Thank you, thank you to my faithful reviewers: Mara look-a-like, Calli1, Jedi Princess, and random idiot. I appreciate it!
At last, you get to see what Han and Leia have been up to.
A Journey of Discovery -- Book Two: Pledge
Chapter Six
"Hey, Your Worshipfulness! Wait up!"
Leia Organa turned at the sound of the familiar voice ― a voice that now brought a smile to her face instead of a scowl. She leaned her head back to receive a discreet kiss.
"How was your trip?" Leia asked, as she slipped her hand around Han's arm.
"Hmmm, delivered the supplies to Bimmisaari, as ordered. Dropped Chewie off at Kashyyyk for a visit with his family. Brought back a load of Wookiee-designed ship parts. All in all, it was... boring as hell."
"And... did you miss me?" Leia gave him a private little smirk as they turned a corner in the wide corridor leading to the New Republic's offices.
"'Course I did," Han responded, with his best lop-sided grin. "I don't know how Chewie does it. If I ever get married ― and mind you, I have no such plans ― I could never leave my wife for long stretches like he does."
"Is that so?" Leia raised one delicate eyebrow. "If I were ever to marry ― not that I have such plans either ― I would never let my husband go away for long periods of time."
"Glad we're in agreement," Han whispered, leaning over for another kiss, until a pair of high-ranking officials passing by prompted Leia to gently push him upright.
"Well, you haven't missed anything here," Leia continued the conversation. "A half dozen planets have petitioned for membership in the New Republic, with a day's worth of meetings for each one."
"All right, you win. You've had a more boring week than I have." Han gave Leia's hand a warm squeeze as she clutched his arm. "Speaking of new member planets, how's your brother doing on his first recruitment mission?"
"Actually, I haven't heard a thing about the mission since Mon Mothma first mentioned it, which was before Luke even knew. In fact, I'm on my way to see her now. Hopefully he's reported in."
"You didn't talk to him before he left?"
"No, I didn't have a chance." Leia frowned regretfully. "I was out late the evening before, meeting with a delegation from Obroa-Skai, as I recall. And he was up and gone when I awoke the next morning."
"Was he even home the night before he left?" Han snickered. "Perhaps he had someone more important to say goodbye to."
"Now, Han, don't go jumping to conclusions."
"Has the ice maiden been acting lonely without him?"
"Haven't seen her. But then, I didn't expect to. You know she keeps to herself when Luke's not around." Leia paused before the ornate door they had reached. "Here we are."
―――――
Mon Mothma rose as Han and Leia entered. "Good morning, Leia. And welcome back, General Solo. I'm glad you returned in time to hear this also."
"Hear this?" Leia questioned, as she and Han took a seat.
"Yes. We received a transmission from Regent Ke'lor of Lorrd a short time ago."
"Don't tell me the kid's got 'em to join up already!" Han grinned lazily.
Mon Mothma gave him a cool stare. "I'm afraid Commander Skywalker hasn't arrived on Lorrd yet."
"What!" Leia scooted forward on the edge of her seat. "But he should have gotten there four days ago!"
"Exactly. The Lorrdians did receive a garbled transmission from him, the day before his scheduled arrival."
Mon Mothma switched on an audio recording. "There's quite a bit of static, coming from the commander's end." She leaned back to listen, along with Leia and Han.
"This ... mander Luke ... walker of the New ... lic ... vise Re ... Ke'lor ... I ... detained ... ship malfu ..."
"Please repeat, Commander. Your transmission is breaking up."
"...peat, this ... Comm ... Skywalker ... Repub... ... advise ... Ke' ... be delay..." There was a noticeable pause in the recording before it continued. "sev ... ten days ... malfunction ... send ... apol ... copy?"
"Acknowledged, Commander Skywalker. Lorrd Spaceport out."
"... kywalk ..., out."
"That's it?" Han was the first to speak. "And the Lorrdians just now decided to tell us about this?"
"Regent Ke'lor assumed we already knew," Mon Mothma replied calmly. "He only contacted us now to see if we've heard anything further from the commander, but unfortunately, we have not." She clasped her hands tightly. "All our attempts to contact them have gone unanswered."
A puzzled frown appeared on Leia's face. "What do you mean by 'contact them'? I thought you sent Luke by himself."
