Day 27… and going crazy.

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author, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, editor, insanity, muse, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, small rants

It’s Day 27 of Nanowrimo. There are three days left, and I have about 17k to go. Enter the Random Essay of Desperation.

Wish me luck!!!

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I Called Him “Wormtongue”

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brian jacques, completed stories, completely random posts, contrast, j.r.r. tolkein, lord of the rings, madeleine l'engle, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, redwall, short stories, star wars, story dynamics

Hello, my beloved readers! Yes, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. Yes, I am still alive, believe it or not.

And today, I offer you a short–very short–story, as a brief break from my Nanowrimo project.

This story has a backstory, and that backstory was how I was thinking how some characters can pass by other ones’ names, or nicknames, even if they’re not from the same fandom. For instance, you could call Charles Wallace Murry “the Chosen One”, or you could call Obi-Wan Kenobi “Glorfindel” (“golden-haired” in Quenya. 🙂 ) You could call Martin the Warrior “the Seeker,” for goodness’ sake! You could even call Dooku “Sauruman”, if you wanted to. ;-P

That is what this story is about–name crossovers. Enjoy!

I have been called many things in my life. Obi-Wan Joseph Kenobi. Raelynn Ae’enn Narshala. Guardian angel. Mercy. Grace. The Negotiator. Brother.

Then there are the titles of which I am not so proud. The Angel of Death. That’s what they called me after the disaster of Nokama. Unobservant.

Traitor.

I don’t want to argue over whether people called me this for a reason. According to the strict definition, I am not a traitor. I never swore fealty to the Empire. I am–was–loyal to the Republic I promised to serve. I am not a traitor. I have merely been called that.

Palpatine–Sidious–was the real traitor. He betrayed us all. But maybe he was not a traitor–his allegiance always was to himself. It always comes down to points of view–and mine… it keeps on shifting, now. Making excuses for people whom I should not excuse.

Whoever said that the mind is a good servant but a cruel mistress was more right than he will ever know.

Palpatine stole my brother’s heart. I thought it was safe in my keeping, but he had already given it to someone else. He gave his heart to an angel, and it was stolen by a demon. Palpatine spent long years in poisoning my brother’s ears, changing his heart, making him cold, cruel, dark. I can see that now. They say, after all, that hindsight is always twenty/twenty.

Palpatine made me kill my brother. I am a murderer. It was me that killed Anakin Skywalker and allowed Darth Vader to take his place. I strangled the very thing I meant to nurture. I killed the innocent sprout-ling and nurtured the tares.

And in the end, I ran. I ran like a coward. He might have turned–he might have broken my heart–the heart I never really gave away until I met him–but I still loved him. Attachment is a curious thing. It can cosset and warm you, or it can betray you.

I ran. I ran from Palpatine, and from Vader. But before I ran, there was one confrontation with the man who destroyed my brother. It was not of the body, but of the spirit. He put a curse on me, but I put a name on him.

He called me “accursed.”

I called him “Wormtongue.”

On the Unknown, Conan Doyle, and Nanowrimo

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author, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, editor, entering the unknown, history of crime, insanity, long rants, mystery, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, politics, rambling musings, sarcasm, sir arthur conan doyle, small rants, story dynamics, toxins

Hello, everyone! As a relief from my foray into criminal minds and the detectives who try to stay one step ahead (or rather, as a result of tons of research for my Nano project, aka scripts,) I have discovered a new potential career for an aspiring writer: ghostwriting.

Like most people, I had no idea of the existence of ghostwriters for most of my life. I only found out about this mere minutes ago, while on a Wikipedia search to find out all I could about toxins, of all things, through thence to (I think) medicine and crime, and finally to ghostwriting. But I digress. Perhaps I should first describe what it is that a ghostwriter does.

Basically, a ghostwriter is an unknown, a non-entity, yet a very real force in the world, because a ghostwriter is paid to write novels, memoirs, and whatnot that will be attributed to other people. This is a great way to gain practice in writing, because it’s essentially riding to the top on the weight (or should it be buoyancy?) of the name of someone famous–especially if you’re in politics. I mean, after all, no offense to the people who run our country, but I doubt if many of them can really stick a pen. Because they say the most idiotic things at times. No one can argue with that–can they?

And it pays, until you can get published under your own name, while meanwhile you’re learning from the greats–or not-so-greats, as the case may be. 😉

Who says that you need vanity? That can wait until you’ve paid the bills. Right?

Oh, and incidentally–sadly, there is no such thing as Devil’s Foot Root. Sorry to dash all your hopes and dreams, fellow Conan Doyle junkies, but it’s true. However… *brightens up* I’ve talked to a (former) qualified nurse and she says there are drugs that have those effects! Happy day!

Maybe you’d like to know about my recent browser history… it’s also very random and very telling. There are a few open windows for BBC’s Sherlock, which I have not seen (remind me to rave later about how the BBC does just about everything so much better than Hollywood!) but still think is possibly (okay, probably) awesome (*cough cough* Iris’s a Sherlock junkie *cough cough*). But on recent history, there is:

1. A search for Jonathan Wild (The Valley of Fear)
2. A search for Jean-Baptiste Greuze (also The Valley of Fear)
3. Adam Worth (got lead there by Jonathan Wild)
4. Old Basil Rathbone movies (Stop me before I swoon over his awesomeness! Though they don’t do Watson so well in those movies… sigh)
5. General information about toxins (Did you know that the venom of the black widow spider is NOT the most toxic substance in the world? It isn’t even the most dangerous spider venom. Want to know what they really are? Brown recluse spider venom, and botulism {aka botulinum toxin, commercially known as… DUH DUH DUH! Botox. Yeah, we inject ourselves with the most deadly substance in the world. Aren’t we all such idiots. But it’s an ongoing trend… people used to use arsenic to make their skin clear, and put belladonna in their eyedrops. Food for thought… or maybe poison… teehee)
6. A search for the toxins of the poison dart frog, which is famously used to poison (what else?!) arrows. (A Study in Scarlet, incidentally they do still call these toxins alkaloids! The most dangerous group of toxins is batrachotoxins.)
7. A search to find out if they are really water soluble. (They are–or rather, can be.)
8. A search for radix pedis diaboli (aka devil’s foot root, The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot.)
9. A search for toxins (all psychoactive drugs are toxic if you take enough of them!) which display similar effects.
10. Umm… completely unrelated… Song lyrics.

