As predicted, celebration greeted Maridian upon entry into the house once she'd finished with the fence. It had taken her twice as long as it should've, as her vision had started to blur behind stinging tears – not just from sand particles, but from the extra burden of negotiations with Thor West in Talba. She had washed her face at the pump before entering the house, however, and put on her best look of excitement when Remy rushed over with confirming news.
Maridian put a hand on the girl's shoulder, then tucked one of her stray curls behind her ears. Remy was practically vibrating with excitement. "Maridian! You heard, didn't you – Henna is going to sing at the Crossing Point!"
She nodded and looked across the room, where Henna was sitting on the edge of one of the dining area chairs. Her father was beaming at the other end, watching her with twinkling eyes of pride for his middle child. Maridian looked back to Remy and smiled, nodding. "I've heard – a very big accomplishment. I am so proud." Remy turned and fingered one of her own curls.
"This is exciting!" She clapped her hands, "Henna, we have to get you something to wear!" She turned back to Maridian, "The materials –"
Maridian had already caught onto their scheming, "I will see to it that Henna has something great to wear," she winked across to Henna, "don't worry. You won't be disappointed." Maridian could hear the hint of a sigh on her own lips, the shrug of her shoulders evident. It was more work to be done.
Henna's looks softened and she nodded, her eyes a bit sympathetic. "I know," she said bravely, "I know you won't let me down." She nodded to Maridian and then shifted her eyes to their father, and Maridian nodded her confirmation. Henna got up and grabbed Remy's hand and pulled her towards the corridor. "Let's go and see what we have to work with, hm?"
Remy nodded and the two were gone faster than a windstorm. Only once the door to their room had closed did Maridian approach the kitchen, dropping her headwrap on the table. She moved towards the cooling box carefully and opened it with a yank. Her father, she felt, was staring. There was silence a moment.
"She is so excited," her father sighed, "so excited and so blissfully unaware." He guided his chair towards the seat Maridian had taken, the chilled fruit in her hands. Her eyes were glued to it, but she suddenly had no appetite to eat it. He touched her shoulder. "You are a wonderful sister to be doing this for her."
She sighed and shrugged, giving him a glance, "She told you about Thor."
He gave her a sympathetic smile and nod, "Unfortunately, things always come with a price."
"It's just I always seem to have to pay it," she grumbled, scooting the chair back. He bristled as she stood abruptly. She set the fruit down with a slap on the counter, watching it roll away from the inertia. "I am so tired of owing everyone something." She leaned against the counter and covered her face with her hands, "I am stretched every which direction and the more I work, the more we seem to go backwards." She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. She gave him a look and struggled to keep the tears back. "When am I ever going to stop? When is the world ever going to stop?"
Her father was quiet, staring at her. She could see his eyes had glossed over with regretful tears, and he shrugged in his chair, leaning to rest an elbow on the tattered arm of it. She'd worked six weeks for Thor – and watched younglings in Mos Eisley – for that chair. And it was falling apart, as was everything else. He rubbed his beard, his voice cracking in a croak, "I'm afraid the world doesn't ever stop, Maridian. All we can do is try to catch up to it." He looked away from her. "I should've never gone out that day."
She sniffled and cast him a horrified look, "You had no idea it would happen like it did," she shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It is not your fault." She sighed, "It didn't help you were doing everything by yourself."
They were silent a long moment, exchanging looks. She watched the regrets pass through his eyes like waves, all the years and "if only's" flaunting themselves in his mind. She could briefly see the pain and frustration and bitterness sift through them, and a pang of guilt hit her. He was struggling already with the idea of her caring for the farm – her complaining certainly wouldn't help the situation. "Don't worry, Papa." She moved towards him and knelt before his chair on her knees, grabbing his hand. She pressed it to her lips and kissed it tenderly, "I can do this. I will take care of us."
His eyes shifted away, "And sacrifice yourself doing it." His tone was angry and bitter. She froze, staring at him before he continued – his tone carried the undertone to an issue that everyone had been skirting around since it had been proposed months earlier. "You don't want to marry Talor, and I am forcing you."
