The tree scrapes at your hand as you grab at one of the lower lying branches. You were never one to be athletic, and your limbs are telling you as much, but you still want to strive to win this competition.
"Come on, Tira!"
You roll your eyes and levy yourself up on the limb. The rough bark digs into the skin at the bend of your knee. All the ridges of nature's armor press hard into your bones, but you actually like the feeling. The smell of sap and citrus is so strong around you that you are lightheaded and giddy with it. You giggle as the branch that you are holding bends and you have to release it or fall.
"We only have an hour."
You glance down at Hag and point upwards. "Which tree nymph ordered the fruit hung so high in the tree?"
"Does it matter?" Hag stands at the foot of the tree, his head bent back to stare upwards into the branches. "You have to pick at least a bushel to beat Tyn and Geon."
You shimmy out on the branch and reach out to capture the purple starfruit. They are smooth pods with small pimpled areas of skin. Too soft to be held long, you wrap them in the cloth that you bought and lower the contraption on the rope to Hag. "Why did you pick me to climb up here, anyway, Hag? If you were only going to complain about it?"
"Because you can bend around those branches up there. Besides, most of the other boys are the ones catching the fruit as the girls lower them." He answers, capturing the package at it lowers into his arms. He is a little too rough and you see the dawn-tinted juice splatter and spread on the light woven fabric. As he empties the satchel into the bushel and releases it, you see that most of the fruits are smashed. You viciously pull the rope and the satchel flies back up to you.
At least, you think as you sniff at the fabric, your jacket will always smell of the fruit. You stand, using the branches above your head to steady as you shimmy to the trunk. With a heave, you lever yourself up to the next branch. This is very different from your books and studies, but captured as you are in the curtain of green, surrounded by the smells of growing nature, you feel welcome. Around you, you can hear the shouts and laughter of other pairs as they fight to pick the most fruit. The laughter reminds you of the stream by your house...constant and bubbly.
There are several fruit in a cluster out on the end of the branch and you inch out to them. The branch bends under your weight, but holds. You snatch up the fruit and literally throw the satchel back down to your impatient brother.
"Your friend...that Jedi apprentice could certainly help matters here." Hag comments as he dumps the container and lets go of it.
"I don't think we will see him again." You answer back, resting your back against the rough branch. The bonfire had been three nights ago and since then you have not seen Qui-Gon. His Master had said that they might be needed at the Grand House for negotiations. Your new friend had nodded, and straightened his back. When he had walked you back to your home, he had mentioned that the day he had spent with you was one of the few he had ever had with no responsibilities. Qui-Gon had seemed very serious when he had said goodbye, thanking you for a wonderful evening and telling you that he was glad to have met you. But his tone, the gentle deep boy-growing-into-a-man tone was over shadowed by a gruff no-nonsense aura. You had known as he had walked down the path and into the forest surrounding your home, that you would probably not see him again. But you were glad to have met him.
"Did you scare him away, Tira?" Hag teases, sitting down on the grass next to the bushel.
You sigh and ease around a V in the branches. Before you can answer him, you hear a gruff, "No."
You start and glance down at the ground. From the height at which you are all you can see is the somewhat familiar glow of tawny brown hair and ecru tunic. You had not heard Qui-Gon approach. As you balance precariously on the branch and try and hold your position, his head tilts back. You can see his clear face and his eyes although not their profound blue at this distance. There is a difference to his stance this afternoon. He is stiffer, more...proper than he had been the other evening. "Sending Tira on missions of impossibility again, Hag?"
Your brother launches himself off the ground and swipes at the seat of his pants quickly. "Padawan Jinn..."
"I am guessing that this is the starfruit gathering competition I heard about..." Qui-Gon lowers his head to glance at Hag. "You might fare better..."
You grab the branch next to swing yourself down to the next tier of limbs. Your brother had chosen the perfect tree, the limbs seeming like a collection of natural steps to the green canopy rather than just simple branches. Within moments, you alight to the ground near the two boys. The grass seems to give like a bog and you bounce. "Qui-Gon..."
