A/N: I wrote this two years ago, had it on FF for a while, took it down, then re-discovered it among my documents and decided to put it back up. I've made a few changes, but nothing extreme.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything therein.
I groaned as I imagined the horrible fate that awaited me that night. My Master, Drai-Le Femaed and I had been invited to attend a...cooking class. Horrid images raced through my mind as my imagination took off. Images of flour, measuring cups, bowls and other cooking utensils. And then I saw myself, fumbling with measuring spoons, trying to figure out which one was the teaspoon.
My Master was in the 'fresher, preparing. I didn't know why she bothered to get dressed up or anything, it was a cooking class, for Force's sake. I looked down at my Jedi robes. Light, comfortable traveling clothes, tan and other light brown shades in color. Around my slender waist hung a belt, my lightsaber clipped to it at my left hip.
I tucked a loose lock of my reddish-orange, curly hair behind my ear, then started playing with my Padawan's braid, waiting for my Master. "Master, are you ever going to come out? It's only a cooking class!" I watched as the door opened, revealing my normal looking Master in a very un-Drai-Le-Femaed-like dress.
'What do you think? Be honest. Be brutal." She twirled in a circle, causing the large skirt to fan out.
It was a ball gown. A ball gown. My Master was wearing a ball gown. "Master, what are you wearing?!" I knew this might seem disrespectful, but we had a special bond, and she had said for me to be completely honest. "Do I look alright, Sarian?" My mouth hung agape at the oddness of it all, at the shock of seeing my Jedi Master in a dress.
More images. Images of my Master and I, with the former in a velvet, poofy dress, a floral apron covering it, cooking. I rolled my eyes and groaned again, ready to pound my head against the wall until my brains came out.
"Sarian Uldae, do I look alright?" My Master's voice brought me out of my nightmares. "Master, you can't wear that...that...that thing to a cooking class!" I insisted, giving the dress a once-over. It was dark blue and purple velvet with a full skirt, off-the-shoulder and tight. I shook my head, almost convinced I needed to take my lightsaber out and cut my own head off at that moment.
"Oh, is that what we are doing tonight? I thought we were going to the Jedi Ball." My Master frowned a petite frown, another thing unknown to me. My Master usually gave me instructions and left, never repeated anything, and, above all, never ever ever acted like a lady. I mean, prissy dresses and nice manners and things. It just wasn't her.
"Master, how could you forget? You are the one who accepted the invitation to this ridiculous thing!" I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the wall. "I'll just go and change then, Sarian. And for Force's sake, don't pound your head so." I had begun pounding my head against the wall, softly, though I was certain I was dreaming or something. I stopped when she told me to, however, for I was a diligent and usually obedient Padawan.
A few minutes later she returned, dressed in her normal Jedi garb. I heaved a sigh of relief and headed for the door. She seemed to be herself again.
A few minutes later we arrived. The room was large, the light glinting off of cooking pots and the humongous table that loomed ahead of us. Several other Masters and Padawans mulled about, most of the Padawans as embarassed and unhappy as I was. Leaning close to my Master, I whispered, "Do I absolutely have to do this, Master?" She nodded her head in her no-nonsense way and walked further in, motioning for me to follow.
The impending feeling of doom found its way to my stomach as I forced myself to keep moving forward. A friend of mine, Jirase, came up to me, a look of gloom making a sharp contrast with her normally fair features. "Hi, Sarian." She greeted half-heartedly. "Hey." She leaned against the wall, her face echoing my feelings. Embarassed, unhappy, and wondering if our Masters had hit their heads on something.
"Is this going to be as bad as I think its going to be?" She asked me, glancing around. "I don't know. Who's teaching this, anyway?" I replied, looking around. Seeing no one that actually looked like they knew what they were doing, I closed my eyes, wishing I could be anywhere else. "Oh, Force! Sarian, look!" Jirase grabbed my arm, her eyes showing fear and...agony?
I looked toward the front and lo-and-behold, there he was. A Jedi Council member, he was wise and old, always knew what he was doing if it related to the Jedi or the Force. Green and wrinkled, he hobbled up to a platform where a little table with all the cooking necessities were layed out neatly.
Yoda.
We were doomed. How did Yoda know how to cook?! I closed my eyes to the horror of it all. "Sit, now, the lesson, begin!" He said to us all. How his tiny, raspy voice, low and rather insignificant and hard to hear if you weren't listening, reached us all like a blast of a bantha, I don't know, but I sat down obediently by my Master. Jirase sat on my left, Drai-Le on my right.
"First, measuring cup, you take." He began to instruct. Groaning again, I picked up the measuring cup that was the same size as the one Yoda was holding. "Flour, two cups measure." I measured two cups of a powdery white substance into one of the small bowls. I happened to look over at Jirase. She pitifully looked back at me with a why-can't-someone-blow-up-something-so-we-can-leave look on her face.
An hour later, our bowls held two cups of flour, a glob of oil, some eggs crushed in their shell, and we were about to pour in chocolate chips. "Drop them in, now!" Yoda called out. We all did, dumping the sad little chocolate chips in. "Well, mix it!" Though it had taken me a long, painstaking time to learn to understand what Yoda was saying, I could comprehend what he was saying perfectly now. I picked up a spoon and began to stir, but after a moment, pushed it over to my Master. She had barely done anything the whole time. She shot me a disapproving look but mixed it anyway.
Oddly enough, the dough looked normal. Though you could still see the eggshells, it looked okay. Then Yoda started instructing us to roll it into small balls. My Master and I each did half, and soon we had about 3 cookie sheets filled with the rather good looking, though strange smelling, concotion of dough balls.
"How do you like it, young Padawan?" My Master asked me, smiling as we put the cookie sheets into the huge oven. Other Masters and Apprentices loaded their trays into the same oven. I looked at her as if she were crazy. Like it? I thought, How could anyone like doing this messy thing?
In twenty minutes, the cookies were done. As I went to get them at my Master's instruction, I refused to take the oven mitts offered to me. There was a much better, easier way. Holding out my hand in front of me and closing my eyes, I lifted the three cookie sheets with the power of the Force. I turned slowly, avoiding those objects in the Force that I knew were people. I set the still-hot cookie trays in front of my Master.
As I walked back over there, she just smiled at me. "I have a question, if I may, Master." I said. I had been wanting to ask this the whole time. Drai-Le Femaed nodded her consent. "Will you honestly answer it?" I asked. She nodded again. "Why, exactly, did we have to do this?" I voiced the thought that had been hovering in my mind since the beginning of this class. "Because, my young Padawan," She said, putting a hand around my shoulders, "We must widen our horizons."
A/N: Did you like it? Tell me, please! Review!