The thought sucked the air out of the room, and all her resolve went out the window with it. Every bit of strength and courage she'd gained throughout the years had been tossed to the wayside. No one had asked her what she had wanted in a long time, and his observation confirmed all her fears: he'd seen. He'd read her. Her gut soured like warm milk, "It doesn't matter, Papa." She whispered, "Talor is a good man."
He gave a guttural growl, spittle flying from his mouth, "Not good enough!" She abruptly released his hand when he jerked the chair into a rough glide backwards, almost colliding with a dinner chair. She panicked, lunged for him, and he stopped abruptly, collecting himself from his rageful outburst. He sighed and buried his face in his hands, ashamed. "I am handing my daughter over as if she were cattle." She froze where she stood, taking in his form in the chair – his shoulders began to tremble. He looked up at her, tears trailing down his cheeks and into his beard, "I have failed you as a father."
Her mouth opened, aghast, and she approached him slowly, still on her knees. She felt a sob clench her throat shut and seize her heart in a steel grip. Her stomach plummeted first into her knees and then her neck in a burning rage. She took his hand in hers and pressed her forehead to his knuckles, "You haven't failed me, Papa," she whispered, her body trembling; tears threatening to come. Ben's words came to mind from their conversation by the speeder bike two weeks previous, "we do what we must to survive." She sighed shakily. "I will do this. All of it. Talor is a good man, and you and Henna and Remy will be well looked after once we are married." Her voice trailed and she squeezed her eyes shut, "And all will be well."
She didn't mention the pending payments collecting interest that they owed Jabba. It had been a longstanding loan of credits after her father's accident. Maridian had simply never made enough to see to their livelihood working for Thor or selling livestock – it had fallen to bits once her father's accident had ensued. Talba was not forgiving, nor was the desert – it continued to move, as did business, regardless if one kept up or not. So, she'd gone into Mos Eisley to Jabba's Palace in search of help. He had given it to her, but not without it's lofty price, just as many Talban's had before her. It was an unforgiving burden. One that she kept in the front of her mind, with all the others.
Her father wept quietly in his chair and patted her head with his shaking hand, "If only all could be well and you were happy, my sweet girl." He bent and kissed her head, and she looked up at him. A sob cracked her chest. "All we ever wanted was for you all to be happy." His hand found her cheek and his thumb stroked her cheekbone lovingly, "Happy and healthy."
She swallowed, "I will be happy, Father," she nodded and kissed the top of his hand respectfully, "I promise you, I will be happy." She vowed she would, at his feet, in that moment.
Even if she had to will herself to be.
"It's settled then," Maridian slapped her hand on the counter of Thor West's bar the next after noon; the glasses waiting to be polished rattled at the sudden movement. She nodded firmly and stuck out her hand to the man, leaning over the bar. "I'll work for you weekends in exchange for Henna's singing Friday's and Saturday nights." The very thought of it sent rocks into her chest, but she smiled at him nonetheless.
Thor West, an man in his mid-thirties with emerald eyes and hair the color of caf, did not lack charm or good looks – or, good old fashioned down-to-earth common sense. He was a man geared to make money and easily influenced by profits, as well as a man who was easy to negotiate with. Probably one of the nicest souls Talba had ever seen – far nicer than his father had been in her, or so Maridian's father had said. His hand met hers and they shook on it, and he nodded, "Glad you have you back, Hail. Look forward to seeing you around here again." They released their hands and he plucked another glass into his meaty hands and began polishing it.
She shrugged and gave him her best smile, "I do tend to grow on people," he chuckled and shook his head at her, "But I'd better mosey. I got some business to do with Issik about some materials before heading home." She jerked her thumb towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded and saluted her off, "Yup. Lookin' forward to it, Maridian."
