Title: A Jedi's Heart (Lost Love) Part 1: Falcon's Nest (11/2001)

Author: Rita Marx pinduck85@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13 (WARNING: violence and attempted rape, but nothing graphic.)

Category: Angst

Characters: all original.

Summary: A Jedi Knight travels to another world and finds a rare gift.

# Part 1 of 2 in the Second branch of the Portal Series. #

Setting: Unnamed planet in another galaxy (*not* Earth)/Old Republic

Generic Disclaimer: If you recognize it -- I don't own it. If you don't recognize it -- I probably do own it. And no, I'm not making any $$$ off this, the Sid the Shark said Republic dataries are no good -- only real money.

Plot bunnies: =:'(@}--- and =:o and ===:) and =+:)

This is what happens when the angsty romance bunny and the song bunny mate.

Feedback: Please, my ego and my bunnies crave it. Flames will be nuked @=(

Archive: You want it? You can have it. Drop me a line so I can visit. :)

Note: //Telepathy.// Personal thoughts [Visions and their interpretations] Sounds _____Lyrics_____

Author's note: Songs used (with some re-wording) are: _Desert Rose_ by Sting, 2000; _I Knew I Loved You_ by Savage Garden, 2000; _The Mummers' Dance_ by Loreena McKennitt, 1998; _Fields of Gold_ by Sting, 1993.

Author's Note 2: This is the first Star Wars fan-fic musical saga.

AN3: A big special thanks to my beta, Angel Sparrow.

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In the stagnant air the stench of blood lay in a heavy pall over the field. Warhorses lunged into the fray on the command of their riders. Screams of both horse and human echoed across the field as another rain of arrows fell from the cloudless sky.

"Cease fire! Allow our knights to wield their swords in our defense." The battle-hardened warrior surveyed the archers from his place atop the outer wall of the stone Keep. At times he believed these women fighting by their husband's side were more ruthless than his own seasoned warriors. They were archers and wore the same light armor as the men. These women were trained to help defend what was theirs.

His gaze fell upon the young lady who fought by his side. Dressed in light armor she, too, carried a quiver of arrows. "Well done, my Lady. You will stand your future husband in good stead."

"Father and my brother were been excellent teachers. And from you, Branyon, I have learned a thing or two." The wind coming off the sea behind them plucked her hair from her braided crown. She tried once more to tuck the errant locks behind her ears.

"Never did I wish to see you inherit Falcon's Nest in such a manner, cousin." The castellan looked with fondness at the young woman who was now the sole survivor of the family he had served since earning his spurs. She tried valiantly to put on a brave face and not let the tears show, but they were there, just beneath the surface.

"Sir Branyon! The King's banner yet flies high! The traitor has not defeated us!"

"Of course not, Sir Miles. I have every confidence our Liege will assist us in defeating this accursed 'Ghost Knight.' The traitor shall not breach the walls of Falcon's Nest. Indeed, who has seen the traitor since our Liege appeared on our horizon?"

"Indeed, 'twould seem the dog has run away and left his mercenaries to fight his battle for him."

"The man is a traitor *and* a coward."

@}--- @}--- @}---

Cloaked in the darkness of the forest a figure watches the battle from afar. A gust of wind blows his dark hair into his eyes. He stands as still as the ancient oak sheltering him.

For days now he has been walking, wandering, trusting the Force to guide him. The Force had led him here to a battlefield where men hack each other to pieces with little protection from their primitive weapons. Metal swords against light metal armor could be just as deadly as blasters against cheap durasteel armor.

With eyes closed the observer watched the battle with an inward focus. The Force is not present in these people as it should be; yet, he could sense it in his surroundings. A stray thought here and there, and an old mind trick learned long ago helped him learn much about this primitive world. These people had low levels of midi-chlorians; some even lower than others. And some, he suspected, had none at all.

A few days ago he was vacationing on his home world. He sought to understand the troubling dreams and feelings plaguing him. A strong feeling of warmth would spread through his chest and dreams, but were forgotten on the edge of waking.

Walking through his favorite oasis he felt a disturbance. Tracing it to an ancient, scared grove guarded by tall, sandstone monoliths, he saw the clouds above him blacken and rapidly swirl into a vortex. A clap of thunder deafened him as a burst of lightening blinded him and robbed him of conscious thought.

When he regained his senses, he found himself fighting for his very breath as he struggled to find his way through the cold blackness that surrounded him. As the bright moonlight guided him upward he broke through the surface of a swiftly running river. Reaching the bank he collapsed. The honking of waterfowl woke him the next morning and he began his search in a strange world.

