First Meeting

Tags

angels' reflections, camp nanowrimo, camp nanowrimo april 2014, characters, creative writing, jay wallace, nanowrimo, nanowrimo 2013, novels, selay'uu (sort of), stories in progress, story dynamics, writer, writing

Recently, I received a prompt on the Nanowrimo forums, that sounded too good to pass up to me, and I thought the readers of my blog would also like to see it!

Enjoy!

Prompt: How did you first meet your main character? How did you come up with the character?

I first met Jay Wallace when I was washing dishes. Granted, I was pretty annoyed with my Dad at the time–after all, washing dishes is a job that was relegated to my younger brother and later my younger sister after I started college–but that’s not really a true block to inspiration. So there I was, with suds on my hands, when in saunters a young man five or six years my junior. He’s dark haired, with hazel eyes that are exceptionally clear and piercing, high cheekbones, a somewhat prominent, straight nose, firm mouth… He’s smallish, slender, slight build, looks underfed, is wearing a ragged shirt and a tattered pair of pants that barely reach down to his calves, is barefoot, and over everything else is a threadbare, worn, yet still presentable and thick woolen cloak with no hood and an attached capelet. “I’m going to be in the resistance, won’t I?” he asks, and then I realize I’m cheating–he is the Elayatar incarnation of Obi-Wan Kenobi, but then, who needs to know that? After all, he’ll soon be a character all his own.

Jay Wallace is one of the two main protagonists of the novel Angels’ Reflections. You can read about this novel on my Novels page, or on the Camp Nanowrimo website.

April 2013 (Book 1: The Broken Dream)

July 2013 (Book 2: The Child of the Promise)

April 2014 (Book 3: All Roads Lead Here)

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At Least Relatively Anonymous

Tags

2013, bbc merlin, counting blessings, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, new year, writing

I was thinking back on everything I did in the past year today. And I guess I decided something: 2013 was pretty good.

Needless to say, it wasn’t perfect. For instance, people gave me several let-downs (I don’t agree with the current presidential administration’s policies, for one thing,) and I had to undergo a horrendous amount of grief concerning forms, form letters, job applications and special training, but all in all, it was a good year. Here are some highlights:

1. I turned **. I’m not saying exactly how old I am, for safety’s sake (no offense, but some of the people who visit the blog might be predators for all I know!) but I’m almost a legal adult. Scary thought. But at least I got lots of hugs from my friends!

2. I drove myself–all on my own–for the first time in January ’13. It was also the first day of school, which was a hair-raising combination. But I wasn’t late to any of my classes. EVER. (Well, there was that one sociology session, but it had been cancelled anyway!)

3. I got all A’s and B’s.

4. People thought I was a genius (even though I told them I have an IQ of ***, which is just barely above average; it’s just inside the gifted range. Minimally.)

5. I started writing out the adventures of a young, just-out-of-college detective named Shannon Holmes, and her close friend and former military doctor Jamie Watson. As a result, my own powers of observation and drawing conclusions jumped. People thought I was a genius. (Again.)

6. I got my first job. Okay, so it was only part-time, but still.

7. I signed on Nanowrimo for the first time in April.

8. I did Nanowrimo again in July and November. (November was my first failed Nano, but hey! That’s progress too!)

9. I got back into the Merlin fandom.

10. More than ten good things happened! (So I’ll carry right on.)

11. I got this blog.

12. I embarrassed Iris by hugging her full-on for the first time. (She only does side-on hugs, normally. :-P)

13. I wasn’t seriously sick at all. (Which is weird. But then, I was unwell due to stress-related stuff most of the time.)

14. I hiked all the trails at our local nature association.

15. I discovered that I do, actually, have a life after all, and one that’s at least relatively anonymous.

Here’s hoping 2013 was as good to all of you, my treasured readers, as it was to me! Thanks for reading, and God Bless! 😀

A New Hope (For The Hero’s Dream)

Tags

artwork, battlefield of the soul, completely random posts, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, rambling musings, shifting tides series, star wars, the hero's dream

I’m sorry about the delay in posting the first part of Battlefield of the Soul. The clips and snatches I wrote it in have been uncommonly gnarly, and it’s becoming a character sketch for multiple of its enactors, so unfortunately it may take me a while to finish it. Apologies, once again.

