man seemed more interested in
asking odd questions about Obi-Wan than in giving information
about himself.
"What do you see?"
A tapestry, dim with dust, stiffly portraying the royal family
tree; a stone hall, about twenty meters long, with exactly
fourteen doors on either side, fourteen being a lucky number;
himself and Qui-Gon. What else was there to see?
"Where do you go?"
To the garden, to pick greenery for the evening meal -- but
also to escape the noise and confusion, in the quiet peace of
growing things.
"What do you plan for the future?"
Plan? He had no plan, only vague-edged dreams of escape, and
the growing determination never, ever to get married if it
meant something like this.
And then came the afternoon when a man in rags that might once
have been the uniform of the Royal Guard staggered into the
audience chamber, before all the assembled nobility and guests,
and collapsed at the foot of the throne. The nobility gasped,
the guests shuddered, and the king, the queen, their three
daughters, and their six eldest sons all exchanged helpless
looks. Obi-Wan wriggled forward to get a better look, then sent
a servant for water, linen and a healer, before kneeling beside
the man. "What happened?"
"Attacked," the man gasped, nothing loathe for an audience.
"Crossing the Scarlet Mountains."
"The lady Yasmeen?"
The man hesitated, then reluctantly shrugged. "I cannot say.
The coach vanished. She may have been taken."
The sound of slow clapping echoed from the entry-way, and all
turned to look. A being stood there thin and pale as bone, from
her boots to her braids, only her belt a slash of red to match
her eyes. She waited until all eyes were trained on her, even
those of the Royal Guard, then strolled down the stairs and
into the room. "I bring you the greetings of the Sorcerer
Namin," she announced, then paused her step to wait out the
outcry from the assembled court and guests, her eyes on the
king. Obi-Wan started to rise, and found himself pinned in turn
with that red-eyed gaze.
When silence returned, her teeth gleamed in a smile. "My master
was hurt that he was not sent an invitation, and therefore took
his own measures to meet the lady Yasmeen. You need not fear
for her, she is quite safe...and as fair as reputed."
The king looked down at the bleeding guard, then back up at the
messenger. "You did not come to compliment my son on his
taste," he blustered. "What else does your master want?"
The messenger shook her head, tsking her tongue as she
approached the dais whereon stood the king and his children
except for Obi-Wan. "To give up the company of the lady is a
great sacrifice," she said smoothly. "Therefore my master
requires a great price."
"Which is?" Obi-Wan asked, when the messenger paused too long
and the king said nothing.
The messenger's smile widened a trifle more. "The king's
scepter, and all that comes with it." She stopped in front of
the dais, the tip of one boot against the guard's outflung
hand. "Think on it, sire." She looked pointedly down at the
wounded guard. "I shall return in nine days for your answer."
She bowed, and was there no more.
The courtiers and assembled guests murmured amongst themselves,
shock and surprise rising like a wave. Obi-Wan caught sight of
the healer, hesitating on the edge of the crowed, and waved him
in. No sooner were the Royal Guard and those attending him out
of the room, than a voice familiar to Obi-Wan came from the
crowd. "Who shall go after the princess?"
"What?" The king looked up from the floor.
Qui-Gon stepped out of the crowd, wrapped in his dark brown
robe, his face hidden in shadows once more. "Who shall go after
the princess Yasmeen?" he repeated. "Unless you propose to give
up your scepter to the sorcerer for ransom, someone must rescue
her before the given time. Who?"
Obi-Wan looked up sharply, a nameless hope taking shape. But
his father the king, after a long pause to realize what his
guest had said, looked to his eldest son. The young man drew
himself up and shook his head. "There are too many things that
need to be done here," he said proudly. "I shall remain."
The king looked to his other sons, who all immediately found
something of immense interest on the ceiling or at their feet
or somewhere off in the distance -- all except Obi-Wan, who
recognized his chance when he saw it. He straightened to his
feet. "I'll go."
"Not you," the king said impatiently. "Let one of your brothers
go."
"All of them have other things to do," said Obi-Wan, not
without irony. "I do not. Let me go."
"But -- how will you get there?" his oldest brother argued.
"You don't even know the way to the sorcerer's stronghold."
"The villagers know," Obi-Wan said confidently. "I'll find it.'
"It may be dangerous," Qui-Gon said, his rich voice drawing
Obi-Wan's attention back to him. The older man was watching him
intently, blue eyes inscrutable. "It would be no shame if you
stayed home like your brothers."
"I will go," Obi-Wan said, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes.
The other bowed slightly, then straightened. "Then I will go
with you," he said, and for the first time looked up at the
king instead of at Obi-Wan. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn."
