Before - Legends Qui-Gon Jinn Challenge Thread - Note on first post

Hmmmmm, such an inviting challenge, too. I know what I'll be thinking about at work today.

 

<echoes ardavenport> I agree. Such an interesting ... image. I'm bitten by a thousand half-grown bunnies. <is sad.>

Why am I haunted by the image of a baby Qui-Gon waddling around his sleep-quarters, more than half naked?

[Maybe becasue I spend half my waking hours with babies.]

 

DarthIshtar, that was a very good post on Qui-Gon. I would be hard pressed to not smack that woman. Good grief... she woke him just to state the obvious and see if she could help? Let the poor man sleep! That's what she should have done.

I'm trying to catch up on the past challenges and I'm enjoying them! You people are great writers!

 

Thanks, Terje. Noela is actually my favorite OC and based on a very wonderful person, but she does have the tendency to be very well-meaning with occasionally interesting results! That's why me and Noelie are writing so much about her, but this is her first adventure in the Qui-Gon Challenge thread and she's very happy that people find the situation so amusing.

 

Here goes nothing...

Oblivion

It was morning. And it was silent.

When morning arrived at an apartment, one would expect there to be some sort of sound resonating through it as preparing for the day was not a quiet task. Walking about the rooms, showering, fixing a morning meal, all of these noises were to be expected when a home is occupied.

Instead, there was silence.

It certainly wasn?t too early to be awake. It was, in fact, considerably later in the morning for the lone resident of this dwelling to just be waking then was routine.

Qui-Gon lay in his bed, eyes closed, body curled in exactly the position he woke in. He willed himself to go back to sleep but to no avail. He wasn?t tired, really, though his body would beg to differ. The night and into early morning had been spent walking around his apartment in uncharted loops until every cell in his body screamed for rest. Now, after an insufficient night of sleep, his mind told him that it was time to wake, time to get breakfast going and drag Xanatos from bed?

The man squeezed his already tightly lidded eyes even tighter. A childhood proverb surfaced, one cherished by children who hid fearfully under the covers while the monsters residing under their beds rose to attack.

I can?t see you, you can?t see me.

If he didn?t open his eyes, everything would go back to the way it had been. Xanatos would be in his room, sleeping soundly and taking advantage of his Master?s sudden desire to sleep late. Qui-Gon would wake hours later to find that it had all been a dream, be it a horribly vivid one. But opening his eyes would be acknowledging that this was his life now. There would be no turning back.

It was a foolish thought. No amount of sleep could change what had happened. Nothing would bring back what had been lost.

But that didn?t matter because for now, sleep was all he had.

I can?t see you, you can?t see me

Qui-Gon?s thoughts slipped away as he sunk slowly back into his oblivion.

 

This was great. I loved the raw emotions of him trying desperately to ignore what had happened and not being able to do so. The use of the bed as a way to keep reality from intruding was quite nice.

Wonderful!

 

That was lovely. I think you captured how Qui-Gon felt after Xanatos' betrayal very well.

 

I can?t see you, you can?t see me.

What a wonderful way of putting it. Poor Qui-Gon not wanting to wake up to the rest of his life after Xanatos fell. Nicely done!

 

If he didn?t open his eyes, everything would go back to the way it had been. Xanatos would be in his room, sleeping soundly and taking advantage of his Master?s sudden desire to sleep late. Qui-Gon would wake hours later to find that it had all been a dream, be it a horribly vivid one. But opening his eyes would be acknowledging that this was his life now. There would be no turning back.

It was a foolish thought. No amount of sleep could change what had happened. Nothing would bring back what had been lost.



Awwww that was so heart-breaking! Well done! Poor Qui-Gon, I could just feel the man's misery. He needs a hug methinks...

 

Nameless

LuvEwan

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

--

It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. ~Brian W. Aldiss

--

The moon?s arrival had done nothing for the heat. The air was quicker, but empty, so that when he breathed deeply he felt stifled, his lungs still waiting for relief. He envied the insects their mad energy, for they could cut a half-drunk path with all the vigor he himself could not locate. He listened to their humming; the sound so much greater than their tiny, liquid bodies, and wondered if they were poison. But as the moments wilted, and they did not seek his flesh, he slowly released his interest in them.

