TITLE: It 'aint Over 'til the Jedi Master Croaks
By Jemmiah
"It's all your fault!" Qui-Gon grumbled. "All! Totally, completely and utterly!"
A whole day stuck inside the dormitories all because of a silly argument between young Berlingside and Mace Windu. A whole day, fidgeting listlessly on their bunks with nothing better to do than exchange declarations as to who was to blame for their state of incarceration. An entire twenty-four hours forced to listen to Mace protesting his innocence whilst they were supposedly meditating on the evils of 'arguing between one another like they were children'. Which, Qui-Gon thought, was rather odd considering that was exactly what they were! But Master Sheedi was not to be moved on the subject: her mind was made up. Usually the most sympathetic amongst the crèche masters and carers, Yma Sheedi's resolve had been utterly unshakeable. They would spend the day doing nothing but pondering their actions until they came to the inevitable conclusion that fighting between each other was wrong.
"It's no use blaming Dex." Qui-Gon hissed out the corner of his mouth. "YOU were the one who lost his temper!"
"He'd try the patience of a Gurolian priest!" Windu grumbled, his ire somewhat cooled although plainly smarting at the thought that he of all people might be responsible for the punishment everyone was suffering.
He was answered by a higher pitched, polite little cough. "Ahem."
"What do you want?" Mace snapped.
"All I was going to point out," Dex piped up, "was that I was trying to help you. Art is hardly your strong point, is it?"
"An act of wanton vandalism!" Mace turned his head away and closed his eyes so that he couldn't see Gilda Amaline's ginning face regarding him from the bunk next to him.
"Your picture of Master Skarrem was all wrong! All I did…"
"Yes I know what you did!" Mace huffed. "You don't need to keep on about it!"
"…Was try to improve it a little. I mean, Master Sheedi said that the team with the best pictures could spend an extra half hour in the gardens and I knew your picture was just awful…"
Mace sat up and nearly banged his head off the bunk above.
"My picture was NOT awful." Windu cast a dangerous glare in the direction of the guileful Corellian. "It was just fine as it was until you came along and…doodled all over it with crayon!"
"But I thought I was doing you a favour." Dex frowned; unable to comprehend how anyone could be so ungrateful as to not appreciate the pureness of his motives. There had not been any desire to land Mace in trouble or brand him a laughing stock, as the initiate himself had suggested. All he had wanted to do was help! Why couldn't Windu understand?
Mace folded his arms. "You drew a face on my picture."
"I thought it was Master Skarrem, what with those big sticking-out ears and that long snout…"
"It was a teapot!"
"How was I to know that?" Demanded Dex, haughtily tossing back his head. "Your drawing was dreadful! To be honest it didn't much look like anything - I was just giving it the benefit of the doubt…"
"You little…"
"Mace!" Qui-Gon interposed, standing directly infront of the blonde Corellian boy and effectively blocking Windu's view of him. "Stop picking on him. Maybe his actions were a little misguided but his heart was in the right place. Unlike your own." He added pointedly.
Mace clamped his mouth shut with an audible snap. Qui-Gon was right: he hadn't exactly covered himself in glory when he'd tried to retaliate by desecrating Berlingside's own drawing with a thick, orange crayon stick. Especially when it had turned out not to belong to Dex but to Vernice Ashdal, who had then gone running to Master Sheedi to complain.
Master Sheedi had then confined them all to their rooms, promising that there would be no trip to the gardens at all that week.
"We could all have been outside if it hadn't been for you." Vernice muttered, making no attempt to disguise her words.
"I wasn't the one who went tattling to the crèche masters." Mace answered back smartly. "Was I?"
"You destroyed my picture!"
"So? He," Windu jerked his head in Dex's direction, "destroyed mine!"
"Two wrongs don't make a right." Qui-Gon chimed in somewhat sanctimoniously. "And now we'll never get out ever again."
"Master Sheedi will have told the council of our punishment and gotten their blessing." Gilda agreed, rolling over onto her back and resting her head on top of her folded arms. "Imagine how disappointed they will be with us. Maybe the knights and masters won't even want to think about looking for padawans when they hear about our unruly behaviour." She squinted slightly at Mace. "Correction - your unruly behaviour!"
