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Author Topic: 2008 Before the Saga Awards Excerpt Thread
Before_Awards_Sock 
Registered: Nov '04
7266_Jedi Temple
Date Posted: 7/5 1:04pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 5:50pm (4 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Vignette

Völuspá by JediNemesis


Notes: Völuspá is an Old Norse word derived from volva, something like sibyl or prophetess; the compound means roughly "what the seeress said". This is a deliberate attempt to replicate the feel of the Norse myths - often quite complicated but oddly lucid and powerful in the language they use. So I guess that's a warning of unusual styles and archaic punctuation ahead.


It began for humanity when the scattered tribes of that infant race turned their eyes to the stars, and wonder at the wideness of the universe was kindled in their minds for the first time.

It was then that the gateways, the openings into the world beyond, began to dwindle and then to close; the gift, the strange blessing that connected a living mind to the All that waited on the other side of the gateways, was born in fewer and fewer children with every generation.

The clans shrank from the prospect of a world so darkened, and began to go more often to the sacred places where the seers and seeresses watched over the remaining gateways, to ask for advice and to plead for help.

Alone amongst the leaders of the clans in spurning the seers’ offers was Marben Skywalker, the gifted son of Maor son of Maen, lord of many families and newly wed; a man of few words and many deeds, a fine young soldier born to a people more inclined to worship than to war.

But soon after his marriage Marben’s first child was born, and though it was a healthy daughter, the Skywalker lord felt the cold hand of fate touch him for the first time.

The baby had no gift. The All flickered only feebly around her, and she could not touch the great ocean of light that had been taken for granted by her father and all his forebears.

And so in the winter of that year Marben of the Fair Hair went to the seeress’ cave.

Marben stood before the seeress and made no secret of his contempt.

These are the words that Marben son of Maor said to her:

“Listen, wisewoman, and listen well. It is the lord of the clan Skywalker that addresses you now, and if you are truly all-knowing you will know that I do not often plead.

“The All is drawing away from us and the gateways are closing. Every year fewer children have the gift. What have we done that we should be cut off from the world beyond?

“The shadows close in. Only the gifted and the lucky will survive.

“I beg you, seeress. Go to the gate you guard and intervene with the All for me. Ask that the threads of fate be twisted to give the children of my name the gift for eternity.

“I will do anything, fulfil any command, pay what must be paid though it were my soul.

“Do this for me, then, if it can be done. And if it cannot, say, and I shall take down the weapons of my father and go to war for the sake of my children.

“For if the All cannot give them a future I will carve one for them with the sword.

“Answer!”

And the seeress stirred on her cold stone throne, and said to Marben “It is a terrible thing you ask, Marben Skywalker, and one that should be trusted to the will of the All. The bestowing of the gift was not meant to be immutable.

“Yet you would not take such advice kindly, would you, Marben? For you have never wholly trusted the seers and our uncanny ways.

“Rather it is truth you respect, and certainty, and the fixed things of this world. There is no shame in that. But there is a place also for faith, Marben son of Maor.”

To that, Marben said only “I have never found it so.”

“It is a terrible thing.” the seeress said again, “and though you offer your soul in payment it is not you who is in danger.

“All the generations of your after-children will pay with you, and they will pay for a thing that was none of their asking.

“Would you dare to ask it for them, Marben?

“Would you call that heavy trust upon yourself? A mortal man?”

The Skywalker lord was silent for a long time, before answering with the iron certainty of a soldier “I dare.”




What Dreams Know by LuvEwan


Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Bunny courtesy of shanobi—all the good ones tend to be.



--

He learned to be prepared to let things go.

It was the rational way; so few things could remain the same forever. And some things, some hopes, never formed outside the secluded landscape of the mind. Clasping onto a feeling-or a person- with both hands was never smart, for so quickly could it all run through the tiny cracks between his fingers.

Still, he had allowed himself to want. He had looked into a pair of eyes and seen what could be his future, what he had worked his whole, albeit short, life for. A last chance, and his instinct was to grasp on, to silence the voice in his veins, to say ‘yes’.

But when he looked further into the horizon of those eyes, he saw more than his own potential tomorrow.

And he released the notion of accepting what was placed before him. He took a half step back from the man. “I…I’m sorry” he gulped out the words, forcing himself not to look at his boots, or out the window of their room on Bandomeer, or anywhere but the quietly expectant face of Qui-Gon Jinn, “I am very grateful for the offer, but I… cannot be your Padawan.”

The Jedi Master blinked, surprise seeping slowly into his blue gaze. “I-I don’t understand.”

Obi-Wan could feel his heart in his chest, in his throat, behind his temples. He thought he would crumble, that all of his bones and guts would turn to dust at this venerable man’s feet. Was this happening? Was he actually doing this?

After the desperate appeals to Master Jinn, the promise of loyalty and obedience, the incredible, exhilarating moment when he was finally given the opportunity to serve beside the Jedi’s resident rogue, while on the cusp of death itself, Obi-Wan was rejecting the apprenticeship. He knew where it would leave him, back in the Agricorps protecting crops instead of peace, tending soil rather than treaties. He could admit, it was not what he would choose for himself.

The Force, however, never asked what path he would prefer his life to take. It was the only option he could take, to honor his training, and serve the innocent. To become this man’s Padawan would be…

No. Better not to finish the thought. What good was happiness if he knew it would be fleeting, and would ultimately cause darkness, strife, and horrible pain? That was what he sensed, seconds after Qui-Gon called Obi-Wan “Padawan”.

The title felt right to Obi-Wan. But it sent a cold roil through the Force.

How could he deny that, in order to satisfy his own selfish desires? “These past few days, I’ve…I realized I’m not meant for this. I can’t do it.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Obi-Wan, I know that you’ve had a rough time. You left your home, you thought your dream of Knighthood was over. And this ordeal with Xanatos. Everything seems to have hit all at once, and it can be overwhelming.” He moved forward, and placed a warm, broad hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “You risked your life to stop that bomb, young one. You say you can’t do it, but you have already acted as an exemplary Jedi.”

Obi-Wan curled his fingers up against his palms. He was shaking. “That was just a day, Master Jinn. It was just adrenaline.”

But Qui-Gon shook his head. “You haven’t thought this through.” The grip on his shoulder, both his shoulders now, strengthened, “Eat something and sleep. Mediate. Give this the deliberation it deserves.” Softly, “We have time.”

Obi-Wan watched him start for the door. He wondered if maybe it was nerves or exhaustion, maybe even fear. Was he superimposing his emotions onto the Force, so he wouldn’t feel like a coward?

He closed his eyes. Screams, clouds of blood and smoke, the thunderous, dreadful echo of hard footsteps.

Your fault. YOUR fault.

He lay back on his bunk, and waited for the words to fade. They never did.



112 by VaderLVR64

Kaiya Donoro was a lonely woman, though she sometimes forgot that she was. She had good friends, though no family, and had learned to find some sort of peace in her life. It wasn’t enough, of course. But it was what it was and so she endured.

When Myknos had died, her friends had gathered around her and assured her that her child would help heal the hole in her heart.

And they had been right, for a time.

Then the Jedi had come and told her what her heart had already murmured. So Migrili had been taken to the life that her father would have wanted for her, leaving behind a mother who would always grieve.

Soon her friends were urging her to get out of the house, to find another man to fill her bed and thoughts. They meant well, and she listened to their advice with patience but not acceptance. Her path was a solitary one and she had become resigned to it.

If there was no joy in her life, there was little new sorrow either. The old hurts were there, never to be forgotten, but in time they were less noticeable. There were even days when she could pretend they weren’t there. At night, they throbbed and would not be ignored, but that, too, she endured.

It was not often that she received mail. Everyone she knew lived near her, and the only one she loved who was far away did not even know her name. So when the simple letter arrived and she saw the seal of the Order, her hands began shaking.

Was it her Migrili writing at last? Were they ever allowed to do so?

She knew the answer, deep in her heart, but hope had taken root and she was helpless against it.

With trembling hands, she opened the letter.

Not from Migrili at all, but from a stranger. Of course, her own daughter was a stranger, too. Or had been.

…our deepest regrets…died in the line of duty… The will of the Force…

Meaningless words that ripped her world apart. But she was unable to cry and felt shame in that fact. She had been mourning her daughter for more than twenty years and now, when she was truly lost, no tears would come.

There would never be a chance at reunion, or the mention of her daughter’s name on the holonews, as Jedi sometimes were. She had nothing at all of Migrili, save this single letter.