"He didn't tell you?" It was the New Republic leader's turn to appear confused. "He took his apprentice with him."
"What apprentice?" Han and Leia blurted out simultaneously.
Mon Mothma looked back and forth between the two of them. "Miss Jade, of course."
A wide grin split Han's face. "He told you Mara Jade was his apprentice?" he said with a snort, before jerking to meet Leia's warning stare as she kicked him with her foot.
Mon Mothma's frown deepened. "Are you saying she is not? Leia?"
"They do share... I mean, he is sharing with her his knowledge of the Force." Leia tried to smooth things over. "I was unaware he had taken her as a formal student."
"I would think you would know better than anyone." The stately woman gave Leia a pointed stare, though her voice remained even.
"I don't get involved in my brother's personal affairs," Leia bit out hesitantly. What in the galaxy was Luke up to?
"Are you saying his connection to her is of a personal nature?" Mon Mothma continued her questioning.
"She's saying what the kid does in his spare time is his own business," Han interjected, ignoring Leia's 'stay out of this' look.
Mon Mothma drew a deep breath. "I don't mean to pry into anyone's private life, but this concerns a valuable trade negotiation. The Lorrdians insisted they would meet only with Jedi. If he has jeopardized..." She trailed off as she rose from her seat, placing her palms flat on her desk. "I'll ask you once more, is Mara Jade training to be a Jedi Knight, or are she and Commander Skywalker only involved in a romantic tryst?"
Han balled his fists in frustration and glanced aside at Leia, who was gripping the armrests of her chair. Leia finally spoke for the both of them. "We're not sure."
Mon Mothma sat back down with a sigh. "I see."
"Aren't we missing the real issue here?" Leia continued. "What happened to Luke and Mara? Where are they? What kind of trouble did they have?"
"You're right, of course," the leader conceded. "Their safety should be our first concern."
Leia glanced first at Han, then turned to her superior. "I want to go looking for them." She looked again at Han, as if entreating his help. "He's four days overdue. We should leave right away."
Han shook his head slowly. "Hold on, Leia. We have no evidence they're in any danger. Luke simply said he'd be delayed."
"He said he had a ship malfunction," the princess countered.
"Which apparently he thought he could handle. You know Luke's handy at all kinds of ship repair." Han frowned to himself, then looked at Mon Mothma. "What are they in, a shuttle? Or did you give Jade an X-wing to match Luke's?"
"Miss Jade is not authorized to pilot an Alliance craft," came the reply.
"So a shuttle then. Now—"
The New Republic leader's quiet voice interrupted Han's conjecturing. "They are traveling in one of the newly modified B-wings."
"A B-wing?" Leia questioned, conjuring up the image in her mind.
"It was the only two-seat craft available, and Commander Skywalker has logged adequate training hours in one," Mon Mothma explained patiently.
"But you expected them to spend the entire trip crammed together in one of those tiny cockpits?" Han exclaimed. The thought suddenly crossed his mind that Luke's 'ship trouble' could be that by the second day he'd killed the fiery redhead, and had to detour to dispose of the body. Though knowing Jade's temper, it seemed more likely to happen the other way around. Han looked at Leia, wondering if she were having the same thoughts as he was. They'd both witnessed more than one spat between the two Force users.
"I don't think that should be a problem for a Jedi..., or his apprentice," the serene leader responded smoothly, cutting short his musings.
"Luke does go on longer trips than that in his X-wing," Leia conceded aloud.
Yeah, but Artoo doesn't talk back ― much, Han thought. "All right, all right." He held up his hands in resignation. "I'm just glad I've got the Falcon, where I can get up and stretch my legs."
Leia stood and began pacing, then turned back to Han. "How familiar is Luke with B-wing repair? Han, I still think we should go looking for them. They could be stranded who knows where."
"Or they could have set down somewhere to make repairs."
"Which shouldn't prevent them from answering a comm transmission," Leia countered.
"Maybe the comm is part of what's wrong." When Leia began to object again, Han continued. "Maybe... we should let the kid take care of himself."
"But..." Leia still couldn't bring herself to just sit and do nothing.
"Leia," Han admonished gently. "Luke doesn't need us running after him anymore." He raised one eyebrow as he gazed at her worried face. "Do you feel that he's in trouble?"
Leia paused, then slowly shook her head. "No, but..."