As he watched the battle before him a vision of the future slammed into his head. [An arm raised, posed to strike a killing blow into the back before him... A pair of aqua-teal eyes widened in terror as berry-red lips open to scream... A stabbing pain ripping through his belly... A cold laugh.]

The would-be assassin had only thoughts of rich rewards if he could only get close enough to strike and then escape in the confusion of the battle itself.

Murder -- the intentional killing of another person. This went against the Code he was raised to believe and uphold. Yes, sometimes killing was necessary, but only in the defense of those who could not defend themselves and only as a last resort.

His vision may have warned him of a possible outcome, but not who was behind the plot.

A hundred yards away his sharp eyes caught sight of the assassin's target. An arm raised a sword high. His hand went to his waist to grasp a weapon that was no longer there. The cold, river currents swept it away as he struggled to keep from drowning.

With a burst of speed, he rushed onto the battlefield. Dodging and swerving, across the field he snatched a weapon from the hand of a dead knight. Pivoting, he brought the weapon up to block the descending blade. Skillfully, he maneuvered the assassin away from his intended victim. Warriors around him pressed ever closer until they, too, were within striking range.

A sharp blow to his head told him he was now surrounded and out numbered. The assassin had allies near by to cover his escape. Recalling the countless training sessions of his youth, he plucked his attackers off one- by-one with a flick of his wrist. Again, they attacked en masse. Without full aid of the Force he had no alternative but to meet them steel-to-steel and blow-for-blow.

When it was over, six mercenaries lay dead as he stood over them.

A cheer began at one end of the field and swept across on the wind. Knights and their squires each gave their battle cry and beat upon their shields as the invaders took off running for their lives. The few that were not swift enough were captured and led off in various directions depending on who caught them.

A handful of men, each wearing a different surcoat over their armor, gathered around the intended victim.

"My Liege! Are thou well? I saw those traitors gather around thee, but I was too far afield to offer aid, your Majesty." The young man bearing a black stallion rampant upon a yellow field pulled off his helmet and bowed. He stood of average height and had fair skin with black hair plastered to his forehead.

"Aye, Sir Paul, thou findeth me in good health. We have this young monk to thank for that." The King turned his eyes toward the man who saved his life.

He stood taller than most and had filled out well in his youth. His tall boots were caked with mud, hiding the black leather. More mud clung to the hem of the brown robe he wore. Beneath the rough spun robe was a beige tunic secured with a brown belt. Dark eyes seemingly bored into the King's soul from under dark brown hair.

"Who are thou that comes to save the life of a sovereign?" the King demanded as he continued to assess the man before him. "From what order are thou which teaches its monks such prowess upon the field?"

The young monk solemnly raised himself to full height and tucked his bloodied hands into the sleeves of his robe. He bowed to the leader of these men. "I am Jedi Knight Talon Savon of Coruscant. It is an honor to be of service, your Majesty."

"Rise Sir Knight, that I may better gaze upon the man I shall reward."

"I need no reward, your Majesty." He felt the knights surrounding him studying him. Their thoughts were easy to pick up -- they were they were tired and relieved the siege was over. Many were thinking of the families they would soon return to. They were pleased justice had been wrought. These were men of honor. And one...? One held dark thoughts in his mind, thoughts that he dare not give voice to. But, which one harbored foul ideas? He couldn't tell from whom the blackness came, only that one of them was not all he appeared to be.

A young man brought the King's destrier and held it still as his Leige leaped into the saddle and took the reins. Slowly, the other knights mounted their steeds. "Sir Talon, have you no steed?"

"No, your Majesty. I seem to be without."

The King looked to one of his retainers and shouted. A fine stallion was brought to him. The King looked to young knight and handed him the reins. "Accept the first of thy treasures, Sir Talon. To the victor go the spoils." Spinning his own charger around the King said, "Come, let us see what we have won this day. I, for one, am looking forward to a hot bath and a victory feast. As well, the wounded must be tended to and the prisoners ransomed."

Winding their way toward a tall stone Keep perched on the edge of a seacliff, the King turned to study the man who saved his life. "Where is this Coruscant of yours?"

"I fear it's a lifetime and countless days journey from here, your Majesty."

"Hast thou been here before, mayhap?"

"No. I don't even know where 'here' is, your Majesty." He gingerly touched a knot along his hairline and brought his fingers back coated with blood.

