As always, many thanks to Celtic Cross, Mark C., Mara look-a-like, Elessar-Lover, GreatOne, random-idiot, Nerca Beyul, and especially newcomers LVB, Night Cloak, and iloveronnie21.

And now, on with the celebratin'!


A Journey of Discovery ― Book Two: Pledge

Chapter Thirteen

"Looks like you've survived all this dancing." Mara twirled gracefully under Luke's outstretched arm as the tempo of the music shifted. "I do believe you're improving, too."

Luke pulled her back against his swaying body. "Yeah, too bad this is the last song of the evening."

Mara snorted at his ill-concealed sarcasm. "One might think you were anxious for this merrymaking to end."

"They can make merry without us." He paused in his lamentation as they both rotated in place, effortlessly executing the steps of the quaint folk dance. "After all, we still have to consummate a marriage tonight."

"You make it sound like some kind of chore." She pulled back slightly to gauge his expression.

"Hardly." He gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

She nodded her head in agreement before letting her gaze drift outwards, unmindful of the revelry that surrounded them. "I just keep thinking of all the times I've asked myself if I was ready for that step."

"Hmmm ..."

"And I know you've asked yourself the same question, admit it."

"Uh-huh ..."

Mara smiled at his apparent inattentiveness. "I think we're both ready now," she pronounced softly.

"Yes, we are," he murmured with a wink, proving he wasn't daydreaming. They glided to a halt as the music ended, hoping they could soon make their exit.

"I'll get your cloak," Luke whispered as they edged their way back to their table. "I spotted a doorway along the rear wall. We can just—"

"Now where do ye think ye be goin'?"

Luke gritted his teeth in frustration as he heard Merta's voice behind him, then put on a halfway convincing smile as he turned to face her. "Isn't the dance over? I thought we'd get ready to leave."

"Not so fast, lad. The night's still young; ye've got plenty o' time fer yer other activities later on." She gave Luke a sympathetic grin. "There be only the petal drop yet, Luke. Then ye two kin leave."

"Oh." Luke vaguely remembered Aerie's mentioning something about petals. "And Mara and I have to participate in this ... whatever it is?" he asked, clinging to the slim hope that her answer would be negative.

Merta gave a hearty laugh, her hands planted on her wide hips. "Do ye not have any customs in yer village the same as ours? Who'd ye think would be catchin' the petals?"

"Sounds like we are," the young Jedi muttered disconsolately as his landlady steered both him and Mara back out to the open area that they'd just vacated.

"You find out what this is about?" Mara whispered to her husband, her eyes now tracking a trio of young girls who were clambering up ladders along a far wall. Each carrying a large wicker basket, the girls trotted across the wide ceiling beams until they were directly above the newlyweds.

"No," Luke murmured, his body tense as he went on alert at the three children's precarious position. "What are they doing up there?" He directed the question at Merta, though his gaze was still focused upward.

"Now how else did ye think the petals would be dropped?" Merta shook her head in patient resignation. "Come on, ye two. I'll explain as ye get ready." She accepted two wide shallow pans that Filia had brought out, shoving one each into Luke and Mara's hands. "The lasses up there will be droppin' dried flower petals, and ye catch as many as ye kin."

Mara stared at the empty pan in her grasp. "Uh ... why?" she asked cautiously.

Merta rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation. "Land's sakes, child. To tell yer fortune, o' course. The petals be different colors, and each color stands fer somethin' representin' yer future."

Luke and Mara exchanged curious glances.

"Do we get to know which color stands for what, so we know which ones to aim for?" Luke asked, his brow furrowing as his question met with laughter from the surrounding crowd.

"It wouldn't do ye much good," Filia spoke up. She produced two large strips of heavy cloth and handed one to Merta. "Seein' as how ye won't be able to see 'em."

(This just gets better and better,) Mara sent silently, stifling her groan of dismay.

(Keep remembering that this is the last ritual tonight,) Luke replied, following Filia to a designated spot a half dozen meters away. (Then we can leave.)

(And if it's not the last ritual?) Mara grimaced as Merta tied the blindfold in a tight knot at the back of her head.

(We're leaving anyway,) declared Luke, squatting slightly so Filia could fasten the cloth over his eyes.

"Don't look so glum, Mara." Aerie's voice drifted through the cacophony of noise in the hall. "This'll be fun."

"Aye," Jaco chimed in. "It was fun fer us, till I saw what Aerie had caught in her pan."

"Why? What did she—?"