"Leia, I know you're concerned about your brother," Mon Mothma began, "but I believe you should listen to General Solo. From the transmission, it sounded like Luke thought he would be up to ten days late. He still has several days left of that time frame. And the Lorrdians stated they are willing to wait."
"All right." Leia gave in with a sigh. "But if they've not arrived at the end of those ten days..."
"Then we'll go looking," Han promised.
Morning sunshine broke through the attic room's two glass-paned windows, brighter than ever as it reflected off the snow on nearby rooftops and subsequently awakened the room's sleepy occupants. Occupants whose limbs seemed irreversibly entwined.
Mara gingerly opened one eye, silently cursing the daylight that assaulted her. "It can't be morning already."
"It's not," came a muffled murmur near her ear.
Mara threw back the covers and poked her bedmate with her knee. "We should get up. You said Merta only serves breakfast for an hour after daybreak. Force knows how long the sun's been up already."
Luke groaned, pulling a pillow over his head in protest.
"Aren't you hungry?" Mara persisted, knowing what an appetite he always seemed to have.
Luke finally opened both eyes. Raising himself on one elbow, his gaze raked up and down her nightgown-clad body, devouring her delectable Force aura that was threatening to overwhelm him. "Starved," he breathed.
Mara felt herself falling under his spell. She suddenly shook herself, then reached out and gave her new fiancé a not-so-gentle shove. Luke landed on the floor with a hard thump and a loud 'oomph!'
"Hey! Is that any way to treat the man you love?"
Mara scooted to the edge of the bed and peered down at her victim. "It is when that man starts getting ideas he shouldn't be acting on yet."
Still sprawled on the floor, Luke stretched his limbs, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. Now she was going to start listening to him? He hopped up effortlessly, grinning broadly. "Since you won't let me have breakfast in bed..."
"Aagghh!" Mara flopped back onto the bed.
"...I guess we'll just have to go down to the dining chamber." With an apologetic smile, Luke held out one hand.
Mara gave him a cool stare, then reached out and took his proffered grasp, protesting out of habit as he pulled her into a warm embrace. Her protest soon melted into a passionate kiss.
"Welcome to day one of our betrothal pledge," Luke whispered in her ear.
Pulling away reluctantly, Mara made her way into the refresher, quickly pumping a bowl of cold water to splash on her face and putting on the clothes Luke had brought the evening before. When she emerged, she found Luke had donned a pair of heavy trousers and dark woven shirt.
"You're changed already?" she questioned, looking him over.
"I'm speedy," he quipped with a grin. "Besides, it was cold out here without anyone to keep me warm."
Mara shook her head in mock exasperation, then proceeded to wrinkle her nose as she fingered the heavy ankle-length skirt that was part of her own ensemble. "How much did you have to do with picking out these clothes?"
"I might have given my approval. Why? Don't you like them?"
"I'm grateful to have clean clothes, but..., well, they don't exactly look my style, or Merta's size."
Luke laughed. "I think she said they belonged to her daughter, who left them when she married and moved to another village." He busied himself rolling up his shirt's cuffs. "I got her late husband's things. He must have been taller than me."
"Farmboy, everybody is taller—" She stopped when she saw his frown.
Luke shook his head, then headed for his turn in the refresher.
Mara bent to pull on the animal-hide boots that she'd been loaned, wiggling her left ankle experimentally in the process. So the Jedi's healing techniques did work after all. "At least I won't need—" She paused in her mutterings, looking around the room. "Hmmm. Now where...?"
Mara pursed her lips in thought, then strode boldly into the refresher. "Luke, I can't see—"
Luke was just buttoning up his trousers. "That's because I'm too quick for you."
"That's not―!"
He reached out and grabbed the finger she was wagging at him. "I know. I distinctly remember your saying not till we're married."
Mara narrowed her eyes dangerously. "How did this get turned around to me being the one who wanted to wait?"
"Because I'll never admit to proposing anything that ludicrous." They stared at each other, then burst out laughing.
"Skywalker, your sense of humor hasn't improved since the day I met you."
"Must be your cheery influence."
"Just for that, I'm holding you to this little promise we made, no matter how much you beg."
"Then I'll make an additional promise." He kissed her lightly. "I promise to do my very best to make our wedding night worth the wait."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," she returned, as they renewed their kiss. "But contrary to your shameless presumption, I did not come in here to steal a peek at you."
Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly, an expression of feigned disappointment animating his face.
"I can't seem to remember where I left my walking stick."
Luke's jovial demeanor instantly turned to one of concern. "Is your ankle still bothering you?"
"No, not at all. I just..." She shook her head dismissively. "Never mind."
"Just got sentimentally attached to a stick?" Luke never tired of the perilous game of baiting Mara.
"Bite your tongue!" she snapped back reflexively. "I just... just didn't want anyone to trip over it."
"Sure, dear, anything you say," Luke returned, humoring her with his best smirk. He sobered slightly in the face of her glare, and retraced their steps in his mind. "I think you left it outside the door of the pub last night. I can look this morning, if you like."
"No, don't bother. I don't need it anymore."
"Of course you don't," Luke agreed quickly, puffing out his chest. "Now you have me to lean on."
"Why you—!"
Luke beat a hasty retreat out of the refresher, his laughter permeating Mara's grumbling as she vowed to keep him away from any further influence of Han Solo's arrogant behavior.
―――――
Sounds of dishes clattering and voices chattering greeted the pair as they entered the large dining chamber. Half a dozen guests still sat around the large wooden table, most nursing a cup of hot liquid that smelled suspiciously like caf.
A wry grin spread across Merta's face as she spotted the newcomers.
"Aye, here be the thumpers now!"
Hands tightly clasped, Luke and Mara stopped short and stared as all eyes focused on them.
"Excuse me?" Luke managed to squeak out.
"Madam Rosella here," Merta nodded at an elderly white-haired woman who sat smiling at them, "an' her husband have the room right below yers. She was sayin' that just 'fore she came down fer breakfast, she heard a loud thump on her ceiling."
"Oh, that." Mara waved a hand indifferently as she pulled Luke to a pair of empty seats. "That was just Luke falling out of bed."
"You pushed... me..." he corrected, trailing off as he realized he alone was now the center of attention. "I didn't fall," he added in a low mumble as he accepted a bowl of some kind of porridge from Merta.
(Your cheeks are turning a nice shade of pink,) Mara sent with glee, as she dug into her own breakfast portion.
A white-haired gentleman, who turned out to be Madam Rosella's husband, took pity on Luke and turned the conversation to making introductions around the table. As expected, no one had heard of the 'tiny village' of Coruscant, now explained as being at the other edge of the great sea, beyond the adjacent mountain range.
When Luke finished his second helping of the warm porridge, he rose and picked up his empty bowl. "Where should I put this?" he asked their hostess.
"Oh, let it be, lad," Merta told him. "I'm sure yer lass won't mind helpin' with the clean-up, as part of yer offer to work off yer keep."
Mara blanched noticeably, but to her credit, her voice remained calm as she acquiesced. "No, of course not."
Luke gave her a sly wink as he pushed his chair back. "I need to see the metalcrafter this morning," he said to Merta, "but I'll be back as soon as I can to cut firewood for you. Did you say you had an old coat I could borrow?"
"Aye, indeed, lad." Merta hurried away, then returned with a heavy brown woolen coat, obviously another relic of her late husband. She went on to give Luke directions to Hiley's shop, located at the far end of Zembuhl.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Mara arched one eyebrow expectantly from her seat as Luke finished buttoning the coat and started to head for the door.
He hesitated, then crossed the room and bending down, kissed her on the cheek.
Mara laughed lightly. "I meant, don't you need to get the broken rod to take with you." She gave him a wry smirk. "But that was nice too."
Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation before redirecting his steps toward the stairs, hoping his face would cooperate and stay a neutral color this time.
Mara's gaze turned from following Luke's retreating back, and was immediately confronted with the happily beaming face of her landlady.
"I'm guessin' he managed to keep ye warm all night, heh?" Merta didn't even try to hide her amusement at Mara's discomfort.
"We were fine," she muttered, her eyes now glued to the last remnants of breakfast she was poking at.
The two remaining men at the table soon excused themselves, leaving only the handful of women. Mara started to gather up the empty dishes, but Merta gestured for her to remain sitting.
"We'll have plenty o' time to be workin' soon enough, lass," she commented, as she poured everyone another cup of hot refreshment. Mara found she rather liked the tangy, woody taste of the dark brew.
