Five: Surprise

It was an intense spar, the sort that he loves. The ones full of unexpected moves, quick twists and clean, nearly inhuman leaps overhead. We know each other's style very well, of course, but every single parry and strike can't be anticipated. Spars are very often a way to employ surprise, to the benefit of one and the stupefaction of the other.

The Jedi life in general has its own brand of surprises, I've decided.

Those that are definitely unwanted, shocking and shaking and shattering--

There I go again. Really, I had no intention of veering off onto that sour note. But more and more, it's as if I haven't control of where my mind leads me. Or where it stalls, usually in a disturbing, cold place I don't want to linger.

No. I grab the reigns, give them a little snap.

As much as sleep is a danger, so is a wandering mind.

Alright…The kind of surprise I relish within this Order and its methods is the moment when a student is surprised by himself. When Obi-Wan completes a creative melding of several katas during the course of a battle (it matters little if that battle is faux), or makes that connection between two vital factors in a mission, all without expecting it. I can't rightly describe the beauty.

Today, he experiences such a moment, ducking a swipe of my blade while simultaneously spinning, in something very close to a blur, to tag me from behind, then knocking the saber from my hands to finish.

He's never done that before, I realize breathlessly, and with a tingle of pride.

As we head for the empty stands, where our belongings are waiting, neither of us mention the new feat. Nothing has changed in the gold-tinted landscape of his face, but something is different, nevertheless, when I glance at him from the side of my towel.

I said that the Jedi have their personally labeled surprises, and it's true, in several respects. Accepting fresh inductees into their hallowed halls, the Council really has only a vague sense of that child's future, at best. Even Master Yoda, the sage and center of the group, can't determine exactly what tomorrow holds for them.

But one aspect is certain, from the time that little bundle is carried through the massive front doors: Much of their childhood has been robbed from them. The light sweep of youth, the joys and carelessness of early life, is not available to the initiates. They have their fun, of course, their playful interactions with their peers and once in awhile the embrace of a creche Master, but they never have the same chances as those raised outside the Temple.

Because there are behaviors that must be drilled out of them, lest they grow and distract the child. Unusually strong attachments, overly long flights of fancy… The list is long, I can assure you.

Not that the Council is aiming to create a flesh model of a Jedi droid. And even if that were their goal, there are some that simply can't be programmed.

I'm aware that Obi-Wan would act marginally different if he weren't apprenticed to the Order, that there are sections of his character that have been locked away, or at the least, stifled.

But there is a euphoria within that boy when he grips his lightsaber, poised for a match and sharply focused, that can never be subsided by the efforts of anyone. The Council, and their Jedi ancestors, I'm certain, don't want such passion involved. Serenity, that's what they guide their students toward. In fact, passion is not favored on any level, not in a battle situation.

But Obi-Wan is, above all, a passionate person. There's no question about that. To ask him to take up his weapon without feeling a remnant of anything would be akin to asking him to breathe in deep, black space.

It's not natural. It's impossible.

I know that in the past, I frowned upon him for what I perceived to be a grievous flaw. I'd sense emotion, stirrings in his mind, when I thought there should be none, when I was convinced he should be still.

I perceived it as anger.

He felt it as communing with the Force, reaching for it, and feeling it surround him, lift him, caress him.

Roughly ten years later, Obi-Wan reacts the same way, with an almost child-like appreciation.

I think maybe the Council wasn't too surprised by that.

But I certainly was.

Obi-Wan loves the thrill of a spar, not for the clash of blade, not even for the clash of wills, but for the harmonious connection with the Force.

It's evident that he's spoken with it today, and it heard him well.

I pause while unscrewing the cap of my water container.

He's learning more and more.

He's getting closer and closer to---

I have to clear my throat before I can swallow.

I'm reminded of the threat of stray thought, and shake my head briskly, drying my damp hair.

Then I move forward and give his shoulder a squeeze. "Let's go eat, Padawan."

He nods with a smile, but I notice his eyes settle on me a few seconds longer, before falling.

I remember when he was younger, and the prospect of dining was enough to send a brilliance to his face and a quickness to his step.

He's not so young anymore.

Yes, surprises seem to be everywhere.