I am so crazy… it’s not even funny. Or maybe it is. Happy Nanoing to all you fellow insanities and insomniacs out there, and have a nice November to all the rest of you, who are actually reasonably sane. I think I may have just found my new career (as having more actual knowledge of political theory and world history than your average person, as well as the possible skills to “hack it.”) I am so behind in my Nano project it’s not even funny. And… I’m rambling.

Oh, and by the way…

GOOD NIGHT. X-P

The Breath

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author, baroness emma orczy, bbc merlin, brave, brian jacques, c.s. forester, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, contrast, disney, hornblower, insanity, j.r.r. tolkein, long rants, lord of the rings, madeleine l'engle, merida, rambling musings, redwall, small rants, star wars, story dynamics, the scarlet pimpernel

Once again, my readers, I am back, and this time bringing to you a well-known plot device–so well-known, perhaps, that maybe you don’t even think of it like this. Maybe you don’t even know it, but I’ll bet you’ve probably been using it, unconsciously, all through your writing life.

I’m talking about the phenomenon known as breathe. Or, more simply, take a breath and keep on living.

But this is actually two things, and probably you’ve been using them both. The first one is the actual deep breath before the plunge.

The second is still more innocuous. I don’t know if it even has a name, properly, so I’m going to call it The Breath.

The Breath has only two requirements, and they are as follows:

1. There must be a look shared between two characters; as in they must meet each other’s eyes. (Gasp!) Even though this is a social no-no.
2. Is the redeeming feature. This simple look, only a few milliseconds long, must also convey some meaning.

That’s it. But, if you think about it, The Breath is meaningful and an important element in literature. It says the things that characters never otherwise say. It bears meaning.

It’s like paisley. It started out sharing a name with a little town in Scotland, and now it’s a recurrently popular pattern.

Popular and pretty.

Now, for the examples. It’s like when Merlin and Arthur exchange a glance, and Arthur leaps out and attacks the bandits. Or when Anakin and Obi-Wan exchange a glance–at exactly the same moment—before Anakin’s little line “What will happen to me now?” Sheesh, even Obi-Wan’s look at the camera right after Qui-Gon’s line “I will train him” could be counted–even though, technically, this is a look at the audience and not at another character. Or Keyla looking at Dwurp and knowing he’s been betrayed. Or you could see Frodo and Sam glance at each other just before Frodo says, “I’m glad you are here with me, Sam. Here at the end of all things.” Or it could be the look when Meg Murry and her brother Charles Wallace Murry share after he’s been ill, or the one between Meg and Calvin O’Keefe when they know they don’t exactly have to kythe, just be in communion with each other. Or maybe it’s Horatio Hornblower and Bunting looking at each other and by that, Hornblower knows that the heretofore troublemaker won’t be instigating a mutiny–anyway, not this time. Or Merida and Elinor smiling at each other after Merida turned aside a potential disaster.

See? Prevalent.

Like paisley.

Failed Novel

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author, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, insanity, kysherin, long rants, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, rambling musings, small rants, stories in progress

Okay, so I have a funny and somewhat awkward and embarrassing story to share. I started out on Nanowrimo all excited and everything, only to discover that my novel (the one I had been continuing for Nanowrimo) had paused at an especially awkward point that completely killed my muse on that point. (This is only a figure of speech… unfortunately Kysherin is still alive and kicking… :’-( ) So I’ve been writing ahead (a euphemism among writers for skipping scenes on your novel, planning on coming back and adding them in during the editing stages; yes, this is perfectly fine, as long as you leave some sort of marker to note that you know what you’re doing, and have to add them in.) on that novel, and changed out my Nano project, a screenplay for a sort of television show that my good friend Iris and I plan on filming at some point in the future. You can find a synopsis and sample from my current project here, and here is my synopsis from the original project:

Angels’ Reflections: All Roads Lead Here

(Author’s note: This is the continuation of a novel which I started in the April summer camp, and continued in July. I plan on completing it this November. Wish me luck!)

As the threads of fate pull the friends’ roads closer, each action further solidifies one reality: There is no going back. While Aliana struggles to comprehend and learn to use her new powers in conjunction with her “kantavali’yana”, her “Destiny Sharer,” Jay, Jay is still trying to cope with his past. Klis’s journey of self-discovery takes a frightening and possibly dangerous turn as she discovers that she has fallen in love with the young Chiavan warrior, Starlun. Maya’s emotional scars, despite Aliana and Jay’s attempts to heal them, are growing steadily worse. And if Jay and Aliana don’t learn how to work together in harmony soon, they could easily unleash chaos on the land of Elayatar, plunging it into a second darkness far more menacing than the first.

Now, all the roads are leading them into a confrontation with the dark forces that threaten their world. And if they fail, their whole world is at stake.

Ionite: The Theoretic Science

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completely random posts, confusing nonsense, dave wolverton, insanity, jedi apprentice, jude watson, long rants, madeleine l'engle, physics, postulation, rambling musings, science, small rants, star wars, time quintet

Those of you who know the Star Wars expanded universe before The Phantom Menace–and those who grew up before The Clone Wars was in vogue–may remember a young reader offering by Dave Wolverton and Jude Watson, the series known as Jedi Apprentice. And those of you who know it very well may remember that Dave Wolverton wrote the first book and then passed the torch on, to Ms. Watson, who continued to delight young readers with the exploits of the most famous Jedi team of the pre-Prequel era. In the second book of the series, The Dark Rival, however, there was a mention of a curious metal ore. It “carried an electric pulse, neither positive nor negative, but neutral, with the effect that timers and equipment went dead.” This same ore was used, later in the same book, by a pre-teenaged Obi-Wan Kenobi, just weeks short of thirteen, to stop the countdown of a time bomb that would have killed both him and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. (I think we should give Obi-Wan credit for what he is. Make room, Charles Wallace and Ender. We have another, heretofore unacknowledged, child genius on our hands. Seriously, does anyone want to hazard a guess as to that boy’s IQ?! It’s probably higher than mine, and I’m in the gifted group! Oh right– he’s more than likely to have a higher IQ than me. He’s a boy and I’m a girl, and those tests, for some sexist reason, which I acknowledge and promptly ignore with the cheerfulness born of humility rather than indifference, favor men. Wow, that sentence just rang with hubris, didn’t it? But I still don’t care that IQ tests are sexist. What diff does it make in everyday life?!)

Yes, ionite. The same ionite that has been so disparaged in scientific circles since. The same ionite that has been called “a real-life impossibility” and “an immature plot device.”

Wait just a minute, though. Ionite just might exist–only on slightly different terms than described. When we go to theory, of course we have to use different terminology. It stands to reason.