"Don't be scarin' 'em, Jaco Modesa," Merta warned. She placed her hands on Mara's shoulders and spun her into position. "Now, yer husband be 'bout ten paces across the floor. Soon as I give ye a bit of a shove, ye hold out yer pan and start circlin' round. Luke'll be doin' the same thing from his side."

"And be careful when ye bump into each other," Aerie called. "Jaco almost knocked me flat twice. Nearly lost all me petals."

"Humph," Jaco retorted. "Wouldna' hurt to have lost a few o' those yellow ones."

Mara turned her head in the Modesas' direction, wincing as she heard Jaco grunt from what must have been an indignant swat from his wife.

Without warning, all the guests began clapping and stomping their feet, and Mara felt herself being pushed out into the open area of the makeshift dance floor.

(Luke?) She could feel his warm presence coming her direction.

(I can sense ... something ... falling on our heads. Flower petals, I suppose.) He shifted deftly to avoid running into her. (Just catch what you can.)

(That's what I'm doing.) She swiveled around to snare a sizable accumulation of the colorful flakes. (Why I'm doing this still eludes me.)

(Because it's ...) His pan outstretched in one hand, he darted around Mara to snag a newly dropped floral windfall. (... fun.)

(Hey, I was going after that batch!) She made a mad dash to beat him to the next lot of booty drifting their way. (Don't forget, there's a reason they put blindfolds on us.)

(So quit acting like you can see the petals coming,) he chastised, at the same time blocking her path to a flowery snowfall directly in front of him. (Stay on your own side.)

(Stay on your own side,) she shot back, grinning as she sensed an even bigger cluster of petals showering down within her reach. (I don't think we're supposed to have sides.)

Just as Luke was about to retort, the din surrounding them stopped as abruptly as it had started. He halted as he felt Jaco approach, and held still as his friend untied the blindfold.

"Are ye sure ye could'na see through this thing?" Jaco held the strip of cloth out, peering at it suspiciously.

"Aye, 'twas odd how ye each managed to avoid the other," Merta added, undoing Mara's blindfold.

"I guess ... we could hear each other's footsteps," Mara said, fumbling for a believable explanation.

"O'er the racket we were makin'?" Aerie questioned. She glanced at the rainbow of petals heaped up in Mara's pan. "I ne'er seen such a passel o' flakes in a single pan, either."

Luke shrugged as Filia stepped forward to retrieve his pan, also mounded high with a myriad of colors. "It looks like we were just ... lucky."

"If ye have that kind o' luck nettin' fish, ye'll be a rich man," Hiley put in.

I should have bumped into her on purpose, just to make it look good, Luke thought, then looked up as Mara, ever attune to his thoughts, glared at him. Or let her bump into me.

"So what happens now?" the Jedi asked. He watched as the petal-tossers overhead descended to the ground floor and joined several other children gathered around a nearby round table.

"They separate the petals; ye two wait," Merta replied, as she sent the newlyweds back to their seats.

Luke pulled their chairs close together before they slumped into them, Mara resting her head against his shoulder.

"I wonder if these will count, too," Luke murmured, picking a pair of errant pink flakes out of Mara's crown of curls. She glanced briefly at the petals he handed her, then let them drop to the floor.

"You realize that this is all a lot of nonsense."

"Ah, Mara, lighten up. Didn't you ever have anyone tell you your future when you were growing up?"

"Not unless you count Palpatine saying I had the privilege of serving him for the rest of my life." She raised her head slightly to see the faraway look on his face. "Don't tell me in that dreary life of yours you encountered a fortune-teller."

"As a matter of fact ..." He paused, rubbing her shoulders lightly. "Forget it, it's a boring story."

"Go on, farmboy. We don't have anything better to do, at least until we can escape this den of jubilation."

Luke laughed quietly in agreement. "Well, one season there was this traveling carnival that stopped in Anchorhead. It was, I guess, the first year I attended school, and all the other kids were talking about going. So I whined and moped at home until Aunt Beru finally broke down and said she'd take me."

"Whine a lot, did you?"

"Of course not."

Mara raised one eyebrow challengingly.

"Maybe. Occasionally." Luke shifted in his seat, then continued. "So we went to the carnival one day, when Uncle Owen was busy repositioning vaporators or something. I met up with the other kids, but Aunt Beru insisted she needed to stay close by, which annoyed me no end. Fixer and some of the others already called me a baby; I didn't understand why she had to treat me like one."

