Roses
By Mellaithwen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters don't belong to me they belong to George Lucas HOWEVER saying that the Old Man does belong to me
Spoilers: Well The Phantom Menace obviously but no others, I don't think...
Summary: Vignette. Fluff. As Obi Wan grieves over Qui Gon, he recalls something from his past and finds advice from a stranger. Title will become apparent.
Authors Note: This is something that came into my head after going to the cemetary for my ownpersonal reasons, though many things were changed to make it an actual Star Wars fanfic.I do not claim to be an expert and I'm sure there are many mistakes in here, but please DON'T flame!
When a Jedi dies, his soul is cast out into the force. Their bodies are burnt so that the ashes can scatter in the winds, and they will always be a part of the world. And as a way of remembering the great Jedi who fell, either in old age, or battle, their names are cast into stone in the Halls Of Old.
The Halls themselves are 3 corridors that intertwine. In them upon the walls are millions of names of Jedi who have died. Of old Masters and young Apprentices, of great minds and pure souls. They are not there for those to grieve over, though some do, but to pay homage to those names, so that even those whose bodies are lost can be remembered.
Many come and go, though many in silent passing to pay their respects, and many stay longer, but there is one who stays longer than most. One who seeks help from the dead, though he never recieves it. One who, night after night, comes to the same place and sits on the black marble that lines the ground, staring at the name in front of his eyes hoping it will dissappear. Praying it was all a horrible dream.
The corridors were bleak. Death filled the air, and it would never leave. By day the sun glared off of the walls, and the names shone, glaring, and the moonlight strayed far away by night. Obi Wan knew. He had come once in the day, but had realised after a few minutes that far too many people were passing through. Some stopped and looked at a name, others carried on walking.
He had decided to come that night instead, hoping it would be darker, but Anakin Skywalker, his young padawan had soon come looking for him, after waking up and finding his Master gone. The boy did not know of the halls, and in the darkness he could not see the names. All he could see was the force, seeming to shine around his Master. The young boy called to the man, and Obi Wan could do nothing but follow the boy back to their quarters.
Obi Wan hadn't slept that night. A part of him was trying to banish the anger he had felt for being interrupted.
The following day he had lead Anakin to his afternoon classes and after wards made his way to the halls once more. They were empty. It was only beginning to get dark. He had an hour before it was completely dark. Before he would meet Anakin. He sat himself down, and stared at the name in front of him. The light was soft, oranges and yellows. The names did not shine, but they seemed to glow ever so slightly.
I should have brought flowers. Obi Wan thought to himself as his fingers traced the script on the wall. He looked around the corridor he was in, the third corridor. There weren't as many names around him, and further down, away from himself, there were blank walls, that would soon be filled with more names. Obi Wan knew it, he could feel it. These times were the true beginnings of a War. The dark side had made itself known, and it wasn't going to back down easily.
Would you have wanted them? Were flowers too sentimental? Too un-original? He had seen graveyards, he had seen tombstones with flowers placed in front of them, and a part of him had never understood why. Yes, they were pretty, and they made the bleak stone look better but what did it mean?
There weren't many graveyards anymore. Many preferred to be cremated, and in many deaths, there were no bodies to be bured, but there was one graveyard on Coruscant Obi Wan recalled vividly. It was old, very old, and everyone had said it was abandoned. Yet, every time Obi Wan had passed it, as a young boy, fresh roses were planted near each grave. Always the same amount, of 6 roses. 3 white and 3 red. Beautiful roses, unfazed by the noise all around them. He could never understand it, there was no way they could live on their own on a planet so reliant on power.
And then one day it had all been made clear to him. In the early hours of the morning he had snuck out of the temple. An old man robed in black walked slowly all around the 20 graves. He checked every rose carefully and if he felt that one was near death he would replace it with another. After inspecting them all he would go back into the old building that lay next to the graves.
Obi Wan felt tears prickle is skin as he thought of this, though he wasn't sure why. He got up, and walked out of the temple, his legs automatically taking him to the graveyard.
The grass was long and over grown. The stones were cracking, but still red and white roses sat gracefully in front of the graves. Obi Wan would have smiled had his mood not been so solemn.
