For ratings and disclaimers see first chapter. And for further reference, a Chagrian is what Mas Amedda was, as far as I can tell.
Chapter 5: Of Squeegees and Temple Floors
"Obi, Obi-Wan wait up!"
Bant jogged to catch up with Obi-Wan as he powered through the crowded hall. No one dared to be caught in the path of the death defying padawan. Bant found the going easy due to the clear wake trailing behind the older apprentice. The other padawans and initiates knit together like a fast closing wound only after he was over an ample 5 feet away.
"Obi-Wan, what were you thinking?" She squealed when she finally sidled up behind him, "Did the phrase, 'sudden death by Force choking' ever cross your mind?"
Obi-Wan ignored her as he swerved down a less congested hall. Bant glanced back and saw a tight wall of inquisitive faces peering after them, tittering in wide-eyed wonder. She bounced back to his side, "You do know you were incredibly lucky, I mean all things considered you got off easy compared to--"
Obi-Wan lurched to a sudden halt, the Mon Calamari bounced off his back, caught off guard by his unexpected stop. He sighed, "Bant, those were all rumors, most of them were mere figments of the wild imaginations of seven-year-olds, thirsting for attention, and more likely have never even seen Ki'mar."
Not waiting for a reply he started off down the nearly deserted hall. Bant stared after him, then as if snapping out of a day dream she bounded after him, "Okay, okay, so maybe you have a point," she conceded, "But it actually was kind of nifty how you stood up to him and all."
"I wasn't standing," Obi-Wan mumbled darkly, "I was a twisted, half asleep lump," he corrected.
"Oh fine, be that way, but it was still an awe inspiring event. No one's ever done that before!" She shrieked excitedly, "And anyway, you couldn't have gotten up anyway, you were wedged between the chairs."
Obi-Wan groaned with a mixture of frustration and helplessness, "Do you think that's supposed to make me feel better?"
Once again, Bant paused, thinking while standing still. A light sprung in her eyes, "Uh, probably not! But just think! You're gonna be a Temple celebrity!" She giggled madly.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the two, "Well then," a smooth baritone thundered, a well hidden hint of humor nearly concealing itself, "if the newest Temple celebrity would kindly come this way, a squeegee and a multitude of pots are anxiously awaiting his arrival."
Obi-Wan and Bant looked up…and up, to gaze with wholesome trembling at the towering Chagrian. He in turn stared down at Obi-Wan with a carefully schooled expression. It didn't take long for a nearly sadistic grin to settle easily on his blue hued features.
Obi-Wan seemed to shrink before Bant in comparison to the massive figure staring him down. She backed away stammering helplessly, far from being envious of her friend's current state, "Uh, bye Obi, I've…I've gotta get going. Allergies and all ya know. Seeya!" As suddenly as she had come, she was skirting back down the hall. The phrase, 'guilty by association' popped unbidden into her mind.
Obi-Wan sagged as he followed in the wide wake of the Chagrian, wistfully hoping that maybe no one would see him behind his wide muscular girth. It was only 1:15, night, and hopefully, rest an eternity and a day away. At this point he didn't think that this hellish day could get any worse. He hoped desperately that he was right.
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Obi-Wan was forcefully snapped out of his self-pitting romp as a sopping sponge was thrust at him, squelching hideously against his rainbow splashed tunic (A/N: You DO remember the paint right?).
The Chagrian stared down his nose at the padawan, thrusting a long, elegant finger at a towering stack of dishes, "Scrub."
Obi-Wan stared in disbelief at the stack of dirty utensils and various dishes, "You want me to clean that?" He whined, "Why can't the droids do it?" He regretted having said anything the moment the words slipped easily from his mouth.
Tar Sheren, the Chagrian assigned to him, smiled in a near feral fashion, "Because then you would have nothing to do my young friend," He said in a maddeningly level tone.
By the glint in his eye, the Knight seemed quite happy with his position over Obi-Wan, and quite at ease to use what power he had. Obi-Wan grinned nervously, "Oh yeah, right, I forgot."
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Obi-Wan slid down the kitchen wall, I'll never dirty another plate if I live to eat again, He groaned inwardly.
Tar Sheren was picking through the neat stack of plates and mounds of sorted utensils. He narrowed his eyes, a long blue finger snaking forth to pick at a miniscule crusty lump of unidentifiable mass. Obi-Wan winced as the nail screeched against the plate. Disdainfully, Tar Sheren set the plate with a rapidly growing selection of rejected cutlery. He moved to the next item. Looking it over carefully, then setting it in the 'acceptable' pile with a grunt.