Mara made a hurry-up gesture in the air with her hand. "The point, farmboy."

"Okay ..." He sighed. "After trying out a few games, we came to this booth where this old lady sat. A soothsayer, she called herself. For a half-credit, she would tell you your future. All the other kids tried it, and she said things like they'd get married when they grew up, they'd be farmers or mechanics or the like. So naturally, I wanted to hear my future, too. Aunt Beru hesitated, but I guess she finally decided the old woman would just say I'd be a farmer forever, since that's how I was dressed."

"And ...? Don't keep me in suspense," Mara drawled, snuggling against his inviting shoulder.

"The lady laid her hand on my head, then got this strange look on her face. She looked up at my aunt, who suddenly started to look kind of scared herself, like she dreaded to hear what the soothsayer would say."

"What did she say?"

"She said that I would be very powerful when I grew up, and would be a savior to the entire galaxy."

"Guess that made you feel pretty good, to look that important in front of your friends."

"For about ten seconds, until they all started rolling on the ground laughing. Then I just hid in my aunt's skirts, crying with embarrassment." He could feel Mara quivering with barely controlled laughter herself. "Hey, I was only six or seven years old."

"Sorry." Mara sat up a little straighter. "But she was right about you, of course. And you had to be relieved that she didn't say you would be stuck on the farm forever."

"Nah, I thought she was just making fun of me. Aunt Beru told me afterwards that fortune-tellers make up good things every so often, just to get people to come and pay them. I was crushed, but the worst part was when we got back home, and I made the mistake of telling Uncle Owen what happened. He blew up at Aunt Beru for even letting me go to the carnival, and declared that the old lady there was crazy, and I shouldn't talk to one of those fortune-tellers ever again."

"You poor thing." She hugged him in sympathy. "Another Skywalker tale to tell our children and grandchildren."

"One of these days I'll rout some childhood stories out of you."

"I didn't have a childhood." Sighing, Mara laid her head back against her new husband.

Luke leaned over and kissed her forehead softly. "I'm sorry," he soothed.

Mara squeezed his hand in gratitude, then glanced up as Filia joined them at the table, setting down a clear glass vial with graduated markings etched on one side.

"Are ye two ready to hear what fate has in store fer ye?" The mistress of the Red Bone gave them a sly wink.

"Do we have a choice?" Mara muttered under her breath, ignoring Luke as he cleared his throat loudly to cover up her complaining.

"As ready as we'll ever be," he replied. He smiled at the young girls who approached their table, each carrying a small leather pouch. The rest of the guests gathered round, all eager to learn the destiny of this year's Festival bondmates.

Filia nodded to a small dark-haired girl in front. "Would ye like to go first, Tenna?"

The girl beamed, and proudly handed her pouch over to Filia. "I collected the yellow petals," she announced.

"Aye, so ye did." The elder woman carefully shook the contents of the bag into the vial. "Two measures," she announced loudly, before noticing the puzzled looks on the newlyweds' faces. "Ye'll have two daughters," she explained patiently.

"Oh." Luke paused, then broke into a happy grin. "Oh! That sounds wonderful, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

"Wonderful," Mara repeated, seeming to mull it over. "I guess I can handle two children."

Filia gave her a little grin, then directed her attention back to the little girls. "Did any of ye find some blue petals?"

"I did!" Bouncing on her toes with excitement, a small blonde produced the pouch requested.

Mara's eyes grew wide as a multitude of blue flakes poured forth into Filia's flask. She had a sinking feeling as to what 'blue' stood for.

Luke peered closely at the final measurement. "Three? Three ..." He looked around, waiting for someone to interpret.

"Three sons!" Jaco called out, reaching over to slap Luke on the back. "Ah, ye lucky buck. Aerie and I had six measures of yellow petals, but not a blue one in the whole lot."

"There be nothin' wrong with baby daughters," Aerie protested, patting her stomach. "Ye'll be happy enough when this one comes."

"Aye, 'tis true," the father-to-be agreed. "'Specially if she be as beautiful as her mother."

(They actually believe these foolish predictions,) Mara sent silently, in amazement.

(It's their culture, Mara,) Luke returned. (You know the future is always in motion.) He gave his wife a discreet wink. (But she's having two of those daughters this time around.)

Mara stared at him, then directed her Force sense to her new friend, who was prattling on about the practicalities of having a bevy of daughters. Lips pressed in a tight line, she concentrated as unobtrusively as she could, then frowned in disappointment. (You'll have to teach me that skill,) Mara directed to her Jedi husband.