He opened the gate carefully. The iron creaked loudly and he quickly stopped what he was doing. He felt as though it was disrespectful to make noise. He reached down and switched his com link off and bit his lip as he opened the gate again. The creak came once more, and Obi Wan quickly stepped inside and closed it once more.
"I do believe you are lost Jedi." A voice called from behind him. It was frail and spoken softly, and yet the words carried strength all the same. They were not spoken cruelly, but as an observation. Obi Wan turned around and looked at the owner of the voice. It was indeed the same old man, and Obi Wan felt slightly surprised. It had been at least 5 years ago since last he had seen the man, and though he looked quite different, older, and more bent in his back, Obi Wan knew it was the same man. Though in part he had come here to the grave yard to see the man, he was surprised that the elderly man was still alive.
"Son?" The frail voice spoke once more. In comparison, Obi Wan must seem fairly young to him, and that was why the man had used the word 'son' but Obi Wan felt old, older than he should, grief can do that to a person. Obi Wan cleared his throught and moved forward slowly, showing that he posed no threat, though the old man seemed to have established that much.
"I was admiring your roses." Obi Wan answered quietly, cursing himself for not coming up with something better, though it was fairly true.
"Indeed," the old man smiled and looked at the roses near his feet, that were nearing the path. He bent down, best he could, and straightened them out. He went to pick himself up but groaned and put a hand to his back. Obi Wan was at his side in a second and helped him up.
"Are you all right?" He asked, concern written on his handsome features. The old man stared at him for a moment as if deciding something before asking unexpectedly
"Who is it you've lost?"
Obi Wan stepped back in disbelief.
"H-how..?" Obi Wan stammered, but was silences ad the elder held his hands up.
"It's not hard to see, boy, I thought the Jedi were meant to be good at that sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?" Obi Wan asked, though he had a fairly good idea.
"Hiding emotions, blank faces, and calm words, that's the Jedi, then again, I never have met one who is grieving," He said softly "not that I know of" he added after.
"We grieve, though it is not the way of many Jedi, I grieve." Obi Wan sighed "I lost my Master, my father, h-he was everything to me, and now he's gone, all because of the Jedi." Obi Wan regretted his words soon after having said them, he knew they were not true, but he had voiced the doubt in his mind.
"Why come here? Is the Jedi way not a religion in itself?"
Obi Wan looked at the man, not quite understanding him. In reply the old man pointed towards the building next to the graves. On the roof, there was a point where a cross stood.
"Though none now practise this religion," the old man muttered "My father, and his father, and his fathers before him, were all believers in God, they built this church when no others stood, we have kept this church standing, though many have wanted to knock it down. We keep it standing because of the dead around it. Because of what it symbolises for us."
He looked at Obi Wan.
"I will not preach to you about my own beliefs, because I know you hold your own close to your heart, and though death will make you question them, it does not make your faith less real, less true. Do not let your life of following this religion be in vain because you have lost someone. Grieve, but do not give up, never give up."
The old man turned his back on Obi Wan for a moment and as quick as his old legs could take him, he went to the rose bush growing outside of the church door. He cut three red and three white and gave them to Obi Wan.
"Makes things a little less bleak, don't you think?" He whispered and left Obi Wan alone. The Jedi stayed still for a moment, thinking of the old mans words, before making his way back to the temple. Darkness was falling, and he didn't have long.
He entered the temple and practically ran to the Halls. He slowed his pace as he approached them, in respect. He made his way to the third hall and strode to where his Masters name was engraved. He looked to the single window in the hall and back at the flowers in his hand.
He quickly left and found a pot, he filled it with water, and places the roses carefully into the water. He made his way back to the halls for the last time that day and put the pot on the windowsill. He moved them around a little and then stepped back to admire them. He smiled slightly and sighed deeply. He couldn't keep doing this. He would carry his Masters death forever, but he had to stop. It was becoming an obsession and he responsibilities now. He would check on the roses every now and again, but nowhere near as often as he had been.
Obi Wan Kenobi left the halls, and went to meet his Padawan outside of his classes.
"Grieve, but do not give up, never give up."
Did it suck, or was it ok? Let me know in a review