Growing Pains

True Simplicity

Part 3

"And were there any injuries?" the Elder demanded.

Obi-Wan responded with a short bow. "There is only the wrecked speeder at the crash site," he stated, neutrally.

"I do not understand what could have motivated such rash and dangerous folly," the grim faced leader muttered. He smoothed the rumpled front of his vestkit. "But there is no time to consider it now… we must tend the livestock and mend the enclosure… and these visitors will be irate. Do you suppose they can effect their own repairs? I doubt it – all these machine-lovers are the same. They use and own things they do not properly understand themselves. What is the use in that?"

Qui-Gon eyed his apprentice thoughtfully. The boy met his gaze for a moment, and then looked away, mental shields sliding into place with surreptitious alacrity.

"Padawan."

Alarmed, the younger Jedi turned his face upward again, worry brewing behind his eyes. But the tall man did not press the issue; there were other priorities to address. "Help the men with the cattle. They will show you what to do."

"Yes, Master." Almost relieved to be gone, the padawan trotted away to the far side of the village, where an impromptu posse was assembling to round up the wandering animals.

"This is an unwelcome interruption, Master Jedi."

He inclined his head. "We shall resume the discussion once this crisis has been averted, Elder. I am sure a solution will present itself."

The rigid lines of the Elder's retreating back bespoke his own lack of confidence in this promise; if Qui-Gon himself harbored any doubts, they were nowhere apparent on his craggy, inscrutable face.

By early evening, the nerf herd had been safely enclosed in several smaller pastures on the settlements' outlying land, and repairs made to the original fence. The wrecked speeder had been hauled away from its crash site and a grim diagnosis pronounced over its decrepit corpse.

"Need a mechanic for that mess," the commissioner grumbled. "…And vape it if we don't need the thing's comm relay to send a transmission for help!. Master Jedi – don't you have a link?"

Qui-Gon smiled benignly down upon the flustered official. "That will require hiking back to my ship… I would be glad to escort you in the morning."

The man's retinue milled about, discontent. "Can't you fix it? You or that acolyte of yers?"

The Jedi master inclined his head. "Without the requisite tools, I fear even our inexpert ministrations would prove futile."

"Good point. Vape it all to the nine hells. We're stuck here for the night, aren't we?"

"I am sure the community will be happy to accommodate you… we have found their guest lodgings most hospitable."

The dispirited planetary delegation shuffled away, moping over the blatant injustices of fate and fortune. Qui-Gon watched them go with impassive expression, only unfolding his arms when he felt Obi-Wan trotting toward him from the lower pasture.

"Master."

"You've put in a fair day's labor," the tall man observed, raising brows at his companion's dusty and stained trousers. "How does wrangling cattle compare to the rigors of Jedi training?"

The padawan wrinkled his nose. "Far less frustrating than negotiating with politicians, Master… and far more odiferous. It's a draw. I don't suppose….?"

The tall man strode onward, smothering a smile. "It is nearly sunset, Obi-Wan. We do not wish to violate the curfew rule."

"I stink like a nerf, Master!" The young Jedi's voice chose this moment to crack comically.

"A Jedi does not pay undue concern to matters of personal vanity," the Jedi master placidly responded, not looking back.

"Master, please!"

"Obi-Wan." A firm caution not to beg.

The footfalls behind him faltered, then quickly jogged to catch up. "Yes, Master," came the much-subdued reply.

At which point, the obligatory lesson having been taught and learned respectively, Qui-Gon turned his steps away from the guest-house and along the settlement perimeter, toward the shaded stream running along the village's outskirts. "But we must be quick about it," he warned his eager young charge as they approached the sheltered banks."The sun is setting- and besides, this is runoff from snow on the mountain peaks."

"I don't care if it's sulphuric acid," Obi-Wan quipped, shucking off filthy garments with astounding speed and plunging boldly into the icy streamlet. He disappeared beneath the burbling surface- and then re-emerged, gasping and spluttering. "Hells' moons!" he yelped, sucking in a great lungful of cold air.

Qui-Gon made sure that his own headlong dive sent another frigid wave breaking over his student's head.

"Ah!" Obi-Wan shouted, teeth gritted. "Arrgh!"