And instead of a neutral electric pulse, which is difficult to comprehend since all known materials which, when neutral, carry no electricity whatsoever (since all known electric charges are either positive or negative,) it is simply easier to think of an anti-electromagnetic forces– which would cancel out the effects of an electromagnetic force equal to itself. Thus, in close proximity to ionite, the electromagnetic force is negated and can not operate, unless it is stronger than the anti-electromagnetic force, which is why equipment shuts down and sometimes never comes back online once again.

Now, on to the effect on humans. Normally, an anti-electromagnetic field, such as the one we’ve postulated, would have the effect of making humans lethargic and slow-thinking, since nerve signals are carried along the axons by minute electric pulses. Perhaps the reason why ionite seemingly has no effect on humans is because the anti-electromagnetic field does not penetrate organic matter, or because the signals are either too minute, too large, or on a different electric “frequency” to be blocked. Or perhaps Humans (and Phindians!) simply have an innate natural defense against anti-electromagnetic fields.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our little jaunt down postulation way, my readers! Have an amazing rest of your day. 🙂

Sweeter than Fiction; Battlefield of the Soul PREVIEW!!!!

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alternate universe, battlefield of the soul, completely random posts, insanity, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, previews, shifting tides series, short stories, song-related fiction

Hello! I’m back… contrary to popular opinion I have not fallen off the face of the ether… ;-P

Today, we have a special treat. A guest post from Iris, aka Irisbloom5 on Nanowrimo and Daylee15 on Wikia and lego.com!

A few weeks (?) ago, Iris, who is a consummate Taylor Swift fan, contacted me with news of a new Taylor Swift song, which, she said, “fitted The Hero’s Dream and its sequels as if written for it!” Not being a Taylor Swift connoisseur myself, I gave her my full permission to “song fic away!” And this is the awesomeness that resulted. 😀 Enjoy!

NB: This fic does contain spoilers, but if you’ve read The Hero’s Dream it won’t be spoiled for you. 😉 The only other one, I think you probably all already saw coming. 😉 If you read to the bottom, I promise, you will find a preview for the next installment in the Shifting Tides series, Battlefield of the Soul. I promise. So…

Read? Please? @_@

Sweeter Than Fiction

Hit the ground, hit the ground, hit the ground, oh oh

 Only sound, only sound that you hear is no

 You never saw it coming

 Slipped when you started running

 And now you’ve come undone and…

Siri stared at the floor, her foot tapping out a steady rhythm. A few other occupants of the stark white waiting room that she was currently stuck in glanced her way, biting back the impatient scowls the most likely wanted to show. Siri didn’t care what they thought. She’d been stuck in the sanitary hell hole for longer then she could stand. At last, Bant appeared at the door. Siri immediately sprang to her feet, ignoring the tell-tale tingle from sitting to long. “How is he?” she asked.

“Awake,” Bant answered. “He still has some healing to do though. Physically and mentally.”

“But I can see him?” Siri insisted.

“Of course.”

Siri practically ran down the halls to Obi-Wan’s room, not stopping till she was standing in the door. She sucked in a breath as quietly as she could, but he heard it anyway.

“Please, don’t say anything Siri,” he asked, not even turning his head to look at her. Siri stepped into the room and approached the bedside.

“How many were lost?” Obi-Wan asked weakly.

“Bant said…”

“I don’t care what Bant said, I want to know!”

“No more then a dozen,” Siri answered, and she winced as a pang of guilt and grief went through the Force. “Don’t blame yourself…”

“Then who should I blame?” Obi-Wan asked, growing angry. “Dooku? Sidious? It was me who failed to get everyone out in time!”

“This isn’t your fault,” Siri shot back.

 I, I, I, I

 Seen you fall, seen you crawl on your knees, eh eh

 Seen you lost in a crowd, seen your colors fade

 Wish I could make it better

 Some day you won’t remember

 This pain you thought would last forever and ever

“We gather to celebrate the lives and memories of those lost in the recent attack,” Master Windu said, his booming voice shrunk to a reverent tone. What there was of the Jedi Order present all bowed their covered heads, each remembering their own memories of the fallen knights. Siri tried to, but her eyes kept glancing over at Obi-Wan where he stood at Qui-Gon’s side. Even with his face covered in shadow, she could read him like a book. He was trying to meditate on those he knew, but each memory came with a pang of guilt. No one else seemed to notice the struggling and guilt ridden knight, but Siri did. She saw, and she felt guilt rise in her own heart. Guilt that wasn’t even sensible. She felt guilty because she was unable to save him from the pain he was going through. She couldn’t, and that hurt her almost as badly as Obi-Wan’s guilt did him. The only difference was she was better at hiding it.

Hold on, Siri thought, not sure if he’d even pick up the words. This war won’t last forever.

He glanced up, meeting her eyes. He’d heard. Whether he actually believed her was another question.

There you’ll stand, ten feet tall

I will say, I knew it all along

Your eyes wider than distance

This life is sweeter than fiction

“Have you thought about what will happen after the war?” Siri asked as Obi-Wan busied himself with packing for their latest assignment. Siri, for once, had known before him, and was already done. Not to mention she’d hurried so she talk to him before they left.

“Not really, no,” Obi-Wan answered distractedly.

“With Sidious gone,” Siri ventured, “there’d be no one standing in your way to take up…”

“No, ” Obi-Wan answered sharply, and he slammed his drawer shut. “I will never be recognized as Deriaka’s heir.”

“What is it people say about the sins of the father?” Siri pointed out, hopping down from the bed. “You don’t have to be Deriaka, and honestly I can’t think of anyone more qualified to clean up the mess the Sith will leave in their wake. You want to leave it to the bureaucrats who can’t even think for themselves?”

“I’m done talking about this, Siri.”

“Maybe your right,” Siri said slowly. “You’d look even shorter in a great big crown then you do now.” Obi-Wan glanced back at Siri, still frowning, but a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Just a shot, just a shot in the dark, oh oh

All you got, all you got are your shattered hopes

They never saw it coming

You hit the ground running

And now you’re onto something,

Qui-Gon slipped into the med room silently. Siri and Obi-Wan still noticed his entrance though, and Siri rose to leave. “No Siri,” Qui-Gon said quickly, motioning to the seat she had just vacated. “Please stay. That might help.” Siri didn’t ask help with what, but simply reclaimed her seat as asked to. Qui-Gon took the second chair.

“Obi-Wan, I want to talk with you.”

“That’s rather obvious Master, I just don’t know why.”

“Siri and Bant,” Qui-Gon began, “has brought to my attention the struggles you’ve been facing recently. We are all worried about you.” Obi-Wan began playing with the blanket on the bed, looking down to avoid eye contact with his former Master.

