Under Master Yoda's guidance, Luke meditates upon the celebration following the Battle of Endor, wherein he took his first steps toward recreating the Jedi Order. . .
Luke staggered down from the cliff, following a rudimentary path clinging precipitously to the rocky cliffs descending into the valley. As he descended, the ache in his shoulder began to wane, and the blood seeping from his forehead congealed as the pain from his head wound also receded. Dozens of times, he nearly lost his footing as he followed the path by the light of the moon, and each time, he wondered to himself why he had not brought his lightsaber. He searched through a peculiar mental fog to find the right memory, and he remembered Yoda saying, "Your weapons. You will not need them." More confusion followed as he wondered whether that was something Yoda had just told him, or whether that was something he heard long ago. A fleeting memory of a swamp followed, coupled with Yoda perched atop his foot as he stood on his hands. As soon as he thought of it, he stumbled again, and he turned his focus back to the perilous descent.
After several hours of staggering down the cliffside, the cliff's gradient decreased and then flattened out at the floor of the valley. The path dove into a copse of towering trees, many of them as tall as the temple on Yavin-4. Luke followed the path into the forest along grassy tussocks threading crystalline pools of water. The trees above cast deep black shadows cutting through the silver light of the planet's twin moons. Floating lights pulsed and danced in the air, drawing Luke's attention from the path. Luke approached one, discovering that it was not a light, but rather an amorphous, pulsating insect drifting on subtle currents of air through the towering forest, numbering in the thousands, casting a diffuse light across the forest floor.
After an hour of walking through the forest, Luke knelt beside a spring and drank deeply from the water. The cool, crisp water soothed his throat, which still burned from inhaling the smoke from his ruined X-wing. Relief did not stop at his throat, but rather spread throughout his limbs, suffusing his tired, aching muscles with an unexpected vigor and lightness. Surprised to feel the ache in his shoulder vanish altogether, Luke's suspicions dawned that the richness of the Force, the purity and power of which he had never felt anywhere else, had a restorative effect.
Ahead, Luke saw a light glowing through the towering trunks of the forest's trees, and he forged ahead, excitement and wonder mounting. He emerged from the forest in a massive clearing – an amphitheater-sized grotto, bounded on three sides by towering cliffs. In the center of the clearing, a deep pit, nearly the diameter of the Senate Chamber, brimmed with light that danced and sparkled, illimunating the surrounding cliffs as splashes of pure energy danced into the night sky. The strange, amorphous, pulsating creatures blossomed from those splashes, created in that moment to drift through the forest and cast light in the dark of night.
Luke collapsed to the ground, struck by wonder at the sight. The Prime Jedi had alluded to a wellspring, and Luke, having seen such wellsprings at Kashyyyk, Dagobah, Yavin, and half a dozen other planets, was shocked at the sheer scale and size. Those wellsprings had been mere trickles compared to what he now beheld. His brush with catastrophe forgotten, he crossed his legs, preparing to sink into meditation.
Before his meditation commenced, he felt a ripple in the Force. He turned to see Master Yoda's form coalescing beside him. Yoda, too, looked up in wonder at the Wellspring, and the two sat in silence for several minutes – or several hours – Luke could not tell, before Yoda said, "Knew, I did not. A great wonder, this is."
Luke nodded in agreement, although he had no words to describe the profound sense of awe he experienced. As Luke gazed into the light, he felt the impulse to wander through forgotten channels of memory and beyond into the depths of the true nature of the Force before him. The Prime Jedi had talked about his failures with the Jedi Order. Memories arose of his kyber crystal shattering; Master Melso's anger; exile from the Order he had rebuilt; sitting in the rain on Dagobah, struggling to reach Yoda; nearly dying at the hands of Veryx.
"I failed," Luke said.
Yoda remained silent, allowing the thought to linger. After a long moment, he responded, "Failure, yes. Remember, you do, how we cautioned you? Learn, you must."
The critique stung Luke, deepening his sadness. Jedi that he had known, trained, sparred with, solved mysteries together with, plotted with, and supported – most had turned on him, leaving him exiled from his life's work.
"I tried to pass on what I learned, like you told me," Luke said, despondent.
He did not intend the statement as an abdication of responsibility, but Yoda bristled, as he turned to Luke and said, "Heeded you not, the lessons on attachment. Other counsel, you sought. Flawed, the wisdom was."
Luke settled into silence as he remembered the counsel Yoda had referred to. The reasons had felt so sound, so immutable, that he went against Obi-wan and Yoda, much as he had gone against their implication that he must face and kill his own father. As Luke remembered the exchange shortly after Endor, he heard Yoda say, "Meditate, you must. Failure, your teacher must be."
Luke felt Yoda's form vanish, and his attention turned back to the light radiating from the wellspring. Closing his eyes, he entered into a meditation, allowing his mind to drift back to the night where his values departed from the Jedi Code of old.
