Disclaimer : George owns everything , I own nothing .
Author`s note : This is just a short vignette about Ex-Chancellor Valorum
and what he might have thought about the Republic being turned into the
Empire . It is set somewhere shortly before ANH , I think . Enjoy .
Devotion
"Nothing is left of honor , of glory . What can a man fight for if these two cease to exist , what can be the aims , that we must inevitably give our lives to ? I do not speak about dying . I`m talking about devotion . Has it not been my deepest devotion to safe our country , to safe what was left of it ? It was like a broken-wingend bird for me , a bird , that would not be able to fly , would I not take it and mend its broken bones . A beautiful , gorgeous creature , made to be free and thrive . It was killed instead . It was taken from my loving hands and crushed , until what was left was a mere echo of the bird I had once loved .A monster . A sacrilege . It does not matter , does it ? That I could have prevented it , but did not , that I could have stopped it , had I been strong enough ? Yet , the power was not in my hands when these horrendous things happened . I have to stick to that . I did not have the power to stop them . He came with the power of illusions , playing games with our souls , winning in the end what he had gone for .....the bird . The bird . Why do birds suddenly appear ? Oh , he was good , he was brilliant , far better than I ever was . And he was evil , far more evil than I ever was , even in my dreams .For I had my scandals and my secret businesses , oh yes , but I loved the bird . Grant me that . He took it from me . A plan took it from me , legally , imagine that . He did all that within the span of our laws . I want to laugh . They thought nothing could be changed , for our laws were good and firm , impossible to undermine . They were children . I was a child . I understood nothing until it was too late . I could have stopped him , I could have crushed him down , up to the very end . Until there was no parliament any more . We could have beaten him . I have to live with that . That we were cowards , that we would rather say nothing than openly no . We did not dare . Those who said no , were crushed , as the bird was . A little heap of feathers and bones , pathetic and weak , what we had thought to be eternal . I often dream of it . There is the sky and a litle white bird , which is tumbling down high above a crowd of people . Noone moves to safe it . We all knew it , in the end . Noone can be that blind , noone can be that blind . What does it matter now ? I?m an old man , whose only reason of still being alive is that I`m no danger . I`m breeding birds - red , and blue and yellow ones - they`re my joy . He doesn`t mind me . I `m going to die anyway , in a few years . What will happen to my birds then , I wonder ? Who will look after them ? I`ll leave their cages open so they can be free and fly away . There must be freedom somewhere , at least for birds . They will make it , won`t they ?" the old man turned anxiously to the young journalist . "I can`t leave them alone , they will die liek the other bird before them , because I left it alone . I left it alone ." "Of course , they`ll live ," the young man said . "You shouldn`t wory , sir ." There was pity and disgust written all over is face . "They`re birds ." "But what will happen to them ?" the old man held a feathery , tweeting little thing in his hands , with great care .He smiled ."I`m sorry , but that`s not what you`ve come for , is it ." The journalist rose to go . " It was allright , sir . I have to leave you now .",thinking about this stupid task his professor had assigned him to . "Of course ," the old man said . When he was outside , the student was surprised to see suddenly hundreds of bight-coloured birds make their way into the sky , swooping and rushing , sceaming their high-pitched cries , that left no echo.
Devotion
"Nothing is left of honor , of glory . What can a man fight for if these two cease to exist , what can be the aims , that we must inevitably give our lives to ? I do not speak about dying . I`m talking about devotion . Has it not been my deepest devotion to safe our country , to safe what was left of it ? It was like a broken-wingend bird for me , a bird , that would not be able to fly , would I not take it and mend its broken bones . A beautiful , gorgeous creature , made to be free and thrive . It was killed instead . It was taken from my loving hands and crushed , until what was left was a mere echo of the bird I had once loved .A monster . A sacrilege . It does not matter , does it ? That I could have prevented it , but did not , that I could have stopped it , had I been strong enough ? Yet , the power was not in my hands when these horrendous things happened . I have to stick to that . I did not have the power to stop them . He came with the power of illusions , playing games with our souls , winning in the end what he had gone for .....the bird . The bird . Why do birds suddenly appear ? Oh , he was good , he was brilliant , far better than I ever was . And he was evil , far more evil than I ever was , even in my dreams .For I had my scandals and my secret businesses , oh yes , but I loved the bird . Grant me that . He took it from me . A plan took it from me , legally , imagine that . He did all that within the span of our laws . I want to laugh . They thought nothing could be changed , for our laws were good and firm , impossible to undermine . They were children . I was a child . I understood nothing until it was too late . I could have stopped him , I could have crushed him down , up to the very end . Until there was no parliament any more . We could have beaten him . I have to live with that . That we were cowards , that we would rather say nothing than openly no . We did not dare . Those who said no , were crushed , as the bird was . A little heap of feathers and bones , pathetic and weak , what we had thought to be eternal . I often dream of it . There is the sky and a litle white bird , which is tumbling down high above a crowd of people . Noone moves to safe it . We all knew it , in the end . Noone can be that blind , noone can be that blind . What does it matter now ? I?m an old man , whose only reason of still being alive is that I`m no danger . I`m breeding birds - red , and blue and yellow ones - they`re my joy . He doesn`t mind me . I `m going to die anyway , in a few years . What will happen to my birds then , I wonder ? Who will look after them ? I`ll leave their cages open so they can be free and fly away . There must be freedom somewhere , at least for birds . They will make it , won`t they ?" the old man turned anxiously to the young journalist . "I can`t leave them alone , they will die liek the other bird before them , because I left it alone . I left it alone ." "Of course , they`ll live ," the young man said . "You shouldn`t wory , sir ." There was pity and disgust written all over is face . "They`re birds ." "But what will happen to them ?" the old man held a feathery , tweeting little thing in his hands , with great care .He smiled ."I`m sorry , but that`s not what you`ve come for , is it ." The journalist rose to go . " It was allright , sir . I have to leave you now .",thinking about this stupid task his professor had assigned him to . "Of course ," the old man said . When he was outside , the student was surprised to see suddenly hundreds of bight-coloured birds make their way into the sky , swooping and rushing , sceaming their high-pitched cries , that left no echo.