His eyes shifted to the sky, its fullness muted by the transparent, cream-colored linen of the sleep tent. The flaps occasionally rustled in the raw wind, allowing the strong scent of dirt and sand to hasten inside. However unsavory the aroma, Qui-Gon preferred it to the mixture of perspiration and greasy medical lotion that was slowly prevailing in the cramped, makeshift quarters. He watched the darkness, the stars far-flung from one another, and felt that he must be like an insect to the sky, small and nameless and very distant.

Sometimes it seemed that was what he was, a speck in foreign planes, voice and mind easily swallowed. Qui-Gon wanted to think that it was the Force that compacted him, pushed in on him in every direction until he was humbly in a corner, but he could not be sure. As he lived more days, he thought often of his youth, when he was swelled by the light of the future and its possibilities. Now he thought it funny that as he grew, and his experiences increased, he was shrinking, close to disappearing.

He had always been connected to the Force, able to draw from its unending power and bolster himself with it. He knew that the rhythm and cadence he possessed within the Force was unique; whether or not his peers agreed with his methods, he had never been challenged on the intensity of his attunement. But perhaps that had robbed him of something, made him too comfortable, nestled in the warm groove of his reputation, like a creature that refuses to leave its sturdy nest.

Qui-Gon softly turned from his side onto his back, and wiped a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead. It was the oppressive, blistering warmth, it was this place that was loosening his thoughts and miring him in cognizance. During this mission, his mind had wandered to questions he did not want to ask himself, topics customarily banished from his internal dialogue. He felt old and squeezed out, like a bug under the sun with its wings shriveling and belly hollow.

It didn?t help that the constant heat had put him at odds with his Padawan. He and Obi-Wan had both lost some length to their fuses, which were sparked by the temperature and desolation. They had spent the day overseeing talks on Jalkj. There were so many representatives from the different cities and smaller villages compounded into one area of sparse architecture that the entire event was staged outdoors. The Jalkj natives, a reptilian race with maroon, scaled skin who favored communing with nature, were immune to the extremely arid weather. As the lone two humans, the Jedi suffered the heat in silence, determined to continue with their tasks. By the end of the proceedings, Qui-Gon had been too weary and with too much of a headache to explain their discomfort and accepted the meager offering of a tent. Wordlessly the two Jedi had assembled their shelter, largely due to the fact that anything one of them said had bristled the other for most of the day. Obi-Wan remained dutiful to his Master, in that he did what he was told without argument. Indeed, his apprentice was deeply obedient in the face of their antagonism: he retired when the sun had scarcely sunk below the horizon, as if he sensed his Master?s desire for solitude and silence.

Qui-Gon looked at him from across the tent, frowni

 

Oblivion: Oh, lovely. Poor Qui-Gon. Wanting to sink away into nothing. Marvelous response.

Nameless: Need I say that this one was perfect? I could practically feel the searing heat. Beautiful, LE.

 

This was just wonderful. I could feel the heat and the beating lonliness of Qui-Gon's thoughts. It seems that the Force was warning him that death was quickly approaching and that he might not be there to see Obi-Wan's 26th birthday. The way you put that he was almost 25, very subtle, and Qui-Gon's anguish was so very heart-wrenching.

Glorious.

 

I agree, simply glorious! Having grown up in the South, in the HEAT, this was really vivid! I could feel the oppressive heat again (okay, that might be because I just came in from my run ) but your use of language was, as always, powerful.

It didn?t help that the constant heat had put him at odds with his Padawan. He and Obi-Wan had both lost some length to their fuses, which were sparked by the temperature and desolation. They had spent the day overseeing talks on Jalkj. There were so many representatives from the different cities and smaller villages compounded into one area of sparse architecture that the entire event was staged outdoors. The Jalkj natives, a reptilian race with maroon, scaled skin who favored communing with nature, were immune to the extremely arid weather. As the lone two humans, the Jedi suffered the heat in silence, determined to continue with their tasks. By the end of the proceedings, Qui-Gon had been too weary and with too much of a headache to explain their discomfort and accepted the meager offering of a tent. Wordlessly the two Jedi had assembled their shelter, largely due to the fact that anything one of them said had bristled the other for most of the day. Obi-Wan remained dutiful to his Master, in that he did what he was told without argument. Indeed, his apprentice was deeply obedient in the face of their antagonism: he retired when the sun had scarcely sunk below the horizon, as if he sensed his Master?s desire for solitude and silence.

Wonderful!

 

LE--Eternity

Very poignant. To die in the presence of your dearest friend is a good death.