"You thought I was gone." He states with a smile. After a second, he lifts his head to look at the tree. You see that impossibly long ponytail sweep at the space between his shoulder blades. In the harsh sunlight, his hair seems like cinnamon instead of dull brown. "Are the participants allowed a ladder?"
Hag startles to action, nodding quickly. For some reason, your brothers are in awe of this boy. He seems no different than others to you, however. "We are..."
"May I?" Qui-Gon points to the ladder and motions to the trunk of the tree. "You might fare better with me in the tree than Tira....no offense." He states, looking at you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest.
"You cannot use the Force, Padawan Jinn." You answer him, putting emphasis on his title. "That would be cheating..."
"I will not use the Force," his eyes appear surprised. "But I have undergone intense physical training...that might give me a slightly improved chance at reaching the fruit at the top of the tree." He reaches down to loosen his outer tunic and lays his belt aside: complete with lightsabre and tools. Within seconds, his form is just covered in his inner tunic, the one more white than tan. He stops as his tunic falls to the ground, glancing at you again. With pursed lips, you shrug and extend your hand to welcome him to try the tree. His height, though, you think, will be a hindrance rather than a help in the branches.
He nods, smiling widely and lifts the ladder to place it against the trunk. He shimmies up the outside of the wood and you listen to the creak of the rungs as they strain under his weight. The ladder is not a great one; having laid in your father's shed for years, rotting more than existing. The smell of moss is stronger around it than wood. You reach forward to brace it as he reaches the solid upper branches. His feet remain on the rung as he reaches in at an impossible angle to grasp at the fruit.
You can see his hand hesitate as it touches the skin of the seed pod. It is almost as if he can sense the softness inherent in it. His eyes squint as if hearing a voice that only he can hear. You feel as though he is listening to the fruit and the tree that bears it. With a gentleness you had not told him to use, he plucks the fruit and places it in the parcel that he scooped up before climbing. After several seconds, he turns and whistles to you. You reach up to receive the cloth as he lowers it to you.
Hag shakes his head as you capture the parcel like a tiny babe and empty the fruit into the bushel. Not one is squashed and the pristine white of the parcel is left unmarred. Standing as you do over the bushel, you can see the purple and crimson juice of ruined fruits on the sides of the bushel. Your mother will be able to make jam easily with the contents.
"Tira!"
You turn and let the parcel go and it flies up to Qui-Gon's hand. Although he holds the rope that is attached to it, you know that he accomplished the act using the Force. He leans around the other side of the tree, looping his arm around a wide branch. And it is a good thing too.
The ladder, put out from the abuse that it felt it was receiving, groans and twists and suddenly...Qui-Gon is standing in the air without support as the wood collapses to the ground. The supporting limbs that your father had cut to make the ladder crumble, letting the rungs fall like forgotten leaves to the ground. You gasp, your hands flying to your mouth. Jinn had been at the upper most reaches of the tree, his head even with the canopy that only the birds use with regularity. It has to be more than thirty feet off the ground.
But he does not fall.
You squint, seeing his right arm curl. It holds most of his weight. The ends of the branch that he holds sway and the leaves rustle. A lone bird launches from its nest and circles the limb like a hawk on a hunt. You hear only a minute grunt as Qui-Gon swings his legs around in an arc. They curl over the limb he holds and he pulls his weight up and crouches on the limb.
Sound has disappeared. Laughter has disappeared, although you can hear it happening around you. All you can feel is a sense of time sliding to a stop, your breath holding, wavering and your heart slowing. Your eyes remain centered on Qui-Gon, although you only wish to close them on the crisis that you see occurring. Even the warmth of the sun turns cold.
"I'm fine." He calls down, as he leans forward in a seated position to look down at you and your brother.