The topic of discussion soon turned to the Winter Festival, set to begin at noon that very day.
"Aye, 'tis a grand celebration," Merta was explaining proudly to Mara, her voice rising excitedly. "We'll be havin' games and contests, and shows with dancin' and jugglin', and so many different sweets to eat, ye won't know what to sample first. On the last night, there be a huge feast in the Fellowship Hall, where everyone gives thanks fer the blessins' o' the past year, and asks the Divine One to watch o'er us agin in the comin' year."
"Who's the lucky couple bein' bonded this year?" Rosella asked. "Anyone I know?"
Merta's face fell noticeably. "Ah, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidins'." She looked around at her guests. "There'll not be a bondin' this year."
Collective gasps of dismay echoed in the room.
"No!" a younger woman cried.
"Oh, my!" Rosella covered her mouth in consternation.
"Aye," Merta continued. "'Tis a sad thing, to be sure. We'll just have to weather through this season, and hope we have a bondin' next year."
Mara's curiosity got the best of her. "What's this bonding?"
All heads turned her way.
"Ye don't know what a bondin' is?" asked a dark-haired matron in apparent amazement. "You're not bonded to yer young man?"
"You mean married? No."
The other women did not appear judgmental; on the contrary, knowing smiles appeared on their faces. Mara ignored their expressions, and pressed on. "So you usually have a wedding during the festival?"
"Aye," Merta answered first. "On the last day. But we have no couples pledged to marry this year." Seeing the puzzlement on Mara's face, she continued. "A bondin' of a man and woman brings good fortune to our village fer the comin' year. The truer their love, the more bountiful a harvest we have. Ye don't have such a custom in yer own village?"
Mara shook her head. It was too late to change her story now. "No. We... uh... have other rituals to ensure a successful harvest."
Luckily Merta and the others just nodded, and didn't press for details.
"And if you don't have anyone bonded?" Mara continued.
"It's happened only twice in me lifetime," Merta replied. "Both years there were terrible droughts."
"That's..." ridiculous, Mara thought, but she bit her tongue just in time. "... most unfortunate."
"Aye, lass. But there's nothin' to be done 'bout it." Merta pushed herself away from the table. "Well, we'd best get goin' on our bakin'."
"Baking?" Mara paled slightly. "You expect me to...?" Once more she stopped herself. "You want me to help you bake... things?"
Merta gave her a strange look. "I thought ye and Luke offered to lend me a hand, to pay fer yer keep."
Mara felt about a centimeter tall. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I'll be glad to help you."
Merta nodded, and bid farewell to her other guests as she proceeded to the kitchen, a reluctant Mara trailing behind.
Luke easily found his way to Hiley's metalcrafting shop. He also found, however, that though Hiley was there, he wasn't open for business.
"Aye, lad," the long-faced shop owner told Luke. "Another few minutes, and ye would have missed me. I was just pickin' up me hammer."
"But I really need your help," Luke beseeched, pulling out the two pieces of the broken stabilizer rod. "I need to get this repaired, or obtain a new one."
Hiley took the pieces, turning them over with a scrutinizing eye. "Hmmm. A strange metal, this is. Don't know if a weld would hold, depending on how much stress ye put on it. I could fashion ye a new piece, though, sure enough."
Luke started to smile, but his face fell at Hiley's next words.
"In three days."
"But—"
Hiley handed the broken rod back. "I'm closin' up shop durin' the Winter Festival."
"Would you possibly let me borrow your tools, then, so I could do the work myself?" Luke wasn't at all sure he could construct a new stabilizer, especially with the antiquated tools he'd observed in the shop, but he wasn't above grasping at straws.
Hiley gave a little chuckle. "Lad, I never laid eyes on ye before. I don't even let me friends use me tools."
Luke bit his lip uneasily. Mara was not going to like this.
"Can you work on it, then, as soon as the festival is over?"
"Aye, be glad to." He looked Luke up and down. "I'm guessing ye be one of the two strangers I heard 'bout that came in to the Red Bone last night."
"Yes."
"Well, at least ye had enough sense to come in out o' the rain. I'm on me way over to the pub now. We're meetin' there to finish up buildin' the festival booths." He laid a callused hand on Luke's shoulder. "Come, walk with me, and tell me just what kind of contraption that bar you're needin' so bad is from."