Obi-Wan was quickly learning that Chagrians, or Tar Sheren singularly, had a refined knack for finding the unobtrusive. He was also learning that they didn't speak very much, making it all the harder for him to tell when he had done a satisfactory job. Not to mention that it annoyed the living midi-chlorians out of him.
Tar Sheren brushed his long nailed hands off on his spotless tunic, then pointed silently to the slightly smaller stack of rejected dishes.
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up to his sore feet, no longer needing a vocal command to instruct him.
Tar Sheren resumed his ridged stance behind Obi-Wan, unperturbed by the withering glares shot back at him by the apprentice.
Four more attempts and two new sponges later, Obi-Wan finally met the Chagrian's cleanliness criteria. Much to his relief, he wasn't required to put the dishes away. Obi-Wan didn't know why, but he wasn't about to question it.
Folding his manicured hands into full sleeves, Tar Sheren pulled himself straighter, decidedly not making eye contact with the padawan, satisfied to stare over his head.
"I was informed that you were told to scrub the kitchens, but considering that I have been put in charge of your detention I have concluded that the reception area's floor is in much more need of attention."
Obi-Wan gaped at the Chagrian, "You…You are kidding right?" He stuttered anxiously.
Tar Sheren sniffed in disdain, finally meeting Obi-Wan's astonished gaze, "I do not 'kid'," He spat with obvious repulsion, "I would not have said so if I did not mean it."
Obi-Wan nodded dumbly, still slack jawed, "Right."
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The reception area was the grand entrance of the Jedi Temple. Its high roofed dome ceilings were made of a swirled marble supported by massive pillars of the same masonry. The enormous chamber echoed mutely with the paced footsteps of the Jedi, the air hushed with a palatable reverence. Floor to ceiling windows allowed beams of sunlight to provide more than adequate lighting.
The floor Obi-Wan had been issued to polish.
Obi-Wan had been in the vast room more times than the count of Yoda's wrinkles and a Hutt's fat content put together. He could also recall how he had often times scuffed a boot heel across the carefully waxed surface and hardly given it a second thought. Now he was regretting it with every ounce of his will.
He stumbled as he grappled with the magnitude of his task.
Swallowing the huge lump of anxiety that threatened to choke him, he followed the Chagrian across the immense hall, wincing every time someone's boot scraped the floor.
Ahead, a small Sullistan twitched apprehensively. Next to him was an odd contraption, which Obi-Wan identified as the washer/waxer. At least, he thought drearily, they're showing a bit of mercy by not making me do it by hand.
The Sullistan docent, Abdor, fidgeted on his feet while his beady black eyes darted wildly about, "Took you long enough. Here's the polisher and all the equipment you will need," Abdor gave a wide sweep of the buckets on the trundle cart and the polisher. He paused sizing Obi-Wan up, "Don't know how a youngster like you will take care of such a job. I expect that you won't mess anything up," He fixed a sharp eye on Obi-Wan, then abruptly went back to his nervous nature. His mousy head swiveled about as if expecting the Coruscant Security Force to show up at any moment to haul him off.
Tar Sheren's lips peeled back from his teeth in a toothy - if not predatorily - grin, "Don't worry yourself Docent Abdor, I'll personally be present to supervise."
Abdor scrutinized the towering Chagrian suspiciously. Glowering and working his mouth fixedly, he nodded glumly, wringing his small hands against his gray tunic, "Yes, yes I suppose, but don't mess anything up," Abdor's expression turned to one of pitiful worry, "You don't know how hard I try to keep a good name for myself, awfully hard in this kind of business position."
Tar Sheren nodded regally, "Yes, of course I do. Now, just go enjoy yourself for the day," he ushered the shuddering docent towards a lift.
"'Enjoy myself?'" Abdor squeaked, "How can I enjoy myself when a careless newborn like that is polishing my floors?"
Obi-Wan greatly resented being called a 'careless newborn' but wisely held his tongue. He tried to console himself in the knowledge that some humanoid's life spans were lengthier than humans.
Once Abdor was safely closed into the shaft, Tar Sheren turned to the glowering apprentice, "Standing there gawking won't get the floor any more polished," he said evenly.
Obi-Wan's mouth snapped shut as he was about to shoot off a retort. Tar Sheren nodded and patted his head like rewarding a subdued pet, "Good boy, you're learning."