"I'm not," you grunt lowly. You can slowly feel the blood beginning to flow again, the warmth of the sun again kissing the tips of your ears. You flop to the ground, letting your legs stretch out in front of you as it seems that they cannot hold your weight any longer. The grass is fragrant and cushy and alive...you curl your fingers into its coolness to ground yourself. You had thought, for sure, that you would be explaining the broken body of the Jedi to his Master.
Qui-Gon smiles, at least it looks like a smile from that distance, and turns, rising, standing on the limb. He grabs at several fruits in a bough above his head. The branch that he holds is not steady, however, and the fruit swings inward to hit him in the face. You can hear the muttered curse as the soft fruit collides with his chin and cheek. And you know, without looking at him, that the juice from the fruit has covered his face. He ducks to avoid the actual branch and his hair catches in the small limbs and twigs as the arm of the tree bends over him.
"Are you all right now?" you call.
"Impertinent." You hear muttered back down. He settles himself back down on the branch and looks at the various squashed fruits around his legs. You can see the stain on his face, the upper part of his tunic and his chest from here. It is deep crimson almost like the first kiss of sunrise and you know that he will smell like starfruit for the remainder of the day. Whereas he had seemed very proper when he arrived, it is almost impossible for him to remain that way covered in fruit juice as he is. He certainly tries, though.
You watch as his gaze sweeps down to you and then up again, to look over the hills of grass and the sand dunes to the sea beyond. A change comes over his face, a softening, and you can almost sense the lines of seriousness that seem so out of place on one so young easing. After a moment, you see him squirm on the branch and the sigh that emanates from his lips is audible even over the breeze and over that distance. It is then that you know you are not alone.
Turning quickly, you see your brother start. Behind him, at a space of about twenty paces is the short Dagobanian Jedi Master. His tunic and robe are brown and reach to the ground. He seems out of place in the middle of the orchard, around trees so tall that he seems to be minuscule. He frowns at you and then tilts his head back. "Unexpected was it, Padawan?"
"Very, Master." Qui-Gon calls down. "But..." he picks up a fruit and raises it to his mouth. He bites into the fruit and you can see the juices running around his fingers and down his chin. "At least this way, Master, I can commune with the Living Force."
Yoda shakes his head, leaning forward on his walking stick. He extends a hand and Qui-Gon is suddenly removed from the branch and lowered to one two below him. You squint as you watch the young Jedi take his change in position as easily as a change in wind direction. Once he is placed there, Yoda nods to his apprentice. "Lower yourself, the rest of the way, you should, Padawan."
Qui-Gon sighs and nods slowly. He closes his eyes and you see him gently levitate off of the branch. He slowly descends to the grass on the hill, his legs folded as if meditating. As he settles, you hear silence. Others are watching him as you do; they stand around the trees like statues. The only movement you see is fluttering hair and skirts, loose shirts in the breeze. Laughter has stopped, and now there only exists stunned silence like a living, breathing entity.
He opens his eyes and glances at his Master with a nod. The breeze ruffles his hair as it does yours, allowing the gentle bangs to caress his brow. Indeed, the fruit has stained his face and chin, coating his tunic and the tips of his hair like dye. Around him, you can smell the aroma of nature. Leaves stick out of the short hair on top of his head and a lone branch appears balanced on the upper crest of his right ear. He does look as though he...communes...with the Living Force.
Qui-Gon pushes to stand and faces you. There are tears on the top hem of his tunic. Although he is proper now as he stands, his hands falling into the practiced position of mediation in front of him, your mind replays the sound of a few...curses...that had escaped his lips when the ladder fell. The thought brings a smile to your face with ease.
"Incredible."
You hear your brother breathe the word as if he stands in a church or temple. Qui-Gon, it appears, almost flinches with the sound of the awe-inspired word from Hag's lips. He lowers his head from your gaze and glances backward out of the corner of his eyes. "It was necessary. There was no other way to disentangle myself from the situation," he comments.