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Obi-Wan, who are you?”

“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, former slave to the Emperor, and jedi knight,” Obi-Wan said automatically.

“And, what else?” Qui-Gon prodded.

“The Chosen One,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’m supposed to bring balance to the Force.”

“And what does that mean?”

Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

“That’s right,” Qui-Gon said with a nod. “And neither do I, and neither does Master Yoda. I can tell you what it doesn’t mean; it doesn’t mean you are meant to save everyone.”

“Master…” Obi-Wan began, but Qui-Gon cut him off.

“No, Obi-Wan listen to me. You have been under a shadow since the attack. You blame yourself for the deaths of others for which you share no blame. Just because you are the Chosen One, and you are told to be the greatest Jedi, does not mean you can stop death. There is no power great enough for that, and if there is, it certainly wouldn’t be worth the cost.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan said his eyes wide, “I did not… I never meant…. Master, i don’t claim to have that power.”

“Then do not blame yourself as if you do,” Qui-Gon snapped, and he rose, stepping closer to Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer, quieter. “I let my frustration get the best of me. Obi-Wan, you have so much potential, and you have done many things that would be beyond a normal Jedi, yet you continue to push yourself harder and harder. If you continue this, you will break. You tread close to such a fate even now.”

Without another word, Qui-Gon left. Obi-Wan glanced down again.

“He’s right,” Obi-Wan whispered, just barely loud enough for Siri to hear. “He’s right about me, about everything.”

“I know,” Siri said softly, leaning forward to take his hand. “I know.”

I, I, I say

What a sight, what a sight when the light came on

Proved me right, proved me right when you proved them wrong

And in this perfect weather

It’s like we don’t remember

The rain we thought would last forever and ever

Blue clashing on red. Once again Dooku had found them, and once again they found themselves pitted against him. But this time was different.

“I see you are letting your true colors show at last,” Dooku said to Obi-Wan. “I can feel the pain in you, the want for retribution.”

“You are wrong,” Obi-Wan said, just as calmly as the Count. “I want no such thing. All I want is for the restoration of freedom in the galaxy, for the light to chase away the dark.”

“And how do you suppose you can do that?” Dooku taunted, holding Obi-Wan’s blade at bay with the appearance of ease. Siri watched from where she crouched, ready to rejoin the fight if Obi-Wan need her, despite his orders forbidding her movement. “You are nothing after all,” Dooku continued. “The lowest of the low. A Jedi who was raised a slave. How powerful can you be?”

“More powerful then you know,” Obi-Wan answered with gritted teeth. At that moment, against all odds, Dooku flew backwards, slamming into the wall behind him. Surprised, but not dazed, Dooku looked up at the triumphant Jedi who stood above him shoulders back and a fierce light in his eyes.

“The Chosen One,” Dooku whispered.

There you’ll stand, ten feet tall

I will say, I knew it all along

Your eyes wider than distance

This life is sweeter than fiction

There you’ll stand, next to me

All at once, the rest is history

Your eyes wider than distance

This life is sweeter than fiction

“This is it,” Siri whispered to the man beside her, the brightly colored robes falling to the floor. Obi-Wan meddled with the rich fabric, looking anything but comfortable.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered. Siri laid a hand on his shoulder, and helped to straighten his collar.

“I can,” Siri replied. “I always knew you’d do this. I didn’t doubt for a second.”

“Except maybe the hundred times it looked like I wouldn’t even see the end of the war, right?” Obi-wan teased. Siri frowned.

“When did I ever say that?” Siri asked, pretending not to know what he meant. Obi-Wan just shook his head and let the matter drop.

“Nearly time now,” Siri said as she glanced at a chrono on the wall. Obi-Wan looked as well, and then sighed.

“Do I have to do this?” He asked.

“No,” Siri answered. “But I think you want to.”

Qui-Gon stepped inside now, a few guards accompanying him, restored from the red robes of the Sith’s royal guards to blue Republic garb.

“It’s time,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and stepped out through the door onto the balcony in the senate chambers, followed closely by the guards. A loud roar of approval followed, and Siri grinned at Qui-Gon.

“And so the war ends,” she said.

“But another begins,” Qui-Gon reminded her. “The sith are defeated, but there is still much to do.”

I’ll be one of the many saying

Look at you now, look at you now, now

I’ll be one of the many saying

You made us proud, you made us proud, proud

I’ll be one of the many saying

Look at you now, look at you now, now

I’ll be one of the many saying

You made us proud, you made us proud, proud

“To Obi-Wan!” Siri cried, raising her glass high. “The New Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy.”

“Siri!” Obi-Wan protested. everyone else present though only laughed, and echoed the toast. It was after the inauguration, and our group of heroes and their friends were gathered to celebrate.

Siri elbowed Obi-Wan playfully.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Have a little fun!”

“I don’t see why I should,” Obi-Wan replied, trying to avoid jostling his wine glass. He’d only accept the beverage after a lot of persuasion, and threats of being tied to a chair in the Younglings’ party room.

“You are the Emperor!” Siri reminded him. “And the best one this galaxy has had since the old days.”

“I’m Regent, not Emperor,” Obi-Wan reminded her, “and I’ve only been so for two hours, how do you know I’ll be the best?”

Siri looked him in the eyes.

“I just know,” she said, the joking tone gone from her voice. “And so does everyone else in this room.”

And then they call your name and we

Put your picture in a frame

You now that I’ll be there time and again

‘Cause I loved you when, when you

“I can’t believe this,” Obi-Wan groaned, slouching down as far as he could in the speeder, as if the reporters camera would find a way to see through the blacked out windows. “You’d think they’d get tired of taking pictures of the same person after a while.”

“Are you kidding?” Siri asked him, twisting around from the shotgun. “That’s all they do! It’s what they get paid for. Do you know how much a well placed photo of you is worth?”

“No, and I don’t think I want to learn,” Obi-Wan answered firmly. “Don’t you get tired of following me into these messes? You get it worse then I do, because nobody cares if they trample you.”

“I’ve come this far with you, and don’t intend to abandon you to the picture hungry mobs yet,” Siri shot back. “Don’t even try talking me out of it.”

Obi-Wan gave her a strained grin. “Thank you, Siri.”

Hit the ground, hit the ground, hit the ground, oh oh

Only sound, only sound that you heard was no

Now in this perfect weather

It’s like we don’t remember

The rain we thought would last forever and ever

There you’ll stand, ten feet tall

I will say, I knew it all along

Your eyes wider than distance

This life is sweeter than fiction

There you’ll stand, next to me

All at once, the rest is history

Your eyes wider than distance

This life is sweeter than fiction

“So, how does it feel to be out and about and not be recognized as Supreme Ruler of…”

“Siri!”

