High overhead the leaves of the yew tree whip, collide and rustle. It is enough to make your head tilt back to gaze at the sunlight fighting to break through the formidable curtain of living greenery. A steady sea breeze is blowing today and the thought of salt heavy wisps of air sweeping around the bonfire when it will burn this evening is enough to make you smile. The sunlight, the hearty growth on the trees, the sound of rushing waves and rustling leaves will make the harvest celebration even more beautiful, you think. You feel carefree and light...that is until the sack containing dinner swings inward and collides with your thigh.
The weight of the bag is terrible, you decide. With a shake of your head, you look down at your feet and see that they are sinking into the sand from the weight of it. The coarse granules move over the top of your slippers like waves from the sea, slipping into the space between the material and your skin and becoming a bother. You have stopped five times to empty them, but now you know better. The sand will just keep filling them. And you will just keep being bothered by it.
Why your mother had to, today of all days, send you into town to gather dinner is beyond you. Normally, your brothers have this job. Tonight is the start of the harvest festival and you are ready for it. This is the first year that you are allowed to attend the dancing. You were to pick up bread, wine and meat, which you have done, but now you are late for dressing for the bonfire. Of course, the time that you spent sitting on the bench next to the yew tree cluster at the upper end of town also added to you losing time. But it is such a beautiful day and it is the last week before the beginning of classes...you feel justified in your taking time to enjoy what is left of the summer.
A stiff breeze blows your hair in front of your eyes, blinding you in a sea of citrus smelling strands. You sigh and lift one hand to push them out of your eyes. The next thing you know, the solid firmness of the ground complete with sticks, is pressing into your bottom. Your legs are spread out in front of you and the parcel, full of dinner, is lying next to you on the ground. The weight of the boar's roast is pressing into your thigh.
"By the Gods."
A slightly deepened voice rumbles over you. It is not the voice of a man, but is certainly not the voice of a child. A pair of hands, strong and sure touch your shoulders. "Are you all right?"
You can feel the bones in the man/boy's hand and you decide that he has to be your age. Your hand is covered in dirt; you can feel the mud and leaves coating its surface, but it does not stop you from lifting the hand to move your hair aside. The dark curtain moves and you are again assaulted with the late afternoon sunlight as if floods the break in the leaves above. Somehow or another, you landed in the only spot near the trees that was still muddy from the rainstorm two nights ago. You can feel the damp as it seeps through your clothes, your skirt and touches your skin. You can smell the mud...its dirt earthen aroma strong in your nostrils which, of course, you snort.
Tilting back your head, you momentarily close your eyes and answer the voice. "The Gods had nothing to do with it. Don't you watch where you are going?"
"Generally...but I guess I didn't see you."
You gasp and open your eyes as you think of several things you could answer. The sunlight is blocked out as the pair of hands loop under your elbows and lift you to your feet. You can see only a form as he is in that daylight shadow that always seems more powerful than it should. Your hair falls forward again and you viciously pull it out of your line of sight.
"You really ought to consider getting that hair braided...you might be able to see."
You stand upright and glare at the boy/man. He is tall, that much you can see in the shadows. And his hair is short and long...short in front and long in a ponytail in back. The leaves overhead are pushed back as if by a giant hand and light flows into the dark area as like a stream flowing over a barrier. "First you knock me down and now..."
"And now, I'm giving out friendly advice."
The boy/man has a mass of brown hair, lightened around the temple and the forehead to a tawny blond. His body is clad in a tunic, actually a pair of tunics...one almost white and another tan. His pants are also tan and the complete outfit is made of rough material...almost unsoftened. The pants end ina pair of black, once shiny now muddy boots. But it is his eyes, as you return your gaze back to them, which make you take a deep breath. They are blue...so very blue...like a summer sky or the color of your favorite dress.
"Friendly advice...after assaulting me?"
His chuckle makes his voice seem lower. "Assault? Far from it. It is just that you are well below my eyeline of sight..."
"I'm not that short, maybe you should readdress the matter as a function of your height."
"Readdress, function? Large words from one so young."
