Master Apprentice Archive Feast of Souls Quick search:

Archive: Master Apprentice

Category: Angst

Rating: PG (sorry)

Warnings: Follows canon, sorta. Don't eat while you're reading this.

Summary: Obi-Wan and the Council have a special supper together in honour of the late Master Jinn.

Notes: Grateful thanks to my beta, Dee, for polishing it up for me. <g>

Feedback: Would be nice. Anywhere. Anytime.

Disclaimer: George Lucas may have created them, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan belong to the whole universe.

Beware! This is a Hallowe'en type story, although I wrote it with this day in mind -- the Roman Catholic day for the Feast of Souls. Some of you might find it a tad creepy. <weg>

He. Would. Not. Be. Sick. No matter how repulsive, no food had made him ill in over a decade, and he'd be damned if it would tonight.

Obi-Wan chewed slowly, resolutely resisting the impulse to disable his taste buds and hurl his nausea into the Force. The purpose of this, he reminded himself again, was to open his senses, to the experience the fullness of the moment and acknowledge the sacrifice made in the name of the Light.

It wasn't often that he ate flesh and it was making him lightheaded, wobbly-kneed, and thankful to be seated on the floor. He had no wish to trip over his own feet and land on his backside in front of all twelve Council members.

He sighed and took a sip of the cold, fresh water to help wash the taste out of his mouth.

Through the high, open windows a slight, steady breeze slithered in, cooling the fine sheen of sweat covering his brow. It smelled sharp and clean, like the Naboo glades that he and his master had so recently tracked through. For an instant he was back in ... His stomach spasmed again, but he inhaled deeply, sucking the fresh air through clenched teeth until the pain ebbed. He concentrated on the unbroken rush of a nearby waterfall: it provided a soothing backdrop against the irregular sounds of chewing and swallowing and the clack of metal utensils against stoneware.

He closed his eyes briefly. The past few days had melted into a confusing parade of words and faces. Everything that happened after the melting pit was hazy and ephemeral. He remembered Master Yoda telling him he was a knight, and he remembered Qui-Gon's cremation, but he'd lost track of Anakin. And Force only knew what had happened to the Nemoidians.

He lifted another forkful to his mouth, telling himself that he could get through this. He should be hungry. Hadn't eaten in almost a week. Truth was, there wasn't a hungry molecule in his body. What there was was a hard knot of pain in his stomach that made him gag at the mere thought of food. He'd pretended to eat at the many beautiful banquets and dinners he'd been feted at over the last three days but his stomach roiled at the thought of anything more than water.

Tonight, in the company of other Jedi, he felt himself starting to unwind. Muscles were reluctantly releasing their tension, aches were quickly appearing all over his body. Thoughts that he had ruthlessly avoided were pushing their way into his mind. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving him exhausted and shaking. Cold. Empty.

He'd expected his first supper after reaching knighthood to be something -- special -- but he hadn't expected anything like this. Not at all. A feast to honour a dead Jedi. In honour of his master, Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan stared at the bleeding remains on his plate, which was carefully balanced on his knees. It wasn't the taste of it that bothered him. In fact, it was rather pleasant. The heart was mild, even tasted sweet in some ways. He felt a deep satisfaction in consuming it, as though it fed his own heart. He'd expected the liver to taste strong, but it was powerful on his tongue and full of a energy. He was drifting in his reflections, his mind and his body pleasantly floating off in two different directions. He stifled an amused snort as Qui-Gon's voice breezed through his head repeating his advice about the "here and now."

The odd customs that one finds out about only after knighthood, he thought. He wondered how many of these special meals Qui-Gon had participated in, and whether his master had ever considered that some day he might be the subject of one.

The bubble of amusement quickly burst as he choked back a sudden sob. Obi-Wan looked at the others to see whether they'd noticed, but the Councillors ate slowly and in silence, eyes focussed on something faraway.

They sat almost knee to knee on the warm stone floor. Yoda was sitting to his right, slowly plucking the bits of meat from his dish with his thick, clawed fingers. He carefully licked each finger clean with his long reptilian tongue. Depa Billaba sat on his left, serene and stately. Obi-Wan could feel her sending frequent waves of comfort to him through the Force. Yarael Poof ate slowly, holding each morsel in all of his four hands to taste it thoroughly before methodically placing each piece into his mouth. Qui-Gon's oldest friend, Plo Koon, sat across from him. Master Koon, unable to remove his breathing apparatus to eat, had smeared the brown liquid across the exposed skin of his face in order to take part in the feast.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply and relaxed, accepting the Force currents around him. He focussed not on what was currently in his mouth, but on the life that had been. It was difficult, he admitted. This was his first Feast of Souls, and he was finding it hard indeed to accept it calmly and treat it with the respect that it was due.