(You mean how to get pregnant with daughters?) he returned jokingly. (I think that involves trial and error.)

"Mara, lass?"

The red-haired bride jerked up at the sound of her name, saving Luke from certain retaliation. Merta stood next to her, laughing in merriment. "Ye that famboozled o'er the thought o' havin' five babies?"

"Five? You think I'm going to have five children?"

"Well, not all at once!"

The surrounding crowd snickered at Merta's retort, quieting down when Filia called for the next pouch. Oohs and ahhs filled the Fellowship Hall as two more colors were systematically gauged – six measures each of pink and white, representing passion and purity. Green was brought forth next, and sympathetic moans were heard as a single measure filled the fateful vial.

Luke shrugged as he learned that green stood for bountiful harvests. "Guess this means I'll never be rich as a fisherman," he said, laughing. His good-natured mirth turned to a frown as three measures of red were soon followed by a like quantity of black – 'bloodshed and death' were the given explanations.

"What does that mean?" Mara demanded. "Whose bloodshed? Whose death?"

Filia patted her hand in an effort to allay the young bride's anxiety. "Not necessarily yers or Luke's," she assured her. "It may be folks in yer village that ye barely know, that simply live near ye." The older woman met the concerned looks of the other guests. "Though I must admit, I've not seen that many measures of either of those colors in all the bondin' fetes I've tended to."

Mara glanced at Luke. (How reassuring.)

(You're the one that said this was foolishness,) he reminded her. (Don't start believing anything now.)

Filia dumped the ebony flakes into a large clear belljar, where they joined the rainbow of petals previously counted. "I guess that be all the―"

"Wait!" a small voice squeaked from a cluster of children near the table. "Ye haven't got my pouch yet!"

Mara felt Luke tighten his hold on her hand, and she glanced at the worried expression that filled his face.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he mumbled quietly, as Mara also experienced a prickling sensation of dread.

"What do ye have there, Rasa, child?" Filia held out her hand for the bulging sack. "I can't think what color could be left."

"I've got the prettiest color of all." Rasa grinned in triumph. "Gold!"

Filia's smile froze, and a disturbing hush fell on everyone present. With trembling hands, the matron shook the glittery flakes into her vial, gasping as they nearly overflowed onto the tabletop. She stared back at the child standing before her. "Ye got these from their pans, Rasa?"

Rasa nodded vigorously, and the other young girls who'd been separating the petals confirmed her claim.

"There were lots of 'em," the girl named Tenna said.

"We let Rasa collect 'em, cause she be the youngest," another girl put in.

"I see." Filia studied the gleaming mound of petals, and Luke and Mara had no trouble sensing the anxiety pouring out of the now-trembling woman, nor the feelings of mistrust rolling though the crowd.

"What is it?" Mara asked pointedly. "What does gold mean?"

"It ..." Filia took a breath before continuing. "It stands fer ... magic."

A voice growled from the crowd. "Dark magic ..."

"Witchery," someone else called out.

Mara was on her feet instantly. "Now hold on a minute! This is absurd! Just because of some silly flower petals, you're accusing us of―"

Luke grabbed her arm, halting her tirade as he stood also. "Mara, they're not accusing us of anything." He scanned the crowd of suspicious faces. "Are you?" he challenged quietly. "We had no control over what colors fell in our pans. We didn't even know what they represented." He directed his gaze at Filia. "Surely there have been couples in the past who have caught golden petals."

"A flake or two, every few years," she admitted. She glanced again at the filled vial. "Never in me born days have I seen anythin' like this."

Mara shook her head in disbelief. "But if you drop the same amount of each color, how can others avoid—"

"The sol-blossom be very rare," Filia interrupted. "We have only a handful o' petals to include. It looks like ye've caught 'em all."

"Only a magic spell could direct ev'ry gold flake into their pans."

Mara recognized the sharp voice of Aerie's Aunt Pit, and turned to confront the elder woman. "We didn't cast any spells, and we didn't direct anything anywhere. We didn't even want to do this preposterous stunt." She bristled as she felt Luke's disapproval at the same time that he clutched her arm.

The young Jedi took a calming breath, then addressed the scowling audience. "Many of your customs are unfamiliar to us, but we do not mean to ridicule any of them. Perhaps ..." He searched his mind for some sort of explanation. "Perhaps this unusual occurrence came about because we are strangers in your land." He turned once more to Filia. "You said the black and red petals could foretell events of people near us, not necessarily ourselves. We may encounter others with mystical influence after we return to our own village – beings we have no knowledge of yet."