However, on the bright side, now that National Novel Writing Month is over, I have taken up drawing once again. Still haven’t figured how to use that thingummybobbin (what a luscious word! I almost wish I was British at this rate. ;-P) that some Internet entities use to color their drawings on the computer, without struggling with colored pencils. So for now, I’m limited to line and shade, sadly… My drawing pad likes to smear, so when I do a sketch in pencil I have to either a) scan it in a hurry or b) ink the lines and erase the pencil. And that’s the same reason why I can’t color in these drawings by hand. (Sigh…)

And now, for you lovers of the Shifting Tides series, I have a special treat.

Obi-Wan’s appearance in “The Hero’s Dream” and sequels.

This is intended to be concept art, and I’m afraid… *cough* that in my opinion, it doesn’t look very much like Ewan McGregor at all… but it’s better than my former attempts. Sorry.

The tattoos are supposed to be blue, but since this was a bi-color sketch I wound up drawing them in black. The one that circles around under his left eye is the famed “Flame of Deriaka,” mark of the Royal House. The one on the forehead is a black orchid, meant to evoke the fleur-de-lis. It’s sort of the Sith version of it. (No apologies to any modern organization. The French monarchy copyrighted this first. Heehee.) And the one on the lower cheek is a bramble… rose among thorns… get it? ;-P

Anyway, so that’s my drawing of Obi-Wan as he appears in The Hero’s Dream. And my dad is kicking me off the computer to clean up.

Media: Pencil on sketch paper. I used my mechanical pencil with .5 mm leads. Believe it or not, art can be made from something mundane! 😉

Thanks for reading and/or browsing, and God Bless!

Comes a Time

Tags

battlefield of the soul, c.s. lewis, completed stories, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, contrast, g.k. chesterton, insanity, j.r.r. tolkein, long rants, military, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, poetry, politics, rambling musings, shifting tides series, short stories, small rants, story dynamics, the age old debate, the hero's dream

Yes! Erin is back at last from her long jaunt into Nanowrimo Nation. Did you miss me? 😉 Late happy Thanksgiving, everyone. 🙂

I have some news for all my beloved readers in this post. I have finished a concept drawing for The Hero’s Dream and other stories in the Shifting Tides series, as well as parts of the next installment of the series, Battlefield of the Soul. The concept drawing will be posted once I scan it into the computer (unfortunately, it’s black and white… sigh… Does anyone know how to use the program to color it in? *hint hint wink wink*), and the story will be posted as soon as I can type it up.

Also, I have a bunch of original short stories to post–I worked on them during Nano, sort of to fill up the gaps. 😉 I hope you all enjoy them!

Then, on Nano, I did not win… didn’t even make my wordcount goal. I do have two valid excuses, though: Jewel’s Birthday (Friday), and taking out the trash. Surprisingly, Thanksgiving wasn’t that much of a problem. Anyway, so I spent Jewel’s birthday with her, and the next day (the last day of Nano!) I was taking out the trash, and the garbage barrel lid came down and bopped me a good one across the back of the head, and my glasses fell off and landed in the trash can, and when I reached for them I cut myself on some broken glass, in the soft skin between my first and second fingers, at the knuckle. Ouch. So then I was bleeding like no one’s business, and it just hurt too freakin’ much to hold a pencil, much less type.

Soooo, here I am, 12k short, and still completely happy. Frankly, I’m not sure how this is even possible…

And I now have a cold. Figures…

And now, for the real juicy bit. Warning: Intense Christian doctrine and evangelization ahead! If some of you don’t like overtly Christian and/or Catholic writings, it might be best for you to simply avoid the rest of this post. However, if you are a lover of philosophy or C.S. Lewis or a fan of G.K. Chesterton (or simply just plain stubborn), you might just enjoy this (though of course my lowly work simply can not compare to either Lewis or Chesterton… or Tolkien for that matter.) That much said, enjoy or avoid at will! 😉

Comes a Time

                Arinna pulled the kettle off the stove, pouring the boiling water into a chipped, earth-toned ceramic carafe and tossing some tea leaves in on top. “What do you mean?” she asked, frowning slightly to herself.

“You’re going to die in this holy war and it isn’t even yours.” Lexi said. “How is that not…” She paused. Arinna sighed and put down the earthenware carafe.

“Do you mean to say that I’m going to die for a cause that is, in your opinion, both worthless, and already doomed to failure?” she asked bluntly. Lexi turned away, probably unused to such blunt, brash, plain honesty. It took her a moment—a very long moment—to regain her composure.

“Yes. I do.” she said at last.

“Well, let me ask you a question then,” Arinna said softly. “What do you believe in?” Startled again, especially since Arinna had broken the social rules twice in as many paragraphs, Lexi took a moment before she replied.