With relief, he found himself entering a light meditative state -- as he'd noticed the rest of Council had. He was just about to reach for the calm he had felt in the others when a voice startled him back to the present.

"Strong in the Force, he was," Yoda murmured, drawing Obi-Wan's attention. "Strong in the Force he will be." The old master stared at his plate and hummed softly to himself. "Nourishes us tonight, his strength does." The other councillors were each nodding quietly in agreement.

"He was a compassionate man," Adi Gallia added softly.

"A great warrior and friend," Koon rasped through his breather.

"He was a man of courage and honour."

"A Jedi of unwavering principles and conviction."

And so it went around the circle as each Councillor paid tribute to Qui-Gon Jinn, recently departed Jedi Master. He didn't realize the implications of Master Billaba's homage until the heavy silence of all eyes upon him caused a short circuit in everything from his chin upwards.

He opened his mouth, desperately trying to coax his wooden tongue into forming a fitting eulogy for the man who had shaped his life and challenged him to be more than he thought possible, for the man he had looked up to and admired for the past dozen years and had loved and wanted more than anything else.

"He was ... ." Obi-Wan croaked and hedged for time while he tried to get his brain working. He looked up through the windows at the stars shining in the early twilight sky. He was -- what? A great master? Yes, but so very trite. A great lover? Sure Kenobi, in your dreams. A great big man? He nearly spluttered out loud at such a stupid remark. A great ... A great ...

"A great appetizer," he heard someone declare from very far away. Very, very far away. So far away that he could hear the echo of their hysterical laughter bouncing back and forth between the spongy walls of his brain. And before the last echo had faded away, a soft, high keening took over.

He listened, enchanted by the beauty of it, the stark simplicity of that one pure note that carried such longing and grief. He could sit here forever and listen to it, meditate with it, let his soul weep with it ...

Until the echoes returned, adding ugly, discordant notes to the beautiful sound. The keening turned into harsh, barking sobs, blaring to his ears, as though they were coming from right next to him.

He felt the broad, callused palm of Qui-Gon's hand resting on his forehead, as it had done a hundred times in the past. It was warm and moist against Obi-Wan's cold skin, still pulsing with life. It soothed him and touched the places in his heart and soul he thought had died and shrivelled. Unconsciously, he leaned towards it.

He opened his eyes, swallowing against the dizzying sight of the room turned upside down. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and one of the blurred faces above him transformed itself into Master Yoda. The other was Master Billaba.

Mortified, he struggled to rise, but Yoda's hand on his forehead kept him where he was, lying across Master Billaba's lap.

"Be at peace, Obi-Wan," he said gently. "Be at peace. No shame there is in mourning him."

Obi-Wan was wrapped in a warm Forceweb of strength, that only twelve experienced knights and masters could create.

He took one last deep shuddering breath and hauled himself upright. Depa's steadying hands were at his back. The emotion in the room was serene, although he sensed there had been much releasing of pain and sadness into the Force. His own and others ...

"A great loss to the Jedi, Qui-Gon's death is," the elderly master solemnly confided to Obi-Wan as they walked back to their rooms in the palace. Tomorrow they would return to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan silently agreed; no words of his could embellish that statement or vanquish the heaviness in his heart.

"Have you taken part in very many of these ... feasts, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering if he would be required to do this again some day.

Yoda simply hummed and nodded.

"I can't say that I care much for the custom," he continued hesitatingly, wondering how far he could tread on this sacred ground. "I ... " He drew a breath before continuing. "I understand the reasoning behind it, but I really don't want to end up on someone's plate."

He waited for the elder's patient chastisement about tradition and Force and honouring the spirit of the deceased. But after the long silence he only received another one of Yoda's patented "Hmmmm"s.

"Agree with you, I do," the wizened master said finally. "Intend to let someone make a stew out of me, I do not!"

Obi-Wan looked down at him, biting back a surprised smile. "How ... "

"Plans, I have, to disperse my essence before they get the opportunity. Teach you I will, if you like."

"You'll ... vanish?"

"Yes. Can be accomplished. Need the proper motivation." He gave Obi-Wan a sidelong glance.

Obi-Wan stared back at him as they continued their slow progress down the ornately carpeted hallway.

"Works in mysterious ways, does the Force," Obi-Wan agreed, stepping quickly out of the way of the older master's gimmer stick.