"Well, 'tis no matter. Thou must be weary from thy long journey. Now, 'tis time to rest and celebrate our victory. That traitorous Ghost Knight shall not be seen again in a long time. He has learned well this day that he can not take what is not his, even though he tries."

Riding under the heavy portcullis, Talon felt a strange warmth fill his chest. It was a feeling he was becoming accustomed to, even though he was uncertain of what it meant. Yet, he sensed there was someone here, nearby that would change his life.

As they rode through the outer bailey, he took in the bustle of activity. Men and women in wore similar versions of the same mode of dress. All wore chausses with a long sleeved shirt beneath a tunic. Differing quality of material denoted their status in this society. All cheered as they rode past. Several women dressed in finer materials carried bows and quivers of arrows. Many rushed forward into the arms of knights as they leaped off their mounts. Stable boys ran forward to capture the reins and lead the horses away to be cared for.

Talon quickly studied the scene before him. The ward was packed with people and livestock vying for a comfortable place to rest. He understood that the Keep was often built large enough to hold much of the local population in times of war.

Squeals of glee could be heard as fathers catapulted their children into the air and caught with a gentle ease that belied the brute strength of the arms that held them. Shouted orders could be heard rallying people to their assigned duties after the battle.

Dismounting, the King looked with pleasure upon the scene. Glancing to the monk-knight he asked, "Hast thou not a lady-wife to welcome thee with open arms, Sir Talon?"

"No, Sire."

A sparkle in the King's eyes spoke of unvoiced plans. Talon could feel the Force and Fate conspiring together, yet could not decipher the Future.

"My Liege. Welcome to Falcon's Nest. 'Tis good thou are here." A seasoned warrior bowed respectfully and was greeted warmly.

"Sir Branyon. You old war-dog," the King slapped the man on the back. " 'Twas your quick wits that brought me here. How fares the Nest?"

"Not well, Sire. Lord Falcon is dead."

The King stopped in his tracks. "He shall be missed. He was one of my best men. He ruled Falcon's Nest wisely and made it prosper. Something shall have to be done to ensure the safety of this land. Where is the Lady Flora?"

"She tends to the wounded in the Hall."

"Sir Branyon, I would like you to meet the man who saved my life this day." He turned to introduce the man beside him. "This is Sir Talon of Coruscant. Make him welcome." He cocked an eyebrow to the old warrior.

"As thou wishest, your Majesty." Both men bowed as the King and his squire walked toward the hall.

"Come, Sir Talon. I shall see thee taken care of."

@}--- @}--- @}---

The King guided the Keep's mistress to an alcove in the Great Hall. "Lady Flora, I can not tell you how saddened I am by news of your brother's death. Pray accept my condolences."

"I thank thee, my Liege. Good fortune favored us, as Sir Branyon was able get word to thee about the siege.

"My brother was in the field organizing the evacuation of the village when he was struck down by a grey quilled arrow. The Ghost Knight tried to demoralize us by killing him with a poisoned arrow. He was too weak when Sir Paul brought him in. There was nothing I could do..." her voice broke. "Hawkins died in my arms, my Lord. The assassin was never found," she finished quietly as she fought her tears. The King gave her the time she needed to compose herself.

"And now the traitor seeks to rob the Nest for himself," she cried softly.

The King put a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "My dear Lady, I shall not leave the Nest defenseless. I shall yet see you wed to a strong knight who can guard you with a strong arm."

Her eyes grew wide and her heart skipped a beat, "Wed, my Liege?"

"Aye. 'Tis clear that I can not leave a valuable piece of land such as Falcon's Nest unguarded. For as a strong a woman as you are, Lady Flora, I must seat a strong knight here." He titled the chatelaine's chin upward and saw her distress. "Fear not, little one, I shall give you to a man who shall treat you with all the respect due to your station. You have my word on it."

"Thank thee, my Liege. I know thou are a man of honor and that thy word is thy bond." Striking a new chord, the lady changed the subject, "I shall see to thy bath at once."

The King reached for her arm to stop her. " 'Twill not be necessary. There is another whom I wish you to tend after. Sir Branyon is seeing to the man who saved my life this day. 'Tis to him you must attend. I shall be tended to by my squire in my usual chamber... This is my wish," he concluded sternly as she was about to protest.

"Thy wish shall be done, your Majesty." Not daring to question, she curtsied and left to see to this brave knight. 'Twas custom that the Lady of the Keep tend to the King herself when he came visiting. This must be a knight with extraordinary strength and skill upon the field of battle that the King would instruct her to attend to.

