BODY HEART AND MIND
by ardavenport
- - - Part 1
Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped onto the ramp and walked up to the platform, the cheers and shouts of the crowd all around him. Wearing only his pale pants, tied securely around his skinny eighteen-year-old waist with an extra rope of fabric, he kept his arms at his sides, his eyes forward. His Padawan's lock lay combed flat on the back of his head. His braid tightly coiled, concealed by a large fragrant red flower clipped behind his right ear.
Jagged lines of lava flows glowed red in the blackness of the far distance. Starless clouds glowered low overhead in the night sky above, trapping the warm moist air in the valley. Smoldering shades of red and orange lights dotted the enormous plane of the festival below the Joining Arena.
Reaching the height of the platform, Obi-Wan held up his two tokens, swinging from their cords, one with the spiral of Mind, one with the square of Body. The token with the eight-pointed star of Heart hung down over his bare almost-hairless chest. The crowd cheered, joyful, expectant, hands held high around him. In their midst, Obi-Wan saw the hands he sought.
The Force surrounded him thickly like the humidity and the sheen of sweat that would not evaporate from his skin, and he gave himself to it. The token of Mind flew high in the air, the trajectory subtly altered in mid-air until it plunged straight down into the hands he chose.
The crowd roared loudly again for the chosen and the chooser. A tall slender woman with pale skin and short, thick dark hair, fluttering layers of long sleeves and skirts spreading out, emerged. Her body glided over the others around her, supported by the hands and good will of the crowd.
Obi-Wan held up the second token. The crowd responded again. It flew high and nearly dove downward, snatched out of the air by the hand of Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan's Master. The taller man, a rough gray concealing poncho concealing all but his head and legs, nearly erupted up out of people around him as they lifted him and passed him hand to hand toward a second platform.
Descending the steps before him, Obi-Wan stretched himself out onto the welcoming hands and appendages waiting to carry him to the Joining platform as well. Hands, paws, hardened claws, fleshy digits, hair, feathery down and scales touched him everywhere as if his slight body weighted nothing at all, new ones taking his shoulders and arms, passing ones leaving his legs and sandaled feet.
He gripped the worn stone of the Joining platform as he arrived, sliding upward as the crowd pushed him forward. Standing, Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon and the woman.
Arm extended, Qui-Gon held out the Body token, gleaming in the reddened light. Obi-Wan took the cord and when his Master bowed to him, he placed it over his head.
"I am our Body. You are my Heart. Lead and I will follow," Qui-Gon said, loud enough for crowd around them to hear. He touched his lips to Obi-Wan's forehead.
Turning to the woman, Obi-Wan took the token of Mind and placed its cord over her bowed head.
"I am our Mind. You are my Heart. Lead and I will follow," she said in a loud strong voice with a pleasant tone and a mid-Core Republic accent. They all joined hands.
"We are Trine, joined by the mid-summer night!" Qui-Gon and the woman called out. The crowd happily shouted and squealed with happiness. Obi-Wan said nothing, arms raised as high as he could with the two taller people beside him. The Heart did not speak. The Heart led at the mid-summer festival.
They left the platform, the crowd making a corridor for them to leave the Arena. Behind them, a new cheer rose up, as the next Heart stood on the center platform to choose.
Nameless now, except for Heart, Mind and Body, Obi-Wan jogged past the people toward gates of the arena, pulling his Master on his left, the woman on his right. But both Jedi knew that they left with Emrie Srotion. Fugitive from the Galactic Republic. Killer of a Jedi.
Obi-Wan wove through the thinner crowd milling outside. Some people recognized the new Trine with smiles and waves. They descended down the path through the deeper darkness of the trees, simu-fire lanterns decorating the branches. Beside and behind him, Obi-Wan sensed his Master's calm purpose, and admiration for the happiness around them. On his other side, Ermie's face glowed with abandon and a vibrant embrace of her adopted world, her refuge.
Clearing the trees, they paused on a bluff paved with wide squares, a stone balustrade between it and the drop down the hill. The city of the Festival spread out on the plane below, a few proud and ancient buildings and bridges standing tall among a throng of tent tops and temporary pre-fab shelters. Huge orange simu-flame lights decorated the tops of the towers.
