Author's note: Well, I must apologize to the fans of the expanded-universe Star Wars books. I haven't read any of them! So if there are things that are a wee bit out of place, or some characters that I don't add in, don't worry about it, ok?
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, objects, places and concepts belong to their respective owners. In short, I don't own anything but the plot and the dialogue.
"DESTROY IT!" The voice echoed against the walls of Obi-Wan's previously blank mind, startling him into rolling off the sleeping couch. His mind was in uproar, had he not just gone to sleep? Where had that voice come from?
The young padawan rubbed his eyes and headed for the refresher, where the lights rose upon his entering. He scrubbed at his face with some water, then gazed into the mirror at himself. His face was drawn and dark patches lay under his eyes. He looked better than he felt. Just the day before, the seventeen year-old had been tested on his katas. He knew he was proficient enough, but with Qui-Gon Jinn as a master, he had to hold himself to a higher standard.
Obi-Wan glanced at the timepiece. Another hour until sunrise, he figured. In years past, he would have relished the chance for just another hour under the cover of warm blankets, but since then, the Jedi Apprentice had learned the value of an early start. He took a meditative position on the floor and took deep breaths. Willing his mind clear of all other distractions, Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his mind to the force.
"DESTROY IT!" Elrond cried out, pleading with his ally, Isildur son of Elendil, to cast away the embodiment of evil- the evil they had so long sought to destroy- into the fiery chasm that spanned below both of them.
"No." The simplest word sent shivers of sorrow and fear down the Elf-lord's spine. His own lord, Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor, had been slain. Now, a great lord of Men danced with destruction itself. How could he not see?
"Isildur! Isildur!" Elrond begged, but the Numenorian turned his back and sauntered out of the Cavern of Sammath Naur.
Pain and fear etched new lines in Elrond's face that day. Even two-thousand years later, the memory still burned him. The Elf lord turned back to face the Grey Wizard with pain in his eyes. "The strength of men has failed. Narsil is broken, and its light has extinguished."
"You know of one who could wield it, were it re-forged. The elves have the skill to do so, and he has the skill to carry it." Gandalf the Grey, ever the wizened councilor, broke the uneasy silence. "The sword of Elendil would be a help beyond the hope of men – if it were indeed to return out of the shadows of the past."
"Even so," the Elf lord spoke as if to himself, "the power of the Ring and the Dark One's lust for it will not be quelled by that sword alone. Are you sure of the Ring's location? Could it indeed be the very ring that Bilbo found all those years ago, that now rests in the Shire? T'would be frightening indeed – a thing of that power in the hands of one so small."
The Grey Wizard cracked a wry smile, "You do not give them enough credit my lord, Hobbits are resilient creatures. Even so," Gandalf stressed, using Elrond's own words, "I must still visit the libraries of Minas Tirith, they will have the answers I need to put my doubts to rest. Then I shall go to my master. He will know how best to proceed."
A slender eyebrow lifted, "Is there something in the libraries of Minas Tirith that there is not in my own?" Elrond's own collection of histories spanned back into a time when men still pondered the mysteries of written runes.
Gandalf answered with a knowing smile, "Oh? Do happen to have a copy of Isildur's personal memoirs lord Elrond? I did not think that you two had a habit of sharing journal entries…." Gandalf busied himself with packing his pipe to avoid Elrond's furious glare.
The son of Earendil scoffed, "If you are to go waste your time in Gondor, you had better leave now," then softened, "Give my regards to Saruman. I would welcome his council at this time." He bowed his head.
"I take my leave master Elrond. Do not be troubled, the sun always finds away to peek through the clouds." Gandalf smiled and turned his back on the worried Elf lord.
"Valar, guide me!" Elrond whispered a prayer to the domed roof of his study. His eyes fixed on a mural. A painted soldier held aloft a bright, gleaming shard of a blade, while darkness itself bore down above him.
His eyes turned to the darkening sky. "Let us hope the sun shines through now, or the stars for that matter." Unbeknownst to the Elven Lord, Gandalf had loitered just outside the doorway. Elrond's prayer was not lost on him. He felt sorry for the Elrond, because for all his wisdom, he was still powerless against the throws of fate. Silently, the Grey Wizard stole out into the night.
Obi-Wan rose to his feet after an hour and a half of meditation. His knees no longer protested the prolonged stay in that position; Qui-Gon made a point of setting regular meditation periods for his padawan.
Obi-Wan was still puzzling over the strange things the Force had chosen to show him during his meditation, when his eyes fell onto the timepiece. By now, the morning meal was almost over. He figured it would not be productive to rush, so he spent his time cleaning himself up, dressing, then finally taking the trip down the corridor to the lift, where it took him to the level of the mess hall.
Several faces rose from their meals and conversations when Obi-Wan entered the hall, but he paid them no mind. He headed to his normal spot where he found his Master waiting for him.
Qui-Gon Jinn watched his padawan sit, but did not question him. Obi-Wan was rarely late for the morning meal, or any meal for that matter, so Qui-Gon knew something was off. A gentle mental probe told him that his padawan was content, but slightly puzzled about something. The boy would be hungry – the questions could come later.