Maridian dipped her head appropriately and navigated the cantina expertly, avoiding the sultry stares from the few mid-day customers who'd stopped to smell the roses. The cantina was built underground in the sands, so she had to climb stairs to get back to level earth. Once there, she scanned the main street before jogging toward Issik's shop not four blocks away.
She found the man sitting on his stoop steps, a wad of credits in his hand. He was counting them swiftly and hardly noticed her presence – or, at least, he paid her no mind until a few moments had passed. Only once he'd finished counting did he raise a brow and glance at her, "Hello, Maridian," his lips upturned into a confident smile, "I saw your sister just yesterday. Everything okay with the materials?"
She nodded, "Never better," she replied, "but I'm here for some more of it. I'm afraid I underestimated how much I'd need." He nodded and got up, and waved her up the stairs, her following him into the store. They moved through the aisles until they arrived at the fabrics. He gestured with a hand.
"Anything you need, sweetheart. Let me know." She nodded and he slipped away, towards his office. She began sorting through materials, through greys and tans and charcoal colors – nothing appropriate for a dress for Henna. Maridian shuffled them around and compared prices, knowing she'd be able to haggle or strike some type of deal with Issik, until her hands found a light yellow crepe cotton.
Dusted with a light brown, the cloth reminded her so much of Henna that she refused to look at anything more after it. She pressed the ream of it to her chest and sorted through the remainding amounts for any type of material to go with it – for a shawl, or some type of band to wrap around the waist. After finding nothing, she reasoned to buy the yellow cotton and makeshift something at home later. Maridian rested the ream down and began measuring lengths, her hands working quickly and thoughts lost – so much so that she didn't notice the feeling resting at the base of her stomach, lodged like a rock.
"Hello, there," came the soothingly accented voice.
Startled, Maridian squealed and dropped the cloth from her hands altogether, heartbeat spiked. The ream hit the floor with a thunk and she snapped her attention from it to the voice on the other side of the shelf. Her heartbeat began to simmer only slightly when she recognized the face and her body realized it was not in danger, "Ben," she put a hand to her chest, shaking her head. She dipped to pick up the ream, popping up and looking between it and him, busying herself. She felt the blush rush up her neck and pop onto her cheeks. Embarrassing. "You certainly have a knack for showing up out of nowhere."
He gave her a sympathetic smile, and gently moved aside more materials to stee at her through the shelving. He draped his arm along it and shrugged his shoulders beneath his cloak. He reached up to remove the hood from his head with the other hand, and she noticed his hands were dirty, and once the hood was removed, that he was sweating. "I apologize for frightening you," he looked apologetic, "I didn't mean to."
She gave him a light smirk, "I figured." She looked down to her hands and began to resort through the yellow cotton, having lost her measurements. "What brings you to Issisk's store?" She decided to change the subject, as he wasn't leaving nor seemed to have any intention of speaking. She felt that blasted feeling lodge itself in her throat, but oddly enough it didn't steal her voice.
There was a pause from him and he reached across the shelving, reaching for a brightly colored ream of orange crepe. It was obnoxious to even stare at, much less think of wearing. Her eyes followed his hands as he carefully navigated the ream through the shelves. He examined it and held it up, quirking a curious brow. "What do you think?" His tone was light and teasing.
She burst out laughing, then put a hand to her mouth when his face lit up into a smile. She shook her head, and gestured to it, attempting a serious face. "I really don't think it's your color." He was fighting off the urge to laugh, she could see it. "Doesn't go with the cloak."
He chuckled and set it on the shelf, "I think you may be right." His eyes found her hands across the shelf and he gestured to the yellow crepe, "That, however, is lovely. Is it for you?" He looked up at her and she shook her head again, a curl falling into her face. She brushed it aside.
"No, my sister."
He nodded, clearly lost at knowing she had two of them. "Ah,"
"Henna," she clarified, "she's in need of a new dress." She decided against telling him about the singing arrangements – the last thing she needed was his sympathy, or his presence at the Crossing Point. She was already unnerved around him, though less than what she expected. Maridian could sense he was easing into her presence as well. She finished her thought, "And yellow reminds me of her."