Hag nods, but you can see that his jaw gapes still. Yoda hums as if in deep thought and turns. "Return to the cottage by nightfall, Padawan, you shall. Your own, is the day." The words are rasped, quiet, as if forced from a rusty old billow. He lumbers away, his steps heavy with a limp. Qui-Gon watches his master as he walks away, and remains almost deathly still, quiet. Finally, as the small Master climbs the hill and disappears into the yew cluster, he lifts his head to glance at you.
"I am sorry."
Tilting your head, you squint your eyes and ask: "For what?"
"Using the Force...I had told you..."
"I'm glad that you did," you state, righting your head. Pointing to the tattered remains of the ladder you sigh. "If you hadn't, you would still be up the tree and I would still be wondering how to get you down. If you have the talent..."
Hag shuffles next to you and moves to the bushel. After a second of making sure that all of the fruit, squashed or not, is in the basket, he heaves the bushel to his shoulder. With nary a glance at you or Qui-Gon, he turns and moves off to the rest of the orchard and to the rest of the people who are slowly returning to work. "I will see you later, Tira. And you, Padawan Jinn."
Qui-Gon watches your brother go with tired eyes. Suddenly, he appears an old man in a teenagers body. Weight of years shows on his face. His sigh is so loud that you fear that the rest of the fruit will tumble from the tree to land about your feet. "As I said, Tira..."
"And as I said, if you have the talent, use it." You return, bending to gather the remaining fruit in the hem of your apron.
"They..." Qui-Gon shakes his head, bending to pick up a couple of the pods that rolled far from the tree. "Have no knowledge of the Force...it is hard to have them understand....it is not magic...I'm not..."
"A sorcerer... a wizard..." you nod. "You are a Jedi. You are blessed and you are one of an elite that are the peacekeepers of the galaxy."
"And in many a person's eye, a freak." He adds, ending the sentence on a chuckle. With your back turned to him, and if you did not know what he looked like, you might be able to imagine the man he might become. The weight of his words and the feeling behind the meaning is too intense for him as he is. "You know these things because of the education that you are getting....but if you were not at that school...you would believe as they do."
"Maybe..." you sigh, glancing down at the fruit. You hold out your apron to take his offerings as well. "I would not know any better to feel any different."
He drops the fruit in your apron and you both smile at the disgusting, squished sound that it makes when it hits the others. You feel the cool juice as it splashes against your stomach through your shirt. He sighs as he realizes that his face is the same shade purple as your shirt at that moment. "I cannot let it bother me...but it is hard..."
"It is hard for all of us to fit in, Qui-Gon."
"True. Very, very true, but..."he smiles and turns to face the other trees now alive once again with laughter. He shakes his head. "Let's find another tree and see if we can still pick enough fruit to qualify."
"We can find Hag...I know where he went." You begin to walk, and hear him step to join you. "I should apologize to you for his reaction..."
"There is no reason." Qui-Gon lowers his head. He finally spies the rip in his tunic.
You laugh at the twist of his mouth. "My mother can fix that, Qui-Gon, if you don't want to...she will probably love the opportunity."
"I know how to sew my own clothes, thank you." He grumbles. "And..." he stops, reaching out to stop you as well. "I do have to apologize to you. I wanted to not be...a Jedi apprentice...here. But it is who I am."
You nod and begin to walk again. "And I don't wish to be a philosopher and a teacher, but it is who I am and who I have been since I was ten. The intense education I get would create nothing different." You glance sideways at him and grin widely. "Two freaks in a pod."
The sudden flare of your humor makes him choke a laugh and he nods. "But you are...normal...to a certain extent...if I could ever define normal."
"No," you laugh as the two of you break the orchard boundary and you spy Hag leaning against a tree. The ruffling leaves above his head and the tumbling curses lets you know that one of your other brothers is up the tree. "No logical arguments...I have a week until classes...I want to be mindless."