They went down the wide stone stairs, all the way to the gates of the mid-summer festival.
"We have a young Heart," Ermie panted happily. She held tight to Obi-Wan, her long fingers firmly curling around his sweaty hand. Obi-Wan slowed to a walk as they passed under the gate arch. People and other Trines passed them.
"He is," Qui-Gon agreed lightly, "I am told that is rare."
"Yes. It is," she said with blissful approval and bent to sniff the flower behind Obi-Wan's ear.
Only those who had participated with no discord as Body and Mind three times for each played the role of Heart. The local Constabulary had discreetly provided the necessary exception for Obi-Wan. Though they also prepared a similar exception for Qui-Gon, Ermie made it unnecessary when she entered the arena as Mind-presumptive. New participants in the Trines always served as the Body.
"You are new then to this?"
"I am a visitor to this world only. Friends recommended this experience with much enthusiasm."
"Be careful my Body, you may like it so much you will want to stay," she warned with a laugh.
"I do not believe I could get used to the dark," Qui-Gon told her.
"If you had seen the terrible storms that come during the sun time of the year, you would not miss the light at all," Ermie advised, her tone turning serious before Obi-Wan tugged both Mind and Body behind him.
Obi-Wan, mindful of their goal, looked for an area with private rooms of any kind where they could be alone with Emrie Srotion. The Constabulary had shown them maps of the grounds, but only whim and fancy directed the events of the mid-summer festival held at the height of the long lazy cycle of darkness and flourishing wild fauna. On this planet, with its extreme rotational tilt, the daylight season brought harsh winds, violent weather and a cold white light winter.
On his right a group of actors pranced through a noisy performance for a large laughing audience, crowds spilling out of the interior of the many openings at the base of a tower that served as the backdrop for the show.
On his left people sat in and milled about rows of food tents strung with strings of blinking red lights, limp flags hanging high on poles overhead in the still air thick with the spreading scents of food and cooking. But Obi-Wan's mission spoiled his appetite. he moved on.
The crowds increased. Most people wore loose, sleeveless clothes, though some furred species wore no coverings at all. The lights hung high on poles turned all pale colors orangish-pink and muddied any non-reddish hues. No other colors survived the smoldering the lava reds and fiery oranges.
"Our Heart is restless," Ermie commented; Obi-Wan heard a tone of impatience. He needed to find a private place, but mobs of people crammed every space, every building, every tent and structure around them.
"I am enjoying the tour," Qui-Gon told her, his hand briefly squeezing Obi-Wan's. "It is exhilarating."
"But participating is so much better," she said, swinging hers and Obi-Wan's arm, her layers of sleeve brushing by him.
They passed another Trine, positioned on the flat edge of a fountain, the Mind and Body singing in very good harmony, the elderly Heart between them happily enjoying the music. Some of the crowd gathered under them sang less tunefully, but no one seemed to mind.
Obi-Wan headed through a current of people toward their best hope of getting Ermie alone, the rows of artists' tents on the far side of a park. Loud music thumped from a sunken gathering area in the near corner of the park and Ermie pulled toward it. Floater lights of all colors jounced and bobbed over the moving bodies, the only blues or greens in any direction. The true colors of the mob of dancers under them flashed in and out of sight. Along the raised perimeter around the dancers more heads and bodies bounced up and down on large circles of flexible membranes.
Ermie fell into step with the thumping beat as they passed.
Then Qui-Gon fell into step with her.
A quick glance to his Master confirmed that they should stop to placate their target.
Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump.
Their hands joined in a three-person circle, they moved together toward the jostling bodies.
Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump.
Emrie danced, swaying and stepping with the sound. Her Body and Heart moved with her. Qui-Gon grinned broadly. Even without using the Force, the energy of the music and the other dancers filled Obi-Wan with their enthusiasm and he stepped lightly with them.
Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-THUMP.
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan toward one of the membranes, his eyes flicking in that direction, his expression playful. Complying, but not understanding, Obi-Wan led them up the couple of steps to the nearest membrane and they joined the bouncing dancers.