And then she noticed a tiny package attached to the back, folded and secured tightly so that even a trip across the galaxy would not dislodge it.

Opening it, the tears started at last.

It was a simple thing, suited for a woman who was also a Jedi – the feminine heart and the soul of a Jedi. A coppery colored rope of metal, a design that Kaiya recognized well. It had originated on their home planet, a craft for which their people were known.

Why had Migrili had it? Had she somehow known?

Kaiya fastened it around her own neck and felt a bond with her daughter. They might not have known each other’s faces, but their hearts were connected. She rubbed a loving hand over the links.

For you, Migrili. You were born my daughter, and died a Jedi. But now you’re mine again. At last.



An Island of Stone by VaderLVR64


He had carried out his Master’s instructions with care and dedication, if not enthusiasm.

Obi-Wan was not surprised to turn around and see Qui-Gon on his feet, studying the wall from a distance. Qui-Gon rubbed at his beard thoughtfully and paced, considering Obi-Wan’s work from several angles. At last, he nodded and smiled.

“Excellent work, Padawan,” he gave the praise with a warm look in his eyes and Obi-Wan suddenly felt his aches and pains disappearing, taking along with them his lingering resentment over the odd assignment.

“Thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon came to stand by Obi-Wan’s side and laid a friendly hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You worked hard,” he murmured.

“Yes, Master.”

“You probably wondered why I would give you such a seemingly meaningless task,” Qui-Gon guessed with a small laugh. “And yet, after your initial doubts, you put yourself to the job as you would any other.”

Obi-Wan struggled with himself for a moment and then confessed. “Not completely, Master. I continued to have my doubts even as I worked.”

“I know you did,” Qui-Gon said warmly. “But you did not allow that to interfere with completing your task.”

The two men were silent for a moment, each absorbed in their own thoughts. “Tell me, Master,” Obi-Wan said hesitantly. “Why did you ask me to build the wall?”

“You won’t always be the Padawan, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said enigmatically. “There will come a day when you will be the Master.”

“True…” Obi-Wan replied, confused.

“It’s not an easy thing, being a Master you know,” Qui-Gon said softly. “Being a Padawan requires patience and discipline and obedience, it’s true. But being the Master requires all of those things and much more besides.”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment. “I still say being a Padawan is the harder job,” he answered ruefully.

Qui-Gon laughed and shook his head. “I did too, when I was a Padawan,” he admitted. “It was only when I became a Master that I saw how difficult it was to be the teacher and not the student. Of course, it is often the teacher who learns the lesson.”

“Have I taught you a lot then?” Obi-Wan asked, his lips quirking.

“More than you can realize,” Qui-Gon answered. Then he sighed deeply and clasped his hands in front of him. “Building this wall is a bit like building the bond between a Master and a Padawan.” He turned and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “You must build it slowly and carefully,” he said, gesturing toward the wall. “Each act, each word, is a small stone you put in place. It must fit, or the wall weakens and will give way in the face of the first strong wind, and you cannot be in a hurry to finish the task, or it will not stand the test of time.”

“I think I’m beginning to see the purpose of the task,” Obi-Wan replied.

Qui-Gon continued as if he had not heard Obi-Wan’s words. “And the most important thing about the bond to remember is that as much time and care as it takes to build it, no matter how strong it appears, it is in reality quite fragile…”

With that, Qui-Gon lifted his hands and gave a mighty push with the Force. There was a rumbling sound and then stones flew backward and away from them. The wall had been completely demolished with a thought. Obi-Wan stared at it, bewildered to a point beyond anger at the lost work. He was merely…confused.

Blinking, he looked up at his Master. “Why?” he asked simply.

“What you create over time can be destroyed in an instant,” Qui-Gon said softly. “That is the lesson I wished to teach you today.”

Obi-Wan stared at the pile of rocks scattered around them. What had been a well-built wall just a few moments ago had been reduced to nothing more than rubble. A drop of sweat trickled down his back, an unwelcome reminder of all the hours he had spent building the wall that Qui-Gon had destroyed so casually.

Then to his surprise, Qui-Gon knelt in the grass and began selecting stones just as Obi-Wan had done all morning, settling them into the foundation that Obi-Wan had built so recently. Without a word, Obi-Wan knelt beside him, placing stones carefully beside his Master’s, fitting them together.

“And what is destroyed can sometimes be repaired,” Qui-Gon said. Then he glanced at Obi-Wan. “When we work together, we will find that the task is much easier.”

Together, the men worked and the wall was rebuilt.

It stood, a solitary island of stone in a sea of fragrant grass.

 

-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock 
Registered: Nov '04
7266_Jedi Temple
Date Posted: 7/5 1:04pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 5:54pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Short Story

Laundry Day by ardavenport


The next day, they only waited for a short time before the younglings appeared.

There was a flush of warning, of excitement in the Force and a squeal. Then a small being dropped into a bin of clothes. Another, slightly larger youngling followed immediately after the first.

Then another and another. And another.

The fifth and last one was conspicuously long and thin and pale in the body. There was a lot more squealing and thrashing of tiny limbs. A few undertunics and a small pair of pants were thrown up and out of the bin. A brown robe slid half way out before a small squirming body pushed it all the way out. It fell in a little pile on the floor.

"Ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh!!!" A small Twi'lek girl with a very deep purple skin tone imposed some order, and soon all her creche mates took up the 'sssssshhhhhhhh'.

When they were all silent, they looked around, peeking over the edge of the bin; a Duro boy with bright alert red eyes climbed higher on the pile of clothes to scan the room. Not one of them thought of looking up at the walkway from where they were being watched.

A stick-thin pair of legs in off-white leggings pushed their way out and over the edge of the bin followed by a bottom and a long skinny body. The Quermian's feet touched the shelf at the side of the bin, his head swaying on top of his long neck. He was very young, but still tall enough to help his comrades out of the bin. Along with the Duro boy and Twi'lek girl, there was also a fluffy Bothan with ears perked up high and a little Human girl with very short black hair cut close to her head.

None of the younglings looked like they could have been more than five standard years and they all wore crechlings' dsuty white and tan tunics, pants and short boots.

They warily avoided the busy droids that ignored them, moving in a line together until they found a place where they could help each other climb down to the floor.

Qui-Gon silently paced them on the walkway and Obi-Wan went with him to the stairs. The hums and occasional thumps of the machines and droids in the room easily covered what little sound they made.

The younglings disappeared around a bulky cleaning machine, but they were easy to follow. They soon heard little feet running, cries of excitement and high-pitched laughter.

The two Jedi came around a line of broad pillars, gray boxes stacked around them. Obi-Wan looked around his Master to stare up at a huge mound of plush blue fabric. It had apparently been laid out on a soft rounded surface to be cleaned. At the base of the mound Obi-Wan recognized a curling blue pattern in brown and dull gold that looked possibly like stylized crossed lightsabers with wings. Anyone who had ever meditated in the upper chambers of the center spire of the Jedi Temple would instantly recognize that pattern.

Obi-Wan wondered if that sacred chamber was now bare with naked gray walls. Would anyone wishing to go there have to wait until it was restored? Or was there another identical set of curtains stored away somewhere to be hung up just for these occasions? He supposed that the latter was true since he had never heard of any meditation chamber being closed because the curtains were being cleaned and that particular one always looked the same.

The younglings had climbed up on top of the expanse of blue fabric and were bouncing on it. Three droids, all waving cleaning wands, backed away from the unexpected mayhem.

Qui-Gon spoke softly into his com before putting it away and moving away from the pillar, he waited to be seen.


%O% ||| %O% ||| %O% ||| %O% ||| %O% ||| %O%


The happy play, screaming and squealing continued for another moment until the little Twi'lek girl turned and in mid-jump saw both of them. She landed flat on her bottom and slid down off the soft mound all the way to the ground in front of Qui-Gon. Her face was frozen in shock and horror, her two purple lekku scrunched up over her head.

Next, the Quermian boy spotted them, his little head and neck suddenly going rigid. The other three followed his gaze and stopped moving, their mouths open. The Duro boy and Human girl disappeared over the far size of the mound. Qui-Gon turned his head toward Obi-Wan, a silent command for him to retrieve the two. He sprinted around the droids and their work area as his Master called out, his voice calm but loud.

"You will come down from there immediately."



Into Another Day by Jinngerbread

A/N: This entry deals with Qui-Gon's first mission as a young knight.

Entry Fourteen

I've arrived on Naboo.

It actually did not take that long in flight, a three-day journey is more than reasonable for a mission, especially with such appointed travel accommodations.