"Then..." he grins as he grabs your hand to drag you running the last few feet. "Let's be mindless."
"Come on, Tira!"
You roll your eyes and levy yourself up on the limb. The rough bark digs into the skin at the bend of your knee. All the ridges of nature's armor press hard into your bones, but you actually like the feeling. The smell of sap and citrus is so strong around you that you are lightheaded and giddy with it. You giggle as the branch that you are holding bends and you have to release it or fall.
"We only have an hour."
You glance down at Hag and point upwards. "Which tree nymph ordered the fruit hung so high in the tree?"
"Does it matter?" Hag stands at the foot of the tree, his head bent back to stare upwards into the branches. "You have to pick at least a bushel to beat Tyn and Geon."
You shimmy out on the branch and reach out to capture the purple starfruit. They are smooth pods with small pimpled areas of skin. Too soft to be held long, you wrap them in the cloth that you bought and lower the contraption on the rope to Hag. "Why did you pick me to climb up here, anyway, Hag? If you were only going to complain about it?"
"Because you can bend around those branches up there. Besides, most of the other boys are the ones catching the fruit as the girls lower them." He answers, capturing the package at it lowers into his arms. He is a little too rough and you see the dawn-tinted juice splatter and spread on the light woven fabric. As he empties the satchel into the bushel and releases it, you see that most of the fruits are smashed. You viciously pull the rope and the satchel flies back up to you.
At least, you think as you sniff at the fabric, your jacket will always smell of the fruit. You stand, using the branches above your head to steady as you shimmy to the trunk. With a heave, you lever yourself up to the next branch. This is very different from your books and studies, but captured as you are in the curtain of green, surrounded by the smells of growing nature, you feel welcome. Around you, you can hear the shouts and laughter of other pairs as they fight to pick the most fruit. The laughter reminds you of the stream by your house...constant and bubbly.
There are several fruit in a cluster out on the end of the branch and you inch out to them. The branch bends under your weight, but holds. You snatch up the fruit and literally throw the satchel back down to your impatient brother.
"Your friend...that Jedi apprentice could certainly help matters here." Hag comments as he dumps the container and lets go of it.
"I don't think we will see him again." You answer back, resting your back against the rough branch. The bonfire had been three nights ago and since then you have not seen Qui-Gon. His Master had said that they might be needed at the Grand House for negotiations. Your new friend had nodded, and straightened his back. When he had walked you back to your home, he had mentioned that the day he had spent with you was one of the few he had ever had with no responsibilities. Qui-Gon had seemed very serious when he had said goodbye, thanking you for a wonderful evening and telling you that he was glad to have met you. But his tone, the gentle deep boy-growing-into-a-man tone was over shadowed by a gruff no-nonsense aura. You had known as he had walked down the path and into the forest surrounding your home, that you would probably not see him again. But you were glad to have met him.
"Did you scare him away, Tira?" Hag teases, sitting down on the grass next to the bushel.
You sigh and ease around a V in the branches. Before you can answer him, you hear a gruff, "No."
You start and glance down at the ground. From the height at which you are all you can see is the somewhat familiar glow of tawny brown hair and ecru tunic. You had not heard Qui-Gon approach. As you balance precariously on the branch and try and hold your position, his head tilts back. You can see his clear face and his eyes although not their profound blue at this distance. There is a difference to his stance this afternoon. He is stiffer, more...proper than he had been the other evening. "Sending Tira on missions of impossibility again, Hag?"
Your brother launches himself off the ground and swipes at the seat of his pants quickly. "Padawan Jinn..."
"I am guessing that this is the starfruit gathering competition I heard about..." Qui-Gon lowers his head to glance at Hag. "You might fare better..."
You grab the branch next to swing yourself down to the next tier of limbs. Your brother had chosen the perfect tree, the limbs seeming like a collection of natural steps to the green canopy rather than just simple branches. Within moments, you alight to the ground near the two boys. The grass seems to give like a bog and you bounce. "Qui-Gon..."