The Jedi master laughed grimly, biting back his own colorful exclamation of displeasure. "Make it quick, Padawan."

Neither of them needed further motivation. They scrubbed and dunked and gasped, then waded for shore in unison. "Just a moment." The tall man blocked the way, towering above his bedraggled and shivering apprentice as they stood waist-deep in the freezing current. "Isn't there something you would like to tell me?"

Obi-Wan clutched at his ribs, shuddering like a drowned akk. "…Master?"

The tall man dripped and steamed in the biting evening wind. "Padawan," he growled.

"The speeder," Obi-Wan gasped. "It was the Elder's daughter who thought she would go for a joy ride." He peered up at his mentor, turning slowly blue.

But this confession earned him only a raised brow. "And yet you did not volunteer this information to the Elder when we spoke with him earlier. I could sense your duplicity clearly."

"Yes, Master," the padawan miserably intoned, casting a longing look at the shore.

"Hm. And why the hesitation?"

Obi-Wan's teeth chattered loudly as he stuttered out his explanation. "She- she asked me not …t-to tell. I thought- I thought – "

"What?"

"I-I was going t-to ask you, Master- truly! C-can't we find a solution? A diplomatic c-compromise?"

Qui-Gon passed a hand over his face. "You are fortunate it is so very cold out here, young one."

"I'm sorry, Master! I thought-"

"Never mind. Let's go – we'll barely make it back before dark as it is." He led the way out, his half-drowned apprentice panting behind him as they threw on trousers and jogged uphill through the solemn gloaming.

They found a crock of tuber and nerf-steak stew waiting for them inside the guest cabin, a small generosity consumed with unabashed enthusiasm by its grateful recipients.

Satiated, and warmed by the crackling fire, they knelt opposite one another near the rough hearth. "Now," the Jedi master encouraged his student. "You realize the difficult position you have maneuvered me into?"

Obi-Wan manifestly did not – at least, not until that moment. As realization dawned, his eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Hm. If I withhold this information from our host, I am complicit in your deception; if I reveal it, I raise doubts concerning the Order's trustworthiness."

The padawan bowed his head. "I did not consider the repercussions. I thought – I mean, you have taught me –" His eyes flicked upwards, suddenly arrested breath signifying that he understood his blunder.

"I have not taught you to lie."

"I didn't! What I said was the truth – from a certain point of view, anyway… There was only the speeder there, when I answered the Elder's question."

Qui-Gon exhaled slowly. "Obi-Wan, there are circumstances in which equivocation is a necessity.. and I will admit, we have focused – perhaps too much – upon such hypothetical situations. You have seen me resort to careful framing of truths at a negotiating table. But this –" he paused, then changed tactics. "Padawan, what in stars' name motivated you?"

"She was afraid, Master. I could feel it. She is certain to be punished, severely."

"Severely? And what might that mean?"

A telling hesitance. Obi-Wan held his gaze earnestly. "She did not specify – something about expulsion – but I could feel her distress. She all but begged me to protect her, and –"

The tall man held up a hand. "What would you do, pray tell, if this concerned a fellow Jedi apprentice?"

Naturally, Obi-Wan had the answer to that query ready to hand. "No Jedi would shirk responsibility in such a manner!" he answered, affronted. Then, "But if he did, I would counsel him to confess his error to his master without delay. But this is different."

"How so?"

This proved more challenging to express in succinct terms. "Master… she is not a Jedi – that is, I am not so certain of the justice and wisdom of those in authority over her. And besides, she is a girl."

"Oh? SO you would give alternative advice to… say, Padawan Tachi?"

The young Jedi snorted. "Siri does not count."

Adi Gallia's spitfire protégé was indeed an exception to many rules, but Qui-Gon pressed onward undaunted. "Bant Eerin, then."

Obi-Wan wriggled beneath the cross examination. "I would counsel Bant to be honest and take responsibility," he admitted. "But Master-"

"What is the Elder's daughter called?" the tall man cut in.

A blink. "I don't know." Humor sparked between them, invisible yet bright. "We didn't quite exchange introductions."

Qui-Gon chuckled aloud. "You don't even know the name of your damsel-in-distress? That is bad form, Padawan."