Firelight danced around the trunks of towering trees – a different forest; a different time; himself, a different man. He sat before a fire as it crackled and spit, the aches and pains in his bones from the Emperor's attacks gradually subsiding. He had left the feast not long after joining, realizing that his heart was still too full and too heavy for celebration. Eventually, perhaps, but with the strange, but flavorful wine that the Ewoks brewed now flowing through the celebrating rebels, Luke found silence and solitude a balm and a repose better matching his internal state.
Triumph mingled with grief as he reflected on the past 24 hours. His father had redeemed himself, overthrowing the Emperor to save his son. His faith had been rewarded, and now the Empire was in retreat. For a brief moment, he had known his father as Anakin, not Vader, but that moment had burned all too briefly as his father died from his injuries. Anakin's body, still clad in Vader's armor, smoldered on a pyre not far from his solitary campfire, and once again, he reflected on how the path to becoming the last of the Jedi was littered with loss: his aunt, his uncle, Obi-wan, Yoda, and now Anakin Skywalker. And he wondered, how much more loss would he endure in the future?
"I take it you don't have a taste for Ewok wine," spoke a man's voice. The voice was familiar and yet unfamiliar, and Luke turned to place the speaker, thinking that one of the pilots of Rogue Squadron had wandered away from the village. To Luke's surprise, a blue light materialized in the darkness, coalescing into a form he had only recently glimpsed for the first time a few hours ago: Anakin Skywalker, younger, whole, and uninjured; an image of the Jedi at the prime of his life before his turn to the dark side.
"Father?" Luke said, rising to his feet.
"Please, son," Anakin said, smiling, as he raised his hand. "Sit. You've had a busy day." As Luke resumed his seat before the fire, Anakin's smile faltered slightly as he asked, "May I join you?"
"Please," Luke said eagerly. He had found himself hoping that he would have a chance to speak with his father once the dust settled, and a quiet flicker of joy brightened his grief as he realized that the chance had already arrived.
Anakin settled himself upon a log on the other side of the fire, and after studying the fire for a few moments, said, smiling slightly as he looked down at his translucent hands, he said, "This takes some getting used to."
Luke smiled, and he watched as Anakin's smile faltered. As his father looked away, Luke asked, "What is it?"
"I owe you an apology," Anakin said.
"You just saved my life," Luke replied in confusion.
"All the same. I'm sorry it took me so long to see what you saw. And I'm sorry for everything I've put you through," Anakin said.
Luke read the earnestness and the pain in Anakin's face as he said it, and Luke had the sense that a lifetime of regrets compelled his father toward making amends. Looking into the fire, he wondered how his father had managed to pass on as Yoda and Obi-Wan had considering that he spent half of his life in darkness.
He looked up to see Anakin studying him, and said, "Honestly, father, I'm just glad I can talk to you. I thought that moment on the Death Star was all we'd have."
"Me too," said Anakin, and then, he added thoughtfully, "But it seems the Force is more forgiving than I expected." He smiled, then added, "Yoda told me that he implored you to pass on what you've learned. We will be here to help you with that."
Luke felt a sense of relief sweep over him. The thought of resurrecting the Jedi had been sequestered in the furthest reaches of his mind with the tumult and triumph of the past day, but he knew that sooner or later, the responsibility of what Yoda had tasked him to do would bear down on him, and the thought that he would have Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Anakin to lean on was a relief beyond measure.
Anakin saw the evident relief in Luke's face, and smiling, he asked, "This might be a little premature, but what are you thinking?"
"For the teaching of new Jedi?" Luke asked, uncertain what his father was alluding to.
"Yeah," Anakin said, smiling, a hint of pride in his expression.
Luke sighed, feeling some of the responsibility resurging, then said, "Well, I'm the last one, I guess. . ."
"Who said you're the last Jedi?" Anakin asked, taken aback.
"Yoda did," Luke replied, frowning.
"I know for certain there are others. Once they find out the Emperor and I are gone. . ." Anakin said, leaving the sentence hanging. A shadow had passed over his face, and Luke had the impression he was recalling some of the things he had done.
"There really are more?" Luke asked, incredulous, but delighted.
"Oh, sure," Anakin said. Then, sympathetically, he added, "You aren't going to have to do this alone, Luke."
Luke sighed again, this time filled with relief. A long, comfortable silence followed, during which questions began to percolate. An image flashed in his mind of his father, wounded on a catwalk in the Emperor's throne room, followed by Luke tossing his lightsaber aside. He had rejected the dark side, where his father had not. He recognized the moment as the moment where he had truly become a Jedi. Moments later, his father had become a Jedi once again. Obi-wan and Yoda had never really explained how his father had fallen, instead offering cryptic interpretations. If he was going to rebuild the Jedi Order, it would be helpful to explore how to guard against the darkness.
