Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or George Lucas.
Enter Luke, in the Jedi Praxeum.
Luke. [aside] The next few planetary rotations, I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from Corellians, Melodies, and a Chironian. Each morning I took Mando'a from Mara. And we talked about the Je'daii in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Mara was right about my dyslexia: Mando'a wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than Basic. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Odan-Urr without too much headache. The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Yoda tried to teach me archery. But we found out pretty quick I wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail. Foot racing? No good either. The Melodie instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick Je'daii. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree. And wrestling? Forget it. Every time I got on the mat, Saba would pulverize me.
Enter Saba, who pins Luke.
Saba. There'z more what that one came from, Wormie.
Exit Saba.
Luke. The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing. And that's not the kind of heroic skill beings expect to see from the Jedi who had beaten the Gamorrean. I knew the senior apprentices and Knights were watching me, trying to decide who my father was. But they weren't having an easy time of it. I wasn't as strong as the sons of Yun-Yammka, or as good at archery as the sons of Yavin. I didn't have Yun-Ne'Shel's skill with metalwork or — the Force forbid — Qel-Droma's way with vine plants. Jacen tells me I might be a child of Yun-Shuno, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling he's just trying to make me feel better. He really doesn't know what to make of me either. Despite all that, I like the Praxeum. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot sweetberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the jungle at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real father. Nothing came. Just that warm feeling I'd always had, like the memory of his smile. I tried not to think too much about my mother. But I kept wondering: if Je'daii and monsters were real, if all this Forceful stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back. . . . I'm beginning to understand Jacen's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his parent, Yun-Shuno. So okay, maybe Je'daii have important things to do. But couldn't they comm once in a while, or thunder, or something? Qel-Droma can make fizzade appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my father, whoever he is, make a comlink appear?
Luke enters the Jedi Temple Sparring Arena.
Enter the children of Yun-Shuno (Chak and Davin Fel), among the unclaimed (i.e. Raynar Thul).
Chak. May the Force be with you. Jacen's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years.
Luke. [to Chak] Maybe he'll go easy on me.
Chak snorts.
Enter Jacen, who ignites the emerald blade of his lightsaber.
Luke activates the cyan blade of his borrowed lightsaber.
Luke and Jacen parry.
Jacen. Keep your guard up, Luke.
Jacen stings Luke with his lightsaber.
No, not that far up.
Jacen stings Luke with his lightsaber.
Lunge.
Jacen stings Luke with his lightsaber.
Back.
Luke and Jacen deactivate their lightsabers.
Luke and Jacen pour water over their heads, filling Luke with energy.
Luke. [aside] Suddenly, I can feel the Force flowing through me.
Jacen. [to all] Okay, everybody circle up. If Luke doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demonstration.
Luke. [aside] Great. Let's all watch Luke get pounded.
The children of Yun-Shuno crowd around Luke and Jacen, demonstrating a disarming technique.
Jacen. This is difficult. I've had it used against me. No laughing at Luke, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique.
Jacen knocks Luke's lightsaber out of his hand in slow motion.
Now in real time. We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Luke?
Luke nods.
Luke and Jacen ignite their lightsabers.
Luke keeps Jacen from getting a shot at the hilt of his lightsaber.
Luke, reaching into the Force, is suddenly able to see Jacen's attacks coming. He counters. He steps forward and tries a thrust of his own. Jacen deflects it easily. His eyes narrow, and he starts to press me with more lower case force.
Luke. [aside] Hmm. This lightsaber grows heavy in my hand. The balance isn't right. I know it will only be a matter of seconds before Jacen takes me down, so what the hell?
Luke tries the disarming maneuver successfully, knocking Jacen's lightsaber out of his hand.
The apprentices fall silent.
[to Jacen] Sorry.
Jacen. [grins] Sorry? By the Force, Luke, why are you sorry? Show me that again.
Luke obliges, but is unable to do that again.
Luke. Beginner's luck?
Jacen appraises Luke with new interest.
Jacen. Maybe. But I wonder what Luke could do with a balanced saber. . . .
Exit all.