Siri laughed and took a swig from the beaker she held. She, Obi-Wan, Garen, Bant, and Quinlan were all out celebrating. They had chosen a small little tavern of sorts far from 500 Republica and the senatorial chambers. Here, Obi-Wan had less chance of being recognized as Emperor and therefore mobbed. This was the first time in months the gang had all been together on Coruscant at once, and it was worthy of celebration.

“So, how is his highness getting on?” Garen asked, grinning at Obi-Wan.

“Barely getting on,” Obi-Wan answered, grabbing a small cake from the plate in the center of the table. “And how are our hunters?”

“Tired,” Quinlan exclaimed. “Me and Garen have been out coming the outer rim for months it seems. I say we just let local authorities call of us if a Sith shows up, rather then us wasting our energies searching for them.”

“That’s a matter for the Council,” Obi-Wan pointed out,” so I hope you are not asking me to do anything.”

“You need to do something with all that power of yours,” Garen remarked, and all the others burst into laughter at Obi-Wan’s exasperated expression. Bant took pity on him, and reprimanded Garen.

“Now Garen,” she said, waving a finger at her fellow knight, “you know very well Obi-Wan has enough to do. He has a senate to run, and papers to sign, and… um…” Bant could not think of anything else Obi-Wan had been busy doing, and her point rather fell short.

“Oh I see,” Quinlan remarked, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Yes, I suppose papers are a lot of work.” That set everyone off again, and Obi-Wan didn’t bother to respond.

“To us,” Siri announced, lifting her glass for a toast. “And which ever of us is going to write our history.” The others laughed, knowing fully well the only person among them who’d even try to do that happened to be the current ruler of the galaxy.

“To us,” Obi-Wan echoed. “And our biographer, Siri.”

“Ha!” Siri laughed, knocking glasses with Obi-Wan. “That’s the funniest joke tonight!”

Bant smiled at her two friends, and raised her own glass. “To life,” she said.

“To life,” Siri echoed. “A life sweeter than fiction.”

Is sweeter than fiction

Is sweeter, yeah

Is sweeter, is sweeter

Sweeter than fiction

And now, for the preview… 😉 Enjoy!

Obi-Wan froze. “Wait…”

“Come on! Hurry!” Anakin said, rushing forward.

“No, Anakin, wait!” Obi-Wan cried, leaping after Anakin, grabbing at the collar of the boy’s shirt. Too late. The two of them barreled into a patrol of the  royal guards.

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin and hit the ground with the boy underneath him, shielding him with his body. The first barrage of their fire spent, the guards retreated momentarily. Obi-Wan leaped to his feet, kicking out, his boot connecting solidly with the guard’s jaw, felling him, as the young warrior struck another smoothly in the stomach with the same motion. In an impressive display of martial arts lasting for the next thirty seconds or so, the remainder of the guards were all on the ground, unconscious. Obi-Wan flicked his hair back out of his eyes. “We should go. We still haven’t–” He swayed. “We haven’t even picked up Ventress yet.” He hurried them along at a brisk pace. Shmi moved quickly to his side.

“Ventress?” she asked. Obi-Wan nodded.

“We’re taking her with us.” Suddenly, the young man clutched at his side, his footsteps faltering a little.

“Are you all right?” Shmi asked, concerned.

“Fine,” Obi-Wan managed, cheerfully. He staggered. Shmi was almost scared now.

“Obi-Wan, you’re not ‘fine’,” she said.

“I’ll be okay–we have to get Ventress, and go!” They ran on for a bit, then Obi-Wan suddenly fell, without a cry or gasp or any other sound. Shmi gasped.

“He’s been shot!” she said, fingers ghosting over the burn mark on the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

“Let’s get him to the ship!” Anakin exclaimed, grabbing one of the unconscious Jedi’s arms and struggling in an attempt to pull him onward.

“But what about Ventress?” Shmi wanted to know.

“There’s no time. Let’s go!“

Shmi did not notice, as they lifted Obi-Wan’s unconscious form, the odd, unnatural yellow tinge in her son’s eyes.

Aaand… CLIFFHANGER! This is fun. X-P

I hope that will tide you over until the end of the month, when I will probably take up the mantle of the chronicler of the Shifting Tides series once more. Ta-ta until then! *waltzes blithely off*

Safe and Sound

Tags

completed stories, completely random posts, short stories, small rants, song-related fiction, star wars

Hello, everyone!

Yes, it’s another post thanks to the brilliant Iris. She introduced me to this song, and I thought it was the saddest thing in the world, perfect for detailing Anakin Skywalker’s fall to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s viewpoint on it. Enjoy!

Safe and Sound

I remember tears streaming down your face

When I said, “I’ll never let you go”

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said, “Don’t leave me here alone”

But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight

                Anakin looked back at his mother as he walked out the door for the last time. Ahead of him, Qui-Gon paused. “Will I ever see you again?” Anakin whispered. Shmi’s faint smile highlighted her wrinkles. Suddenly, she looked old and frail.

“I’ll be fine, Anakin. Follow your dream. Follow your star.”

 

By the funeral pyre, Anakin stood in the steps, next to the young man who had been Qui-Gon’s apprentice. Obi-Wan Kenobi stared into the flames, his eyes dry, his face undecipherable. Did he even care that his mentor was dead? Anakin doubted it. He and Obi-Wan had barely spoken to each other, and especially not since Qui-Gon had pushed Obi-Wan forward for knighting. It seemed that Anakin’s training was a point of friction between them.

The boy is dangerous. They all sense it, why can’t you?

Anakin closed his eyes resentfully. You don’t even care that he’s dead, he thought at the young man beside him. This is all your fault, and I’ll never forgive you!

As if he was disturbed by Anakin’s anger, the young man suddenly turned toward him. Anakin could feel himself blushing, but he held his ground. “What will happen to me now?” he asked, all the insecurities engendered by two partings close on the heels of one another coming out in his voice. The compassionate look in the young man’s eyes, shadowed by echoes of deep pain, was enough to disabuse him of the notion that Obi-Wan was heartless.

“The Council has given me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi. I promise.”

Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You’ll be all right

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I’ll be safe and sound

                Obi-Wan rushed to his new Padawan’s room, breathing a prayer to whatever guardian angels might be listening. Anakin’s night terrors were almost worse than his own, but not quite. Obi-Wan’s dream had taken a downward plunge ever since Naboo. He pulled Anakin out of bed, inadvertently dragging the sheets with him. “Shhh, shhh,” he murmured. “It’s all right, everything’s all right. It’s just a dream—it doesn’t have to come true. Skan earr, alir’yana.” He rocked Anakin gently, sending out a silent plea for help. He didn’t know what to do to reassure a child caught in the throes of both nightmare and separation anxiety. He didn’t know how to raise a child, particularly not such a wild and rambunctious one as Anakin. Anakin cried over things that he could not remember as having bothered him, was annoyed by his subtle jokes and resigned patience, and what problems Obi-Wan could remember that he shared with Anakin were ten times worse. Softly, Obi-Wan began to murmur the words of a half-forgotten song. He wasn’t even sure if it was a lullaby; it wasn’t even in Basic. It was just a lilting tune with a plaintive melody and words half-slurred by his own exhaustion, but it seemed to calm Anakin.

In the end, he fell asleep still sitting on Anakin’s bed, half-leaning against the wall.

Don’t you dare look out your window

Darling, everything’s on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Hold on to this lullaby

Even when music’s gone

Gone

                “They’re still there,” Anakin reported. It wasn’t really necessary; the glare of flaring torches was still visible against the back walls. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. It was all in vain. He could still see the flames, burned against the back of his temples. A vicious headache roared to life in response.

“It’s not our war,” he said softly.

“Well, it should be!” Anakin retorted. “We should stop them! We should make them stop fighting!” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Come here,” he said. Reluctantly obedient, Anakin came, leaning against him. Obi-Wan breathed the words of a half-forgotten song under his breath. “Go to sleep, Anakin.

 

Eight years later, they protected a Senator. Eight years and one week later, war was declared. Eleven years later, they were still fighting that same war.

Thirty-one years later, they would still be fighting the same stupid war.

 

Obi-Wan stood before the dying twin suns. The journey had come full circle. He was back on Tatooine. This still wasn’t his war. A tear ran down his cheek as he thought of Anakin, his last words before they parted. Three words that had broken his heart and raped his soul, three short words that were slowly devouring him like acid, eating away at his hopes and dreams, beckoning him to despair, three words that were slowly killing him.

I hate you.

Sensing his distress, the child in his arms began to softly sob. Obi-Wan almost panicked, alarm spiking through him. Oh, the bitter, bitter irony. Thirteen years and he still didn’t know how to properly care for a child. Obi-Wan began to sing the words to a half-forgotten song as he walked the long path toward the homestead of his former best friend’s stepbrother.

Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You’ll be all right

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I’ll be safe and sound

                Sleep was not a refuge. It changed nothing, it fixed nothing. It only could deceive at best, and at worst it would force him to relive the past in a twisted light, look forth on a darkening future in which there might well be no hope left.

Please, change the future. Just once. Please, let me make one difference. I don’t care any more if I spend my life to buy it.

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh

La la… la la

La la… la la

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh

La la… la la

Just close your eyes…

                Let Luke be spared this suffering. Please, take me instead.

You’ll be all right…

                Anakin, did you realize that you condemned me along with yourself?

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound…

                Why, Anakin? Why?

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh

Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh…

                I wake up and the world hasn’t changed.

                I don’t think that I ever will sing again.

The Hero’s Dream, Chapter XV

Tags

alternate universe, completed stories, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, shifting tides series, star wars, the hero's dream

Here it is… the last chapter. :’-( This story is complete. It’s been a journey, all right…

This time: A friend, a speech, an announcement, a decision, and a Knighting; and last, but not least, a happy ending.

Chapter XV

                Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon through the streets of Theed, glancing about in admiration. He had never seen a city quite like this one before. “Where are we going, Master?” he asked, slightly curious. Qui-Gon turned briefly back to face him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“We shall see,” he said cryptically. Obi-Wan sighed, more amused than annoyed.

In time, they arrived at a small private garden within the city. Qui-Gon slipped in through the gate and they walked slowly along its winding paths, contemplatively. They found their way gradually through a huge maze formed from tall green hedges and into an open space with a fountain in the center. Sitting by the fountain was a tall, golden-skinned woman. “Master Tahl!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. Tahl looked up at the sound of his voice.

“Obi-Wan! For goodness sake, boy, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Her words went disregarded as her strides rapidly ate up the distance between them. She pulled Obi-Wan close. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“Sorry about sneaking up on you,” Obi-Wan apologized. “I can’t risk leaving my presence unshielded with Sidious anywhere in the vicinity, and I’m a bit tired to keep up the illusory one right now, especially since I’m out of his sight…” Tahl pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” she said, fingers brailing his face. Obi-Wan shrugged.

“I haven’t, not that much. I’ll never be as tall as you, or Master Qui-Gon.” Tahl laughed.

“It would be hard for anyone to be as tall as Qui-Gon.” She grinned mischievously at Qui-Gon, who mock-frowned at his friend.

“He’s scowling now,” Obi-Wan said, for the benefit of the blind master.

“I can tell that, thank you, Obi-Wan.” Tahl laughed, the sound like silvery bells. “What has happened to you since the last mission the three of us had together?” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Not much,” he said. “The Sith are gathering an army, and the kidnapped queen has been rescued… Siri Tachi was captured, but I managed to free her… you probably know all about those already anyway. There’s a lot going on, that’s all I can say… everything is moving forward, getting faster and faster… it’s all moving toward a great confrontation, the reckoning for our wrongs.” Tahl smiled.

“I feel as if this state of affairs will not last much longer. The balance is shifting, and shifting towards us this time.” Tahl shifted slightly, facing Qui-Gon’s direction, and sent him a look that Obi-Wan could not quite decipher. It was as if the two of them knew something he didn’t. Obi-Wan shifted, a sudden chill running down his back. Not that it was an unpleasant feeling, it was just as if something was about to happen.

“How many of the Jedi are here, on Naboo, right now?” he asked softly. “There’s the Council, Padawan Tachi, you, Master Jinn, Quinlan, me… that’s seventeen of us in one place! Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It may be dangerous,” Tahl said softly, “but the Force called us here. We can not but heed its bidding, Obi-Wan. Didn’t you hear the summons?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said softly. “I merely went with the flow, so to speak.”

“Hm,” Tahl replied quietly, noncommittally.

“It’s almost time for the announcement, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon said softly.

“Goodbye, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I’d better get back before Sidious misses me.”