"Okay, okay…you don't need to labour the point." Windu mumbled, feeling genuine embarrassment and guilt at his actions. He didn't have a temper, not one that boiled away and needed constant checking. Normally he was reasonably placid and focused: he'd been praised time and time again for his superior concentration. Occasionally his resentment might be spiked: sometimes he could be waspish and churlish at the same time but basically he was a perfectly rational young boy. He'd been as surprised as anyone else when he'd lost his temper at Berlingside and given in to his urge to get back at him in some small, trivial way.
Qui-Gon, ever the voice of sanity and reason, had stepped in to no avail. The red mist had dissipated too late to avoid recriminations from the shocked crèche masters, although Mace couldn't help but feel that his elders and betters were being a little heavy handed in punishing them all when he had been the one that had sinned. Perhaps, he realised in a moment of total clarity; they had thought this to be the best punishment they could bestow on the unruly initiates. Make them all think upon the guilty actions of one and learn to avoid making the same mistake again.
That and putting his popularity on a par with overcooked refectory sea-slough.
A small figure had silently made his way to stand beside Mace's bunk, regarding him contritely, and when Mace looked up he found himself staring into the penitent green eyes of Dex Berlingside.
"Look, I'm really sorry if I made you lose your temper." Dex gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I really thought I was trying to help. Next time I'll ask, I promise." He solemnly stretched out a hand, wondering if Windu would show enough grace to accept the gesture as his apology. "Let's not fight, huh? It's just silly! And you're the clever one around here: we need you to work out how we can escape!"
All eyes in the dorm were turned upon him. He could feel their anticipation, expectantly waiting his reply. Typical of Berlingside to turn things around and put the onus back on him, he thought with grudging admiration. Now it made him look like the only villain involved in that morning's debacle! But, as always, Dex was being his naturally good-natured self. He just didn't have it in him to remain upset for long, and so his apology was little more than a way of smoothing things over so that he could move on to whatever piece of mischief his brain was already cooking up.
There was no nastiness, no agenda behind the gesture, so he thought. It seemed as if he genuinely wanted to make amends.
"I'm not the smart one around here." Mace sighed, shaking Dex by the hand. He could almost feel the collective sigh of relief as he accepted Berlingside's apology, pent-up breaths being released from all sides. "If I had been then I wouldn't have done it in the first place."
Qui-Gon walked over to the pair of them, judging it finally safe to do so.
"And how do we get out of this mess?" He asked Mace.
Dex frowned. "We could apologise to the crèche masters?"
"We already did. It was like trying to calm a Reek by waving a red flag at it!" Mace grumbled, resting his chin on his hands.
"Don't you think we'll ever get out?"
"No, I'm afraid we're just stuck in here for the moment. We won't be going anywhere, not whilst Master Yoda agrees with Master Sheedi. Unless of course…" Mace mumbled something further under his breath that Qui-Gon couldn't make out, but Dex however seemed to have heard, judging by the way in which his eyes seemed to light up with interest.
It was a glorious day outside. It just didn't seem to be right, spending it cooped up. Berlingside looked as if he were about to explode with pent up energy, like some coiled spring. Mace had fallen into one of his brooding moods. Then there was the matter of Gilda's little speech regarding the masters and knights: word would surely get around that the initiates were untrustworthy not remotely suitable to be taken as padawans. For some of them, this would be their last year at the temple if they were not chosen. Qui-Gon sighed.
It would take a miracle to get out of this one.
And then, as if prompted by the force, a diminutive figure entered through the doorway, his stick tap-tapping against the wooden boards on the floor. The tips of green, triangular ears could be seen edging behind the rows of beds - reminding Qui-Gon somewhat of a dorsal fin on an advancing Great Snapper fish. The approach seemed somewhat less smooth, almost laboured, but was no less predatory for all that. Punctuated by a little series of stiff grunts whenever the stick clattered on the floor surface, the intruder revealed itself to be - just as they had all known - none other than Master Yoda himself.
And he didn't look amused.
Instantly all the initiates jumped to their feet, standing to attention at the foot of their beds. Instead of pleasing Yoda with their respectful, soldier like obedience their actions only seemed to cause the aged master further irritation.
