Ewen Thank you so much!
Shelly I promise it'll be finished. And thanks for your reply!
Name1 Thank you for your review. I appreciate it so much.
Isaldaria I'm always excited to write new chapters, and to read your lovely reviews. It's such a great experience.
Confused11 Doesn't everyone love Ewan? No? Well then, more for us! Hee hee!
Leyna I think I'm just not used to this more laid-back style. I usually write stuff that's more descriptive. Thank you so much for your feedback.
Kynstar I already told you on tf.net how much I appreciate your dedication…but I'll tell you again! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You're terrific!
AthenaLeigh It's quite interesting to write outside of your normal plane, in this case including the perspective of Ullo. I hope it's coming out effectively. Thank you for your reply!
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It is a known fact that, when it comes to promises, the statement is far easier to complete than the fulfillment of said statement which must follow.
For Qui-Gon, it meant he had to keep his eyes to the beaten, lifeless path, while his heart would not budge from its treasured point of focus.
For Ullo, it meant he had to stifle the worry that jabbed into him whenever he dare glimpse at the fragile and fevered Kenobi—for he had silently swore to himself that he would never prove Qui-Gon Jinn right, by surrendering to the intrinsic emotions that were breeding deeper, serious thoughts. Thoughts that were then imbedded in the private, intimate corners of his mind, where pale denials could not completely chase them into oblivion. He did not want this responsibility any more than he wanted to carry a thousand pound boulder on his shoulders, a weight that Ullo could see crushing down on Jinn.
And for Obi-Wan, the strength needed to uphold the pledge he made to his Master was teetering on the line between extremely difficult and impossible. He thought that his will alone would be enough to endure the sweating, the shaking, the all-encompassing pain. His will, and the dominating will of his Master. Obi-Wan had witnessed the incredible power the man wielded. He held more faith in that than almost anything else in the Universe.
Qui-Gon's legendary vigor had been reduced to what he could offer with his hands and voice. He rubbed Obi-Wan's back and murmured in his ear. But his reach could not extend to whatever infected the young, slender body.
That knowledge was becoming the Padawan's adversary. If his own Master could not successfully combat the pain, how then could Obi-Wan, a mere apprentice?
In a different arena, in a less intense, stressful time, Obi-Wan might have viewed the conundrum as some sort of test, put forth by Qui-Gon, or even the Force itself. Obi-Wan's greatest weakness had always been the fine layers of self-doubt that permeated his every action and thought, the cause of his early bouts with anger. The root of the frustration that had come so close to costing him his life as a Jedi and his relationship with his Master. Now, was that frailty returning, to jeopardize his very survival?
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, resting his head in the warm nook between Qui-Gon's neck and shoulder.
Wouldn't that be a fitting end, if rather predictable. Death by lack of confidence.
He would have laughed at such a notion, if it were not veering so uncomfortably towards truth.
A swelling ache crawled up his leg muscles then and he cried out, the reflective musings fleeing.
Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's hand and brought it close to his mouth, so the stirrings of breath thawed clammy fingers. "Shhh..It's going to be alright, my Padawan."
In the simplistic mindset and desperation of his pain, Obi-Wan believed every optimistic word, his recent introspection already a faded memory. It was better to allow deception, than labor under the clotted vapors of foreboding. "H-Hurts."
Qui-Gon had to briefly shut his eyes, then spoke with a firm, assuring inflection. "I know, young one. I know. But each step takes us closer to the capital, nearer to help."
It was not said to help him, but nevertheless Jinn's comments had soothed Ullo. For whether or not everything would be alright, their journey would bring them to the Eume'Li capital. Albeit slowly, due to the incapacitated apprentice.
That was another reason to reject this idea of taking on a student, Tirr realized with a hint of relief. If I were by myself, I would've reached the destination by now.
Qui-Gon's ministrations did not temper the groans and breathless gasps. Obi-Wan twisted in the unmoving embrace, trembling with cold and, at the same time, quite overheated.
It was becoming acutely clear that nothing would undo the coils binding Obi-Wan to the pain. His body could not be cured through the collective, fervent wishes of the Jedi.
But the mind—that was something different.
The mind could provide its own brand of release. The mind could provide distraction.
"Obi-Wan, do you remember Halli-Va IV?"
Knight Tirr's eyebrow lifted involuntarily. He was tempted to believe the heat had finally robbed Jinn of his sanity.