“I’m a Christian, too, just like you, you know that!” she protested.

“That means nothing,” Arinna said. “There are too many denominations nowadays for us to know for certain that we hold any common ground whatsoever. Besides, many people who say they believe in Christ don’t really love Him. If they did, then they would act like it. What do you believe in? What are you willing to fight and die for? If not Christ, then what?”

“I don’t know!” Lexi burst out, frustrated. “You keep asking questions without any answers!” she fumed.

“Oh, they have answers,” Arinna assured her. “You’re just afraid of the answers. So am I. So is everyone else, for that matter.” Arinna picked up the pitcher of hot tea and poured it out into two mugs. She handed one to Lexi and sipped slowly out of the other, looking at her friend over the rim. “I’m your friend. It’s my business to ask the hard questions, Lexi. I only do it because I care.” Slowly, she lowered her mug. “Do you want to go on?” she asked softly. Lexi shrugged.

“Yes. I guess. If you want to.” Arinna nodded slowly as she went on with her apology.

“All of us have something we’re willing to fight to the death for, Lexi. Something we believe in—something we believe is worth believing in. It’s part of what makes us human. Someday, Lexi, you will live, and fight, and die for something—and you’ll do it willingly, too. I can promise you that. It’s your destiny—it’s inevitable. You can’t change it, but you can decide what it is you will believe in. Put God out of your life, and you will find yourself trying to fill that void in your heart—you’ll catch yourself filling it with less desirable things. The catch, is to ask yourself what you’re willing to die for. Power? Money? Pleasure? Goods? Your home? Your possessions? Your friends? Your family? If any of that comes first—before God does—in your life, you’re no better than a pagan. You’re an idolater if you put any of those… material things before God.” Arinna looked down at her mug; for the first time her voice sounded unsure. “You may not like to hear this, Lexi, but I only say it because I care. I can’t soften this for you, without losing the message. It’s uncompromising, as hard as nails. You have to choose what you will fight for. He who will fight for nothing is no pacifist, but a coward indeed. You must choose—now—whom you will serve. No one can do it for you.” She took a deep breath. “That’s why I am here—in this camp—in this army—today, Lexi. I said to myself, ‘No more hesitation! I am going to commit—today!’ We both know that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions—if you even believe in Hell.” The evangelist’s voice was tinged with heavy bitterness. “I am willing to die for my Heavenly King. I decided that He was worth fighting for. I regret all the lives lost in this war, but there comes a time when one can no longer stand idly by. There comes a time when one must make a stand. I decided Whom I am going to serve. So what if I’m not perfect? Perfection isn’t possible for any human being. It doesn’t come until Heaven. It’s the times I worked—hard—that matter. I know my cause is worth dying for. Is yours?” Arinna looked up at Lexi with pleading eyes. The other woman was silent. She knew would have to think about it; Arinna knew it too. And while Lexi thought, Arinna would pray.

“I’ll think about it, ‘Rin. I… I promise.” Lexi said. Then, she left the tent, as evening fell over the Crusaders’ camp.

Evangelist

Let the past lie where it’s buried

By the gravestone, on the hill,

Wind wanders wild across the wastelands,

They say the spirit moves at will.

Each sad tear-fall lies there buried

In the garden, by the rill,

Every laughter a rose has planted,

They say the roses bloom there still.

Where one rose blights, sad and mournful

One by one, the petals fall,

In the garden by the rill-side

Back to the womb whence it was called.

Hold tight to what you’re given.

Hold tight to those you love.

These little blessings that we seek

Are our anchors, from above.

Ask again what you now live for

Question your heart’s desire

Many things we are attached to

Pass, straw-like, in the fire.

With the light, morning arises

A new dawn casts the night away

Each day builds on the one before it,

The future’s fragments are at play.

Congratulations go to those who actually made it to the end of this post! Oh, and please tell me… did you like the poem? 😉 It’s originally from my April/July Nanowrimo project Angels’ Reflections. Which, incidentally, I have new ideas for now. Cheers!

As always, thanks for reading and may God bless you and keep you in all your days!

“It’s a faith worth fighting for.” –Anonymous (okay, maybe not ANONYMOUS, but I still can’t remember who I’m quoting. X-P)

Day 27… and going crazy.

Tags

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!!!

I Called Him “Wormtongue”

Tags

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

Tags

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

Failed Novel

Tags

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.

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

Tags

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*

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. 🙂