"Told to stay on your beds, you were." Yoda hobbled his way up towards Qui-Gon, reproving him with a sorrowful shake of his head.
"Master Yoda," Qui-Gon answered after a pause, "with all due respect to yourself, the council and the crèche masters, it is impossible to remain all day lying on top of a bed. Meditation may bring enlightenment, sir, but it does not ease one's bladder. And one doesn't wish to annoy the crèche masters further by having a series of accidents occurring within the dormitories…"
Yoda regarded him silently for a moment, mulling over the initiate's words. Then the irritation suddenly seemed to disappear, dispelled by an odd, musical chuckling. Qui-Gon blinked, surprised at this reaction. Could the old troll have been less displeased than he had at first let on?
"Speak wisely you do, young Qui-Gon." Yoda nodded, his expression suddenly serene. "Come here I did, to see you all. Heard of your dispute, I have! Shameful it is, hmph!" He banged the stick down between his feet, and Qui-Gon wondered if he had ever at any point missed the floor and struck his toe instead. That stick was not so much for leaning on but rather an offensive weapon! He pitied the next poor padawan that Yoda claimed. It was a long and illustrious line to be sure, but it was an honour that would surely come at the price of many, many accidental bruises!
"It was my fault." Mace bowed his head apologetically. "And I am sorry for what I did. I do wish that my actions had not been the cause of such misery for everyone."
"Good this is." Yoda said approvingly. "Pleased I am that such sense has prevailed. But, alas, respect the crèche master's decision we must. Adamant the council is, that learn from this you should. Stay inside and meditate you will. Remain on your beds," His eyes twinkled mischievously, "you need not."
Another polite little cough came from Dex.
"Master Yoda," he asked humbly, "can you do an impression of a frog?"
The question, coming out of the blue as it did and bearing no connection to anything that had been said already, seemed to throw Yoda off his stride. His ears lowered slightly like a flag sliding gradually down a pole and his brows met in the middle to form an even steeper ridge than before.
"You request is unusual, initiate Berlingside." Yoda replied, greatly puzzled.
"Oh, go onnnnnn." Dex pleaded.
"A frog I cannot do. A Jedi Master I am! And an old one." Yoda gently sought to remind Dex that someone with as many centuries worth experience as he had accumulated did not partake in such childish behaviour, no matter how fun. He hadn't slid down the spiral staircase in over a decade! Well, not officially…
"But you're so good at everything!" Dex answered earnestly. "You could do it, I know! Please?"
"Dex!" Qui-Gon whispered, urging him to desist in his strange behaviour. "Shush!"
Yoda scratched absently at one ear. "Good at everything I am not. Good at nearly everything: yes. Frogs are not amongst my accomplishments, young initiate!"
Dex's face fell. "Shoozer." He exclaimed, greatly disappointed at the reply.
There was a momentary pause as Yoda considered why his reluctance to impersonate a frog was causing Dex Berlingside such distress. The boy was what, six? All wide-eyed innocence on the outside, but with a hidden knowingness in his manner which many found disturbing in one his age. Try as he might the ancient master couldn't quite ascertain to where these unusual questions tended - and to what end they might serve. Some impertinent piece of mischief, if the other Corellians Yoda had known down the ages was any kind of marker to judge against!
"Tell me, young Berlingside, why this thing you wish me to do, hmmm?" Yoda expectantly raised his sleepy brows once more, in a mood to humour the boy. "Frogs, why are they so special?"
Dex made his expression as radiant and angelic as he could.
"It's just that we were so longing to go out in the gardens to study." He replied wistfully, casting longing looks in the direction of the window. "And when I asked Mace if he thought we would ever be allowed out of the dormitory again, he said yes: maybe when Master Yoda croaks! So I thought if I could get you to be a frog…"
In the silence that followed Qui-Gon found himself turning his face away so that Mace would not see his laughter. This was Dex's way of saying sorry, and it inevitably came at a price. One hand held out a rose of friendship and the other, hidden behind his back, contained the custard pie.
Dex turned to face the shocked Mace Windu and offered him a sly wink.
"Rrrribbit" He grinned.