The balcony overlooking the plaza at Theed’s center was a good perch to watch the crowds from. Obi-Wan scanned the surrounding area with a habit born from bitter necessity. He looked nervously at Qui-Gon, who was standing down in the crowd, from his vantage point behind Sidious. No one noticed, except for Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master sent a wave of reassurance along their bond, glancing sympathetically at Obi-Wan without seeming to particularly look at him. Then the Sith Lord rose and began his speech. Obi-Wan barely heard a word he said, watching the crowd closely. They were ripe for the governor’s announcement.

“And, despite this great tragedy, the Naboo should know that they are not alone…” Sidious was saying. Obi-Wan inwardly winced. Where is Governor Bibble? he thought anxiously.

As if on cue, the elderly Nabooian came forward, in the plaza below. “Your Majesty! Forgive the interruption, my lord, but we have an important announcement. The Queen-elect has returned!” Stunned silence greeted this interruption. Obi-Wan smiled behind the cover of his hood. Perfect. Padme came forward, already dressed in the ceremonial robes of the Naboo ruler, her face covered with the elaborate makeup.

“My people! The stars shine down upon us in this happy hour!” she proclaimed.

Then the whole meeting erupted into excited cheering. Obi-Wan noted the look on Sidious’ face with satisfaction. The Sith seemed torn between rage, frustration, and confusion. Obi-Wan smiled behind his hood again. Checkmate.

The rest of the gathering was caught up in a number of long, flowery speeches that no one listened to (as a matter of course,) Queen Amidala’s inauguration, and a banquet. Somehow, the arrangements had been miraculously altered, with Sidious and Amidala sitting at the head of the table, the very picture of mutual friendship and congeniality. For having planned the whole thing, Obi-Wan served the two rulers with astonishing equanimity. The feasting and popular celebration ran on late into the night.

When the banquet was done and even the most persistent of the revelers had retired to bed, Obi-Wan made his way down to the subterranean levels of the palace, where he and Qui-Gon had agreed to meet, after receiving Padme’s permission. Obi-Wan found his master in one of the rooms bordered on one side by the waterfall and knelt down beside him in his meditation posture. “Master,” he greeted, sotto voce.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon acknowledged. “Master Yoda spoke to me earlier today. The Council is agreed. They will confer the title of Jedi Knight upon you.” Obi-Wan gasped softly, his breath a puff of pale steam in the cool air.

“I am humbled, Master, but I…”

“You don’t think you’re ready.” Qui-Gon said. It was an answer more than a question. He opened his eyes and looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan did not have to speak for his master to know the truth. “Obi-Wan, I know you are ready, even if you do not think so. In the past twenty-two years, I have seen you grow in so many ways, and not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually.” Obi-Wan winced, a wry expression on his face. His lack of height got him laughed at, often. Qui-Gon grimaced, then smiled apologetically. “Sorry. But I have seen you face many foes, some of them Sith, some from within yourself, and you have overcome them all. You have always risen to the occasion, Obi-Wan. No matter what the obstacles; you have surmounted them. No matter what the circumstances, you have overcome them and risen above them, and I believe that there is no one more worthy for the accolades. Life has tested you in more ways than I can count. You have passed far harsher trials than any the Council might assign.” Obi-Wan gazed up, open-mouthed and wide-eyed in wonderment. Qui-Gon smiled. “Yes, they are giving you a field accolade. I don’t have to tell you what an honor that is.” Qui-Gon rose slowly and helped Obi-Wan to his feet. He led the younger man a bit closer to the waterfall; Obi-Wan brushed his fingers across the glassy curtain. “I have also been instructed to tell you something, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan gazed quietly at his mentor, glance questioning. Qui-Gon touched the clear, brilliant pendant that Obi-Wan always wore. It was hidden beneath the cloth of his shirt, but in the Force it gave out an unmistakable, clear, sweet chime. “You know that this belonged to your mother, Padawan. You know enough of the old language of her homeworld to know that the name you bear—the name she gave you—means ‘Child of the Light.’” Obi-Wan nodded slowly, clearly unsure of where this was going. “Hear me now, Obi-Wan. What I’m going to tell you may be hard to take, but you must listen. You have a right to know this.” Qui-Gon swallowed and took a deep breath. “You know of the prophecy of the Chosen One?” Obi-Wan nodded silently, once again. “Before she died, your mother told me to train you. She said you were our greatest hope for victory, our only hope for lasting peace. She told me that you were the Chosen One.” Obi-Wan stared, at a complete loss for words. Qui-Gon took a deep breath. “Obi-Wan, Sharya remained a virgin until the day of her death. You were conceived by the will of the Force itself. When I first found you, I tested your midichlorien count. It was impossibly high, too high to measure properly. Later, I tested you again, with a more up-to-date tester, and it still could not determine your exact count. However, I can tell you that it is higher than twenty-five thousand.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?” Obi-Wan asked, finding his voice again.

“Obi-Wan, many things that are believed to be impossible exist. It does not do to call anything impossible.” Obi-Wan sighed. Qui-Gon rose. “Come. You’ll complete your vigil tonight, and your knighting will take place just before dawn.” Obi-Wan rose and followed Qui-Gon out, and through a maze of passages into another room. Once there, Obi-Wan knelt down and sank into his meditative state. Visions moved quickly through his mind’s eye, winking swiftly one to another; the thousand possible futures that awaited him. The crossroads; he could see it plainly. But he already knew which he would choose. He had already chosen his path. There was no turning back.

At the fourth hour, Siri came to him. “Obi-Wan?” she whispered, her voice sounding hollow, its echo softening the sharp edges of the name.

“I’m here,” he replied, quietly. Siri knelt down in front of him.

“I—I wanted to talk.”

“About what?” he asked. Siri shrugged.

“Oh, nothing.” A pause. Obi-Wan did not look at her. They both knew that it wasn’t nothing. Siri was just gathering up her courage.

“Master Gallia volunteered to take over and complete my training,” she said, softly.

“That was kind of her. She’s a good teacher.”

“Have you ever met her, I mean, on a mission or something, and she helped you out?”

“Once,” he said softly. He had never been so frightened in his whole life as that one day… Adi Gallia had helped him through it. She was a good and kindly woman, somewhat of a maverick like his own master, but a true Jedi—like Qui-Gon in that as well—in spite of it. She and Siri would make a perfect team. “I think I know what you wanted to talk about it.”

“Good,” Siri snapped irritably, “maybe we won’t even have to talk about it after all.”