Obi-Wan's startled, "Jedi Master!" was drowned out by
the sudden uproar from guests and royalty both. "We didn't
realize -- a thousand apologies -- surely you need not --
solution will be found -- must have more important -- you don't
need to do this, truly!"
Qui-Gon merely folded his arms into his robe and waited until
everyone had talked themselves breathless. Then he bowed
shortly to the royal family, and looked at Obi-Wan. The young
man grinned, recognizing the faintly hunted expression that
resulted from facing his family in full cry, and led the way
out of the room, down to the street.
"Where are we going?" Qui-Gon murmured, once they were well out
of the palace.
Obi-Wan looked over, startled. He'd expected the Jedi to take
over immediately. "Down to the marketplace," he said, once he
recovered himself and thought a moment. "Old Matilda knows
everything that goes on in the capital."
"Ah." And no further comment did the Jedi vouchsafe.
But Matilda, though grateful for this latest news, either
didn't know or wouldn't tell what Obi-Wan wanted to know.
"Sorcerer, your Highness? I don't know anything about any
sorcerer. Never heard of him until you came and spoke the name
just now. Why would I know such things?" She gave them a meat
pastry each to make up for it.
"Now what?" Obi-Wan sighed. When the Jedi didn't respond, he
turned around in time to catch Qui-Gon feeding his pastry to a
stray that had come up. Obi-Wan hid a smile, and waited until
Qui-Gon straightened and came up to him before repeating his
question.
The Jedi merely shrugged. "What would you suggest?"
"Er. That we get going," Obi-Wan said, turning his steps back
to the palace. "Can you pack and meet me in the South Hangar in
ten minutes?"
Thus it happened that, with the sun high overhead, Obi-Wan set
off in his speeder, with the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn alongside
him. Westward they traveled for two days, every moment Obi-Wan
expecting his companion to say something like 'yes, you've done
very well, now it's time for me to take over.' Instead, they
hardly spoke at all beyond 'let us stop here for a meal,' and
'let us remain here for the night.'
Had they been entirely strangers, this might not have bothered
Obi-Wan. Had they been friends, he might, he told himself, have
understood what was being thought in the silence, and thus been
able to enjoy it. Instead, he was left to watch Qui-Gon as much
as he watched the road, to find himself thinking more and more
of the Jedi, and to come up with a thousand reasons, each more
improbable than the last, why Qui-Gon had come along if not to
head the expedition.
On the third day, Obi-Wan's patience wore out. "We're
approaching the Mountains."
Qui-Gon said nothing, only nodded.
"The villagers might know where to find the Sorcerer's palace."
Qui-Gon nodded again.
"You're not much of one for talking." Obi-Wan killed the
speeder's power. He wasn't paying attention to the road anyway.
"Do you have any opinion whatsoever?"
"This is your quest, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "If you need
advice, I am allo -- I will gladly give it. But not until." He
shrugged slightly, for the first time looking uncomfortable.
"Besides, you know this place, and I do not."
"I thought the Jedi knew everything." Obi-Wan started up the
speeder again.
A long pause followed, until Obi-Wan grew ashamed of his
somewhat snippy remark. He turned to apologize, and surprised
Qui-Gon looking at him. The Jedi turned away at last, and
replied in a remarkably even voice, "I wish that were so."
Obi-Wan puzzled over that remark for a few minutes. On the one
hand, it lent weight to some of his more unlikely reasons why
Qui-Gon had come along. On the other hand, it was a
disappointment. Once he had dreamed of becoming a Jedi and
finding answers to all his questions, perhaps finding out what
it was he lacked. But if not even the Jedi knew everything --
With sudden decision he turned the speeder off the main road,
toward the next village. He'd been a fool long enough,
expecting easy answers merely because he'd a Jedi beside him.
He should have gone with his first instincts, and asked more
questions. Easy enough to remedy.
He missed Qui-Gon's measuring, approving look as they pulled
into the village square, concentrating on looking around. Few
were out at this hour, well into the heat of the day, but the
square was arranged plainly enough. The temple stood at one
end, the smithy down toward the other, and right in the center
sat the Dangling Draigon, the local tavern. Obi-Wan parked the
speeder and, with Qui-Gon Jinn behind him, pushed open the
doors and headed into the darkened interior.
None of those sitting scattered through the room looked up at
their entrance. Obi-Wan glanced over at Qui-Gon, half-expecting
shock or surprise, but the older man was only scanning the room
with tempered caution. Shaking his head at himself, Obi-Wan
took a seat at the bar, and waited for the tender's attention.
