Warnings: No angst. Well. Maybe for any of you serious types.
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Fate of the Galaxy is once again in the hands of
Our Best Jedi
Feedback: Yes. Let's boogie...
Disclaimer: I am still not G. Lucas. I still don't own these
guys. I still don't make a cent from these ramblings. (mumble,
mumble...)
Note: This did not start out as a series. But everytime
I start to write "something else", I get a glare and a wink
from my Plushies. (sigh)
The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn stood once again before the Noble
Masters of the Great Jedi Temple. His solemn tones rang
bell-like through the richly over-glassed chamber.
"Oh Masters of Wondrous Mysteries, I fear you have pooped-up
once again." His voice grew hushed. "The Galaxy is hanging by a
thread." Ears perked up all around the room. "Sentient life as
we know it may be doomed." Eyes opened wide in every comfy
chair. Qui- Gon's voice dropped to a mere whisper.
"Recreational massage items are Out. Of. Stock. Indefinitely."
A big "oooooh" settled around the room.
Brows of wisdom wrinkled in distress, Qui-Gon took a measured
pace from seat to seat. "You know I am here to serve. You know
I will do all that I can." He stopped in the very center of the
room, folded his hands in his handy sleeves and said sternly,
"You know I have pulled your weenies out of the fire too many
times to count. So. Once again I and my dauntless apprentice,
the ever-faithful Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Master of all Masters
glanced to the side where the Handy Apprentice was taking
copious notes in his neat little shorthand; the look they
exchanged didn't make it to paper, "will Varoom in our neat
spaceship to meet the foe headon!" He sailed his hands through
the air, sound effects of blaster fire in expert accompaniment.
[Master...]
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and found the center of his Force
Power. Yes. Right...there. Aaaaah....
[Oh, no, Master. Not without me, you don't.]
Our hero smiled and opened his eyes.
"We go, Masters." And with a flourish, he whooshed his robes,
grabbed Obi-Wan and exited to the imaginary sound of trumpets.
The council began breathing again.
The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn and his Handy Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi
were the Best of the Best in the Jedi Pantheon. They scoffed at
danger, they laughed at trouble, the thumbed their noses at
messy situations. However..., this was kind of all three.
Qui-Gon's sweeping glance took in their prison: tall imposing
walls, high cold ceiling. He glared. Teeny tiny bed. And it
didn't help that the brocaded curtains clashed with the
upholstery.
"Master." The Handy Apprentice sauntered over from the table
where he'd been snacking for the last hour or so. "Care for
some roast Nurn?" He licked his supple lips. "It's quite good."
"Obi...Padawan..." Qui-Gon blinked, clearing his throat.
"Uhh...Now. That we have fortified ourselves. It is Time For
Action. Ready?" Jumping up, he carefully skidded on a Nurn
bone, sailing across the room to land with High Panache on a
tacky hassock, shapely butt waving at the ceiling.
The Handy Apprentice paused a moment to take in the delicate
sight. Hmmmm...
It is at times like these that Fate steps in and Lends a Hand.
There was a knock on the door.
Qui-Gon unfolded his lean, muscled frame in a slow somersault
and, with a graceful wave, said, "Obi-Wan, see who it is,
please."
The Handy Apprentice gave Qui-Gon his best "Just you wait,
Master" look as he straightened his robe. His voluminous Jedi
robe. Capable of hiding many things. Then he idled his way to
the door, pulled it open...
And there he was...As simple as that. Tall, sleek, muscled,
young, handsome...Well. Our Obi-Wan had yet to see a Durka
Carrybeast as finely-bred as this one.
"Our ride's here, Master."
The room was huge. The room was gigantic. The room dwarfed the
ancient Jedi Temple with it's grandeur and overwhelmity.
It also smelled really bad.
Master and Apprentice were chained in their booth, surrounded
by more indescribable...things...than you could shake a stick
at. Stringlike snakey things with bouffants; towering bubbles
with hairs on; vats of blubber with serious string ties. Our
heroes sat, ramrod straight, keen minds assessing the
situation.
"My Padawan, it's up to you." You could have floated Durasteel
with that voice.
Obi-Wan gave his Master a glance that would jump-start a
Corellian Cruiser and they both turned to meet judgement
crawling toward them, carrying a clipboard and snurgling as it
came.
It is said that the Jedi are stronger than strong, braver than
brave, cleaner than clean. Our heroes were that and more. Tales
would be told around campfires...well,
no...around...um...floral scented candles or maybe, in the
breadfast nook. Tales of the strength and courage of Master
Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The Jedi Order owes its continuing position of honor and
respect to the sharpness and quick-thinking of that heroic
pair.
"I'm proud of you, my Obi-Wan. Second Place is quite
respectable." Qui-Gon's eyes were the blue of the Southwestern
arm of the Southern- most landlocked sea of the rather
nondescript planet of Doebosc.
Obi-Wan looked with justifiable pride at his red ribbon. "Well,
Master," he said modestly. "I don't have one that's hidden.
And, of course, I can't just pop mine out." He blushed, his
fine downy cheeks the color of Passa beries...in Spring...
Deep ocean trenches formed in Qui-Gon's eyes. "Suppose I could
prove you wrong, my Obi-Wan?"
"Will I get a Blue Ribbon, Master?' And the Handy Apprentice
dove into the sea.
There you go, young ones. I'm done.
[Could he swim?]
What?
[The Handy Apprentice. Did he know how to swim?]
Uhhhhh..., yes. Yes, he did. Okay. Go. Now.
[Will you come back sometime? Please, please, please!]
Maybe. I'll think about thinking about it.
And the Storyteller stood, straightening his robe, then walked
slowly from the garden. Almost missing that tree.
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