"Father, can I ask you something?" Luke asked.
Anakin's face darkened slightly, and Luke had the sense of an internal conflict. The darkness passed, and then, his smile more confident, Anakin said, "Please do."
"Why did you turn?" Luke asked.
Anakin smiled slightly, then said to Luke, "Didn't want to ease me into it, did you?" Luke was abashed, and looked as if he was ready to apologize. Anakin held his hand up and said, "It's ok, Luke. I'll explain as best I can."
Anakin took a moment to collect his thoughts, then said, "The Jedi took me from my mother when I was young. As your uncle probably told you, we were slaves, and my mother could not come. The Jedi who was supposed to train me died shortly after. My training was difficult; I excelled in most areas, but I could not put thoughts of my mother aside. She was all I had, and the only thing the Jedi offered to console me was the virtue of non-attachment."
"They didn't understand that you missed her?" Luke asked, surprised.
"They did," Anakin said. "Especially Obi-Wan, but I needed more than understanding. I needed to know she was safe. I needed her. I didn't see her again until she died."
"Uncle Owen said it was the sand people," Luke said.
"I killed the sand people in revenge. Looking back, it was the first concrete step," Anakin's face darkened as he nodded. He remained silent, then remembering the thread of what he was sharing, said, "And then I fell in love with your mother."
"How did Obi-Wan feel about that?" Luke asked.
"Obi-Wan didn't know. None of the Jedi knew. We hid it, even as she became pregnant. It was hard for her, too. She was a Senator from Naboo, and a very well-respected figure. There was a minor scandal about her pregnancy. For me, though, it meant losing my place in the Jedi Order, despite everything I had done for them." Anakin's face went distant, but as his memory recovered, he added, "I was terrified of losing her. I would do anything." Anakin's face darkened, and he added, "I did do anything."
"To save her?" Luke asked.
"I went to see Yoda, but his counsel was cold comfort. 'Fear of loss leads to the Dark Side,' he told me," Anakin said. He paused again, remembering, and added, "I was afraid of losing her, and I was afraid of losing my place. He was right, but nothing in the Jedi Code or my training could help me overcome that fear."
"So what happened?" Luke asked.
"Sidious," Anakin said simply. "He offered a solution. It was exactly what I wanted. I gave myself over to him, and in doing so became Vader."
"So, what Master Yoda said. . . Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering," Luke said as if thinking out loud.
"Yes," Anakin said, then added, "But now, as I think about it, it didn't have to be that way."
"How so?" Luke asked, confused.
"The Jedi Code's stance on attachment left me feeling that I was wrong to feel what I felt. I tried for years to deny it, to disown it. I wanted to please Obi-Wan, the counsel, the other Jedi. I wanted to be recognized and accepted, yet time and again, I received criticism. It made me angry," Anakin explained. He explained it without heat or resentment, but Luke had a palpable sense of regret, as if circumstances outside his control had deprived him of a life he could have had.
"Was Yoda wrong, then?" Luke asked, feeling uncertain at the contradiction between his father and his Master.
"No," Anakin said, "And, yes. Fear can lead one down the dark path. And, fear is just another emotion. Looking back on it now, had I found a middle path between the Jedi and Sidious, things might have been different. As it was, there was no middle path."
Luke sat in silence, thoughtful on what his father explained. He, too, had gone against Yoda and Obi-Wan, and there were grave consequences. Yoda's counsel to take no action had been unbearable, yet acting had been catastrophic. In that moment, Luke could not imagine another path, and he felt his empathy deepen at his father's own impossible choice between duty and forbidden impulses; between the Jedi and love.
"Son, I'm sure there will be many conversations to come, but since you've asked, I'm telling you," Anakin said, then added, "The Jedi Code conveys much to honor and respect. Yoda and Obi-Wan may disagree with me on this, but I encourage you to take a broader view on attachment."
"How do I do that?" Luke asked. He knew his own knowledge of the Jedi Code was limited due to his own truncated training. He had intended to lean heavily on Yoda and Obi-Wan to rebuild it from their memory.
"Fear can lead to the dark side, but it can also lead to illumination. I feared to lose what I was, and I turned to the darkness. I feared losing you, so I turned back to the light. The distinction goes beyond something you can codify," Anakin said.
"What do you mean?" Luke asked, uncertain what his father meant.
"Jedi don't have children," Anakin explained, smiling ironically. "All of the rules change when you learn you're a father. At that moment, attachment becomes everything. As Darth Vader, I was as detached from those around me as it was possible to be; the Emperor ensured it stayed that way, and alone, I reveled in my self-loathing. As a child, if I knew my mother was safe, I wouldn't be afraid. The Jedi could have helped there, but the Code isolated me. If I knew your mother was safe, I wouldn't have been afraid. The Jedi could not guide me through that, either."