As I got off the ship, a small crowd had gathered to greet me. Darius Palpatine, of course, among those present, along with the reigning monarch, Queen Maila Callet, her handmaidens and my host family, the Naberries.

After the arrival period and initial greeting, I was given a two-hour break to rest and refresh myself, and the Naberries graciously welcomed me into their home and I was introduced to the rest of the family. Winama and her husband Ruwan, are caring for Winama's elderly parents. Her parents are nearing eighty, yet seem to have a good bit of energy still, as her mother, Naruth bustled around the kitchen, making preparations for tomorrow's feast.

I don't mind admitting, at least here, that my stomach growled just smelling it all, but I digress.

They also have two children, four-and-a-half-year-old Saré and an eight-month-old son, Ruwee.

As soon as the introductions were over, Saré, who decided her mother's tour had not been good enough, accosted me taking my hand and leading me on the grand tour of their home, showing me everything from the kitchens to the freshers, closets, the guest quarters and basements.

She is very well spoken for one of her age, and it was a very thorough tour.

I assured her she had my thanks and she gave the most amusing little curtsy, as if I were royalty, before leading me back to my room, where I decided to sit on the balcony and enjoy the breeze, and the warmth of the sunshine on my face lulled me into a light nap.

It's too bad that all missions can't be this nice, but I suppose if there were, we would not appreciate the ones like this.

Naboo is such a wonderful planet.

I know I said that in my last entry, but now that I'm here, I can feel the Living Force even more strongly around me. It's just so restful of a place.

I'll have to remember to thank Palpatine for suggesting that I come. He was right; I had been on Coruscant much too long.

It's nice to be somewhere so peaceful as Naboo.



The Sian Ny Chronicles by VaderLVR64



Sian waited expectantly for Qui-Gon to speak, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, driven to impatience by his friend’s silence, Sian nudged sharply at Qui-Gon’s side with his elbow. “Well…what do you think?”

Grunting softly, Qui-Gon turned slightly toward Sian and quirked one brow. “What do I think about him as what exactly?”

Rolling his eyes, Sian heaved an exasperated sigh. “What do you think of him?” He gave Qui-Gon and emphatic poke in the shoulder.

Pursing his lips, Qui-Gon turned back to studying the initiates participating in a saber contest in the largest of the training arenas. “He’s talented,” Qui-Gon observed quietly. “He’s quick, committed without losing his focus. A worthy initiate to be sure.”

Sian’s eyes narrowed as he thought he detected some amusement in Qui-Gon’s expression.

“Yes he is,” Sian murmured and he could not quite keep the pride out of his voice as he spoke.

Qui-Gon shook his head and said, “You’ve obviously already made up your mind about the boy. Why bother asking me what I think?” Sian became even more certain that he detected a subtle note of amusement in his friend’s voice, but Qui-Gon’s expression was solemn and contemplative. “You’ve never listened to me before, you know.”

“Don’t you like him?” Sian asked indignantly, conveniently ignoring the truth of his friend’s words.

“I don’t know him, so I can hardly like or dislike him,” Qui-Gon pointed out reasonably. “I’m just saying that if you’ve already decided to take him as your Padawan, why are you asking me my opinion of him?”

“Because if you think it’s a good idea, I just might have to reconsider the whole thing, gundark brain,” Sian huffed. Then he muttered, “Oh never mind. I should have known you’d make this complicated. All I wanted was for you to say, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea, Sian, or maybe even have you lost your mind, Sian?” Then Sian scowled and kicked at the wall with his foot. “I’m going to ask him anyway, I don’t care what you think,” he announced suddenly.

“You’re welcome,” Qui-Gon said with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well obviously, you feel the Force has led you to this boy,” Qui-Gon explained. “I wanted to see if you were firmly committed to the boy or just excited about the idea of becoming a Master. I see that the Force has truly brought the two of you together.” He clapped Sian on the back. “Congratulations – provided you can get him to take you.” Then Qui-Gon grinned wickedly, as if to say that might prove difficult. “You’d better hope he hasn’t heard any Temple gossip.”

“He thinks I’m funny,” Sian grumbled

“Okay, so the boy has no taste,” Qui-Gon replied. “I can deal with that. I’m sure I’ll even eventually get used to it.”

“If I let you talk to him,” Sian pointed out. “That’s not been established yet.”

“Someone is going to have to teach him the proper way of doing things,” Qui-Gon observed. “You’ll have him learning how to flirt before he learns negotiation techniques, or memorizing which wines go best with which foods instead of his katas.”

“I know all the katas,” Sian protested, “and probably better than you. Just because I happen to know wines as well doesn’t mean I can’t do the Jedi stuff.”

“Jedi stuff?” Qui-Gon’s voice was dry. “How nice to hear the codes and tenets of the Jedi reduced to stuff.”

“Somebody has their tunics in a wad this morning,” Sian mocked.

“I’m going to put your tunics in a wad,” Qui-Gon threatened. “And insert them right into your big mouth.”

“Hush,” Sian hissed, elbowing Jinn hard in the side. “Here he comes. Just stand there and make like a statue. I don’t want you scaring him off.”

“Don’t you think-”

“Shhhh!”

Qui-Gon closed his mouth and Sian smiled at the approaching boy. “Hello, Trin,” he greeted him. “You made a rather impressive showing out there.”

Trin shrugged, but a pleased smile lit up his face. “Thanks, I was having fun,” he replied. His blue eyes flickered up toward Qui-Gon. “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand.

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched as he held out his hand and offered it to the boy. He did not say a word, merely continued to smile like a simpleton. Trin studied him curiously. “Can you talk?” he asked bluntly.

Slowly, Qui-Gon nodded his head.

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?” Trin asked.

Qui-Gon looked at Sian helplessly and then shrugged.

“I told him not to talk,” Sian confessed hastily.

Trin gaped at the two Masters. “Uh…why?”

“He’s a gundark,” Sian explained. “I didn’t want him to say something stupid and ruin things.”

“Ruin things?” Trin asked, clearly puzzled.

“Uh yeah,” Sian muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Things…”



 

-----signature-----
Before Awards Schedule:
Nominations: June 22- July 2
Excerpt submission period: July 6- July 16
Voting Period: July 20-July 29
Ceremony: August 2
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Before_Awards_Sock 
Registered: Nov '04
7266_Jedi Temple
Date Posted: 7/5 1:04pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 12:46pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Epic

Not Myself by bek

A/N: Obi-Wan's grandmother pays him a visit, leaving Kale (Obi-Wan's father) to wonder about her motives.


The transport stopped a short distance from the house, the passenger exiting the vehicle gazed around the property as she walked toward the house door. The site was beautiful, nature in its entire splendor. Kale had purchased the estate, knowing how much his wife had fallen in love with it the moment she laid eyes on it. She talked of raising a family here. A sound from the rear of the dwelling caught Kana's attention causing her to travel the cobblestone path that led around the side. The sound grew louder the closer she moved toward the back; when she rounded the corner, she stopped. The sight before her was something she had only heard of but had never seen. Two lightsabers clashed, green and blue collided in harsh abandonment as the two combatants battled it out. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw her grandson fighting against a larger man, the two having shed their outer tunics long ago. Obi-Wan's face was creased in concentration, his moves precise. Qui-Gon grinned when the teen managed, for a split second, to catch him off guard. Obi-Wan flipped over the older man to land deftly behind him, lifting his arms quickly to place his blade behind him to block the attack aimed at his back and then turned, gaining the upper hand long enough to go back on the offensive.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Kana startled at the voice beside her. She looked over to see Kale sitting on the swing that hung on the back porch, watching his son and colleague.

"What are they doing?" she demanded.

Kale gave her neither an explanation nor a glance. Instead, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see my grandson." She started to run forward when Obi-Wan fell but was restrained by a hand on her arm.

"He's a bit busy at the moment."

Jerking her arm out of her son-in-law's hand, she turned to glare at Kale. "What exactly is going on? He should not be participating in this sort of sport. I've heard the stories of what those things can do. They're dangerous!"

A half smirk found its way to the Jedi Master's lips. "Not in the proper hands they're not. Obi-Wan is more than capable of handling the weapon, he's a fast learner. Besides, the blade is set on low. If it hit him it would be no worse than a slight burn."

"I find it unacceptable that you're teaching him the Jedi ways. After all, look where it got my daughter and her son."

A murderous look entered Kale's gaze, and he allowed it to linger long enough for Kana to get a good look before he ruthlessly squashed it. "Because you loved her I will allow you this one last allowance."