Micki-nikki--Oblivion

Oh, but loss will do that to a person. You captured that aspect of grief perfectly.

LE--Nameless

Oh, poor Qui-Gon! He needs a good night or two of sleep in a cool room. Exhaustion can do a number on a body's emotions.

So he swears like a Hutt?

He's giving the galaxy a priceless gift. ::mumbles about Jedi non-attachment that leaves its members feeling so bereft and lonely after a lifetime of service::

 

Oooooooh, this is so very thick with lovely decriptions that I don't know where to begin without quoting the whole thing.

And speaking as someone who lives in a warm climate, the descriptions of the heat really captures the mood.

 

That was really good LuvEwan. To echo everyone else, your description of the environment was very intense

 

micky-nikki - Lovely little piece...

The man squeezed his already tightly lidded eyes even tighter. A childhood proverb surfaced, one cherished by children who hid fearfully under the covers while the monsters residing under their beds rose to attack.

I can?t see you, you can?t see me.

Poor Qui - so sad...great job.

LuvEwan - oh just gorgeous and funny and sad. I loved the dialogue...wonderful

 

Awakening


She was looking at him.

Really, she found that she could do very little else. Was it a pleasure? In a way. What an inadequate word. Did one really describe watching one's son sleep by such a simple word - pleasure - when he had returned after ...she tried to count ...decades?

The last time she had watched him sleep, he had been an infant. With brown chestnut curls framing his face. Large eyes shielded by thick lashes, and he had been curled up. Towards her. One small leg had been tucked in, while another had been pressing into her stomach. He had been completely lost to the world outside. Secure. Safe.

Now too, he slept peacefully. His chestnut curls had grown into long tresses that flowed from forehead to shoulder - the hair-tie had been unfastened - and swept a little untidily over the pillow. One hand was resting on his chest. The other was bent underneath his head, offering support, despite the head rest. But the hair was beginning to show signs of turning grey soon. And the skin around his eyes was crinkled. As though he had worked long, hard hours. His breathing was deep, even. And when he slept, there was absolutely no movement - it was as though he were dead.

She drew a quick breath and shook her head, trying to distract herself by looking out of the window. No. No. She would not think this. Her son would live long, live after her death. May the Goddess will it so. If the ancient deities of Naboo had any compassion for their own, they would see to it that neither Lenora nor her son suffered such a cruel fate.

She turned back to him, anxious to know that she hadn't awakened him. It was easier watching him like this, wondering when that little scar on his cheek had appeared. How many wars had he seen? How many enemies had he made? How many beings longed to see him dead; how many cheered when they learnt that he had escaped some mission, unscathed? How that straight nose had gotten so irretrievably broken (she winced almost despite herself)... she longed to touch his hair, his face. Run her fingers over the eyebrows - but she was afraid.

He was a Jedi. He was above such common folk as her. Would his skin feel the same as it had felt, all those years ago?

Her fingers twitched despite themselves. Slowly, slowly...she placed a hand on the arm that rested on his chest and drew it back at once, as though shot. She watched him carefully, to see if his eyelids betrayed some awareness. He was still asleep.

She leaned towards him a little, lips slightly parted. She placed a hand on his forehead. Emboldened by the fact that he still did not awake, she touched a finger to his chestnut locks, feeling a prickle at the back of her eyes. Soft. A little tangled, but still soft. Soft like Amri-Lon's, but the colour was hers - had been hers, before age turned it white.

It had been so long...

She caught the slight flicker of his eyelids a moment too late. Horrified, she jerked her hand away.

Almost.

His hand had caught hers - strong, but not too strong.

She raised her eyes almost fearfully, wondering what she might see in them.

He was looking at her. The eyes as brightly blue as she had known them. Now, there was something else in them, other than the innocence she remembered. His eyes looked ... as though they knew. Knew a great many things men ought not to know.

They were a shade brighter than one's eyes usually looked too. The skin around them crinkled more than ever. There was a smile on his lips.

"I..." she fumbled for words. ?I am sorry."

Silence.

"Why should you be?" he asked gently.

She stared back at him, unable to think of anything to say. Drank in the sight of him - she had been denied this for so many years - she had not known if she would ever see him again ... she had known that she would not see him again.

Her lips trembled. "Qui-Gon," she murmured.