His student tucked his chin down, fighting back a grudging smile of amusement at his own expense. "I'm sorry, Master…. I'll be sure to get her comm-link sequence next time."

Their exchange was interrupted by a timid but continuous knocking at the primitive hinge door. The Jedi Master's brows rose. "Ah… I would wager that is your friend now." He nodded his head in the direction of the closed portal. "Seeking your aid again."

Obi-Wan leapt to his feet, startled by the trespasser.. "It is past curfew," he frowned. "She should not be here."

But Qui-Gon merely waved him toward the door, serene countenance clearly relaying his intention to let his apprentice muddle his own way through the dilemma.

Grumbling inwardly, Obi-Wan slipped into the pitch dark outside. There, crouching in the scant shelter of the guest-house's miniscule porch, stood the Elder's daughter, swathed in a voluminous cloak.

"Jedi," she whispered. "Did you tell my father?"

"No," he answered, "But you should. He is your father – you owe him respect and honesty. And there is nothing to be gained by remaining silent. Possibly some other person may be wrongly accused. And if the truth is discovered later, your shame will be twice as great."

The poor girl whimpered. "I- I've hurt my foot. Badly. In the crash… I can't tell the healers. Can't you…? They say you have unnatural powers."

His breath escaped in a wreath of warm vexation. "Let me see it… what is your name?"

"It's Ludd'ia," the girl supplied, sinking down upon the rough-hewn floorboards and hitching up her skirts over the swollen joint. "Ow- oh, careful! Ouch!"

"Hush," he warned her. "This might be broken.. you need a healer."

"But I can't," she hissed, between gritted teeth. "Can't you help somehow?"

The Force was slippery in his grasp, fragmented and torqued by her pain and confusion. "I don't have the skill. But perhaps my master-"

"Oh!" Ludd'ia squeaked. "You didn't tell him, did you?" When no immediate reply was forthcoming, she seized him by both arms, imploringly. "You told him? No! Oh, why? He will tell my father! Oh, please, pleas-"

Blunt radiance shafted through the darkness, casting them in glaring chiaroscuro against the shadowed cabin.

"Aha!" the Elder's wife barked, her stentorian tone laced with maternal rage. "What do you think you are doing, young sir?"

Ludd'ia abruptly shoved her skirts back into place, her injured foot disappearing beneath multiple obscuring layers. "Mother! Oh!"

The matron ascended the stairs with impressive agility for one of her prodigious girth. "Unhand my daughter," she commanded, post facto.

Obi-Wan stood, mouth open to issue explanation, when the door behind him opened.

The goodwife drew herself up, generous bosom heaving indignantly." You sir!" she addressed Qui-Gon Jinn, whose towering figure was silhouetted by firelight and the harsh beam of her hand-held oil lantern. "Such indecency – on your own doorstep! And past curfew too! Such forward behavior – discipline your apprentice, sir!" She brandished a flexible switch threateningly, waving it in Obi-Wan's general direction.

"Master, I –"

"Madame," the Jedi master intervened, adroitly stepping between the furious mother and the object of her wrath. "I will correct the boy myself." He plucked the supple branch from her hand. "Thank you for bringing the violation of propriety to my notice."

Somewhat placated, the woman deflated, hitching up her aprons. "I am glad to hear it," she sniffed. "Ludd'ia, my dear, are you unharmed?"

"I am perfectly well, Ma'am," the girl answered.

Scowling at the lie, Obi-Wan stepped out from behind Qui-Gon's broad frame. The womenfolk hurried away down the trampled gravel path, their way lit by a narrow isthmus of lamplight. The night's chill knifed through his tunics and he shivered. "I'm sorry, Master , I was merely looking at her injury."

The tall man slapped the switch against his palm, playfully. "Ah, my wayward brat… you have a notable talent for charming the natives."

"I told her to confess her misdemeanor… but I do not think she will," the young Jedi sighed. "I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon shepherded him back indoors. "It is late.. we shall postpone this business of correction until morning."

This ominous pronouncement earned him a swift glance of alarm, and a sinuous ripple of confusion in the Force. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sure a diplomatic solution will present itself, Obi-Wan."

"…Yes, Master."

The door closed fast behind them, sealing the courtyard in uniform darkness.

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