Merta spoke up for the first time. "'Tis true. We canno' be condemnin' 'em fer somethin' they haven't done."

"Aye," Aerie agreed. "We've no proof Luke and Mara have any doins' with the dark magic."

"The gold petals may have a diff'rent meanin' altogether fer them, 'cause they be outsiders," Jaco put in. "We've been callin' 'em our friends, and I fer one'll not be disownin' 'em o'er a few colored petals."

A murmuring ran through the crowd, as those in agreement began to sway the opinions of the dissenters.

Hiley suddenly stood on a chair, holding out his hands to hush the crowd. "I say we be takin' the golden petals as a sign of how the arrival of these two young people saved our festival this year, and many of yer crops along with it. If there be any magic, it's that there won't be another drought comin'."

"Aye." Filia nodded her gray head. "Me grandmother taught me when I was but a wee lass that interpretations of the colors varied by village. 'Tis possible in their case that gold bears a diff'rent significance."

Luke finally let out a breath of relief, as the majority of the guests voiced their assent. He turned as Efam's large hands fell on his and Mara's shoulders.

"I've got the sleigh waitin' by the rear door," the pub owner whispered. "I'm thinkin' this be a good time to leave."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"How can you always stay so calm?" Mara groused, after she and Luke had gratefully accepted Efam's ride back to the inn. The whooshing of the sleigh's runners through the snow did little to lull her turmoil.

"Jedi training," he replied simply, holding her close against the biting sting of the wintry night.

"But how can they think we're some kind of witches? Just because of some stupid colored flakes."

Luke glanced at the back of Efam's head and lowered his voice. "Sweetheart, to them we would be witches. Not the kind of image we want to create." Snuggled under a thick coverlet with the souvenir jar of petals on Mara's lap, they ignored the slap of the reins as the pub owner drove the team of drobbins forward. "As soon as Hiley makes the new stabilizer rod tomorrow we'll be on our way, and you can forget all about superstitious villagers and fortune-telling flower petals and ..."

"All right, all right, I get your point." Mara laughed, hugging him tightly as the sleigh bounced over a bump in the road. "No more talk of mystical magic tonight. We're just two normal, ordinary ..."

"Newlyweds on their wedding night," Luke finished. He pulled her into a tender kiss that continued until a loud cough jolted them back to reality.

"Don't mean to be interruptin', but would ye not rather continue that in yer room?"

Luke pushed the coverlet back and stood quickly in the now-still sleigh. "Sorry, Efam, we didn't notice that we'd arrived." He jumped out lightly and helped Mara down. "Thank you, for everything."

"'Twas nothin'." The big man chuckled. "I be just a poor, ignorant tavernkeeper who never took no stock in tryin' to see ahead to what a body had in store fer 'im. I love me wife dearly, but I canno' understand why she thinks it be necessary to get young folks all jittery on their weddin' night, 'specially 'bout things they have no say so o'er." Grinning sheepishly, he gestured with his head toward the front door of the inn. "Now ye two get up there and get to doin' what ye're supposed to be doin' tonight. And don't be frettin' o'er what anybody else is thinkin'."

"We'll take you up on that advice, Efam." Luke's hand was dwarfed by the older man's giant paw as they shook warmly. "And thank you again."

"Get on with ye now." Efam climbed back onto the front seat of the sleigh. "Don't be keepin' yer bride waitin'." He gave a snap of the reins to urge the drobbins forward, waving behind him as he disappeared into the night.

"You heard the man." Mara raised one eyebrow invitingly.

"At your service, ma'am." Luke gave a half-bow, then scooped his bride into his arms and entered the homey foyer of the inn. He put her down hurriedly on the second-floor landing, however, as their elderly neighbors Gerd and Rosella stepped out of their room.

"I didn't know you had left the party already," Mara blurted out, straightening her cape and hoping the pair hadn't heard too much of her squealing laughter moments before.

"Some o' us old folks hafta rest our bones fer a spell, didn't ye know." Rosella patted Mara's shoulder in motherly affection.

"But where are you going now?" Luke asked, seeing that they were wearing their heavy cloaks.

"Why, back to the celebration," Gerd answered.

"I thought everything was over for the night." Mara's face showed her puzzlement.

Madam Rosella chuckled good-naturedly. "Only fer the bride and groom. The rest o' us will party till the wee hours o' the morn."