The shiny tokens around their necks bounced wildly on their chests. Emrie laughed and Qui-Gon put his full body strength into jumping upward. But not the Force. Neither one of them dared to reveal any Jedi abilities in front of Emrie. Until they needed to.
THUMP, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-THUMP.
Qui-Gon and Emrie began a game of boosting Obi-Wan higher with their longer arms. On the third bounce Obi-Wan glimpsed Constable Tremploidi and her team pointing at them and heading in their directions. The Constables wore loose body coverings like Qui-Gon's, concealing their uniforms.
THUMP, THUMP, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, THUMP A-THUMP.
They continued with the bouncing dancers until the Constables had reestablished their covert surveillance and Emrie breathlessly begged for a break, though she seemed reluctant to leave.
They climbed down and Obi-Wan retied the extra rope around the waistline of his pants which had slid dangerously low on his hips. A quick pat under the flower behind his ear confirmed that his braid remained securely hidden. He headed toward the artist's tents again. The music relentlessly pounded on without them.
"Aaaah! You are both fitter than I!" Emrie exclaimed happily.
Obi-Wan grinned back at Ermie and increased his pace.
When they arrived at the rows of tents, a man wearing only a loin cloth greeted them. Dark curls and lines covered his bare, hairless skin, intricate patterns of fine detail and complex geometry decorated him everywhere, the lines and shapes only broken by his broad smile.
He offered them paints and brushes. Obi-Wan let go the hands of his Body and Mind and accepted. Then he turned first to Qui-Gon and then Emrie, giving them the oval bottles and fine brushes.
"You wish to be made more beautiful, my Heart," Emrie said to him with approval, touching his flower. A little embarrassed and grateful that the Heart did not speak, Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. Her hand slid to his cheek, her long elegant fingers stroking his skin.
"Are you an artist, my Body?" she asked, playful.
Qui-Gon, his expression amused, held up his paints and brushes. "Apparently we shall see."
The man in the loin cloth bowed deeply to them and they walked together down the rows of small tents. Obi-Wan picked one with vacant tents on either side of it, their door flaps tied back, their simple interiors exposed and open. He led them inside and Qui-Gon untied the flap, letting the heavy fabric fall to the ground. Red lamps hung from above and on the side opposite the flap, illuminating the small stools and a central bench. The four fabric walls muffled the sounds of voices and activity and distant music outside.
Emrie and Qui-Gon sat on stools facing each other while Obi-Wan stretched out on his stomach, on the padded bench, presenting his bare back to them, his head resting on his folded arms. The ink bottles clacked, placed on other stools, their stoppers opened. Fabric rustled, Emrie's dress and Qui-Gon's body covering.
"I shall begin. . . . . here," Emrie declared, her voice hushed in the echoless small space of the tent.
A cold wet brush touched him on the right side of his back, under his arm.
"What is that?" Qui-Gon asked.
"A poem. An old script I learned in school. Everyone attended art classes; part of our well rounded education though the instructor didn't have an imaginative bone in his body. I could have learned just as well from a droid. But I always thought these letters were pretty."
Delicate little brush strokes made their way up to Obi-Wan's right shoulder.
"What does it say?"
"'Life is for the living. Leave the dead behind. Life is for the taking. Body, Heart and Mind."
A new line of cold tiny ink strokes started, going up to Obi-Wan's shoulder again.
"It is best to leave death behind," Qui-Gon commented. "But not all lives are for taking."
"Life is what you make of it. I intend to make much of the life I have. But you haven't shown me your artistic side, my Body," Ermie encouraged.
After a clinking of brush and ink bottle, a thicker, heavier brush touched Obi-Wan. Cold, wet ink swept an arc down and back up over almost the whole width of his back.
"That's a bold stroke."
"My artistic education is limited, but I was always taught to be bold."
A silent line of ink slid down Obi-Wan's spine. Then a second one, next to the first. The brush stroked lines outward from one spot on his lower back before sweeping upward again. Once. Twice.
"That is a Jedi symbol," Ermie whispered, emerging fear stealing her voice. Her fine brush point touching Obi-Wan's skin stopped moving.
"Yes," Qui-Gon replied pleasantly, "it is."
- - - END Part 1