It was hard to swallow through a throat tight with fear. Kana realized that she had just overstepped a boundary that Kale would from this moment on fight for. She cleared her throat before asking, "Why hasn’t he been to the house?”

The look Kana received was that of disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” When she merely looked at him for the explanation she expected to receive, Kale leaned back against a wooden support beam that was but once piece of the frame of the deck. “How can you even begin to ask that question after the reception he received from you?”

“Our meeting went rather well.”

“Really? Because he got the impression that you don’t want him.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Kale stepped away from the pole and moved closer to her. “What were you expecting exactly when you conjured up this idea of him ruling by your side?” The Jedi waited patiently for an answer, when none was immediately forthcoming, he continued, “Were you expecting a remnant of your ten year old grandson, or a young man changed by circumstance?” When she gave him a confused look, he said, “I assure you the two are quite different. By accepting the younger version, you alienate the older version. In his mind, they are two separate lives, two different people. He was giving you space to decide if you could accept him as he is.”

“What exactly have you been planting in his mind since his visit with me? I gave no such indication that he is not acceptable as he is. I –”

“Not verbally.” Another voice interrupted. Turning to face the person addressing her, Kana’s gaze settled on her grandson. “It was the look in your eyes when I told you about my past.” Obi-Wan looked upon her with sadness. “In this case, actions spoke louder than words.”



Headstrong by Itachi-Uchiha



Ondus was a miserable excuse for a planet where it rained nearly the entire calendar year. Lacking any viable natural resources, the citizens made a living in the factories set up by businesses looking for cheap labor. Since the entire planet was poor, the crime rate was through the roof as were suicides. The sense of hopelessness and despair were so thick the very air felt cloying and thick with an almost sinister feel.

As he followed Master Dooku toward the area where the local authorities were set up, Xanatos couldn’t help but grimace in disgust as his leather boots were soon coated in thick mud. Grasping the edges of his robe in order to prevent it from meeting the same fate, he lengthened his strides in order to catch up with his temporary mentor. Their true mission to the planet had just been successfully completed and he had eagerly looked forward to leaving the Force damned planet behind. Dooku had for some insane reason decided to accept the local chief of securities plea for help.

It was no doubt a completely selfish and un-Jedi like sentiment but Xanatos felt that Jedi should not be bothered to solve local security problems. Almost as if he’d expressed his opinion vocally, Dooku shot him a stern glance over his shoulder that Xanatos met with an unapologetic look of his own. Once the Jedi Master turned back around, Xanatos glared at the back of his head. He was finding his patience sorely tested working alongside the older Jedi, Dooku’s views on a number of matters clashing violently with what Xanatos had been raised to believe. It didn’t help matters any that anytime he spoke back or showed open defiance, Dooku seemed almost amused as he stared down his aristocratic nose. The man inflamed Xanatos’ ire quicker than anyone he’d had the misfortune to meet.

Stopping behind the barricade, the Jedi were greeted by the chief of security, the burly man obviously glad to see them. Xanatos listened with half an ear as the man explained the situation to his temporary mentor.

"..young couple, the husband was just laid off from his job and with the recent birth of their fourth child they both just seemed to snap. They claim to have high powered explosives and have somehow managed to hack their way into the electrical system and are basically holding the entire neighborhood hostage. People are trapped inside their homes with no way to get out and we have no real way of finding out if their claims are true before we rush in and they blow up blocks of innocent people."

Dooku merely nodded as he peered at the home in question with narrowed eyes. "Padawan. See if you can verify the couples claims."

Xanatos sighed beneath his breath as he moved in front of the barrier, a host of curious eyes following his progress. Shutting his eyes, he blocked out all outside noise and allowed himself to descend into a deep meditative state that strengthened his connection to the Force. Eventually he was able to visualize the scene inside the small home, the Force showing him the husband crouched by the window with a high powered blaster. The woman was sitting in a chair, her gaze wide and fixed on the door, a score of liquid explosives strapped to her body while her finger hovered over the detonator.

"Two occupants, the man has a blaster and the woman is sitting in a chair. She appears to be rigged with enough explosives to so some serious damage to anyone unfortunate to be close to her."

Xanatos heard Dooku grunt in approval. "How would you handle this situation, Padawan?"

"I suppose the only way is to try and reason with them," he offered with a shrug.

Waves of disapproval reached him through the Force as Dooku came to stand beside him. "People like this can not be reasoned with. Too many lives are at stake for us to be wrong."

Opening his eyes, Xanatos turned to find Dooku watching him with a brooding stare. Long fingers stroked the Jedi Master’s beard as he turned back to study the neighborhood.

"We will have to move fast and work as a team if we are to save these people. I want you to focus on the man, keep him from using that blaster while I handle the woman." Dooku raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Do you think you handle both the door and the man?"

Xanatos bristled at the uncertain tone. "I am more than capable."

Smiling faintly at the heated words, Dooku addressed the bystanders. "Please remain as quiet as possible and do not under any circumstances interfere. Padawan."



The Truth Shall Set You Free by jedidas3

…Obi-Wan could not look the Jedi master in the eye. He began to play with the sheet that was securely tucked around him. When he mustered the courage to speak, the tremor in his voice was reminiscent of a terrified child. “Are you sure that you want to know everything? Once I begin, there will be no turning back.”

Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan’s chin so he could look into the tear-filled eyes of the youth. “Obi-Wan, it’s time to tell the truth. It’s time to put this behind you and move on. Your future awaits you, but right now, you’re letting the past hold you captive.

“Do you think I have a future?” the youth asked.

“Of course you have a future. Once you are provided with a master who can show you the true path of the Force, I know that you will become a great Jedi.”

“Master Jinn, I think we have two different ideas of the future. I have come to accept that my future will probably be outside of the Jedi order. Even if the Council does not dismiss me from the order, who would want to be my master? Who would want to be a master to a murderer?”

Qui-Gon released Obi-Wan’s chin and sat down on the edge of his bed. “I believe that the Council will be more forgiving than you think. As for someone becoming your master, I feel that there are a number of masters who would vie for that position.”

“Would you?”

The Jedi master was amazed at the youth’s ability to catch him by surprise with his directness. “Would I…would I what?” the Jedi stammered.

“Would you want to be my master?”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t…”

Qui-Gon’s brief hesitation provided Obi-Wan with the answer to his question. “I think I’ve made my point, Master Jinn.”

…“I believe that you should allow me the courtesy of explaining my hesitancy in answering your question. You asked me if I would take you as a padawan. The truth is Obi-Wan, I don’t know.”

Pausing to allow Obi-Wan to consider his words, Qui-Gon tried to see beneath the façade that the youth hid behind so easily. The master could feel the sense of relief come over the teen.

“I’m sorry, Master Jinn. I should not have said the things I did. Sometimes I tend to allow my emotions to get in the way of rational thinking. It has always been one of my worst faults. Master Elad always said that…”

Qui-Gon could not permit Obi-Wan to continue his self-deprecating thoughts. “What Master Elad used to say is of no consequence now. It is not wrong to have emotions, young one, and you have every right to feel the way that you do. I know that you are confused and hurting by my reaction. Please know that my reluctance has nothing to do with you. You will make a fine padawan. I’m just not sure…”

“That I should be your padawan,” Obi-Wan replied as he completed Qui-Gon’s thought.

“Obi-Wan, please,” Qui-Gon pleaded with the youth. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to take another padawan. I want to help you and I promise that I will remain by your side until a new master is found for you.”

“I understand, Master Jinn and I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want me as a padawan.”

“Do not put words in my mouth,” Qui-Gon stated. The Jedi master realized that he had no choice but to be completely honest with Obi-Wan. The youth had been told nothing but lies for the past several years and had suffered immensely because of those lies.

Qui-Gon had not spoken freely of Xanatos for many years. He had elected to deal with the betrayal by taking back to back missions and staying away from the Temple. When he was forced to return, he would purposely avoid any discussion about taking a padawan.

“Obi-Wan, I know that you have heard the story of my last padawan and how he betrayed me and the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan simply nodded as he waited for Qui-Gon to continue.

“It is something that I do not speak of very often because I still carry the scars. I am…”

“You’re afraid,” Obi-Wan replied.

“I guess I am. It seems that we are both afraid of the same thing,” Qui-Gon observed.

“What’s that?”