You look down at your dress and the parcel next to your feet. "Thank you for helping me up. Although it was your fault that I was on the ground in the first place...I have to run...my mother will be looking for dinner..."
His eyes squint for a moment and he looks surprised. "I am sorry that I knocked you down..."
Bending you retrieve the parcel and stand again. "Then...."
"You seemed to enjoy the bantering as much as I did." He states quietly, almost forlornly. "You are from town?"
"I am. The outskirts..." you return his squint. You should not be telling a stranger of your place of residence.
"It is quite all right. I promise I won't sneak into your house in the middle of the night and steal...its against my order." He answers, pegging your gaze with his. That same late summer breeze ruffles his hair. It almost looks like the copper that your father works with often. "Although my Master might argue that it is not quite against my character."
"Your order?" Against your better judgment, you are intrigued with this boy. Order indeed. What was he, a monk?
"That looks heavy." He nods to the bag and your dinner. "Let me carry it for you and escort you to your house. That way if you are truly late, I can explain to your mother why you are."
You laugh against your clenched teeth. "Believe me, sir...you knocking me down is the very last reason for me being late."
"Regardless..." He reaches forward with a serious look on his face. "I would be honored if you would let me help you."
After just a moment of thought, you let him take the parcel. He does not seem a stranger. "Thank you..."
His smile is wide as he settles the parcel over his right shoulder and holds out is arm for you to loop your hand over his right elbow. It seems strange...no man...no boy your age has ever offered to escort you like this. The material is rough to your finger tips and makes you want to scratch at it. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn...and what I meant by my order...I'm a Jedi Apprentice..."
Your eyes widen and you grasp at his elbow a little more firmly. A Jedi is it? You think. Interesting. "A padawan?"
"Exactly..." he answers, nodding. "You know a lot for..."
"I'm fourteen, Qui-Gon...not a little child. And I'm attending the Drukin school..."
"Ah, philosophy and teaching...they found you early in life." He comments. His voice, you decide, he has to grow into. It is deep and strong, broad and could fit a man twice his size. The smell of earth is replaced by the natural scent of woven garments and summer. "You will be a teacher soon, then?"
"Maybe...maybe not. My name is Tira Kimdral."
"A pleasure to meet you, Tira."
After a few minutes of walking, you direct him to lead you over a small bridge and the tiny stream that it spans. The town is visible from here...you can see the smoke rising from the various chimneys. "You can't be more than seventeen, Qui-Gon...why this need to call me..."
"I'm soon to be sixteen." He answers, looking out over the town and the rolling hills surrounding it. You love your town, surrounded with rolling emerald and deep, earthen brown, citrus trees and small streams. It is perfect.
After a moment, you laugh. "That explains you running me over. Even a Jedi can't be truly graceful at sixteen."
He laughs and shakes his head. "I could argue."
"You could," you agree.
"Bold."
"Bullish"
Both of you stop in your footsteps to laugh. Qui-Gon is a boy that you could be friends with, could enjoy establishing a friendship with...if it were not for his calling. Jedi never stay in one place long.
"My Master is to be on Alderaan for several weeks. We only just arrived today. I was to meet him soon, but...I"
"Its easy to lose your way in the yew thicket." You tell him, not looking at him. "But you can tell him that you had to stop and help me..."
He stops to nod down the path. "I could tell him that, I suppose."
You look up at him and sigh. Both of you have personalities that are very similar, it is as clear as stream water. You feel no hesitation in talking with him, in walking with him. He is easy and kind underneath that veneer of arrogance that he uses like a shield, you think. His lanky frame appears too thin. You know if your mother sees him and finds out that he is a Jedi apprentice, she will feed him. "Are you here for the harvest festival?"
"Among other things, yes. My Master feels that I should learn other planets' religious rites and beliefs."
"Then you are attending the bonfire tonight?"
He lowers his head. "I had hoped so, if I could find the Grand House."
"You are very far from it, Qui-Gon...you must have made one terrific wrong turn." You laugh. "Come with me to my house...you can contact your Master from there. And my mother, I'm sure, will want to feed you..."
"I don't need..."