"What'll you have?" she asked, when she finally came over to
him. She wasn't looking at him, and he glanced back,
unsurprised to find Qui-Gon standing directly behind him.
"A nam'zil, if you have one," he answered for himself, leaning
back to make a subtle claim, feeling a shock of jealousy go
through him. "And information. We're headed for the mountains."
The entire room froze in silence. The tender put down Obi-Wan's
drink with a louder-than-needed thump, her lips thin. "Best go
around them," she said shortly, avoiding their eyes.
"And if we do not?" Qui-Gon asked mildly, one hand coming up to
rest on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
The tender looked up, her eyes going from one to the other. "If
you want trouble, that's your affair." She folded her arms over
her chest. "We don't want any here, so best be on your way."
As they returned to the speeder, Obi-Wan shook his head and
took a swig of his bottle. "That didn't work out well."
"You think not?"
"We got booted out of the tavern."
"After getting the information we sought," Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan ran over the conversation in his mind again as he
started up the speeder, but finally shook his head, his gut
clenching on emptiness with the feeling of failure. "She told
us to stay out of the mountains altogether."
"Because to enter them would mean 'trouble.'" Qui-Gon's voice
was remarkably gentle, filling the empty space in Obi-Wan's
middle with its mere sound. "This close, I doubt they would say
your enemy's name."
"Huh." Obi-Wan considered this, both the insight and the
feeling within from the presence of the Jedi beside him. "It's
certainly worth a try." And he turned the speeder toward the
mountains.
It was perhaps an hour's journey before they entered the
foothills of the Scarlet Mountains. Obi-Wan found his thoughts
wandering, and firmly jerked them back to the task at hand.
Focus. He had to focus, on something other than his
companion and these new sensations, or Namin might ambush them.
Focus.
"Have you ever thought of becoming a Jedi?"
Obi-Wan jumped slightly, then forced his eyes back to the
speeder's controls. "Who hasn't?" he said, not daring to look
at Qui-Gon. "But I never got discovered, so it's a moot point."
"You have talents someone born in the Temple would be proud to
have," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan felt the warm touch of a hand
on his shoulder. "The Force is with you, whether you realize it
or not. You need only learn to trust your instincts."
Obi-Wan's thoughts stuttered, and he looked over at Qui-Gon,
eyes wide. "The Force?"
"That which gives a Jedi his power. The energy of the
universe."
"And you believe I...have this? Can tap into it?" This was not
one of the reasons Obi-Wan had invented to explain why the Jedi
had come along, not at all.
"If you were given training, yes."
Obi-Wan couldn't help but shake his head as he turned to scan
the area around them, watching for any sorcerous surprises.
"Are you looking for an apprentice, then?" To his dismay, his
voice shook slightly.
The silence went on so long that he looked over at his
companion again to be sure he was still there. He found Qui-Gon
studying him with dark, intent eyes, and an illogical hope
sprang up again.
"The Force guided me here," the Jedi said at last. "Of that I
am certain."
It wasn't really an answer. But Obi-Wan found himself
disinclined to push the issue.
They entered the foothills by late afternoon, and Obi-Wan had
to give all his attention to the speeder as their way became
more difficult. Sometimes following the curves of the valley,
sometimes climbing part-way up the low mountains only to swoop
around and down again, the road made Obi-Wan wonder why the
Royal Guard had chosen any route through these mountains at
all. To make matters worse, he could see no sign of so much as
a rocky alcove where he and Qui-Gon could spend the night, much
less Namin's stronghold.
"To the left," Qui-Gon said suddenly. "Under those trees."
Obi-Wan obediently steered the speeder to the place requested,
then stopped and turned to look at the Jedi, eyebrows raised.
"We will have a visitor tonight," Qui-Gon said, swinging
himself up and out of the speeder. "We must be careful."
"You're very calm about it," Obi-Wan commented, pulling himself
up and out of the speeder as well, and coming around to the
back to rummage for a cloak to wrap himself in while they
waited, and food for supper.
"Jedi training." Qui-Gon said it so dryly Obi-Wan wasn't
certain at first whether he was joking. Then he felt something
warm settle around his shoulder, and reached up to find the
Jedi's dark robe.
"Ah," he said, turning to face Qui-Gon. "You learn that right
after how to give away your robe to poor cold princes, I take
it."
"No." Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, studying the make-shift
fire pit he was constructing. "We only give the robe to those
with whom we are willing to share it."
Obi-Wan remembered to shut his mouth after a moment. "Well, I
suppose, it would be warmer that way," he managed at last.
"Of course."