“We’re both afraid of trusting someone because we do not want to be hurt again. Please just give me time,” the Jedi pleaded…


 

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Date Posted: 7/5 1:05pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 12:53pm (4 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Series

Fragments of Illusion by dianethx

Author's Note: various drabbles from humorous to dramatic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please
Summary: TPM's saddest hour

"Please…" I choked on desperation.

Qui-Gon lay in my lap. My heart waited for him to say it was only a flesh wound, that he'd be up in moments. That everything would be all right. That he loved me.

The words didn't come. Only gurgling agony, life fleeing beneath my hands.

A single breath, hitching and the long slow exhale.

In desperation, my hand pushed at the hole in his chest, trying to plug it, trying to turn back time.

And I waited for the next breath to start the cycle over again.

"Please," I begged.

There was only silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anniversary
Summary: TPM's Council scene – Obi-Wan's POV

Twelve years today.

It seemed a lifetime. Of training and arguments, laughter and pain. Of his stubborn reluctance to accept me and my unwavering belief that it was meant to be.

Of Bandomeer and last-minute apprenticeships.

Of Melida/Daan and mistakes, Telos and choices.

Then the shattered cup was remade; we became more than distant Master and pathetic Padawan. We became family.

I learned to relax into dry wit, he into smiles.

Inseparable, balanced, loved.

Until….

"I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan Learner."

Twelve years gone in a single breath.

Now I am the Unchosen one.

Again.

Happy anniversary, Master.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forgive Me
Summary: TPM's Council scene part 2 – Qui-Gon's POV


Twelve years today.

I had hoped for a day of remembrances, of easy laughter and wry smiles, of successful missions relived, of discovering once again joys in a cherished partnership.

We have been so much to each other over the years. More than merely friends, we had been teacher, student - family.

And I wanted nothing more than watch you grow into Knighthood.

But the Force will not be silent. Urging, screaming, thrusting into me, demanding more than happily-ever-afters, I cannot….

Forgive me what I am about to do, my Obi-Wan.

Forgive me.

"I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan Learner."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alone
Summary: On leaving Obi-Wan – Qui-Gon's POV


I left him there.

Abandoned on Melida/Daan.

Haunting me, taunting me, I try not to remember his eyes growing more vulnerable with every scornful word.

I try not to remember his fingers curling empty, the lightsaber I'd taken, confiscated – stolen - still warm in my hand.

I try not to remember his face twisting into grief or how he stood there looking as if he'd been gutted when I walked away.

Tearing him, tearing me apart.

I try not to remember the boy so silent, so bewildered.

So young.

I left him there.

Abandoned on Melida/Daan.

And I still don't know why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hungry
Summary: all creatures need sustenance. Predator's POV
Characters: Obi-Wan (little white meat grub), Qui-Gon (big white meat grub), very large predator


I hungry.

Little white meat grub attacking me. I chase grub. Blue glowing stick in paw of white meat grub hurts my tail. Ow. I grow new one back tomorrow. Glowing stick bad.

I reach for grub. I grab little grub with claws, squeeze hard. Glowing stick falls down. Good.

I shake my paw. Grub is asleep. I sniff. Smells like food. I give grub a lick. Tastes like food. I shove grub in my mouth. Grub is food. Bones crunching. Warm meat.

Bigger white meat grub hurting me with green glowing stick. Making loud upset noises.

I still hungry.



Jinngerbread Cookiees by Jinngerbread

Pathways of the Force

Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it by the handle of anxiety, or by the handle of faith. ~Author Unknown


There was a firm hold on his braid, and he grimaced slightly as it was pulled tight, yet the Jedi didn't move.

And then it began.

He felt it tug and pull against the grain of the hair, the ceremonial blade slicing through the carefully braided pieces, splitting each one apart.

Released, the braid fluttered to the ground.

It was over.

Qui-Gon stared down at the shorn braid at his feet and touched the spot of severed hair. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to feel. Happiness, he mused. He was very happy that he had achieved the rank that he had fought so hard to earn. So many hours of training, study, missions upon missions, helping to serve the galaxy as a padawan learner.

But to actually see the braid, his treasured most priceless object on the ground at his feet; spoke volumes about the finality of this action. There would be no Master looking back over his shoulder, to make sure that he had done something correctly, no one to follow when walking, no one to rescue him if things came crashing down around his ears, or look to for reassurance and guidance. His reputation and career would be on his shoulders alone.

The fate of people's lives could be altered just by his service, as he went from planet to planet on missions, going where the Order deemed him best to serve. It was an awesome responsibility and one that was not lost on the former learner.

He was a Jedi Knight in the service of the Republic.

"Rise Knight Jinn," his Master's voice jarred him out of his reverie that had come over him.

He stood in one fluid motion, marveling slightly.

Knight Qui-Gon Jinn.

His lips quirked upwards smoothly as elation overcame his somber mood.

Even though a chapter of his life was now ended, as Dooku's apprentice, he found himself looking forward to the new challenges that lay ahead.

Who was Knight Qui-Gon Jinn? Qui-Gon pondered this as he spoke to his friends and colleagues who had gathered for this simple ceremony. He wasn't entirely sure.

Padawan Jinn he knew well.

He had been a lanky youth, strong in the Living Force, and eager to please his Master doing everything he could with his whole heart in it, helping people and animals alike to find the paths they were meant to.

As a Knight however, did he truly know himself?

The Knight knew there would be many challenges to face and wrongs to right, and people to serve. The Jedi life he knew was not an easy life, but easy was not for those who served the Will of the Force above their own desires, as he tried with all his heart to do. He knew it would take patience and dedication and a lifetime to learn to truly serve the Force. In so doing the will of the Force, he knew he would find his own path as he was meant to. He would grow and mature as all Jedi did, developing more fully in the Force.

He did not know himself now, he admitted, especially when one considered all that lay ahead. The Force would guide him to finding out who he was and helping him to serve to the best of his abilities.

Qui-Gon had faith in it.



The Truth Shall Set You Free and The Best Of Intentions... by jedidas3


Qui-Gon began to thumb through the next few entries and discovered that the dates were sporadic for about the first year. From the second year on, Obi-Wan seemed to be more faithful in writing in the journal as his entries began to become more detailed.



Today is my one year anniversary of being Master Elad’s apprentice. I’m supposed to be using this time for reflection, but I simply don’t want to. I don’t want to remember the past year. I’ve done nothing but become a huge embarrassment to my master. He tries to teach me things but I don’t seem to understand them.

My head is aching and I’m sore all over. The lessons to teach me to handle pain haven’t been working like Master Elad thought they should, so he now restrains me. I thought by now that I would stop screaming, but I haven’t. I can’t believe that I could hurt so much. I have another session tomorrow. I think that I would be able to take the pain if Master would only stay out of my head.

My master said that we would be leaving on a mission in two days and that I had to be ready. I asked him what he meant and Master Elad reminded me that it was not my place to ask questions. I should know better but it seems like that I never learn.

I hear Master Healer Letni entering our quarters. I don’t like him, especially when he gives me those shots. I’m not sure why I have to take that medicine. Healer Letni says it will help me, but I’m not so sure.



Qui-Gon slowly turned the page. He knew that the more he learned about his apprentice’s former life, the harder it was to tamp down the anger at the injustices that Obi-Wan had needlessly suffered. The Jedi noticed the next entry was difficult to read as if the youth had been unable to grasp the writing stylus. The elegant script of the previous pages had become almost illegible. Qui-Gon could feel his padawan’s anguish as he read the teen’s scattered thoughts.



Tomorrow I have to leave on a mission. I don’t want to go. I can’t do this. I can’t think. I don’t want to go. The Force hates me—it no longer hears me.

Something is wrong with me. My master says that I’m not worthy to be a Jedi. He’s right. I just wish I could think. My head hurts so bad. Master Elad was trying to get rid of my dark thoughts. It didn’t work. I’m so tired.



The Jedi closed the journal and quietly sat as he watched Obi-Wan sleep. Qui-Gon could see the lines of worry and fatigue that had formed around the youth’s eyes and across his forehead. Leaning forward, the master reached out and gently caressed the boy’s face with his calloused fingers.

“You’re far too young to look so old,” he whispered. Qui-Gon pulled back his hand when the youth slightly shifted in his sleep so he didn’t disturb Obi-Wan’s well deserved slumber. The Jedi silently marveled at the young man before him. The master was convinced that the Force definitely had a purpose for his padawan. The teen had written that the Force hated him and as far as the master knew, Obi-Wan still believed that.