@}--- @}--- @}---

Lady Flora found Sir Branyon instructing a laundry maid to wash with care the muddied garments he placed in her arms. Speaking softly, they stepped aside to allow pages to enter the largest bed chamber with buckets of steaming water.

A lanky lad came last, struggling with a large bucket almost too heavy to carry; indeed, most of the water had sloshed out leaving a wet trail behind him. As he neared the copper tub that had been brought in, the lad tripped over the rug placed before the hearth. Steaming water soaked into the rug. The young boy cried out as his hand touched the fire. The knight came to him and gently plucked him up. With a quiet word and a gentle manner he calmed the young boy's hurt as he cradled the burn on his hand. A moment passed in silence as the knight held the injured hand between his. A moment later the lad looked up in wonder. A bright light shone in his eyes. Soft words where exchanged and the lad ran off to complete his assigned chores.

Straightening up, the knight tightened the sash on his borrowed robe as his gaze came to rest upon a noble-bred Lady.

She stepped into the chamber, "I bid thee welcome to Falcon's Nest, Sir Talon. I am Countess Flora, Chatelaine and Mistress of Falcon's Nest by the Sea."

With a slight start, Talon recognized the Lady's eyes. They were the same aqua-teal eyes he has seen in his vision. Recovering quickly, he bowed to her, "I thank you for your hospitality, my Lady. I am Jedi Knight Talon Savon of Coruscant. I'm at your service."

"I have come to tend to thy injuries, Sir Talon. Pray, allow me." She motioned to a low stool by the fire as she settled her basket of herbs and simples on the floor.

As he lowered himself before her, Talon felt his body responding to her nearness. In his chest, the warmth began anew. He centered himself as he sought comprehension. His blood raced and the feeling grew all the more with every touch as she examined his forehead for a mark that was no longer there.

Was this the feeling his parents spoke of when they recounted how they met? This was a peculiar feeling that spread through his lungs, nearly stealing away his very breath. It burned through his very blood as his heart raced. The quick manner in which his body responded to her presence seemingly confirmed the tale. At last, he understood the strange feelings and dreams. Somehow, the Force had guided him to this woman.

After a quick examination, Flora pronounced him whole. Adding oil from a small bottle, she swished the bathwater about to mix. "Sir Talon, thy bath feels just right, but cools quickly." Still, he did not move from his seat. Remembering the robes he wore as he rode in, she suddenly realized his customs might forbid her from his bath. "Oh...pray forgive me, Sir Talon. I will leave if thy order forbids thee from accepting my assistance." Color ran high in her creamy cheeks as she blushed. To avoid his eyes she instead made a study of the sea sponge and small container of spiced soap.

Understanding it was customary for the Lady of the Keep to bathe an honored guest, Talon quickly responded. "No, my lady, I would not be offended if you were to assist me." As she spread the drying cloths before the fire to warm he shed the borrowed robe and quickly eased himself into the warm water.

As she neared, the rose scented oil she used to keep her skin soft wafted towards him. Neither spoke, as Flora's hands seemed to linger over his well-muscled frame. His scalp tingled as she massaged the spice-scented soap into a thick lather. Unbidden, a haunting melody sang softly to his soul. Carefully, she shielded his eyes as she poured clean rise water to reveal his dark hair. As he breathed, her scent stirred to life a memory of dreams and visions that have long haunted his nights and his soul and most of all, his heart.

Her fingers began to tingle as she continued his bath. She continued much too slowly as was proper, yet for her, 'twas not slow enough. In her stomach and even lower, butterflies began to torment her with their fluttery wings. Never before had she responded to a man in such a manner. She was ashamed to admit that she was enjoying being to close to this knight. Almost -- although she would never give voice to those silent butterflies.

He leaned forward to allow her access to his sculptured back. The trace of his spine caught a rivulet of foam as it slid down into the water.

Unknowingly, each began to breathe in time with the other. Their hearts began to beat together. The warmth that was in his soul began to spread into hers.

Flora came from behind him to begin anew. When she reached into the murky waters to pull his leg up, the jolt from her touch brought him back to ground. "Perhaps, I should continue from here, my lady." He had no intention of revealing how his body was reacting to her touch. He slowly plucked the sponge from her small hands.

The trace of his finger along the side of her hand as he grabbed the sponge brought Flora back to reality. She swallowed hard a couple of times to regain her voice. "Of...Of course. If thou wishest."

