All Who Are Mortal
By Gin
Prologue
Coruscant, 27 BBY
The boy could not have been more than nine standard years old. His manner was still and solemn, his clothing and stature nearly impossible to guess when hidden beneath the overlarge brown traveling cloak he had draped about himself like armor.
From his chair, Yoda surveyed the child: he stood alone in the middle of the circular Council room, hardly even blinking. Master Windu was directly at Yoda's right and naturally expressed nothing but his usual breed of serious concentration while he studied the boy. The Council was nearly empty of actual inhabitants; flickering blue holographic likenesses made up the lack. Many Jedi were sent to outlying systems in an effort to calm the already broiling waters of diplomacy, such as Masters Giett and Gallia, who hardly had moments to spare for the meeting. Yoda's silence was out of place given the state of things, but also necessary, as everyone could sense.
Finally, Yoda spoke. "Train him, we cannot. He is too old."
"I concur," Master Windu said, leaning forward so he might better hear any other thoughts on the matter. "We do not have the resources to take on another youngling."
Though the conversation must not have made much sense to the human boy, who until recently only knew of the Jedi as some abstract and mythical notion, he did not appear confused or affected. Yoda continued to watch him as the Council debated.
"More Jedi we will need, should things continue on their present course," Yaddle offered, sitting serenely in her chair much the same way as Yoda.
"He is almost of age to be taken as a padawan. It is impossible to expect the child to learn all he needs to know before then."
"Difficult it would be, not impossible." Yaddle's face might have held something of a smile. "Strong, the Force is. The boy is patient, willing."
"The Jedi are stretched too thin, as Master Windu stated. Unless someone is volunteering to teach the child themself?" Tiin was obviously not including himself in the statement. Years of service in the order proved him to be a better fighter than teacher, and he'd not so much as taken on one padawan learner.
There was various conversation on the topic. Who could spare the time to tutor the child? He would be leagues behind those in his age group and mentally leagues ahead of the younglings just beginning to train in the temple, and yet the idea of privately instructing him was out of the question. Throughout this dialog, Yoda was silent, simply listening and mediating. There was no doubt that the child was strong with the Force, and he was intelligent, calm; nothing of childish enthusiasm or awe filled him, Yoda could sense. Only patience and acceptance. Even at such a young age, he fit the model of a Jedi and would uphold the Jedi Code to an astonishing degree if given the chance.
And there was the issue of the prophecy, which Yoda was certain Yaddle was going to broach. Exceptions had been made before on the basis of fate, after all.
"A decision we must make." All heads turned to Yoda, who gestured to the youngling with his walking staff. "A Jedi should the boy be?" The question was not 'should we train him,' but 'should he be a Jedi?'
The Council weighed this issue carefully before starting to speak. There were a few scattered and reluctant "aye"s. In the end, no one could deny the strong sensation of the Force emanating from the child, who still had not said a word. Windu was the last to give a vote, which was a clear and grave "no." Yoda abstained, only nodding when the response was certain.
"Then a Jedi young Kenobi will be."