Obi-Wan intermittently dozed and watched the road beside them,
curled up in Qui-Gon's arms with the robe around them both. For
the first time, the empty space inside him felt filled. But was
it Qui-Gon? Or his offer of becoming a Jedi?
The soft sound of footsteps roused him from meditation. He
stirred against Qui-Gon, and felt the Jedi's arms tighten in
acknowledgment around him. They waited, and watched, as the
same being from the king's audience hall -- eyes and sash
washed black in the moonlight -- stepped around the speeder.
"Why are you here?" she asked pleasantly, crouching down in
front of them.
"To see the Sorcerer Namin," Obi-Wan said.
Her eyebrows went up. "Do you have the scepter?"
"Does it matter?"
The being straightened to her full height. "This is not a game,
young prince," she said sternly. "You cannot run home if you
don't like the way it's played."
"Be a rather long run," Obi-Wan said, keeping his voice light
and pleasant, even as the Jedi's arms relaxed around him. "I
think I'll stay."
The being cocked her head to one side, birdlike, then laughed
aloud. "Then stay, young prince. But don't say you were not
warned." She turned on her heel and headed back up the hill.
Now what? Obi-Wan thought, but the thought was habit as he
tensed to stand. He knew what next. Now they followed the
sorcerer's messenger to the sorcerer's stronghold.
"It might be a trap," Qui-Gon observed, holding out a hand to
allow Obi-Wan to help him to his feet.
"It's a chance we must take," Obi-Wan said as he pulled up
Qui-Gon, and began brushing off the dirt from the robe the Jedi
still wore. "Otherwise we could wander the mountains for years
and find nothing."
Again the long, steady look from the Jedi. Obi-Wan hoped it
meant approval.
The mountain rapidly grew steeper as they climbed, the being
they followed just barely in sight ahead. Qui-Gon followed
Obi-Wan as they climbed, offering no suggestions, only helping
as Obi-Wan directed. He boosted the younger man up over the
wall that loomed from the ground, so Obi-Wan could reach the
top and then lean down to pull his companion up to join him. He
kept careful distance as they walked the narrow bridge crossing
a dark chasm from which echoed the sound of hungry water, so
the vibrations of his footsteps would not shake Obi-Wan from
his equally precarious strides.
When they at last reached the tall door to the sorcerer's
palace, Obi-Wan knocked politely, first rapping with bare
knuckles on the wood and waiting. No answer. He looked around a
bit, and found, up well beyond his reach, a knocker. He
reminded himself that there was a time for showing off one's
capability, and a time for admitting one couldn't do much, and
turned to Qui-Gon. "What do you suggest, Master Jedi?"
The hint of a smile gleamed in the Jedi's eyes, just visible in
the light of the rising sun. "I suggest knocking again. I sense
no trickery, not out here." He looked up as if in considering,
then reached up himself and banged the knocker twice.
He'd no sooner stepped back from the door again than it creaked
obligingly ajar. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and stepped
through the door, half-expecting it to slam closed behind him.
Instead, it waited until Qui-Gon had also stepped through, then
quietly shut again. Obi-Wan resisted the temptation to take
Qui-Gon's hand for reassurance, and looked around the entryway
in which they found themselves.
There were no doors, not that he could see. Only a vast hall
lit as bright as noontime by thousands upon thousands of...of
something resembling candelabra, which Obi-Wan chose not to
examine too closely. No decorations softened the hard, clean
lines of the walls, or the polished black of the floor. There
was no sign of Yasmeen or the messenger they'd followed.
A single chair sat at the far end of the hall. It was occupied.
"Good morning," said the Sorcerer Namin cheerfully. "You made
better time than I'd expected. Would you care to share
breakfast with me?"
"Er," said Obi-Wan intelligently, trying to adjust to having
his expectations turned inside out. Why was Namin being so
polite? "Thank you, but no. I'm just here for Yasmeen, and then
we'll leave."
"So quickly? I won't hear of it." There was a layer of steel in
the sorcerer's voice that hadn't been there before. "You
haven't even introduced yourself and your companion."
"Prince Obi-Wan," said Obi-Wan promptly. "And the Jedi Master
Qui-Gon Jinn."
"A Jedi!" The sorcerer's face lit up, and he rose to his
feet, crossing the hall quickly toward them. "Well! I've
misbehaved before, but I've never rated a Jedi before."
"And a prince," Obi-Wan put in hurriedly as he saw Qui-Gon go
very still. "Don't forget the prince."
The sorcerer hardly glanced at him. "No offense intended, my
prince, but I have had royalty come hunting me before."