A knock at the door broke the spell. Talon sunk lower into the water as the door opened the door to reveal the laundry maid. She came in and began laying out several garments on the large bed. Turning to her mistress she informed both, "Sir knight's clothing shall be dried and ready after dinner, my Lady."

"Thank you, Crissy. That will be all for now."

"Aye, my Lady." The young girl curtseyed and left after sneaking a quick peak at the man everyone downstairs was talking about.

@}--- @}--- @}---

Roughly an hour later, Talon was meditating before the fire as a timid knock rapped on the door. Casting out, he knew who it would be as he gave the summons to enter.

The young page slowly entered. His green eyes were wide as he looked at the knight seated on the rug.

"Hello again. Come closer and tell me your name, lad."

The lad drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. In an all-important voice he declared, "I am Garret of Winnshire, my Lord. I am at thy service." He finished with a bow.

Talon stood before the lad and introduced himself, "And I, am Jedi Knight Talon Savon of Coruscant. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Garret." He likewise bowed to the young lad, thus putting him more at ease. Kneeling, he asked the shy boy, "How does your hand fare? Does it hurt?"

"Nay! Nay, Sir Talon, truly it does not! See?" He thrust out his hand toward this man, this magician, who healed his burned hand with but a touch.

"I'm well pleased, Garret," he smiled and waited for the lad to speak again.

"I am to escort thee to the Great Hall for dinner. If thou findest thyself in need of anything, anything at all, thou hast but to ask and I shall provide thee."

"Thank you, Garret. Perhaps you can tell me a little about Falcon's Nest as we proceed to dinner."

Garret turned to look at him. Brushing his light brown hair out of his eyes, he studied the tall man next to him. "Everyone in the land knows the Nest has the best fields, the best crops and orchards, and the best herds of sheep and cattle anywhere. Are thou not from this land?"

"No, my young friend, I come from a land a lifetime away." A hint a sadness tinged his voice.

As they entered the hall many eyes raked over him. The knights studied him as they would a possible foe on the field of battle -- assessing him. The serving wenches eyed him with a gleam in their eyes -- their thoughts broadcast their hunger for something more than food.

As Garret led Talon to the dias at the far end of the Hall, a dark thought pierced his mind. Malice was directed toward him. It was a potent mix of hunger and envy, greed and hatred. Yet, as before, Talon could not focus on the origin of these dark thoughts.

A silence swept through the crowd as those near the entrance bowed before their King. He was clearly a leader of men. Taller than his own men and barrel-chested, an aura of charisma surrounded him; it drew men to him. A crown of gold set with large gems caught the sunlight streaming in from the clear glass windows. His shoulder length hair caught the sun and turned to burnished bronze. His eyes were the color of new spring leaves.

Dressed in red velvet bearing a winged lion embroidered in gold, his smile alone could bring light to a darkened hall. Throughout the room, feelings of friendship radiated. This sovereign was well liked by all he ruled over. All save one.

Despite the cheer this man held, it was not the King whose life he had saved that captured Talon's attention. It was the beauty he was escorting.

The Mistress of the Keep wore her tresses loose as a cloud of white haloing her face. The aqua-teal eyes were countered by a long, velvet dress of deep sea-blue. As with all the ladies present, gone were the chausses they wore during battle for freedom of movement. A thin belt of silver links draped her small waist. Berry-red lips matched the blush creeping across her sun-kissed cheeks.

"Sir Talon, I trust you have rested some," the King's deep voice echoed off the stone walls to bring him back to the present.

Bowing, he answered, "Yes, your Majesty, I have."

"Splendid." The King held the chair to his left as Flora seated herself. Settling into the seat at the head of the table, the King motioned to Talon to take the seat to his right -- the seat of honor. With some discomfort, he complied with the sovereign's wishes.

A feast of several courses was served immediately with young Garret serving upon the man seated at the King's right hand. During the lengthy meal, the King questioned Talon, seeking to know more about man who saved his life.

"I come from an Order of Knights trained to guard the peace and bring justice. We train to fight in the defense of those who can not do so for themselves. We fight only as a last resort when all else has failed and there can be no peace."

"Where is this Coruscant of yours?"

Talon shook his head, "I fear I can't tell you, your Majesty. I don't know in which direction it lies from here. Nor how far."

Remembering the blood on his temple, many came to the conclusion the knock on the head had robbed him of his memory. He was relieved he did not have cause to deceive these people by voicing an untruth. A Jedi always spoke true; even this small deception on his part by not fully explaining himself didn't sit well with him, yet he followed the guidance of the Force in this matter. And so, he allowed the crowd to believe what they wished.