"You thought I was gone." He states with a smile. After a second, he lifts his head to look at the tree. You see that impossibly long ponytail sweep at the space between his shoulder blades. In the harsh sunlight, his hair seems like cinnamon instead of dull brown. "Are the participants allowed a ladder?"
Hag startles to action, nodding quickly. For some reason, your brothers are in awe of this boy. He seems no different than others to you, however. "We are..."
"May I?" Qui-Gon points to the ladder and motions to the trunk of the tree. "You might fare better with me in the tree than Tira....no offense." He states, looking at you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest.
"You cannot use the Force, Padawan Jinn." You answer him, putting emphasis on his title. "That would be cheating..."
"I will not use the Force," his eyes appear surprised. "But I have undergone intense physical training...that might give me a slightly improved chance at reaching the fruit at the top of the tree." He reaches down to loosen his outer tunic and lays his belt aside: complete with lightsabre and tools. Within seconds, his form is just covered in his inner tunic, the one more white than tan. He stops as his tunic falls to the ground, glancing at you again. With pursed lips, you shrug and extend your hand to welcome him to try the tree. His height, though, you think, will be a hindrance rather than a help in the branches.
He nods, smiling widely and lifts the ladder to place it against the trunk. He shimmies up the outside of the wood and you listen to the creak of the rungs as they strain under his weight. The ladder is not a great one; having laid in your father's shed for years, rotting more than existing. The smell of moss is stronger around it than wood. You reach forward to brace it as he reaches the solid upper branches. His feet remain on the rung as he reaches in at an impossible angle to grasp at the fruit.
You can see his hand hesitate as it touches the skin of the seed pod. It is almost as if he can sense the softness inherent in it. His eyes squint as if hearing a voice that only he can hear. You feel as though he is listening to the fruit and the tree that bears it. With a gentleness you had not told him to use, he plucks the fruit and places it in the parcel that he scooped up before climbing. After several seconds, he turns and whistles to you. You reach up to receive the cloth as he lowers it to you.
Hag shakes his head as you capture the parcel like a tiny babe and empty the fruit into the bushel. Not one is squashed and the pristine white of the parcel is left unmarred. Standing as you do over the bushel, you can see the purple and crimson juice of ruined fruits on the sides of the bushel. Your mother will be able to make jam easily with the contents.
"Tira!"
You turn and let the parcel go and it flies up to Qui-Gon's hand. Although he holds the rope that is attached to it, you know that he accomplished the act using the Force. He leans around the other side of the tree, looping his arm around a wide branch. And it is a good thing too.
The ladder, put out from the abuse that it felt it was receiving, groans and twists and suddenly...Qui-Gon is standing in the air without support as the wood collapses to the ground. The supporting limbs that your father had cut to make the ladder crumble, letting the rungs fall like forgotten leaves to the ground. You gasp, your hands flying to your mouth. Jinn had been at the upper most reaches of the tree, his head even with the canopy that only the birds use with regularity. It has to be more than thirty feet off the ground.
But he does not fall.
You squint, seeing his right arm curl. It holds most of his weight. The ends of the branch that he holds sway and the leaves rustle. A lone bird launches from its nest and circles the limb like a hawk on a hunt. You hear only a minute grunt as Qui-Gon swings his legs around in an arc. They curl over the limb he holds and he pulls his weight up and crouches on the limb.
Sound has disappeared. Laughter has disappeared, although you can hear it happening around you. All you can feel is a sense of time sliding to a stop, your breath holding, wavering and your heart slowing. Your eyes remain centered on Qui-Gon, although you only wish to close them on the crisis that you see occurring. Even the warmth of the sun turns cold.
"I'm fine." He calls down, as he leans forward in a seated position to look down at you and your brother.