You tug on his arm. "Come on." He ambles through the gate almost as a leaf lost from a tree and traveling on the wind. This is not his element. But your mother raised you to have kindness for all living things, including those of your own kind. Regardless of anything, you are sure this is going to be an interesting evening.
**
The weight of the bag is terrible, you decide. With a shake of your head, you look down at your feet and see that they are sinking into the sand from the weight of it. The coarse granules move over the top of your slippers like waves from the sea, slipping into the space between the material and your skin and becoming a bother. You have stopped five times to empty them, but now you know better. The sand will just keep filling them. And you will just keep being bothered by it.
Why your mother had to, today of all days, send you into town to gather dinner is beyond you. Normally, your brothers have this job. Tonight is the start of the harvest festival and you are ready for it. This is the first year that you are allowed to attend the dancing. You were to pick up bread, wine and meat, which you have done, but now you are late for dressing for the bonfire. Of course, the time that you spent sitting on the bench next to the yew tree cluster at the upper end of town also added to you losing time. But it is such a beautiful day and it is the last week before the beginning of classes...you feel justified in your taking time to enjoy what is left of the summer.
A stiff breeze blows your hair in front of your eyes, blinding you in a sea of citrus smelling strands. You sigh and lift one hand to push them out of your eyes. The next thing you know, the solid firmness of the ground complete with sticks, is pressing into your bottom. Your legs are spread out in front of you and the parcel, full of dinner, is lying next to you on the ground. The weight of the boar's roast is pressing into your thigh.
"By the Gods."
A slightly deepened voice rumbles over you. It is not the voice of a man, but is certainly not the voice of a child. A pair of hands, strong and sure touch your shoulders. "Are you all right?"
You can feel the bones in the man/boy's hand and you decide that he has to be your age. Your hand is covered in dirt; you can feel the mud and leaves coating its surface, but it does not stop you from lifting the hand to move your hair aside. The dark curtain moves and you are again assaulted with the late afternoon sunlight as if floods the break in the leaves above. Somehow or another, you landed in the only spot near the trees that was still muddy from the rainstorm two nights ago. You can feel the damp as it seeps through your clothes, your skirt and touches your skin. You can smell the mud...its dirt earthen aroma strong in your nostrils which, of course, you snort.
Tilting back your head, you momentarily close your eyes and answer the voice. "The Gods had nothing to do with it. Don't you watch where you are going?"
"Generally...but I guess I didn't see you."
You gasp and open your eyes as you think of several things you could answer. The sunlight is blocked out as the pair of hands loop under your elbows and lift you to your feet. You can see only a form as he is in that daylight shadow that always seems more powerful than it should. Your hair falls forward again and you viciously pull it out of your line of sight.
"You really ought to consider getting that hair braided...you might be able to see."
You stand upright and glare at the boy/man. He is tall, that much you can see in the shadows. And his hair is short and long...short in front and long in a ponytail in back. The leaves overhead are pushed back as if by a giant hand and light flows into the dark area as like a stream flowing over a barrier. "First you knock me down and now..."
"And now, I'm giving out friendly advice."
The boy/man has a mass of brown hair, lightened around the temple and the forehead to a tawny blond. His body is clad in a tunic, actually a pair of tunics...one almost white and another tan. His pants are also tan and the complete outfit is made of rough material...almost unsoftened. The pants end ina pair of black, once shiny now muddy boots. But it is his eyes, as you return your gaze back to them, which make you take a deep breath. They are blue...so very blue...like a summer sky or the color of your favorite dress.
"Friendly advice...after assaulting me?"
His chuckle makes his voice seem lower. "Assault? Far from it. It is just that you are well below my eyeline of sight..."
"I'm not that short, maybe you should readdress the matter as a function of your height."
"Readdress, function? Large words from one so young."
You look down at your dress and the parcel next to your feet. "Thank you for helping me up. Although it was your fault that I was on the ground in the first place...I have to run...my mother will be looking for dinner..."
His eyes squint for a moment and he looks surprised. "I am sorry that I knocked you down..."