Qui-Gon was more determined to show his apprentice the true ways of the Force. He would look forward to the day when Obi-Wan’s light shone once again. The young man would see that he was destined to become a Jedi—perhaps one of the greatest within the Jedi Order. Qui-Gon smiled at the still form of the padawan and sat back in his chair.

The Jedi master opened the journal and proceeded to read some more. There wasn’t another entry until approximately a week later. It was evident that Obi-Wan had just returned from the mission that he had been dreading and things had not gone well. Unlike the previous entry, the youth’s handwriting was legible, but the words that had been written were full of anger and desperation. Qui-Gon found himself unable to read past the first line on the page.


I hate my master…

 

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Date Posted: 7/5 1:05pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/16 4:47am (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Canon Interpretation, Male

Obi-Wan in Attraction by dianethx


Master Qui-Gon wouldn't have let a little thing like fear stop him and neither should I. I should go, look everyone in the eye, sit down right in the center of the place and dare them all to do their worst.

Sure I should.

On the other hand, there was a small side entrance little used and an alcove nearly hidden from the rest of the dining area, one with lots of privacy.

Even better would be to snatch some food and go eat it in my quarters while I looked through the holonet.

I'd deal with my friends and their questions later: when I was calmer, when I had learned to accept the whole embarrassing mess as something every Jedi goes through, when I was much, much older - maybe as old as Master Qui-Gon or even Master Yoda.

I should have known.

"Is it true that your Master had sex with a thousand women?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone, padawans and a few of the younger knights, even the docents handling the food, turned toward the loudmouthed idiot and then twisted around to look in my direction. I heard a distant snicker, then another as people began to recognize me.

Blast! It was Aalto, quickly coming my way, his little friends clustering behind him like felis-toads. I recognized Slern'ta and Rechne and the bully of the group, the one who had spoken, Kenth Ts'ean.

My face growing hot with embarrassment and not a little anger, I turned away, shaking my head, hoping to escape before more stupid questions were shouted out - but no such luck.

One of the younger Padawans blocked my escape, "Is Master Jinn going to get kicked out of the Order?"

I didn't have time to be polite. Brushing past her, I said curtly, "No, he's not."

But now the escape route was now choked with other beings, all of them trying to find out what was going on with one of the most notorious rebels in the Order. The air was peppered with questions.

"Who's going to be your new Master?" A Zabrek boy wanted to know and his companion, a Twi'lek girl nodded. "Yes, who is going to be?"

"I bet it's Master Windu. I heard he's furious with Master Jinn."

Several beings nodded and there was the sound of giggling. But before anyone else close could ask, Aalto's partner in stupidity, Rechne, yelled out over the crowd, "Does Gonna-Get-em Jinn ever think about anything but sex?"

"Did he teach you any tricks on getting women?"

Ignoring them all, I started to push through, trying to get out before I said or did something I'd regret. My face was flaming hot and I was shaking with humiliation.

"Your master must really like cake since he was covered in it." With grand gestures and loud slurping noises, Aalto's follower, Slern'ta, started to lick at a couple of his fingers as if enjoying a phantom dessert.

Shaking my head, I forced my way through the crowd, looking for the exit. The questions followed me. "What was your master singing? I couldn't hear the words but some of the gestures looked familiar."

Kenth grabbed at my tunic, bunching the cloth in his hand, holding me there. "I heard that your Master's going to be a father. Doesn't he know about the Code?"

I couldn't take any more. "Don't be ridiculous. You have no right to speak about Master Jinn that way."

Unfortunately, that last question caused enough of a delay that Aalto had time to reach me.

"What's the matter, Oafy-Wan or should I say..." As he paused, with a dramatic flourish, he put his hand up to his forehead as if fainting and rolled his eyes, pretending to be one of those silly girls that sometime followed the padawans around outside the Temple. "Oh... oh... Obi-Wan." His high-pitched fake girl's voice carried around the hall.

Laughter swept the room. Then there were snatches of 'Sexy-whoa' and 'Kiss-me-not Kenobi' and 'Oh-wanna-girl' and Aalto's parasites chanting 'Oh-Oh-Obi-Wan.'

"That's enough." At first, I couldn't get the words out but I forced them past the lump of embarrassment in my throat, roaring, "That's enough!"

The padawans around me quieted down, apparently astonished that I would even protest at the humiliation. As I kept shouting at them, pitching my voice loud enough so that the entire hall could hear, I twisted around, looking at each and every one of the beings surrounding me. "Is this how Jedi are supposed to act? Like Tuk'ata beasts waiting for the kill?"

The room fell abruptly silent. Jerking my tunic straight, tilting my chin up in defiance, I spat out, "Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do."



Qui-Gon in Into Another Day by Jinngerbread

Entry Six

Today I had a rare full day off.

Perhaps Kyran and Sian were right and that spare time does exist after all.

Since I could do whatever I wanted with my day, I went to see Master Gardner Iyne, and she and I spent a good portion of the day planting flowers in the gardens.

I thought it would be absolutely wonderful to spend the day engrossed in such an activity and Master Iyne is one of the few Jedi who understand what it is like to be immersed in the Living Force and feel it, wholly and completely. I was sweaty and covered in dirt and mud, but I enjoyed myself more today than I have in a long time.

By mid-afternoon we had finished the planting. We planted Schwa bushes, Alderaanian Roses, Siscinian Firethorns, Midiron Bulbs, and Corellian Florsettes. The gardens are going to have so much color in a few months; I can hardly wait to see!

After I washed up from the morning's planting, I cooked myself a tradalon steak sandwich for noon meal, then I went to the archives to spend the rest of my day. I love spending time in the archives, digging through old legends and ancient Jedi history. I don't have much opportunity to research such things because most of the time when I'm studying, I'm doing something for a mission and my personal interests slide to the side all too often. It started to rain outside as I was there.

It's so comforting to spend a day in the archives listening to the sound of the rain as you bury yourself deep in a holobook.

Perfect days are very rare, so I record this one here.



Glory Days by azizah

Summary: Dooku learns Qui-Gon has taken a new padawan.


A true Jedi is detached. It is a profession that can ill afford to show even the slightest bit of prejudice or partiality, let alone a display of any real emotion, love, hate, anger, fear. A true Jedi knows none of these things. A true Jedi is impartial and unbiased and dispassionate. Devoid of passion.

A real Jedi is nothing of the sort. They are chock full of opinion and bias and preference. They like and dislike, in matters great and small. That they rarely display these emotions has earned them a reputation for aloofness, some might even say cold-heartedness. That they do not allow themselves to be ruled by these sentiments has led many to errantly believe that they do not have them.

Most real Jedi are skillfully adept at keeping these aberrations well hidden.

But Dooku is the master.

To say you could see into the true heart of Dooku by the expression on his face would be to say you could see the bottom of the ocean by looking at its sunlit swells.

And so to cover a petty annoyance with a bland, even pleasant smile is nothing to him.

And he is annoyed. On the surface he is the picture of polite attentiveness, listening carefully to what the Senator has to say, when in all truth he can barely stand to hear another word.

His padawan is once again a master, and Dooku resents having to hear of it from a stranger.

Some small fair-minded corner of Dooku’s psyche acknowledges that the blame for this is entirely his own. But little used to self-reproach his ire soon finds another mark.

He turns a critical eye on his companion and suddenly cannot fathom how he could have found such a ridiculous creature even mildly amusing. Every unfortunate gesture, every turn of phrase the Senator chooses only serves to increase his annoyance. Taylar’s affected mannerisms gall. His tone of voice offends. All at once Dooku finds the man intolerable. Behind a mask of affable complacency Dooku privately catalogs a list of defects that make further conversation unbearable.

It is late. The dictates of civility, which Dooku follows when it suits him, would allow him to feign fatigue and bid the Senator good night. And yet he stays.

A less distracted Dooku should have been shocked to discover the amount of information an outsider has managed to garner on the simple life of a Jedi student, a young boy who in all likelihood has spent most of his days within the sheltered confines of the Jedi Temple.

The name, Obi-Wan Kenobi, means nothing to Dooku.

He is human. Thank the Force for small favors.

Thirteen standard years old. No Jedi prodigy this one.

And it seems the boy was slated, here Dooku almost excuses the Senator’s condescending tone, for the Agricultural Corps on some backwater planet. But somehow Qui-Gon intervened.

Oh Padawan, another unwanted stray.

 

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Date Posted: 7/5 1:05pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 5:58pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Canon Interpretation, Female

Shmi Skywalker in A New Beginning by Kelia


I am so sorry for all you’ve lost,” Pash took both her hands in his, stroking them gently. “Nothing can ever replace the life you should have had, but I hope you can focus on your freedom and the life you can now give your child.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to…,” she stopped abruptly as Pash’s words sank in. “Wha…what did you say?”