Luke was as vague as possible in his explanation as he walked beside the amiable man. He was already calculating in his head how many days behind schedule this setback was going to put them, not to mention being stuck on this mystifying planet for several more days. No, Mara was not going to like this at all.
Mara did her best to keep up with the instructions issued by her new 'boss.' It was painfully obvious to Merta, however, that the girl had never baked a narberry pie or loaf of lockabie brown bread in her life.
"No, child, ye must whip it harder," the elder woman directed. "Ye want the custard to be as smooth as the cheeks of a newborn babe."
Mara increased her physical effort in her task, but her mental ruminations were parsecs away. It occurred to her this was probably how Luke coped with all the drudgery his uncle put him though ― by daydreaming of his future. But Mara's reflections were vastly different from those of a teenaged moisture farmer. For Mara was now an engaged woman ― engaged to marry that farmer turned hero turned Jedi Knight, the man who had once been her enemy, and would now be her lover. Anticipation of that role coursed through her, eclipsing the tediousness of her present circumstances.
What irony, Mara thought. She and Luke were ready to marry, and this superstitious hamlet needed someone to get married. She wondered briefly if... No, Mara shook her head to herself. Luke was going to get that stabilizer fixed, and with any luck they could be on their way back to the ship before nightfall. Besides, she couldn't imagine Luke wanting to get married without his sister and friends in attendance. But still, it couldn't hurt to make some inquiries. Luke wouldn't need to know.
"Child?"
Mara realized she had stopped stirring, and was standing there motionless, deep in thought, holding the bowl and wooden spoon in an iron grip.
"Oh, sorry." She started to resume her actions, when Merta reached out and took the bowl from her. "I think ye've beat it to death already, lass."
"Merta, I was wondering..."
"Hmmm?"
"About this bonding ceremony, at the end of the Festival. When there aren't any engaged couples here, do you ever go looking for one, from another village?"
"If they're from another village, they get wedded there, with their own kinfolk."
"But if for some reason, they wanted to get... wedded... here -- would it count? I mean, would your village still be... blessed... if the man and woman didn't actually live here. Has it ever happened?"
Merta paused, considering. "Well, lass, me family has been here for nigh twenty generations, and I can only remember tales of it happenin' once. When I was a wee child, me great-grandmother told of a Festival where a young lad and his intended were visitin' from a distant countryside. Zembuhl had no one marryin' that year, and folks were in a panic, as they had just had a drought the season before, cause of there bein' no bondin'. As I recall the tale, this young lass found herself in a family way, and it didn't take too much persuadin' by the village to talk the pair into marryin' here, 'stead of waitin' till they returned home."
"So there was a good harvest that year?"
"Good enough to tide folks over. Why all the questions, child?" Merta smiled. This was the most interest the young woman had shown in any topic since she'd arrived the evening before.
"Just curious," Mara murmured. 'Curious' ― now there was a word that hadn't been part of her vocabulary until she met a certain blond Jedi. She had been curious about him from day one. He'd intrigued her, bewildered her, and ultimately transformed her. He'd taught her that curiosity wasn't such a bad thing, contrary to the brutal indoctrination she'd received under Palpatine's tutelage.
―――――
It was shortly before lunchtime that Merta put the last of the pastries into the fire-heated oven. As she slowly straightened up, she noticed her new apprentice had a distant look on her face.
"Luke's coming back," the younger woman suddenly blurted out.
"How—?" Merta began, but Mara was already rushing toward the front entryway.
Mara flung her arms around Luke's neck as soon as he entered the hall and kissed him enthusiastically.
"Are you this glad to see me?" Luke laughed as they pulled apart slightly. "Or just glad for an excuse to get out of the kitchen?"
"Definitely the latter." Mara smirked, still clutching him around the waist. "I decided hours ago to run and kiss the first man who came through the door."
"Well, lucky me." Luke kissed her lightly on the nose. "Somebody has flour all over herself," he observed, brushing the coarse powder off his own chest.
"And somebody..." Mara returned, looking him over carefully before a frown appeared on her face, "...isn't holding a repaired stabilizer rod."
Luke's shoulders sagged in dejection. "I know."
"Well? This Hiley person couldn't repair it?"
"Yes and no," he answered cryptically.
Mara's upraised brow let him know he'd better explain, and fast.