Bending you retrieve the parcel and stand again. "Then...."
"You seemed to enjoy the bantering as much as I did." He states quietly, almost forlornly. "You are from town?"
"I am. The outskirts..." you return his squint. You should not be telling a stranger of your place of residence.
"It is quite all right. I promise I won't sneak into your house in the middle of the night and steal...its against my order." He answers, pegging your gaze with his. That same late summer breeze ruffles his hair. It almost looks like the copper that your father works with often. "Although my Master might argue that it is not quite against my character."
"Your order?" Against your better judgment, you are intrigued with this boy. Order indeed. What was he, a monk?
"That looks heavy." He nods to the bag and your dinner. "Let me carry it for you and escort you to your house. That way if you are truly late, I can explain to your mother why you are."
You laugh against your clenched teeth. "Believe me, sir...you knocking me down is the very last reason for me being late."
"Regardless..." He reaches forward with a serious look on his face. "I would be honored if you would let me help you."
After just a moment of thought, you let him take the parcel. He does not seem a stranger. "Thank you..."
His smile is wide as he settles the parcel over his right shoulder and holds out is arm for you to loop your hand over his right elbow. It seems strange...no man...no boy your age has ever offered to escort you like this. The material is rough to your finger tips and makes you want to scratch at it. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn...and what I meant by my order...I'm a Jedi Apprentice..."
Your eyes widen and you grasp at his elbow a little more firmly. A Jedi is it? You think. Interesting. "A padawan?"
"Exactly..." he answers, nodding. "You know a lot for..."
"I'm fourteen, Qui-Gon...not a little child. And I'm attending the Drukin school..."
"Ah, philosophy and teaching...they found you early in life." He comments. His voice, you decide, he has to grow into. It is deep and strong, broad and could fit a man twice his size. The smell of earth is replaced by the natural scent of woven garments and summer. "You will be a teacher soon, then?"
"Maybe...maybe not. My name is Tira Kimdral."
"A pleasure to meet you, Tira."
After a few minutes of walking, you direct him to lead you over a small bridge and the tiny stream that it spans. The town is visible from here...you can see the smoke rising from the various chimneys. "You can't be more than seventeen, Qui-Gon...why this need to call me..."
"I'm soon to be sixteen." He answers, looking out over the town and the rolling hills surrounding it. You love your town, surrounded with rolling emerald and deep, earthen brown, citrus trees and small streams. It is perfect.
After a moment, you laugh. "That explains you running me over. Even a Jedi can't be truly graceful at sixteen."
He laughs and shakes his head. "I could argue."
"You could," you agree.
"Bold."
"Bullish"
Both of you stop in your footsteps to laugh. Qui-Gon is a boy that you could be friends with, could enjoy establishing a friendship with...if it were not for his calling. Jedi never stay in one place long.
"My Master is to be on Alderaan for several weeks. We only just arrived today. I was to meet him soon, but...I"
"Its easy to lose your way in the yew thicket." You tell him, not looking at him. "But you can tell him that you had to stop and help me..."
He stops to nod down the path. "I could tell him that, I suppose."
You look up at him and sigh. Both of you have personalities that are very similar, it is as clear as stream water. You feel no hesitation in talking with him, in walking with him. He is easy and kind underneath that veneer of arrogance that he uses like a shield, you think. His lanky frame appears too thin. You know if your mother sees him and finds out that he is a Jedi apprentice, she will feed him. "Are you here for the harvest festival?"
"Among other things, yes. My Master feels that I should learn other planets' religious rites and beliefs."
"Then you are attending the bonfire tonight?"
He lowers his head. "I had hoped so, if I could find the Grand House."
"You are very far from it, Qui-Gon...you must have made one terrific wrong turn." You laugh. "Come with me to my house...you can contact your Master from there. And my mother, I'm sure, will want to feed you..."
"I don't need..."
You tug on his arm. "Come on." He ambles through the gate almost as a leaf lost from a tree and traveling on the wind. This is not his element. But your mother raised you to have kindness for all living things, including those of your own kind. Regardless of anything, you are sure this is going to be an interesting evening.
**