“You should focus on your freedom,” he repeated gazing at her with concern.

“No, after that.” Shmi clenched her hands, her heart beginning to pound.

“You can now give your child a better life.”

“What child?” she demanded. “I don’t have a child and there weren’t any children -,”

“You’re pregnant,” Pash announced. “Didn’t you know?”

“No,” Shmi shook her head violently. “I’m not…I can’t be!” She grabbed Pash’s arm frantically. “It’s impossible.”

“Perhaps you’ve blocked it from your mind,” Pash offered tenderly. “I’ve seen a lot of women, especially if the…event was violent, block it from their minds.”

“It’s a mistake,” she insisted. “Run the test again.”

“I don’t need to,” he countered. “As I was saying, the tests were positive and,” he held up his hand to stop her interruption. “The sensors showed me the baby and it’s heartbeat. I estimate you’re about..,” his words trailed off as he glanced down at his patient.

Shmi had fainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.” Dr. Pash Orunitia squeezed Shmi’s shoulder sadly. “I ran the tests three times. I’m so sorry.”

Shmi nodded, closed her eyes and sighed deeply. It all made sense now. She had been having increased dizzy spells and weakness for the last few weeks and while Nyla and the doctor were originally convinced it was due to her advancing pregnancy, she knew deep down inside there was something more happening.

“We should schedule the operation immediately -,”

Shmi’s eyes flew open, her heart beginning to pound. “Operation? What operation?”

Pash gazed at her with concern. “To terminate the pregnancy,” he explained gently. “We can not begin your treatment while -,”

“No,” she exclaimed, eyes widening with horror. “I’m not going to kill my child.”

“I understand how difficult this is for you,” Pash began softly. “Perhaps I didn’t explain clearly. The treatment would be toxic for the child. There really isn’t a choice.”

“But there is,” Shmi interrupted. “I can continue with my pregnancy. It’s only four more months.”

“You could,” Pash admitted. Taking both of her hands into his, he gazed squarely into her determined eyes. “But you need to understand, should you decide to do this, your prognosis would be,” he paused, tears beginning to fill his eyes. He’d grown much too fond of her in the last couple of months. “Grim.”

“I know.” Shmi looked away. The news she wouldn’t survive to raise her child wasn’t as heartbreaking to her as the knowledge the child would have no opportunities other than working in the dangerous, back breaking mines. There had to be a way to give him or her a better life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You…you want me to what?” Qui-Gon gasped in disbelief. “I’m apologize, I don’t think I heard you right.”

“My child is destined to be a Jedi,” she declared firmly. “I know this with every fiber of my being,” she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I will not survive long after the birth and I need to know the Jedi will take my child. Please,” she cried placing his hands on either side of her stomach.

Qui-Gon gazed at Shmi silently. Something in the back of his mind was telling him he must help this woman and her child. Exhaling softly, he reached into the Force, searching for the child’s presence.

He smiled gently as he felt Shmi’s anxious yet hopeful presence, reaching deeper towards the faint Force signature coming from the baby.

Abruptly, his eyes snapped open, his hands dropping to his sides. Never had he felt such a strong presence, not even around Yoda who was known to be the most powerful Jedi in history.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Qui-Gon slowly approached Shmi’s bedside. She lay propped up by several pillows, her sweat stained face devoid of any color.

“Master Jinn, come and meet my son.”

The doctor turned, worry etched on his face. “Hold him,” he whispered quietly. “She is fading fast and I want to make sure she is comfortable.”

Without a word, Qui-Gon took the child.

“Anakin,” she announced, tenderly caressing his cheek. “You’ll take care of him?” she asked, sagging back against the pillows.

“I will. I promise.”

Shmi turned her head, staring directly into Anakin’s bright blue eyes. “I love you,” she wheezed. “I…love…you.”




Padmè in Purple Palate Politicians by Persophone_Kore

Padmé had been very careful. She had eaten very neatly, without getting much purple on her face, and she had licked her hands very clean, and then wiped her face with them to be sure and done it again. But the party was staring to feel awfully noisy now, clashing and battering and everyone talking loudly. She felt jittery and tired and her head hurt. Maybe if she went and found Momma she would feel better.

Momma must be around somewhere. She stopped in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes to listen. Something bumped into her, and she fell down, but shut her mouth tight so as not to cry. That would be rude. After all, they hadn't done it on purpose. She opened her eyes to see that it had been a long, stiff skirt -- the lady wearing it probably hadn't even been able to tell.

She went over to a wall and tried again. There! She could hear her mother. She hurried off, trying not to trip or bump into people.

Momma was talking to a man in nice clothes. Padmé stopped short and curtsied deeply, but they didn't look at her. She sighed, fighting the temptation to sigh loudly. Grown-ups didn't look down enough. You'd think they would have to, being so high up. It was good when she didn't want to be noticed, but now she wanted Momma and she wasn't supposed to interrupt.

"I'm surprised you would be pursuing a political career at this stage in life, Senator Palpatine," Momma was saying. "I would expect a man your age to be looking for marriage and family."

"Oh, Madam Naberrie, I consider myself married to my career. Naboo is my family." He beamed at her. "I hope to have your support."

Momma lowered her head a little, smiling, and Padmé was pretty sure she was going to say yes. But then Momma saw her. "Padmé! Have you wandered off from your aunt?"

Padmé ducked her head a bit. "I wanted to see you," she said sweetly, and held up her arms. But to her surprise, it wasn't Momma who came to her.

Senator Palpatine stooped down to pick her up, chuckling. "Born diplomat, this one," he said, lifting her into the air and jouncing her a little as he drew her close.

That was too much. The lurch and swoop made her feel very peculiar indeed, and the jounce at the end made a funny bubbly feeling swell up in her stomach. She opened her mouth, and something squeezed, and the bubble popped.

Senator Palpatine's smile grew rather fixed as he was showered with wet purple slop.

-----

"Sola!" Padmé's voice rose nearly to a shriek.

Sola looked up, unrepentant. "What?"

"I cannot believe you showed -- that recording -- to Anakin!"

Anakin had a hand clapped over his mouth, and his shoulders were shaking. Blue eyes sparkled as he looked up at Padmé's exasperated face. "Don't--" He was interrupted by a snort of laughter, and stopped to clear his throat. "Don't look so upset," he said. "It is funny. I guess it wasn't at the time, but come on. You were four." He grinned. "Never thought of that as an important lesson in politics. Don't bounce little kids who've been around sugar."

Padmé sighed and plopped down beside them. "Well, he did take me under his fin a little when I was old enough to get involved in politics. We do have our points of disagreement, but the current ones don't have anything to do with digestion!" A little humor had come into her voice over the fading irritation, and she finally gave in and grinned. "So I guess he forgave me."




Shmi Skywalker in Not Hers to Keep by VaderLVR64


“It’s a boy!”

Wearily, Shmi reached out for her son, the pain of bringing him into the galaxy already fading from her mind.

As he was placed in her arms, Shmi observed with amazement as the baby’s cries immediately began dwindling. “Hello,” she whispered, cupping his downy head in her hand. “I’m your mother.”

“He’s going to be a big man,” Marrja the midwife noted as she grasped one of his feet in her hands. “Look at these feet.”

The midwife’s apprentice giggled as she handed Shmi a blanket to wrap up the baby.

Carefully, Shmi wrapped the baby in the blanket and then snuggled him to her. He turned toward her, already instinctively seeking nourishment. Quickly, and with more skill than she had hoped for, Shmi positioned him to feed. The urgent tug of his mouth surprised her.

Marrja leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t get too attached,” she advised. Marrja delivered all of the slaves’ babies. “It’ll just make it harder…”

Shmi knew what she was hinting at, but the warmth of the baby in her arms, the pull of his mouth, and her own exhaustion kept the ugly truth at bay. “All right,” she agreed dazedly. “All right,” she said again, hardly aware of speaking.

