Summary: Some downtime set in the JA universe. In this one,
Obi-Wan goes shopping. Well, sort of...
Spoilers: None that I am aware of.
Warnings: With a "G" rating? Naaahhhh. <g>
Archive: M&A please, Padawan Journals and Early Years if
wanted. And yes, Wolfie-- if you want it, it's yours. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. The Star Wars universe belongs to
George Lucas and Co.
Feedback: Always welcomed with open arms.
Acknowledgements: Continued thanks to Pumpkin for all her help!
Also thanks to those list sibs who have given me such great
encouragement!
Obi-Wan hurried through the crowded marketplace. Muttering
"excuse me," and "pardon me," repeatedly as he wound his way
amongst the throng, he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that
he was going to be late for his meeting with Qui-Gon. The Jedi
Master would have his hide for his tardiness.
Well, Obi-Wan rationalized, Qui-Gon wouldn't be truly angry.
But if there was one thing the young padawan did not want to
do, it was to disappoint his master. Nothing troubled Obi-Wan's
heart and spirit more than seeing disapproval reflected in the
elder Jedi's sapphire eyes.
From the periphery of his vision, something bright caught the
afternoon sunlight and blinded him momentarily. Not long, but
just long enough to cause him to crash headfirst into a large
and rather angry-looking Drovian headed in the opposite
direction.
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan apologized as he regained his balance.
"Watch where you're going," the Drovian snarled, pushing him
roughly aside before moving on his way.
Obi-Wan stumbled and caught himself barely in time to escape a
fall. He pressed up against the nearest merchant stall to avoid
the passing crowd. He stayed there until the worst of the
throng had passed, then relaxed and let his heartbeat slow back
down to a normal level. He was fortunate that the Drovian
hadn't done anything worse than push him. They tended to be a
rather volatile race, and Obi-Wan had no desire to provoke one.
As he straightened, Obi-Wan noticed the object that had blinded
him. From a merchant's stall across the street it was still
reflecting light, but from this angle the apprentice could
finally make out the details.
Obi-Wan's first thought was that it was breath-taking. His
second thought, as he moved across the street to examine it
more closely, was that it had either been stolen or otherwise
smuggled from the Jedi Temple.
At first glance, it was a beautiful but rather simple thing.
Basic stained glass artwork depicting two Jedi engaged in
lightsaber training. The larger of the two portrayed figures
was obviously a master, his dark brown robe swirled behind him,
caught by some unseen air current. The smaller figure was a
padawan, his braid trailing behind and away from his body.
Their lightsabers were crossed, the padawan's lunging motion
caught forever in time.
It was the lightsabers that were extaordinary. Obi-Wan could
feel the force signature radiating off them, and it filled him
with light. Although the rest of the artwork was made from
simple materials, the 'sabers were not. Fragments of actual
focusing crystals, Obi-Wan thought with surprise.
The two Jedi featured on the stained glass could easily have
been himself and Qui-Gon. Of course, it could have been any
human Jedi pair, but the artwork spoke to Obi-Wan and he found
himself unable to divert his gaze. Qui-Gon's naming day was
rapidly approaching, and as of yet Obi-Wan had no gift for him.
His mostly practical master did not accumulate many personal
effects, and the things he did own tended to be only those that
were special to him on a deeply personal level. The Force sang
to Obi-Wan from this item, however, and the padawan knew
instantly that it would be a perfect gift for his master. Not
to mention returning it to the Jedi, where it had obvioulsly
come from.
At that moment, the shop owner had apparently decided that the
boy had been standing there staring long enough.
"Do you have any money, boy?" he demanded roughly, his large
arms folded across his chest in a decidedly unfriendly manner.
Obi-Wan broke out of his reverie with a start, and turned a
blank gaze to the shopkeeper. "I'm sorry?" he questioned. He'd
missed the actual query, but not the intention of the man, and
knew with a sinking heart what the shopkeeper wanted.
"I said," the merchant repeated, speaking slowly and
with emphasis, as if to an idiot, "Do you have any money, boy?"
Obi-Wan blanched as his gaze darted to the price tag which he
had ignored up until now. Glancing once more at the glass
before turning back to the shop owner, he lowered his gaze and
shook his head ruefully.
"No, sir," he replied and allowed himself to be escorted a
little roughly back into the busy street.
Without a backward glance, Obi-Wan shoved his hands into the
pockets of his robe and hurried on his way, already
anticipating Qui-Gon's lecture about the merits of punctuality.
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