"I'm not," you grunt lowly. You can slowly feel the blood beginning to flow again, the warmth of the sun again kissing the tips of your ears. You flop to the ground, letting your legs stretch out in front of you as it seems that they cannot hold your weight any longer. The grass is fragrant and cushy and alive...you curl your fingers into its coolness to ground yourself. You had thought, for sure, that you would be explaining the broken body of the Jedi to his Master.
Qui-Gon smiles, at least it looks like a smile from that distance, and turns, rising, standing on the limb. He grabs at several fruits in a bough above his head. The branch that he holds is not steady, however, and the fruit swings inward to hit him in the face. You can hear the muttered curse as the soft fruit collides with his chin and cheek. And you know, without looking at him, that the juice from the fruit has covered his face. He ducks to avoid the actual branch and his hair catches in the small limbs and twigs as the arm of the tree bends over him.
"Are you all right now?" you call.
"Impertinent." You hear muttered back down. He settles himself back down on the branch and looks at the various squashed fruits around his legs. You can see the stain on his face, the upper part of his tunic and his chest from here. It is deep crimson almost like the first kiss of sunrise and you know that he will smell like starfruit for the remainder of the day. Whereas he had seemed very proper when he arrived, it is almost impossible for him to remain that way covered in fruit juice as he is. He certainly tries, though.
You watch as his gaze sweeps down to you and then up again, to look over the hills of grass and the sand dunes to the sea beyond. A change comes over his face, a softening, and you can almost sense the lines of seriousness that seem so out of place on one so young easing. After a moment, you see him squirm on the branch and the sigh that emanates from his lips is audible even over the breeze and over that distance. It is then that you know you are not alone.
Turning quickly, you see your brother start. Behind him, at a space of about twenty paces is the short Dagobanian Jedi Master. His tunic and robe are brown and reach to the ground. He seems out of place in the middle of the orchard, around trees so tall that he seems to be minuscule. He frowns at you and then tilts his head back. "Unexpected was it, Padawan?"
"Very, Master." Qui-Gon calls down. "But..." he picks up a fruit and raises it to his mouth. He bites into the fruit and you can see the juices running around his fingers and down his chin. "At least this way, Master, I can commune with the Living Force."
Yoda shakes his head, leaning forward on his walking stick. He extends a hand and Qui-Gon is suddenly removed from the branch and lowered to one two below him. You squint as you watch the young Jedi take his change in position as easily as a change in wind direction. Once he is placed there, Yoda nods to his apprentice. "Lower yourself, the rest of the way, you should, Padawan."
Qui-Gon sighs and nods slowly. He closes his eyes and you see him gently levitate off of the branch. He slowly descends to the grass on the hill, his legs folded as if meditating. As he settles, you hear silence. Others are watching him as you do; they stand around the trees like statues. The only movement you see is fluttering hair and skirts, loose shirts in the breeze. Laughter has stopped, and now there only exists stunned silence like a living, breathing entity.
He opens his eyes and glances at his Master with a nod. The breeze ruffles his hair as it does yours, allowing the gentle bangs to caress his brow. Indeed, the fruit has stained his face and chin, coating his tunic and the tips of his hair like dye. Around him, you can smell the aroma of nature. Leaves stick out of the short hair on top of his head and a lone branch appears balanced on the upper crest of his right ear. He does look as though he...communes...with the Living Force.
Qui-Gon pushes to stand and faces you. There are tears on the top hem of his tunic. Although he is proper now as he stands, his hands falling into the practiced position of mediation in front of him, your mind replays the sound of a few...curses...that had escaped his lips when the ladder fell. The thought brings a smile to your face with ease.
"Incredible."
You hear your brother breathe the word as if he stands in a church or temple. Qui-Gon, it appears, almost flinches with the sound of the awe-inspired word from Hag's lips. He lowers his head from your gaze and glances backward out of the corner of his eyes. "It was necessary. There was no other way to disentangle myself from the situation," he comments.