He nodded, saying nothing for a moment. Ben brought his arms up to rest on the shelf, and he looked at her before gesturing to it with his hand, "It will be most beautiful on her." She nodded in confirmation, noting his hesitance to the statement. Silence hung in the air like a wet blanket.
She began measuring again, and he posed the next statement. "It's been awhile since I have seen you," his statement almost rocked her back on her feet, "everything is well with your father?"
Maridian glanced up at him, marking her position with her hand and set the material down on the table. "Yes, everything's fine." She puffed out a breath, "Just busy is all. I can't afford to be away from the farm too much." She felt his gaze move to her hands, and she restarted again, "And yourself?"
He shrugged and stood, arms dropping from the shelves. "It's going well," he nodded as if piecing together his thoughts, "Talor's spare bed is far more comfortable than a floor, that's for sure." She cracked a smile at him and he scratched his bearded chin, "but I'm afraid I might be outworking Talor's idea of me."
She raised her brows, "Oh?"
He dropped his tone and whispered, "He doesn't seem to have a lot of…business," she suppressed a chuckle, "or at least he can't seem to keep me busy doing anything. I think a part of him wants to see me succeed, but the business sense of him is beyond himself."
She smiled at him and nodded, "Just you wait a few more weeks, Ben," she noted the last bit of material she needed and plucked up the ream from the table she'd been working at, "once breeding season has finished and the animals start birthing, you'll be up to your neck in business." She moved away from the table, him following along the other side of the shelving. He met her at the end of the aisle, a horrified look on his face.
Maridian might have considered the idea that he'd paled, if a blush of heat hadn't rushed onto his face. He folded his arms across his chest and furrowed his brow at her, as if puzzled. She bit her lower lip, sensing she'd made him a bit uncomfortable. "- you've never worked a breeding seasons with animals, have you?"
He looked up at her and his eyes found hers. "I'm afraid not."
She sighed at him and smiled, "You'll be great." She moved towards Issik's office, Ben trailing behind her slowly. He meandered, as if unsure. She paused in Issik's doorway, held up the material, and he looked up at her. "Cut me off some of this, Issik, and I'll be on my way." He nodded and she showed him the measurements, and took the ream for her. She fell against the doorway, crossed her feet at the ankles, and crossed her arms at the chest. She gave her attention back to Ben, "Don't worry so much," she waved a hand at him, "I come in every year to help Talor with his purchases anyway. You'll make one – maybe two – big runs to Mos Eisley to the main markets and cash in and then it'll be back to boring everyday life, working with speeders and fixing fences."
His brows rose a few inches and he blinked at her, as if surprised. She looked away suddenly. Her chest felt like a battlefield of explosives had set off within her, shell-shocking her body into an uneasy mess. She bit her lower lip anxiously. Perhaps she shouldn't have told him she came into Talba to help Talor with his livestock runs. He'd have to figure it out eventually, she reminded herself, and best to know beforehand. At least in her mind. She'd have to prepare herself for that later.
Issik returned shortly with her material, and she paid him appropriately. Ben watched their exchange like a pillar, silent and unmoving. She tucked the material under her arm and moved towards Ben, and slowed beside him as he turned and walked with her towards the door. They exited the shop and moved down the stoop and onto the street. There was awkward silence between them as they moved along, Ben scuffing his boots in the dirt, hands enveloped in his cloak. He watched his feet as if she were uninteresting.
He suddenly broke the silence, "Do you remember that place your father spoke to me about?"
She nodded, suddenly glad for a shift in conversation. "Of course."
Nonchalantly he stated, "I plan to buy it." This surprised her, and she let it show on her face. She found it interesting he wanted to move into the abandoned farm. He'd struck her as a wanderer, not a man to settle down. In Talba, of all places. He gave her a half smile and then looked back down at his boots, her eyes following. She noticed his cloak brushed the ground and was beginning to fray at the hem. It was filthy, as well. "You look surprised."