Obi-Wan's mouth might have been trained but his eyes were as green broke as a rancor to a country drive.
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The thrumming of the polisher pounded angrily through Obi-Wan's skull. After marking off the first area he'd be working on, the apprentice had spent a good twenty minutes figuring out how to work the contraption. After three loads of soap he regretfully decided that it would be faster if he cleaned it by hand then wax it with the machine. The 100 x 100 square that he had marked off was only a square inch compared to the entire hall. Even though he had started in the farthest obscure corner, he still received vicious glares for blocking someone's way.
He was starting to understand why Abdor was invariably frazzled. Tar Sheren didn't help his edgy nerves by watching over every sponge stroke.
But at least he was nearly halfway through with his menial and grueling task.
Slowly running the polisher down another hundred-foot stretch, he carefully made sure that the edge of the new wax met evenly with the last coat. Unfortunately, he was so intent on not overlapping the two coats for fear of making a strip of uneven wax, he forgot about the statue of the demised Jedi Master set in the middle of the marked of square.
The humming polisher collided with the statue with a loud crack. Apparently the polisher's driving mechanisms was stronger than he had anticipated. It continued to plow forward, slowly chipping away at the base of the statue while not ceasing to somehow by a herculean cable drove the statue screeching across newly polished floor. Obi-Wan scrambled to turn it off, but in his scrambling slipped on the wet wax. His legs flew out from beneath him landing him hard on his stomach, the air whooshing out of his lungs.
But like a nightmarish vacuum from a crèche baby's bad dream, the polisher kept rolling, the deep thrumming turning into a sithly laugh.
As the wax hardened around his fingers and clothing, Obi-Wan could only watch helplessly as the statue crumbled as it smashed into a wide pillar. A loud, resounding crack echoed horribly about the vast chamber.
Bracing himself for the fall of the great pillar he waiting for it to bring to whole Temple down on his head. But nothing came; he waited, and waited. The wax glued him to the floor. Nothing happened. The thrumming of the polisher died, clunking to a chugging halt. The chamber was eerily hushed.
The dust particles were slowly settling, a few muted voices had started conversing. He guessed a team to secure the pillar would be arriving shortly. Yeah, and not only to secure that, he thought glumly, but a certain apprentice who is currently molded to the floor.
Two heavy booted feet parked themselves directly under his nose.
"Well, what have we here?"
Obi-Wan gulped; he could place that voice if he was half-deaf and surrounded by machinery off Malastar.
He craned his head back to reluctantly meet the glassier gaze of the towering, imposing figure above him. An odd familiarity flashed through the back of his mind. Hadn't he been in a similar position just a few hours ago?
Swallowing hard, he finally caught his fleeting voice managing to squeak out…
"Hello Master."
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A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out, I was stuck on the first page. But reading CYNICAL21's "An Untimely Frost" got me going a bit faster. I felt ashamed at least by reading great stories like that and Jocelyn's. *Guilt Guilt Guilt* And I've got a question? Should I have Qui get Obi out of the hole of polishing the rest of the floor? For times sake that is.
Spazoid - Hey! That idea of running into large heavy objects took seed! It might have been a little different from what you thought, but it helped. I loved the trumpet idea, I started cackling at the very thought of Obi-Wan 'playing' one. Unfortunately I don't think I'll get to work that one into this. I'm running out of daylight for him! Aw shucks!
Jedi Ha'Li - Glad you liked the last chapter, hope you like this one as much as the it!
Melima8788 - I'm so relieved I got the 'scary teacher' theme over on chapter 4! I'm stuck in a predicament, I've still gotta get him with that essay and make him wash the crèches laundry and I think (I've confused myself) it's around 4 something PM at the end of this chapter.
Manticore Queen - Well I have another sickly excuse for not writing. I had to go to the stinking hospital for some weird infection thingy I had, thank God that I didn't have to have surgery like they thought I would! So that holed me up for about 2 weeks. Does that pass as a good excuse?? :)
JadedJenn - Okay, forgive me that I'm going to sound like a total idiot but oh well. I haven't read HP so I'm not quite sure the scenes you're talking about but as long as they're funny to you (the readers) that's good enough for me!
Padawan Rachel Erin - WOW! That's the first time that anything related to me in the slightest way has been referred to as 'genius! Thank You!!!
Thanks to everyone that reviewed, you…."Bring warm feelings to my heart." :) Like I even need to say who said that.