Hag nods, but you can see that his jaw gapes still. Yoda hums as if in deep thought and turns. "Return to the cottage by nightfall, Padawan, you shall. Your own, is the day." The words are rasped, quiet, as if forced from a rusty old billow. He lumbers away, his steps heavy with a limp. Qui-Gon watches his master as he walks away, and remains almost deathly still, quiet. Finally, as the small Master climbs the hill and disappears into the yew cluster, he lifts his head to glance at you.
"I am sorry."
Tilting your head, you squint your eyes and ask: "For what?"
"Using the Force...I had told you..."
"I'm glad that you did," you state, righting your head. Pointing to the tattered remains of the ladder you sigh. "If you hadn't, you would still be up the tree and I would still be wondering how to get you down. If you have the talent..."
Hag shuffles next to you and moves to the bushel. After a second of making sure that all of the fruit, squashed or not, is in the basket, he heaves the bushel to his shoulder. With nary a glance at you or Qui-Gon, he turns and moves off to the rest of the orchard and to the rest of the people who are slowly returning to work. "I will see you later, Tira. And you, Padawan Jinn."
Qui-Gon watches your brother go with tired eyes. Suddenly, he appears an old man in a teenagers body. Weight of years shows on his face. His sigh is so loud that you fear that the rest of the fruit will tumble from the tree to land about your feet. "As I said, Tira..."
"And as I said, if you have the talent, use it." You return, bending to gather the remaining fruit in the hem of your apron.
"They..." Qui-Gon shakes his head, bending to pick up a couple of the pods that rolled far from the tree. "Have no knowledge of the Force...it is hard to have them understand....it is not magic...I'm not..."
"A sorcerer... a wizard..." you nod. "You are a Jedi. You are blessed and you are one of an elite that are the peacekeepers of the galaxy."
"And in many a person's eye, a freak." He adds, ending the sentence on a chuckle. With your back turned to him, and if you did not know what he looked like, you might be able to imagine the man he might become. The weight of his words and the feeling behind the meaning is too intense for him as he is. "You know these things because of the education that you are getting....but if you were not at that school...you would believe as they do."
"Maybe..." you sigh, glancing down at the fruit. You hold out your apron to take his offerings as well. "I would not know any better to feel any different."
He drops the fruit in your apron and you both smile at the disgusting, squished sound that it makes when it hits the others. You feel the cool juice as it splashes against your stomach through your shirt. He sighs as he realizes that his face is the same shade purple as your shirt at that moment. "I cannot let it bother me...but it is hard..."
"It is hard for all of us to fit in, Qui-Gon."
"True. Very, very true, but..."he smiles and turns to face the other trees now alive once again with laughter. He shakes his head. "Let's find another tree and see if we can still pick enough fruit to qualify."
"We can find Hag...I know where he went." You begin to walk, and hear him step to join you. "I should apologize to you for his reaction..."
"There is no reason." Qui-Gon lowers his head. He finally spies the rip in his tunic.
You laugh at the twist of his mouth. "My mother can fix that, Qui-Gon, if you don't want to...she will probably love the opportunity."
"I know how to sew my own clothes, thank you." He grumbles. "And..." he stops, reaching out to stop you as well. "I do have to apologize to you. I wanted to not be...a Jedi apprentice...here. But it is who I am."
You nod and begin to walk again. "And I don't wish to be a philosopher and a teacher, but it is who I am and who I have been since I was ten. The intense education I get would create nothing different." You glance sideways at him and grin widely. "Two freaks in a pod."
The sudden flare of your humor makes him choke a laugh and he nods. "But you are...normal...to a certain extent...if I could ever define normal."
"No," you laugh as the two of you break the orchard boundary and you spy Hag leaning against a tree. The ruffling leaves above his head and the tumbling curses lets you know that one of your other brothers is up the tree. "No logical arguments...I have a week until classes...I want to be mindless."
"Then..." he grins as he grabs your hand to drag you running the last few feet. "Let's be mindless."