The meal passed down Obi-Wan's throat with less notice than usual, and it's taste was dulled. He could not get his mind off of that vision. He rarely had them, so why now? He could see that Qui-Gon was waiting for him to finish, so he gulped down his tea and finished the last of his food. He knew Qui-Gon wanted to talk to him. "Sparring room 4?" Obi-Wan suggested, and his master nodded. They both stood and left silently.
Once inside the room, they discarded their robes and took time to stretch. Fortunately, this room was designed for personal matches, and could only be used by two people at a time. Qui-Gon studied his padawan closely. He would speak when he was ready.
They ignited their lightsabers, and proceeded to spar. Nothing like the tests of the day before, this was more controlled and methodical – a warm up. It was too early for anything more rigorous. As usual, Obi-Wan was the first to start breathing heavily. When Qui-Gon saw this, he knew it had been long enough. The Jedi master tossed his padawan a towel and waited for him to speak. Obi-Wan took a seat on the floor, so Qui-Gon sat across from him.
"I had a vision this morning." The simple sentence told Qui-Gon volumes. The reason he had been late, that he had woken up early and meditated, that this was the cause of his confusion.
"What did the Force show you?" he questioned.
"I do not rightly know Master," Obi-Wan hesitated, "I heard a voice that cried: 'Destroy it!' and I saw two men in fiery place, probably a volcano. They argued about… something." The padawan rubbed his temples, what was it they fought over? One of them had seemed so adamant about it… and the other… he held something in his hand, could that have been it? "One of them begged the other to destroy it, whatever it was." Obi-Wan threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees.
Qui-Gon waited for his padawan to tell him all he could. Only then did he begin to ask the questions whose answers would yield more information about the mysterious visions.
"Describe these people. There were two, you said? Did they speak Basic, or did the Force allow you to know their tongue? Was it the past, the present, or the future?" Qui-Gon crossed his arms.
"Yes there were two. And they spoke…" Obi-Wan's memory went back to the vision. Of the hazy parts he could remember, he saw their lips move. He could not read any words that they formed, so he supposed they spoke another language. "They did not speak basic. One of them, the one who pleaded with the other – he stood on a precipice in the cavern – had long, dark hair. He was covered in dirt and blood, from a battle?" Asking the right questions always brought about the right answers. "Yes, from a battle. They wore armor and had weapons, but they were so… primitive. No, that's not the right word." He clenched his teeth, why was this so difficult? "Their armor was beautiful, and looked functional. It had finesse and grace to it. But it was made of some sort of metal alloy, nothing like we have now."
Qui-Gon did his best to piece together his padawan's vision. "So there were two men in the cavern of a volcano, arguing about destroying something. They wore finely crafted, but ancient armor." The past then. Qui-Gon surmised, though he was not sure enough to say this aloud. His steel gray eyes caught those of his apprentice, "What could you feel?"
Obi-Wan searched his mind for the answer. A few emotions rose above all others, and it came from the pleading man. "Betrayal, disgust, fear, sorrow. These two men knew each other, fought together, bled together. And then one of them turned his back on the other, forsaking all they had fought for, all that their people had died for." Sweat trickled down Obi-Wan's brow – it was hard to keep his concentration, but new revelations had bubbled to the surface.
The master was proud. Obi-Wan was figuring most of this out himself, and though neither of them knew the cause or reason for this vision, he could not help but smile to himself. His padawan had come a long way.
"Much we have discovered about the nature of this vision Obi-Wan, but even so, it was a vision. The past is solid, for it has already happened. The present can only be examined as it happens, and the future is always in motion. I fear we do not know enough about this to do anything yet. We shall wait until the cause behind this becomes clear." Qui-Gon nodded as a sign of his verdict, but Obi-Wan did not repeat the sign of confirmation. The youth's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and deep. The mentor could not peer into his apprentice's mind, for a deep fog clouded his feelings. It could only mean one thing: he was having another vision.
"Even so," the dark haired man spoke as if to himself, "the power of the Ring and the Dark One's lust for it will not be quelled by that sword alone. Are you sure of the Ring's location? Could it indeed be the very ring that Bilbo found all those years ago, that now rests in the Shire? T'would be frightening indeed – a thing of that power in the hands of one so small." This time, Obi-Wan could see him more closely. He no longer wore the armor of the last vision. Instead, he was robed in rich fabrics, his hair was braided neatly back with a single plait. Physically, he had not aged, but in his eyes was a wisdom to rival Master Yoda's, and his faced was lined with worry. Obi-Wan could not see the person he spoke to.
"You do not give them enough credit my lord, Hobbits are resilient creatures. Even so," the wise, deep, yet still disembodied voice said, "I must still visit the libraries of Minas Tirith, they will have the answers I need to put my doubts to rest. Then I shall go to my master. He will know how best to proceed."
The vision grew hazy as more words were spoken between the two. In the distance, Obi-Wan could hear someone calling his names. He saw the man from the previous vision look longingly at the stars for guidance, before all went black.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly as the boy's face softened and his brows knitted. Again he tried with more volume, "Obi-Wan!" Suddenly, his padawan pitched forwards. Qui-Gon caught him before he fell on his face. Obi-Wan was unconscious.
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