The Boots
By Pop Weasel
-Disclaimer-
Don't own them, never will. The mighty Master Lucas holds that honor. Sigh. But I do own
Jonne, Hart and Tal.
Good for me huh?
Also, Jonne is the son of one of the Jedi in one of my other stories, Hours of Midnight. Shameless self promotion. The gremlins made me do it.
Qui-Gon Jinn gaze absently out the bay window of the cottage nestled in the base of the
Alronian foothills. Tal had graciously offered to let the Jedi use it as a vacation spot after
particularly hectic missions, and as a excuse to see his nephew more than once every six months.
Right at the moment, winter was in full swing, duris trees bent their snow laden limbs low the
the white ground, where small, rodent like chim chims scampered about playfully in their winter
white fur.
A light tug on his pant legs brought him back to reality. He looked down into the deceptively
cherubic features of Hart's Padawan.
Jonne beamed up at him with huge gold-flecked azure eyes, his thatch of dark gold hair still wild
from sleep.
"Wanna play outside!" the tiny Padawan ordered, dropping his snow suit and accessories to the
floor at Qui-Gon's feet.
"Now?"
"Now."
Sighing, Qui-Gon stooped to help the blond boy dress in the padded suit, hesitating at the boots.
Past experience had told him that children could be the most docile critters in the galaxy, right
until you had to put footwear on them.
Jonne swung his feet impatiently, looking outside longingly and wiggling uncontrollably when
Qui-Gon seized his right foot.
"I can't put it on if you're moving."
"Tickles Qui."
Qui-Gon sighed. Jonne giggled.
The Jedi Master picked up a boot at random and endeavored to jam it onto the boys wiggling
foot without breaking it, but for the life of him, couldn't get the damn thing on.
After a good five minutes, the reluctant boot slid over Jonne's foot with a pop. Much the same
happened with the second boot.
Qui-Gon sat back. "There. All set."
Jonne shook his blond head. "Day on da wrong feet Qui." he informed the Jedi.
Smiling tolerantly, Qui-Gon looked, and sure enough, the boy was right.
Thank you Jonne. he thought scathingly. A mere child telling a grown adult that his shoes were
on the wrong feet....sheesh.
He needed vacation, his brain was starting to fuzz.
After another shoving match with the Padawan's footwear, and another ten minutes, Qui-Gon sat
back. "Ready?"
Jonne smiled at him and clicked the boots together. "These not my boots Qui."
Why didn't you tell me this before.
Wrestling the boots off, the master looked at him and stood. "Where are your boots?"
The blond grinned at him. "These are Obi-Wan's. Mamma Hart gave them to me to wear
today."
Seething inwardly, the Jedi Master knelt and resumed his battle with the boots, pounding them
on with as much force as he dared use. Why in the Hell are these things so hard to get on? he wondered.
Breathing out in exasperation, he sat back once more. "Now, where are your mittens?"
Jonne beamed at him and clicked the boots together cheerfully.
"I stuck them in the toes of my boots."
By Pop Weasel
-Disclaimer-
Don't own them, never will. The mighty Master Lucas holds that honor. Sigh. But I do own
Jonne, Hart and Tal.
Good for me huh?
Also, Jonne is the son of one of the Jedi in one of my other stories, Hours of Midnight. Shameless self promotion. The gremlins made me do it.
Qui-Gon Jinn gaze absently out the bay window of the cottage nestled in the base of the
Alronian foothills. Tal had graciously offered to let the Jedi use it as a vacation spot after
particularly hectic missions, and as a excuse to see his nephew more than once every six months.
Right at the moment, winter was in full swing, duris trees bent their snow laden limbs low the
the white ground, where small, rodent like chim chims scampered about playfully in their winter
white fur.
A light tug on his pant legs brought him back to reality. He looked down into the deceptively
cherubic features of Hart's Padawan.
Jonne beamed up at him with huge gold-flecked azure eyes, his thatch of dark gold hair still wild
from sleep.
"Wanna play outside!" the tiny Padawan ordered, dropping his snow suit and accessories to the
floor at Qui-Gon's feet.
"Now?"
"Now."
Sighing, Qui-Gon stooped to help the blond boy dress in the padded suit, hesitating at the boots.
Past experience had told him that children could be the most docile critters in the galaxy, right
until you had to put footwear on them.
Jonne swung his feet impatiently, looking outside longingly and wiggling uncontrollably when
Qui-Gon seized his right foot.
"I can't put it on if you're moving."
"Tickles Qui."
Qui-Gon sighed. Jonne giggled.
The Jedi Master picked up a boot at random and endeavored to jam it onto the boys wiggling
foot without breaking it, but for the life of him, couldn't get the damn thing on.
After a good five minutes, the reluctant boot slid over Jonne's foot with a pop. Much the same
happened with the second boot.
Qui-Gon sat back. "There. All set."
Jonne shook his blond head. "Day on da wrong feet Qui." he informed the Jedi.
Smiling tolerantly, Qui-Gon looked, and sure enough, the boy was right.
Thank you Jonne. he thought scathingly. A mere child telling a grown adult that his shoes were
on the wrong feet....sheesh.
He needed vacation, his brain was starting to fuzz.
After another shoving match with the Padawan's footwear, and another ten minutes, Qui-Gon sat
back. "Ready?"
Jonne smiled at him and clicked the boots together. "These not my boots Qui."
Why didn't you tell me this before.
Wrestling the boots off, the master looked at him and stood. "Where are your boots?"
The blond grinned at him. "These are Obi-Wan's. Mamma Hart gave them to me to wear
today."
Seething inwardly, the Jedi Master knelt and resumed his battle with the boots, pounding them
on with as much force as he dared use. Why in the Hell are these things so hard to get on? he wondered.
Breathing out in exasperation, he sat back once more. "Now, where are your mittens?"
Jonne beamed at him and clicked the boots together cheerfully.
"I stuck them in the toes of my boots."