He paused, still holding her hand, looking at her face. He looked thoughtful - there was a gleam in his eyes, as though he were wondering, sifting through somethin

 

That was wonderful. I loved the way she was so hesitant with her son, not wanting to wake him but so desperate to touch him and make a connection that had been severed so long ago. Loved the image of him as an infant and then as an old man and yet he was still her son.

Loved, too, that he called her Mama and they ended up hugging. She really needed that.

Great job as always.

 

I was so touched by this story...

"Mama...?" he said slowly, as though twisting his tongue to form an unusual word. To him, it probably was. His grip on her fingers tightened.

You conjure up such divine images...Just beautiful P_A.

----

Title: Out of Bed
Author: Kestrel_Kenobi
Timeframe: Qui is about six.
Characters: Qui-Gon, OC.
A/N: Written for the Qui-Gon ?bed challenge?. Thank as always to Nienna - the best beta I could ask for!


?Morning is a wonderful blessing, either sunny or stormy. It stands for hope ... giving us another start of what we call Life.? Anon.


?Qui-Gon?? Lola Rivenel pulled back the covers to find nothing. A newer crèche assistant would have been in shock. Lola however and been here several times before.

Sighing she replaced the covers on Qui-Gon?s messy bed and made her way to the Temple gardens.

****

Qui-Gon lay on his stomach by the Temple Lake, his eyes half closed and his fingers playing with the water. It was still dark and he loved this time of the day when the entire world was asleep and he could be on his own. It was so peaceful. Qui-Gon opened his eyes fully to watch all the colors of the Force move over the lake...blues and purples danced over the water. Everything was so alive...so full of the Force.

Qui-Gon was constantly surprised that not all the Jedi could see the colors as he did. Or feel the eternal pulse of the Force in every living thing. The grass he lay on, the water dripping from his fingers, the air he breathed in all hummed with it. He couldn?t bear to lie in his bed when he had all this to play with. The Living Force called to him and he wrapped himself in it like a blanket.

A hand touched his shoulder and he slowly turned.

?Qui-Gon,? Lola spoke quietly and smiled at the young boy in spite of herself. She could never stay angry with him for long.

Qui-Gon smiled back and crawled into her outstretched arms and together they sat and watched as the world slowly awoke.

****

Sometime later Lola carried a sleeping Qui-Gon back to his bed. His eyes were tightly closed now and he wore a small smile of satisfaction on his young face. Lola laid him carefully down and ran a hand over his soft brown hair. Pulling the covers over him she smiled before turning away to check on the other younglings. She knew they weren?t supposed to have favorites but she couldn?t help but have a special place in her heart for Qui-Gon.

He was so easy to love.

 

Qui-Gon is so darn cute. The poor creche assistant, though. At least she knows where to find the little scamp.

Great job.

 

Fanfiction Awards are coming up!


I would just like to remind people that all the stories posted between December 1, 2005 through May 31, 2006 in this thread are eligible to be nominated for the fanfic Awards.

If the story takes place during The Saga, then it can be nominated for the Saga awards. If it takes place before TPM, it can be nominated for the Before awards.

Also, it doesn't have to be nominated just for the challenges - it can be nominated for any of the awards it fits. So if it's got a lot of action in it, it could be nommed for action.

Just keep that in mind when it comes time to nom stories.

Thanks.

 

Princess_Arulmozhi: Something filled her, within. "Yes," she smiled. Her unease had vanished. Wellbeing suffused her. She wondered at this, before realizing something with a start. He was doing it. She could almost see him send ...something to her. Feel him touch her mind.

Aaaaaah, that's a wonderfully subtle way of describing Qui-Gon using the Force. And what a way for Qui-Gon to wake up. It's so hard to picture him saying 'Mama', because it's such a foreign word for him, but their embrace is just wonderful.

Kestrel_Kenobi: Qui-Gon is so easy to love! Lola is so understanding to know just where he's gotten to in the early morning. Very nic.

 

What amazing and diverse responses to an intriguing challenge! Bravo everyone!

 

Absolutely gorgeous! Thank you so much for letting me know this was here, AND for your wonderful handling of these characters (to whom I have become quite attached!).

"Mama...?" he said slowly, as though twisting his tongue to form an unusual word. To him, it probably was. His grip on her fingers tightened.

Inside her, something that had been filling her overflowed. She lunged forward, reaching for him blindly, throwing all reserve to the winds.

She barely felt him let go of her hands and clasp her to himself, his arms tightening around her shoulders.

"My son," she breathed, and began to cry.

I'm crying with her! Beautiful!