“We will, Siri, you know we will.” Siri just huffed. “Siri, I’m going to be honest with you. I… I never expected this to happen. I fell in love with you. But at the same time, I don’t think…”

“It’s only forbidden under the Ancient Code,” Siri said. “Not under the intermittent one.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“I know, but all the same. There’s a war coming. I want a family more than anything, but… we both have a duty, to the Jedi Order. If we married, had children… we’d probably never be home. And they… they would worry about us. We might never come home. That’s no life for a child, is it, having to worry all the time?”

“No,” Siri said softly, agreeing with him. “It isn’t.”

“And then, there’s the fact that we might have to choose, one day, which would come first; family or duty. And… And I’m not sure which one I would say, Siri. I don’t know the answer, and that… it bothers me.” Obi-Wan looked down. “I think the ancient masters were right when they eliminated attachments from their lives. But, at the same time, I can’t deny that I do love you.” Slowly, Obi-Wan drew out a ring with a single, scintillating jewel set in it. “This belonged to my mother, once. I think it’s only right that I should pass it on to you.”

“I have one for you, too,” Siri said, pulling out a plain silver band.

“I’m going to vow myself to chastity once again, Siri.” Obi-Wan said softly. “But at the same time, I want you to know that my heart is yours. I really don’t have a choice about that.”

“I’ll do the same,” Siri decided. They spoke their vows, softly, into the welcoming silence.

And then, they parted.

Morning came.

With it, came the memory of something forgotten, just beyond reach. Joy leaped into being.

Silently, Obi-Wan rose, attending to assigned duties as the personal attendant of Sidious. The hours passed swiftly by until he was free again. Padme showed him the hidden garden that she would be honored to host the ceremony in.

At last, it was time.

After entering the garden, Obi-Wan walked slowly forward, clad in the traditional Jedi robes that had been worn by so many before the decimation and supposed destruction of the Jedi Order. The white cloak, slightly too long for him, trailed softly across the soft grass. At a Knighting, the supplicant traditionally wore all white robes, symbolizing innocence, purity, and dedication to duty. The pale cloth over his shoulders, the folds that met above a rapidly beating heart, were a constant reminder of the wings of the seraph, modestly hiding themselves away from view, in awe of their Maker.

For one precious, sacred moment, they were living in a fairy tale. The sweet scent of the flowers in the hidden garden caressed the attenders’ senses, and the birdsong in the trees was as sweet, and sweeter than, any mortal music. The soft green carpet of moss and grass underfoot rustled softly at the gentle, whispering wind that tiptoed through it, and the light, bare feet that trod it, leaving barely a mark. The chuckling fountain, offset to one side, sent a rainbow of soft spray into the air.

Obi-Wan walked forward to the focus of the half-circle formed by the waiting Council. As he knelt on the cool, soft grass, the circle closed behind him. Last night, he had knelt on cold, hard stone; but today, he knelt on rich green grass. What he knelt on did not matter; it was the humility in the heart that made all the difference.

All the others who were there to witness the ceremony gathered around the circle of Jedi Masters. Mace Windu raised his hands, signaling that the ceremony which was about to begin. “My Jedi brethren—honored friends—we are gathered here to witness the ceremony by which a young Jedi comes of age. Padawan Kenobi will be knighted today, in recognition of his readiness, which he has proved many times, and most recently by his rescue of Padawan Tachi and Queen-elect Amidala.

“In ancient times, before the reign of Deriaka, the Padawan would wear a small braid behind the ear on the right side. This was the symbol of the commitment of the student to the master, and conversely of the master to the student. Now, it is safer not to wear such symbols, but the commitment is no less today than it was two thousand years ago.

“It was also the custom, when the apprenticeship was complete, to cut the braid, as the Padawan was then a Knight, and no longer under his or her master’s tutelage.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you come before us today. Your training is complete. What do you seek?”

“To serve the Order, to serve the people of this galaxy, and to serve the Force.”

“Do you vow and give your word of honor that you will live simply, and unobtrusively, whatever honors may come your way, and not give into despair when men speak ill of you?”

“I do.”

“Do you vow and give your word of honor that you will abstain and keep yourself free from all emotional ties, instead dedicating yourself to the service of the people and the keeping of the Code?”

“I do.”

“Do you vow and give your word of honor that you will obey your superiors, whatever their commands, even to the danger of your own life, and that should you be ordered to do something morally unacceptable you will defy their words?”

“I do.”

“Do you vow and give your word of honor to pass on these teachings as they were passed on to you, should the time come?”

“I do.”

“And do you vow and give your word of honor to defend the innocent in all things and at all times, even should you be placed in danger of your own death, and never harm another living creature or raise your hand in violence unless it is in protection and preservation of life and for the good of all?”

“I do.” Master Yoda hobbled forward. Obi-Wan bent his head down, and the aged master and placed a hand on his forehead, in blessing.

“Then speak your final vow, you will.”

“I pledge myself, heart, mind, will, body and soul, to the service of the Force and its creatures, to my very death, and even beyond.” Obi-Wan said, firmly.

“Then a Jedi, you truly are.” Yoda lifted his lightsaber. Its blade did not graze Obi-Wan, even in the slightest, as Yoda dubbed him. “By the election of this Council, and the blessing of the Force, dub thee I do. Arise, Master Kenobi.” Obi-Wan bowed slightly, then stood. He walked forward to greet Qui-Gon and Tahl. The two Jedi Masters smiled. He turned and bowed slightly to Siri. She raised her hand, subtly, in a gesture of blessing.

The Force chimed in approval and joy.

All was well with the world.

Author’s Note: So, this story is complete. *sob* They say all good things must come to an end. But it’s not the end of the series! The Shifting Tides run onward in the embrace of time, and where one story ends, another begins. I may be taking a temporary hiatus from the series (partially due to the fact that I’m Nanoing away at a novel, not a fanfic ;-P), but have no fear– in the future, the sequel to this story, which will be entitled Battlefield of the Soul, will be posted on this blog. Thank you all so much for following and reading this story, and may God bless you. 🙂

Emergency Beacon

Tags

short stories, star wars, story starters

*Open Transmission*

Is anyone out there?

This is Jedi Knight Erin Kalana Kenobi II, requesting immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? My ship has been attacked by pirates; we’re stranded, dead in the water. I can’t get the engines back on line and life support is at 50%, and steadily dropping. There are three sick children aboard; repeat, three children with the Black Shoals flu who need immediate medical assistance.

Is anyone out there? This is an emergency!

*End Transmission*

*Transmission coded on open frequency, available to both Jedi Order and Sith affiliates.*

Author’s Note: Leave a note in the comments if you have an idea how this could be continued, or to inform me you would like to continue it yourself! 😉 Time frame, other characters, etc. are your own choice. Have fun!