Eventually, the talk turned to politics and the battle itself was discussed.

"This Ghost Knight has been plaguing Falcon's Nest off and on for a year now, and still no one has the slightest idea who this traitor might be." Sir Branyon, sitting on the other side of the Lady Flora stated. "Time and again, he strikes hard and disappears into the night. He has set our harvest to the torch, driven off our herds and troubled travelers. And this past month, he has pinned us in so our farmers can not plant their crops."

"Never before has he stuck so close to the Nest, my Liege," Flora said with a sad note in her voice and in her eyes. "Never has he out-rightly come to harm anyone apurpose. He killed my brother; the only family left to me, save Branyon. Then he sends his mercenaries to attack us..."

The King placed his hand over hers in a fatherly gesture. "I promise you, Lady Flora, I shall not see you abandoned. With your brother's death, you inherit the Nest. Even though I believe you to be capable, prudence demands I must seat a strong arm here.

"I have thought deeply about this and have come to a rightful conclusion."

The very air inside the Hall shifted with anticipation. Many knights below the salt leaned forward to hear well what their sovereign would say next.

The King rose and commanded everyone's attention.

"This day has seen much sadness here at Falcon's Nest. It has also seen great bravery and skill and honor upon the field of battle. I am a man who believes in paying his debts and rewarding where reward is warranted.

"Sir Talon of Coruscant, come kneel before me!"

Talon stared in disbelief and couldn't move until young Garret poked him in the back. "Your Majesty?"

Trusting in the Force, Talon did as commanded and kneeled before the King.

"Thou hast done me a great service this day, Sir Talon. Thou hast single handedly defeated not one, but six assassins who would have robbed me of my life," he recounted for all those present. "For that, thou shall be rewarded.

"By virtue of thy bravery and thy actions, Sir Talon of Coruscant, I, King Steven, two days hence shall name thee Earl of Falcon's Nest, and reward thee with all that goes with it."

A lone voice rose to object. "My Liege, I must object! We know not from whence this man comes. We know not if he is even a true knight, or an impostor as those who would strike thee down this very day. He could be in league with the traitor!"

"SILENCE, Sir Paul! Darest thou to question thy King?" he thundered. All was still; not even the fire in the large fireplaces at each end of the hall dared make a sound.

"Nay, my Lord. I beg thy forgiveness," he bowed low and awaited the command to rise.

"I shall over look this trespass as the lingering heat of battle. Do not make that mistake again," the King warned.

"Arise, Sir Talon. In two days, thou shalt accept thine accolades and guardianship of Falcon's Nest."

Talon came to his feet and was warmly embraced by the King. Sir Branyon led the crowd in saluting the soon-to-be Earl with three loud cheers. Flora's heart raced as the implications began to sink in.

After the cheering ended and the toast was made, the King had yet another surprise.

" 'Tis good that Friar Givens is here with us." He indicated the elder monk seated at the end of the head table. A gentle soul with thinning grey hair and dark eyes gave his attention to the King. "In two days hence, Friar, thou shalt have a wedding to perform as I shall give Lady Flora's hand into the new Falcon's care."

A soft gasp escaped Flora's lips. Talon's shock was evident as well. Their eyes, wide with surprise, sought out each other and held their gaze.

The King's hearty laugh bounced off the stone walls. He clapped the Earl- to-be on the back, "Come now, Sir Talon, when I said 'all that goes with it,' I meant the Flower of Falcon's Nest as well." He turned to the speechless Flora. "Fear not, my Lady. I believe he shall guard well the Nest. I have seen him in battle. I believe he is man of honor and strength. I believe this man worthy of you, Lady Flora."

"A toast! To the new Lord of Falcon's Nest!" someone from below shouted. Again, the cheering held for several minutes. Minutes in which Flora remembered to breathe again. Minutes in which Talon reached out into the Force for an explanation of this startling turn of events.

As Garret placed a goblet of sweet wine into his hand, Talon shook his head. "I don't know what to say, your Majesty."

The sovereign looked him squarely in the eyes and told him what he expected. "Just say that thou wilt take good care of the Nest, Sir Talon. In all its aspects."

Placing his hands inside the sleeves of the borrowed tunic he wore, Talon bowed. "I give you my word, I shall."

"And you, Lady Falcon, I expect you to guard well your husband's back in all matters."

"I shall, your Majesty," she replied from a deep curtsey. "I am honored by thy decision."