Marrja stared at her for a moment and then sighed, shaking her head. “He may not be yours to keep, Shmi,” she whispered.



~~~~~~~~~




It hurt to breathe.

It hurt to move.

It hurt to think.

Shmi Skywalker stirred against her bonds, ignoring the pain that darted and danced along her body with the movement. She was so very tired. Her mind had begun to wander, and sometimes she found herself holding her newborn son, or laughing with him as they played a game together. She saw him walk away from her, following in the big Jedi’s steps.

She relived her courtship with Cliegg, felt again that first tentative kiss he had given her. Her memories were all she had to sustain her now. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, she heard an odd sound, a sound that did not belong in the Tusken camp, but she could not rouse herself to care.

Death was coming for her. There was no need to deny it any longer.

She was almost ready.

A wild and desperate hope kept her bound to her failing flesh.

Anakin.

It had been ten long years since she had seen him, held him close, heard him call out for her. He had never been hers to keep, but she dared to hope that he would be hers to hold one last time. Such foolish hopes, she reminded herself. Hardly aware of the passage of time, she dozed and dreamed and remembered. Finally, she woke yet again.

Disoriented, she thought she was imaging the hands tugging at her bonds.

“Mom?” Another dream, she thought.

Then she sagged down into a tender embrace and looked up. A beloved face, strangely familiar and odd at the same time.

“Ani?” She swallowed hard. If this was delusion, then she wanted to die in this very moment while he was back with her. “Ani? Is it you?”

He murmured something and she struggled to make sense of it. Her pain was receding now, ebbing away from her swiftly, leaving behind only a warm euphoria. It was all right now; she was safe.

Nothing could hurt her anymore. Ani was with her.

“My son,” she whispered. “My grown-up son. I knew you’d come back to me.”

She looked into his eyes and saw his agony. “I’m so proud of you, Ani.” There was not much time left to tell him what she felt. Oh gods, it was going too quickly now! “…so proud. I’ve missed you so much.”

His throat worked convulsively. She wanted to tell him that it was all right, that she was ready to go. She had seen him and her work was done. “Now I am complete…”

He had made her complete the moment he had arrived in her life. Now she would pass out of this existence, sheltered in the warm protection of his arms. Anakin protested, as she knew he would. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know that it’s all right.

“I love…” Her strength failed her at last.

She could look down and see him cradling the poor body that had once been hers. He had never been hers to keep. This time, she was the one who must move on…

It was beautiful and warm and loving. She left behind the burdens and cares of the living. Anakin was there, but one day they would be reunited. She would wait. Time no longer had any meaning. There was only Anakin. Her son…

Hers to keep only in her heart.



 

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Registered: Nov '04
7266_Jedi Temple
Date Posted: 7/5 1:06pm Subject: RE: 2008 Before Excerpt Thread - Date Edited: 7/15 6:01pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Before_Awards_Sock
Best Original Character, Male

Flamini Lang in Spindrift by JediNemesis


The star was Sel’haa on the oldest charts, but some more romantic soul on a more recent mapping ship had seen to it that the solitary planet in its long leisurely orbit was not merely Sel’haa I but Spindrift. It was ninety percent ocean, only the tops of the tallest mountains showing above the water, and the fat sun set the wavelets glittering like flame.

Flamini Lang sat on a beach somewhere in the southern hemisphere, seventeen and Jedi and guilty at heart, and rested his head on his arms. He had welcomed the news that they were going to Spindrift. That was as it should have been.

And it was, partly, for the right reason: because it was an honour beyond price to represent the Republic, the Jedi and humanity to an alien race. The reason uppermost in his mind, though, had been because it would be a welcome respite from the endless prying eyes of the Order and the world, and a chance to be alone with his feelings and the reason for them.

The awe he had felt for Spindrift and the lithe, restless, intellectual race it harboured was a rational one; an awe born out of a knowledge of the wideness of the galaxy, and of the infinite potential of nature to nurse wonders.

It was an awe of the scientific senses and thinking brain, and receded into dimness behind the wrenching immediacy of the feeling that caught at his heart and set it fluttering birdlike in its cage of bones.

He had been sitting staring blindly into the sunset for what could have been hours when Iri and Charlaithe came down the beach from the ship to remind him that they would be going back underwater in four hours, and to make the most of the break for air.

Charlaithe went off in search of Mairìs after exchanging a few words of friendly small talk with Flamini. Iri sat down beside him, and Flamini said politely “Hello, Master.”

“Guilty about something?” Iri said cheerfully. “You only ever call me ‘Master’ when you’re feeling guilty. Don’t worry,” she raised her hands, “I won’t pry if you aren‘t talking.”

Flamini had to smile. It was a running joke that Iri did the talking for both of them, the Order’s most irrepressible Knight turned into its least masterly Master. But she was an exacting teacher and a formidable talent, and Flamini had learned over the years that beneath the fluff was steel.

Now, Iri scraped a wayward rat-tail of hair back behind her ear, and asked with an oddly maternal anxiety “Green is still your favourite colour, isn’t it? Or have I gone senile at last?”

Flamini lifted his head off his arms. “I like green.”

“Good,” Iri said cheerfully. “I found this down by the ship. Hold out your hand.”

Feeling like a child asking for sweets - and it was a curiously comforting feeling, a brief hark back to a time when life seemed, in retrospect, to have been a great deal simpler - Flamini did as his Master told him, and held out his hand.

She dropped into his palm a sea-worn piece of green glass, wet from the surf and warm, that caught the light and glittered. Then, without as much as another word, she stood up, patted her apprentice companionably on the shoulder and walked off down the beach towards the ship.



Kale Kenobi in Not Myself by bek

A/N: Kale and his sister-in-law have a talk regarding Obi-Wan after the events that took place at the spaceport.


Jes sat silently, staring out the window of the transport taking them to her childhood home. Shifting her gaze to the seat across from her, she saw Kale staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused as if his thoughts were far away. She could see his anger at the situation simmering just beneath the surface. She knew he was worried about his son, and she knew he had questions about what had happened at the space port. Obi-Wan had reacted on instinct, years of training kicking in, only it wasn't the lessons that Kale had taught him. Nayt and Traest had taught the boy well how to gain the upper hand in any given situation. It had been ingrained in the teen to respond to a threat with quick and precise movements in order to restrain or eliminate said threat. The thing that scared her the most was that Obi-Wan would have killed that guard had she not acted. To Jes's knowledge her nephew had only ever taken one life, and that one single act has haunted the young man ever since. However, the target of the perpetrator had never before been Obi-Wan's father. She knew that that had made all the difference in determining which path he would have taken; in the youth’s mind, there was no question or doubt of what needed to be done.

She startled at the audible harsh sigh Kale released, the serenity he was fighting so hard to hang on to skittering away from him. “What happened back there, Jes?”

“He acted on instinct, Kale…plain and simple.”

“Simple,” he whispered. He swiped a hand over his face in an attempt to remove the frustration he could feel building. Lowering his hand, he looked at her incredulously. “What did you see so simple about a possible murder?”

Jes’ eyes narrowed in dismay. “He was protecting you!”

“I was in no danger!” he snapped back. Hands resting in his lap, he turned to look out the window. “You didn’t seem too upset by his actions.”

“He did nothing that surprised me. He did what came natural to him.”

Kale’s gaze hardened. “At what cost to himself? You knew, Jes. I told you what could happen if he were to give into his anger or hate.” Gesturing toward the back window in the direction they had come, he continued, “If Obi-Wan had killed that unarmed guard, he would have done it in cold blood. He was angry with the situation.”

Jes sat forward while turning more toward her friend. “He was angry with you because you did nothing to help save yourself. Don’t you get it? What do you think is going to happen to him if something happens to you? He’s beginning to trust you, Kale. It may not seem like it, but he is. He’s becoming dependent on you to be there; every time he tries to push you away and you remain constant, he comes that much closer to dissolving the wall he has built to protect himself from being hurt again.”

Kale took a moment to digest her words before speaking. He wasn’t upset so much as he was frightened. Other than the force push he had used against Qui-Gon on Lladnar, Obi-Wan had yet to display any of the abilities he had discovered on his own, that is, until today. Until today, the young man had kept his abilities and the knowledge of them to himself. Kale didn’t need a midi-chlorian count to tell him how strong Obi-Wan was in the force, like Qui-Gon and Yoda, he could feel it.

“I’m scared, Jes," he reluctantly admitted.

The younger woman looked at her brother-in-law with compassion, silently urging him to continue.

“The council has forbidden all training other than meditation. How am I supposed to re-educate my son if my hands are tied? How do I teach him that the instruction he learned at his uncle’s knee is unacceptable? Words only go so far without action to back them up.”

When the speeder slowed, Jes looked out the window to see that they had arrived at their destination. Reaching over, she placed a hand over his. “Unfortunately we don’t have time to continue this discussion. But my personal advice would be to go against the council and be the father he needs regardless of their restrictions. Teach him how to live an honest and moral life.”



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