"He thinks he can make a new one from a kind of metal he uses, called diron. I looked at some samples; it seemed strong enough to do the job, and would probably be a better choice than trying to weld the old one together."
"And he's working on this even as we speak?"
"Not exactly." Luke let go of her to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit Mara recognized all too well. She waited silently for him to continue.
Luke raised his eyes in an obvious plea for understanding. "He'll make the new rod... as soon as the Festival is over."
Mara narrowed her eyes sharply. "What's that got to do with it?"
"He closes up shop during the Festival; takes a vacation. I just happened to catch him there this morning."
"And you couldn't... convince him... to do this one little job first?" She waved one hand in front of his face to demonstrate her meaning.
Luke sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I'm not going to use the Force like that. This isn't a life and death emergency. We'll just wait until the Festival is over."
"We'll be that much later getting to Lorrd."
"I know. It can't be helped." He reached out and ran a finger through the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid. "I'm sorry."
Mara shrugged. If he wasn't going to get upset over being late for the negotiations, she sure wasn't going to either. "Not your fault. I suppose we can tough it out here a few more days."
Luke compressed his lips and looked at her intently. "Mara, there's something I want to talk to you about."
They both backed closer to the wall as a pair of guests entered, brushing past them on their way to the stairway. Mara took Luke's hand and tugged him into the deserted dining chamber, toward a pair of chairs tucked in an inglenook next to the fireplace. He slipped off his coat as they sat facing each other.
"I was helping some of the men finish putting up booths this morning, and they were describing to me the different customs that go on during this Festival," Luke began hesitantly.
Mara nodded for him to continue.
"They told me that there is always a wedding on the last night, but this year there won't be one."
Mara quickly hid her own knowledge of the same subject, wanting to hear what he had to say first. Luke seemed too lost in his thoughts to even notice her shift in emotions.
"They have this notion that all their crops will fail if no one marries during the Festival." He paused, waiting for her reaction.
"That's pretty superstitious," she responded flippantly.
"Of course it is," he agreed. "Apparently all these little towns have similar folklore."
"Probably so."
"So I imagine these mystic rituals can only involve the residents of each particular village."
"No, there was at least one time when a pair of visitors from another village was bonded here, and their crops survived," Mara gushed out quickly, causing Luke to look up in surprise. She shrugged self-consciously. "Merta was explaining it to me, too."
They both stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to voice the possible course of action that they were both obviously contemplating.
Luke finally swallowed, and drew a nervous breath. "We do have to stay here now for at least three more days, anyway."
"Which means we'll have that much more to repay Merta and the others for," Mara replied with an expressionless face.
Luke nodded. "We should do something more worthwhile than just cutting firewood and baking bread."
"Even if we think this folklore is nonsense, they all believe in it."
"And we should respect their customs."
They paused, studying each other's emotions.
Mara finally decided she'd better get to the point, or Luke would dither over this indefinitely. "Leia and your friends wouldn't like it if they missed seeing us get married."
He surprised her by rebuffing that excuse immediately. "They'd get over it."
"We don't even know if a marriage here would be legally binding for us."
"It should be as legal as on any other planet," he countered.
Mara bit her lip nervously. "We wouldn't be doing this just so we could have guilt-free sex sooner," she muttered.
"Of course not," Luke shot back without hesitation.
The tension in the air was so thick they both felt like they were suffocating. Mara inhaled sharply when Luke abruptly grasped both her hands and slid to his knees in front of her.
"Mara," he began, drawing on the Force to keep his voice calm. "Would you do me the honor of marrying me here, during the Festival?"
―――
Wondering what happened to her helper, Merta peeked out of the kitchen doorway to see the young couple engaged in a quiet conversation in the corner of the adjoining room. She couldn't make out their whispering, but she could see the way they were focused entirely on each other. The kindly innkeeper watched as Luke suddenly fell to his knees, and like a bolt from out of the blue, the young man's actions brought to Merta's mind an image of her own beloved husband proposing to her, so many years ago. Her eyes widened as she recalled all the queries Mara had made about the bonding ceremony, and how affectionate the pair had been to each other at breakfast. Could it be...?
A tear of unabashed joy trickled down Merta's cheek as she heard Mara exclaim "Yes!"
All right, everyone. Start watching your mail for those wedding invitations. :)