"Ye'll have the inn to yerselves fer most o' the night." Gerd winked conspiratorially to Luke, then escorted his white-haired wife carefully down the stairway.

"You think that was a polite way of saying we can make as much noise as we want?" Luke asked as they continued their ascent.

"You plan on making a lot of noise, farmboy?" Mara teased.

"I may surprise you," he declared. "And myself," he added in afterthought, as he held open the door to their room for Mara.

"Speaking of surprises ..." Mara stared in wonder at the transformation their bedroom had undergone. "I don't think Gerd and Rosella did much resting."

Luke agreed as they stepped into the room. The fire had been newly stoked; lit candles and fragrant greenery adorned the small table and bureau. Even the bedcovers had been turned back in silent invitation.

"Subtle, aren't they," he remarked, as he hung his coat next to Mara's cloak on the wallpegs behind the door. Luke turned to see Mara already sitting on a chair, bending to unfasten the laces of her boots. He watched her a moment, then pulled out the other chair and quickly removed his own boots and socks. Mara was methodically finishing her second boot, so he pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and was beginning to unbutton his shirt when his bride suddenly appeared standing before him.

"Would you undo the back of my dress for me?" Her voice sounded almost timid to Luke's ears. He hopped up instantly as Mara turned around. "Are you nervous?" she continued.

"I'm doing my best not to be," he replied, willing his fingers not to tremble.

"We need to go slow and easy."

"Fat chance of that."

"Luke!"

"I know, I know. I've been advised."

Mara gave him a look over her shoulder that clearly stated she didn't want to know who had been giving him advice.

"Gentle," he recited, as he neared the end of the row of tiny buttons, "yet with just enough force to— Blazing stars, Mara! You're not wearing anything under this!"

Mara laughed at his astonishment. "I was ... advised ... your first reaction would be shock."

"Were you like this all evening?" he sputtered.

"Of course. It's tradition for the bride. The bonding dress is like a wrapping for the gift she is giving her new husband."

Luke thought it best not to comment on how surprised he was that Mara would go along with such a sexist custom. "All brides here do this?" he questioned instead.

"Yes."

He paused in thought. "So, every married man at the banquet, all those ones you were dancing with, knew what you were wearing— uh, not wearing?"

"Not every married man." She gave him an amused grin. "You didn't."

"Everyone but me." He shook his head. "That makes me feel so much better." He finished his appointed task, then straightened up, not sure what to do next.

"I could use some help with these ribbons and pins in my hair, too." Mara tilted her head back, giving him a coy look out of the corner of her eye.

Luke laughed softly. "This from the woman who insisted she didn't need my help even when lying unconscious in a ravine."

"I've gained a new perspective," she said flippantly.

He carefully removed each hair fastener, then ran his fingers through her silky locks as they tumbled over her shoulders. He fingered the open back of her dress, then paused in hesitation.

Mara gave him a gentle smile of encouragement. "Go ahead, ... husband."

He slipped the dress off her shoulders, watching it pool at her feet before she stepped aside and turned to face him. "You are ... exquisite," he managed to get out in a ragged breath, his eyes raking up and down his new bride before returning to her shining face. "I think ... I could use some help with these shirt buttons, too," he stammered, before licking dry lips as she reached out and systematically undid each fastener, stopping only when she reached his trousers. "Keep going, ... wife," he said, forcing calm into his voice as Mara proceeded to silently undress her husband.

Spoken words no longer disturbed the stillness as previous inhibitions were supplanted by desire and acceptance, basic human instinct guiding inexperienced fingertips. Hands and lips began caressing and exploring, seeking and savoring. Two bodies melded into one entity, warmed as much by the heat of their passion as by the fire in the open hearth, its flickering flames casting a shadowy silhouette of the entwined lovers against the far wall.

Innocent, yet intuitively wise ...

Careful, yet carefree ...

The spark that had startled Luke and Mara so long ago in an Imperial prison cell now fanned into a conflagration of Force awareness, rippling through them subtly and unobtrusively, enhancing, not directing. This was their reward, their privilege, their destiny.

The galaxy continued its hectic pace of recovery and rebuilding, oblivious to the rapturous euphoria erupting in a small attic room of a quaint boarding house, in a mysterious village on an obscure planet. For that same galaxy's only Jedi Knight and his bride had embarked on a breathtaking, long-awaited, journey of discovery.


What say we give the newlyweds some much-deserved privacy, hmm? More coming in a couple days.