Obi-Wan's hand tightened around his Master's arm as a new, stinging deluge made victim of his taxed system…but the head, however weakly, nodded.
Buoyed by the response, Qui-Gon went on, in a husky whisper. "Do you remember how we helped the citizens, and they were so grateful, and on the night of their mass celebration, they sang that song to us?"
Obi-Wan blinked, searching his memory. It took longer than usual, but he touched on the recollections, wiped away the dust.
Halli-Va IV.
The natives called it HaVa for short.
They wore shining purple cloths, turbans, around their heads. In the light, they gleamed jade and golden. Qui-Gon had tied Obi-Wan's for him, and Obi-Wan attempted to tie Qui-Gon's, but could never get the formation correct.
Qui-Gon had teased him for the remainder of the mission for that, pointing out that Obi-Wan knew the less-complicated series of loops and weaves required to secure a Jedi tunic.
They attended various mediations. When a compromise was decided, the traditional HaVa celebration was quickly planned and beautifully executed.
He and his Master sat at a special, designated table, were served various HaVa delicacies.
Then the citizens clustered around them, and in sweet, high notes, sang a song in half-Basic, half foreign tongue.
Obi-Wan could never have forgotten. "Yes."
Qui-Gon smiled, and looked down with encouraging eyes at his charge. He wiped a trail of perspiration from Obi-Wan's cheek. "Will you sing it with me?"
Ullo was bewildered. Surely Qui-Gon had lost his rationality, to think that the kid could withstand the strain on his body and carry a tune! He was bordering on anger when he considered the thoughtlessness of the request.
"I…don't…the first words…"
Qui-Gon hushed him with a meaningless murmur. "That's alright. I remember them." He lifted his head, to watch the path again. "I'll start.
"K'la mana tu
The heart twined with soul
F'la terman ha zu
From empty to whole."
It was a lovely, graceful melody, made all the more stunning by the Master's cultured vocals.
Obi-Wan swallowed. "C-Can't."
Ullo bit the inside of his lip, the thunder of his chest echoing in his ears.
Qui-Gon massaged circles into Obi-Wan's back. "You can, Padawan. You only have to believe that you can."
"Mmmph." He gulped. "I…"
"Sing with me, Padawan." Qui-Gon urged.
And, in a feeble, broken voice, Obi-Wan did.
The words ribboned through the thick, dismal atmosphere, flawless music without the strumming of an instrument, hope lacing the lyrics, as Master and apprentice sang out the euphonious minstrels.
In the limits of Jedi training, one did not often hear such talent from their peers. Ullo had not the slightest inkling that either Jinn or Kenobi could perform so perfectly, in tune with one another immediately, never wavering from the chosen key.
Now and then, Obi-Wan would jerk or ball Qui-Gon's tunic in his hands, but his center remained mostly on his Master's voice. He could feel the rhythm in the vibrations of the man's neck and chest, and strove to emulate it.
When the song was finished, Qui-Gon didn't skip a beat, and began it again.
As the harmony went on, Obi-Wan's voice softened, until he was silent, and his eyes fluttered shut.
Qui-Gon sang a few bars more, then ghosted a kiss across the sweaty temple.
Ullo blinked away the gathering moisture in his emerald eyes and ran a hand over his lengthening, dark beard. "I shouldn't doubt you. You know how to be damn miraculous for him."
The Master showed a small smile. "I thought it was the other way around." He sighed and squinted at the sun-dappled horizon. "How much longer, do you think?"
"Half a day, maybe. Or less." Ullo replied. "If we don't stop anymore."
Qui-Gon nodded. With any luck, now that Obi-Wan was granted some reprieve in sleep, they would not need to delay their progress again.
Ullo rolled up his tunic sleeves. Dampness saturated the material beneath his arms and around his neckline. He was tempted to remove the top half of his clothing, but didn't want to gamble with the sizzling effects of the Eume'Li sun.
He glanced sidelong at Jinn, whose hair was dripping into his face. Now that things had settled, past events resurfaced in his thoughts. Guilt surged inside him. "I'm…I'm sorry, Qui-Gon."
"For what?"
"I might've acted harshly back there. About that apprentice thing."
Qui-Gon actually chuckled. "Don't apologize. Really. I only wish I would have been so kind to those who pestered me to take on a Padawan."