Luke sat with the thought, considering the ramifications. He was not a parent, but remembering what he had gained from Owen and Beru, and feeling his own compassion and love for his father, he understood that relationships between beings, especially humans, might be too complex and murky for a simple code – especially when one's life had been defined by loss.
Anakin smiled, and said, "I won't say more until we've all had a chance to talk, but I want you to remember what Obi-Wan told me moments before I fully embraced the dark side: only a Sith deals in absolutes. It will be a lot harder for you, as veering away from an absolute virtue brings great complexity, but honoring the need for attachment may be what many need to let go of attachment. . ."
Luke snapped out of his meditation abruptly, his breath heavy and his mind disoriented. The sun had risen, and his body was stiff and sore from sitting. Before him, the well of Erys continued to dance and splash, and in its light, he thought he saw other memories of his father vacillating. The conversation had lasted long into the morning, and Anakin told Luke of his mother, their love, their hopes for a life together, and his friendship with Obi-wan before Luke retired to sleep. Anakin's entreaty to adopt a more open stance on attachment had remained with him, and despite Yoda's and Obi-Wan's warnings – Qui-Gon had sided with Anakin – the attitude had become a foundational principle for the new Jedi.
As Luke stretched his legs while gazing at the wellspring, the Force rippled again, and Luke watched Yoda coalesce. Yoda nodded gravely, then asked, "Your meditations – wisdom you have gained?"
"That first night with my father," Luke said, his gaze distant as a melancholy filled him. "He impressed upon me that there needed to be another way."
"Disagreed with him, I did," Yoda said sternly.
"That the Jedi could have done more to help him?" Luke said, a twinge of irritation emerging.
"On attachment, disagreed, I did," Yoda corrected, and he added by of explanation, saying, "Disagreed on his training with Obi-wan, along with many of his actions as a Jedi, I also did. My own hesitation in training you, remember, do you? A Jedi, raised away from attachment, attains non-attachment. A Jedi raised with attachment, struggles and suffers."
"None of the new Jedi came to me without some kind of trauma. If we took the same approach, they all might have turned," Luke explained, still irritated.
"Yet, failed, your effort has, all the same," Yoda said.
Luke felt another wave of defensiveness, but remembering the Prime Jedi's admonishments, he stifled them. Mastering his anger, he asked, "Would they have failed either way?"
Yoda nodded, and Luke, realizing the possibility that his life's work may have been doomed before he even began, felt a sickening wave of embarrassment and shame wash over him. His shame then pivoted to frustration as he said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Recognized we did, our place not to interfere," Yoda said. "Our own need to detach, we heeded. Counsel, yes. Advise, yes. But direct, no. Failed, your father did, in this area. Reckless was he, as were you. Correct, the Prime Jedi is, about your divergence from the Code."
Luke felt a surge of confusion as he recalled the other conversations he had with Yoda. It was true that Yoda had indeed challenged him on altering the Jedi Code, pointing out the myriad problems it could create. He had also been active in crafting solutions to those problems while not revealing whatever misgivings he might have. His critical attitude felt like an abrupt about-face. As Luke thought of his failures with the Jedi Order, his memory of Ben turning away from him at Nal-Hef emerged, and Luke recognized the need to take a hard, critical look at his mistakes. Perhaps, Yoda is right, he thought to himself.
"I thought there could have been another way," Luke said, the tendril of defensiveness dissipating even as he said it.
Yoda nodded solemnly, then said, with a measure of kindness, "Forget, you do, how unusual you are. Unlike other Jedi, your circumstances were. Great pain and loss you experienced, before your first steps, you took. Greater still were your triumphs. The average Jedi knows not these experiences. That others can do what you can, expect, you should not."
Luke sighed as his shoulders slumped, and he fought to stave of discouragement and regret. Had he been foolish to expect the Jedi to be able to transcend what now seemed basic human limitations? Was he wrong to have faith in his charges' abilities to overcome attachment? It had all seemed so clearly the right thing to do. But now, his choices appeared foolish and flawed.
"Encourage you, I must, to continue your meditations," Yoda said gravely. "Return, I will, to guide and instruct."
Yoda nodded to Luke, and his ghost vanished, leaving Luke to gaze into the wellspring, ruminating over what he could have and should have done differently while questioning the wisdom he had accepted as true, taken for granted, even, from his father's fall and redemption.
High above, on the rim of the valley next to an ancient uneti tree, the child stood, looking down over the valley below. He could not see Skywalker in meditation, despondent and regretful of his faith in his father's experience with his eyes, but his sense of Skywalker, crystal clear through the Force, was strong. As Skywalker sank further into his meditations, the Prime Jedi thought to himself, good. Very good, as he realized that Skywalker might be amenable after all.