A toothy smile stretched his lips. "Ask your father some time,
when you've a good head start." The smile faded, and he prowled
around Qui-Gon, rubbing his hands together. "But a Jedi--"
"Your point is taken," Qui-Gon said, forestalling any more
self-congratulations on Namin's part. "May we have the maiden
Yasmeen?"
"What? Oh, yes, yes, certainly. I can't go up against a Jedi."
The sorcerer, still studying Qui-Gon, waved one hand absently.
Yasmeen was abruptly there, inelegantly sprawled on the floor,
wearing absolutely nothing.
She gasped, looked around, realized the situation, and
screamed.
Obi-Wan tried very hard not to laugh. Oh, the lady was nearly
as beautiful as reputed, a fact well evident under the current
circumstances. But that wasn't a 'help me!' scream. That was a
'I cannot believe I'm out in public looking like
this' scream, easily recognizable from experience with
his sisters. Qui-Gon gave him a stern look, though the Jedi's
lips were twitching as well.
"You see what I had to deal with," the sorcerer sighed, waving
his hand again so the girl was miraculously clothed and silent
again, hopefully gagged. "Take her, by all means, and give the
king my best wishes."
The Jedi and the prince bowed, helped Yasmeen to her feet, and
headed out of the sorcerer's palace with a trifle more speed
than was strictly decorous.
They'd no sooner reached the speeder than the girl flung
herself into Obi-Wan's arms. "My hero!"
"My lady!" Obi-Wan tried to disentangle himself from a lot of
remarkably unfettered female flesh, wondering what had happened
to her clothing. "He did most of the rescuing --"
"There is no need to be modest, my prince," said Yasmeen
throatily. "I know the truth -- and I am ever. So. Grateful."
Obi-Wan threw Qui-Gon a helpless look. The Jedi only folded his
arms together and raised one eyebrow. He didn't even look
jealous. Damn. "My lady," Obi-Wan tried, "I'm not your
fiance -" This only made her grip tighten. "--and besides, I'm
already involved with someone!"
"I'm prettier," said Yasmeen.
"No, you don't understand." Obi-Wan finally disentangled
himself. "It's like this." At last, an excuse. With two strides
he was over by Qui-Gon and pulling down the Jedi's head for a
kiss.
The top of his head blew off.
Not literally, though for a dazed second he wondered. But the
warm musky taste of Qui-Gon and the warm, hard body pressed
against his own, did things to him he'd never learned about
from the obliging maids back home.
"All right, all right, you've made your point." Yasmeen
sounded distinctly grumpy to Obi-Wan's dazed ears as he and
Qui-Gon separated at last. "Can we get back to the castle now?"
"Sure," Obi-Wan said, and headed around the speeder to get in.
"Still want to be a Jedi?" Qui-Gon murmured as he got in next
to Obi-Wan, after settling the girl in the back.
Obi-Wan flashed him a smile. "More than ever."
They returned to the castle without any fanfare. The king
raised no great objection to the proposed disappearance of his
youngest son. The heir positively encouraged it. Nobody else
quite seemed to know how to treat him in the meantime. Either
they regarded him with embarrassing awe, or avoided him as a
silent reproach. Obi-Wan's only consolation was Qui-Gon's
company, and the Queen abruptly found him a thousand things to
do that kept him at the opposite end of the castle from the
Jedi.
At last the wedding was over, and Obi-Wan slipped out of the
grand banquet, toward where he knew Qui-Gon's ship waited. He
hesitated at the door to the docking bay. What if --
Fear is unbecoming to a Jedi, he told himself firmly, and
stepped through.
Qui-Gon was waiting for him by the ramp. "Are you ready?" he
said, voice vibrant with quiet challenge.
"You were expecting me?"
"I came here to find you, Obi-Wan. Yasmeen's kidnapping was a
chance excuse I seized upon. Are you ready?"
Obi-Wan hefted his bag up to his shoulder, unable to stop the
grin that spread across his face. "I've been ready all my life,
Master Jedi," he said, crossing to stand in front of the other.
Qui-Gon's own faint smile widened, and he bent, brushing his
lips over Obi-Wan's in a teasing kiss. "Follow me," he said,
and led the way up the ramp.
Once upon a time, there was a young man with everything who
nonetheless felt himself lacking. So he gave up all he had, and
followed a different path with a different companion. Sometimes
he righted wrongs and saved worlds. Sometimes he didn't. But he
no longer felt himself lacking. And with his companion Qui-Gon
Jinn, Obi-Wan lived happily ever after.
-fin-
(If-you-liked-this reading: Augusta Pembrooke's Very Tiny
Tales, especially Sleeping Arrangements. Sweet and fuzzy. This
advertisement brought to you by the Committee To Get More Of
The After Bandomeer Series.)
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