"Is that so?" Ullo inquired with a combination of interest and well-disguised glee.
The man sighed heavily. "I was younger then. Not as young as you, but young enough to be terribly brash and obstinate."
Tirr's voice was weary, a little self-loathing. "I think it comes with the territory."
"Yeah." Qui-Gon agreed. "But my behavior transcended even that. I'm not some saint, 'preaching', as you've said, to the disbeliever. I can remember that mindset, the two sides warring within you."
"You know, I've never once admitted to wanting an apprentice, Qui-Gon. A Jedi is not to make assumptions."
"But," Jinn countered, "A Jedi can comment on what he senses. I'm not bending the truth here, to recruit another Knight for the League of Masters or anything ridiculous like that. I would not put the success of an innocent child on the line to satisfy any hidden agenda. And I would not say what I've said to you lightly."
Ullo paused, then nodded. "I believe that." He turned his gaze to the tangles of the jungle. And that's even worse.
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The pinnacle of afternoon was painted in smoldering hues of orange and burnished red, dripping from the unblemished sky and dying the grounds a rich sienna.
In those intensely hot hours leading into dusk, talk was swallowed into a dry, cracking well, and the lost canteens were sorely lusted after.
The sweat had become a sticky second skin over the men, covering every inch.
Ullo would have gladly lopped off his arm with his own saber for a few minutes under the cool, clean spray of a shower. But the rational elements of his training promptly took dominance over that more self-centered inclination.
Given the chance to have a desire granted, the Knight knew there was something of far greater importance to pray for.
Qui-Gon had gradually increased his pace, so that he took slight lead over Tirr as they walked the long trail. The bundle in his arms had become still, no longer subject to convulsive frenzy or the jittery turn of wrists and ankles. Even the sharp gasps and weak, weepy moans had vanished from the portentously dim soundtrack of their mission.
Qui-Gon wanted to be comforted by the developments. Such deep rest could mean Obi-Wan had reconnected with the elusive healing Force, and the unconsciousness was a mending one. But the cautious cynic in him held to the uneasy feelings both he and Tirr had experienced—the threat to Obi-Wan was very much alive, was darting, moving, even as the apprentice was cradled limp against his Master's chest.
"He must be tired." Ullo observed.
"I'm sure he is." Qui-Gon agreed. "As are we all. But I think it's more than that."
Ullo did not want elaboration, yet once again he had to bow to obligation. The Knight heaved a breath. "How much more?"
"I can't say exactly. But he's done a total turn-around in a matter of hours. He's barely moved." Qui-Gon shook his head, shifting out of the normal reserve he displayed. "This is disturbing me more than I can coherently describe."
Ullo traced the line of his heavily bristled chin. "You're not alone."
To both Jedi's surprise, Qui-Gon's lips turned in a faint apparition of a smile. "No, I'm not. And I must say, Knight Tirr, I'm thankful for that."
Ullo scratched the back of his head. "I find that difficult to believe."
"Why?"
"Well, for starters, did you appreciate the massive malfunction of your only source of communication?" Ullo laughed without humor. "I don't think I have to remind you that Obi-Wan could be surrounded by medics in a sick bay by now if it wasn't for the leaking canteens."
"And if it wasn't for my accepting this assignment, then Obi-Wan would be safe on Coruscant about now…or could be in any number of situations, on any number of planets." Qui-Gon's eyes held an earnest wisdom. "Ullo, you can't blame yourself for an accident, no more than I can blame myself for Obi-Wan's illness.
"I know, at a strange angle, that it's easier to accuse yourself. If I thought it was my fault, it would make…it would some amount of sense. There'd be explanation.
"But it isn't my fault. Or yours.
"The conscience is the ultimate casualty of fate. We're here because the Force brought us here. Beating yourself up about a loose lid is not only silly…it's harmful. Obi-Wan is very sick, without a determinable cause. Labeling yourself as that cause will not cure him."
Ullo smiled, more than a tad embarrassed. "I wonder what the apprentices would do, if they knew how often their 'elders' wished they could skip the difficult years, and know everything at once."
Counterfeit horror marked Qui-Gon's features. "I don'twant to begin to consider the implications of that."
It was almost a forced lightness, the lilts in their conversation, for there was definitely a subject that neither wanted to consider the implications of.
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