"I trust two days shall be sufficient for your seamstresses to ply their needles and thread to outfit their new lord with a suitable wardrobe."

"Aye," she nodded. "It shall be done."

"Splendid! I bid ye a pleasant night." With that the King left the Hall thus signaling an end to the night's feast.

Soon afterward, Flora rose and bid her husband-to-be a pleasant night. Her maid followed close behind.

Talon was trapped by Sir Branyon, the Keep's castellain and soon to be his second in command. The wine flowed freely as they chatted as one man to another to get to know each other. A dark whisper was heard in the Force. Somewhere in the crowd was one who was not at all pleased with the night's announcements. Men everywhere were steadily declining deep into their cups and, as was usual, the occasional fist-fight broke out to help relive the lingering pressure from the battle.

Finally, unwilling to use a Jedi mind trick, Talon pleaded fatigue and silently climbed the stairs to his chamber. Outside his door, Garret had fallen asleep on the stone floor. Gathering the boy, who would be an Initiate on his own world, into his arms Talon eased open his door and deposited the lad on the rug before the hearth. The large copper tub had been removed during the evening meal, and his own clothing was folded neatly upon a huge wooden chest near the window.

Pulling out an extra blanket he knew was in the chest he placed it over the lad and ruffled his locks. Silently whispering a prayer his mother said over him when he visited as a lad, he wished the boy a pleasant sleep, and banked the fire for the night.

He turned to open the shutters over the window. Earlier, after dressing in the lush velvets the nobles here wore, he had gazed into the distance. In the golden moonlight, he could see the waves crest below the seacliff that helped secure the rear of Falcon's Nest.

As he turned his gaze upward, he admired the crescent moon with three bright stars shining near by. With a start, he recognized the configuration. His people called this the "Wizard's Moon." It was considered an omen of great fortune to marry under such a rare celestial occurrence.

Opening the window he closed his eyes and felt the Force ebb and flow on the beach far below as the surf advanced and retreated. The breeze carried to his lips the salty tang of the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing against the seacliffs echoed faintly.

A soft murmur behind him reminded him of another's presence. Reluctantly, he closed the window so as not to chill the small figure sleeping by the low fire.

Removing the borrowed surcoat and tunic, Talon settled down facing the window. Watching the solitary moon suspended in the night sky, he turned his thoughts inward to contemplate the strange twist of Fate the Force led him to. 'In the Force, a Jedi must trust,' the revered Master Yoda often said to the Initiates in his class.

Settling down into a meditative posture, he examined this strange turn of events and his innermost feelings. He meditated on every nuance from every angle.

The warmth he felt was a feeling everyone yearns to feel deep inside the heart. Often it would start without the blessed person even being fully aware of its presence. When recognized, it becomes an all-powerful force of nature that can not be denied without severe consequences. It was the all-consuming force of love. The love for someone not yet met, but whom you could not survive without. To deny this love was impossible, for it lay deep within his people. Once recognized, to live without it brought certain madness that could not be survived. This was the rarest of loves. This was the love of more than a life-mate or a soul-mate; it was the love of a heart-mate.

As countless times in the near-past, a vision came to him as he meditated. It haunted him each time he tried to meditate. Each night he would wake, bathed in a sweat with an ache in his blood that denied him the rest he needed. The dream-vision sang to him. The appointed time was fast approaching. Time was running through his hand. An ancient melody began to sing to him. This time he was ready for it. This time, he understood the meaning behind the imagery of the vision-song.



_____I dream of rain. _____

[Rain -- a blessing from the gods.]

_____I dream of gardens in the desert sand. _____

[A garden in the deserts of his home world are a rare and scared thing.]

_____I wake in pain.

_____I dream of love as time runs through my hands. _____

[He watches sand flow through his fingers.]

_____I dream of fire. _____

[He shields his eyes against the eternal brightness of the sun.]

_____These dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire. _____

[A love that will ever be noble and loyal and endless, symbolized as a tireless desert steed racing across the dunes.]

_____And in the flames, _____

_____Her shadows play in shape of a man's desire. _____

[He watches a woman's shadow play across the heavy canvas of a desert tent as she dances for him alone.]

_____This desert rose, _____

_____Each of her veils, a secret promise. _____

[A woman's head comes up, draped in sky blue veils that reveal only her aqua-teal eyes. Within their depths, a promise glows.]

_____This desert flower, _____

_____No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this. _____

[The scent of the rare desert rose invades his senses.]

_____And as she turns_____

[The woman's hand reaches out toward him with palm up. She is his, should he accept her promise.]