She quickly corrected herself, "Oh, no!" She gestured between them with her hand, "I mean, well, yes in a way – I –"
He laughed, "I didn't strike you as the settling down type, did I?"
She sobered up almost immediately, mouth clamping shut. She looked down at her own feet, and then nodded slowly. She had not realized how tall he was compared to her except in that moment. "Not exactly."
He chuckled and smiled, still looking at his feet. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of an enigma." His acceptance of it was refreshing, and also made Maridian take note. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, that feeling stirring around her stomach again. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. "But I get the sense everyone around here knows that."
She smiled weakly at her feet, still meandering beside him. "Everyone around here doesn't mind their own business," she shrugged a shoulder, stating it matter-of-factly, "you just have to learn to keep your business out of theirs, and you'll be fine."
He snapped his head up and looked at her, his eye catching the sunlight. "Wise words for such a young lady."
She deflated, feeling her stomach plunge to the sands. Looking away, the realization of his statement hit her like a punch to the stomach: he saw her as a young girl. A part of her reeled at the thought of him thinking of her anyway else, but another part of her ached inside. She'd be nothing more than little Maridian Hail to everyone in this village,'s eyes, besides Talor's lustful ones. A man like Ben Kenobi – a man who was sophisticated and educated and mature – was no exception. She was a simple, dull-witted farm girl compared to the likes of what he'd seen, she imagined. Maridian had always reasoned she was good for two things in Talba: 1) her father's land, and 2) reproduction, and by his statement, she reasoned that he saw it, too. Her value didn't extend to more than that; especially with accumulated debts and the…offsetting disease – she was not the girl for Ben Kenobi. He, she reasoned, was looking for a woman – not a farm girl.
Her stomach flipped when she caught her name, "Maridian?"
She jerked from her thoughts, and glanced up at him. She tried to hide the defeat in her eyes. "Sorry. What did you say?"
His face folded into a frown, "I just asked you how long it would take to get into Mos Eisley by eopie." She nodded and recalled having heard something about it the ramblings of her mind, "are you sure you're alright?"
She waved the thought off. As good as can be expected for a young girl, Ben. "I'm fine," she said quickly, "And you don't want to go into Mos Eisley by eopie – you'd need a speeder." She caught the shrug of his shoulders, as if he were defeated. Without thinking, she added on, "My father would probably let you use ours if you wanted to check into the place." Maridian! Stupid girl!
Ben gave her a surprised – and hopeful – look. "Are you certain?"
She sighed, "Of course he would. You're practically the family hero," she mumbled the statement, having unknowingly guided him back to Talor's shop. "and besides that, we have an extra speeder we keep on hand anyway. All it needs is a fuel pump and a bit of tinkering and it'd be ready to go."
He smiled coolly at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling only slightly. It was attractive in its own right, and disarming. "It is a good thing that I seem to excel with tinkering."
She couldn't help but chuckle and shook her head. "I do the tinkering around the farm," she pulled a thumb into her chest to prove the point, "thank you." His eyes flashed a light twinkle again and she gave him a smirk. "But, you're welcome to come and learn a few things if you'd like." What are you thinking, woman? You don't want this man in your life – and he doesn't want you in his. Not in the way that matters.
He nodded and spotted movement coming towards them. They were clients that Maridian recognized as out-of-Talba's, who had come to perhaps do business with Talor. However, warning surged a path through her belly when she caught them staring at her in only the way that meant trouble. The one was a Twi'lek, the other a Zabrak – she recognized them almost immediately when the paused to ogle her with their eyes. They never came this far from the Palace, she contemplated. They'd never come to see her before. Terror planted itself inside her abdomen.
Maridian abruptly turned away, hurrying up the steps of Talor's porch. She reached for the door control and slammed them, quickly slipping inside. She felt her heart begin to hammer, sweat forming on her palms. She saw through the open doorway Ben, who looked utterly lost, stare at her with a wrinkled brow. He looked back to the two characters and tromped up the steps after her. His form stopped in the doorway, he leaned forward, one hand on the entry. His hooded face was blocked by the shadow having fallen over his face.
