I remember the first time I saw them. I was just a small child at the time but I could never forget them. Nobody did, not the adults, not the elders, and especially not the other children.
When they first marched through the streets I was scared. Everyone feared the droids. Why should these be any different? Their white plastoid armor made a clacking sound as they walked, dirtied by mud, paint and blaster fire. We quickly realized they weren't droids, their movement was too organic.
What made everyone come out of their homes first was the sight of destroyed droids. Some of them carried destroyed droids with them. We didn't know what for. It didn't matter. Anyone who could destroy a droid was a hero to us.
What really sold us was the sight of the galaxy's greatest legends, the Jedi. For each couple hundred of them, we saw a Jedi. But it wasn't the Jedi we were interested in: it was still them, when they took of their helmets. Everyone was excited to see what was under those dark visors. It was a human. When one took off their helmet, so did another. They were all human but they all looked the same.
They returned one day when I was just a young adult. Their armor was different, scarier and more fiercer. It wasn't painted like before. It was a glossy white, unscathed by battle. They landed here and hadn't fought yet. There were no droids to fight anymore. There was nothing on the planet but plant life, wild animals, and us. It was us. They came to protect us as heroes and returned as conquerors.