_____This way she moved in the logic of all my dreams. _____

_____This fire burns. _____

_____I realized that nothing's as it seems. _____

_____I dream of rain. _____

_____I dream of gardens in the desert sand. _____

_____I wake in pain. _____

[The heartache of a love as yet unrealized.]

_____I dream of love as time runs through my hands. _____

_____I dream of rain. _____

_____I lift my gaze to empty skies above. _____

_____I close my eyes, this rare perfume_____

_____Is the sweet intoxication of (the soul.) _____

[The love of a heart-mate becomes a drug to the very soul -- it can not be denied.]

_____I dream of rain. _____

_____I dream of gardens in the desert sand. _____

_____I wake in pain. _____

_____I dream of love as time runs through my hands. _____

[As the sand of time flows away, the appointed time draws near.]

_____Sweet desert rose, _____

_____Each of her veils, a secret promise. _____

_____This desert flower, _____

_____No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this. _____

[Without the life of a heart-mate, with a pain felt deep within his very soul, he would surely go mad.]



_____Sweet desert rose. _____

_____This memory of Eden haunts us all. _____

[The vision-song haunts him until it is realized.]

_____This desert flower, this rare perfume, _____

_____Is the sweet intoxication of (the soul). _____



As countless times in the near-past, Talon snapped out of his vision bathed in sweat and struggling to breathe. His heart raced as a steed that had run all day under the heat of the sun in the desert regions of his homeworld.

"Sir Talon?...Sir? Are thou all right?" A young voice not far before him asked tentatively.

Wiping both hands across his face Talon looked at the page. "Don't worry, Garret. I'm fine. It was just a dream that woke me."

Garret left and momentarily returned with a rag soaked with cool water. This he handed to his soon-to-be Lord.

"Thank you." Cleansing his face, his brow and his neck, Talon looked at the lad. The youngster was worrying his lower lip betwixt his small teeth. A question was clearly writ across his brow. "You may ask what's on your mind," Talon said quietly.

Garret's eyes went wide. "How didst thou know I had a question?"

"It's written across your face." Talon fought hard not to laugh as the boy started vigorously rubbing his cheeks and forehead. Instead, he pulled the small hands into his own. "What I meant, Garret, is that the expression on your face showed clearly that you wished to ask a question. You may ask whatever you wish to, my young friend."

The lad hesitated at first, but with a nod, was encouraged. "I was wondering... What wert thou doing? It looked to me like thou were asleep sitting up here on the floor."

Talon grinned at the youngster. "I was meditating."

"What is that?"

"It's how those of my Order find our inner peace and strengths. It's how we seek answers that can not be found with our eyes and ears. Often, a vision -- a dream will come to us to guide us to what we seek."

"A vision." Garret thought about this for a moment. "Sorcerers have visions... Are thou a sorcerer?" His small voice held a tremble as he spoke.

"No, Garret. I am but a man. I'm no sorcerer." He raised the lad's chin to meet his eyes. "But, were I to be one, I give you my vow, I would be a good sorcerer -- not an evil one. A Jedi's word is his bond and can not be broken. A Jedi speaks ever true -- we never lie. To lie is forbidden."

"Thou wouldst be a white sorcerer?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I would not be a Darksider."

The small boy studied him again. "I believe thee," he stated emphatically with the trust only the young can so easily give.

Talon smiled. "I'm sorry if I woke you. A young lad like you must get plenty of sleep and exercise if you're to grow big and strong. Come now, back to sleep my young friend, the night is yet long."

"Aye, my lord." Garret settled back onto the rug before the hearth.

"You can't sleep there," Talon objected.

A puzzled look flew across Garret's face. "Aye, my lord, I can and I shall. A bed is no place for a page. My place is here. In truth, until this eve, a thin pallet, or the stables have been where I slept... Thou truly comest from a land far away if thou are not accustomed to this. As I have been assigned to assist thee in all things, my place is here at the foot of thy bed, or by thy door. 'Tis the manner of things here."

"That's true, I come from a land that is a lifetime away..." He shook his head and climbed into the large bed. The heavy drapes he left open. "Good night, young Garret, and pleasant dreams to you."

"And to thee, Sir Talon."

"Garret?"

"Aye?"

"Never be afraid to ask questions. Never be afraid to observe. These are the two single best tools you'll ever have by which to learn. You may speak what is on your mind when with me -- I won't be offended."

"Aye, Sir. I shall remember."

@}--- @}--- @}---

TBC...