"Maridian?" He asked, concern flooding his voice. "Is everything all right?"
She felt her throat parch, and reached up to touch it, as if to make sure it hadn't fallen out of her neck. She said nothing, only fastened her eyes on Ben, her arm tightening around the package under her arm. She closed her eyes and calculated the times and dates in her head; the doings and comings and goings, the amounts of money – Jabba's Palace came rushing to mind, and she was shaken out of her thoughts by his lustful – and disgusting – eyes boring at her in her mind.
Two months. I still have two months to fix this.
Ben by now was almost alarmed, she could tell. He was staring at her with a confusion and worry that a friend would have. He frowned at her now. "Maridian." His tone signaled that she had better respond, and she nodded.
"I'm okay," she breathed, "I'm okay."
He didn't believe her. "All right then," he diverted the conversation away and stepped through the door, extending a hand to her arm. He fell into step beside her as they moved out of Talor's shop, and down the stairs. Maridian's eyes followed the two men, who had crossed the street and slowed to look at a vendor. "Let me see you off."
"Thank you," she somehow managed.
Perhaps it was a time to visit Mos Eisley and reassure Jabba the Hutt.
Obi-Wan saw Maridian off after the strange turn of conversation. He'd noticed the two men approaching quite a distance away, and really had paid them no mind until Maridian reacted so suddenly.
He'd briefly seen the terror in her eyes and felt the fear raise in the force before she'd began to think. She'd maneuvered into Talor's shop smoothly, away from the men's wandering and strong stares. He'd seen people calculate before – educated people who knew a thing or two about situations. He put together that these men were unusual in Talba as soon as she'd reacted, and that their presence had to have been trouble. He'd felt that much in the force.
But Obi-Wan was more concerned with Maridian's cold and calculating eyes. She seemed to be reasoning through her head all sorts of things that he wished he could understand. While fear stabbed its way through the atmosphere, he had perhaps underestimated the amount of maturity and responsibility the girl possessed. Obi-Wan had to exercises great strength not to press into the force and sort out what was going through her mind, and refrained from it. He respected her too much – or perhaps was too afraid of her reaction – to do so. It wasn't the right time or place to do this, he reasoned with himself.
He'd regretted his calling her a "young lady" almost immediately as he'd stated it – he could tell she did, too. She'd deflated entirely, which perhaps should've been a good thing to him, but wasn't. It was the farthest thing away from good. Instead, he'd wished he could eat the words and take them back altogether. He, as a man, was aware that she was the farthest thing from a young lady – a man would only have to look at her to realize that. But, as a Jedi, all he could see was the force-sensitive, inexperienced potential raw inside of her. Whatever had possessed him to call her a girl was beyond him.
You truly are the most clueless thing, Obi-Wan. As he watched her speeder move through the walls and onto the dunes, he put a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. So clueless and entirely idiotic.
But, for the time being, that was a good thing. He may have been attracted to Maridian Hail, but by no means would he act upon such raw emotions. He would focus on her force-sensitivity and wait for the right moment.
And observe. Because waiting and observing was what Obi-Wan Kenobi was good at.
AN: Alright, so we've finally delved into the plot just a little! I wanted to point out that I removed the previous sections about Durango and the Sand People raids. I thought perhaps I would go that way, but decided to do something a bit different - I like the idea of Jabba the Hutt more. And, upon further investigation and plotting around the story, it makes more sense. Perhaps the Sand People will come into a different idea I have in mind and have yet to map out.
Again - grateful whatever reviews I'm pulling out of you all. Hoping to land some more! Perhaps it's only because this is my first Star Wars piece and it just hasn't garnered enough attention yet. I hope that changes! I so enjoy getting feedback on this piece - Obi-Wan's exile is one of my favorite archs in Star Wars, and has garnered my attention and efforts for awhile. I so hope it does to you too! I appreciate the reviews - hopefully there's many more to come!
