The Guardian of Peace and Justice

The figure walked through the bright and sweltering heat, passing through rocky hills and mesas. He was not affected from the heat; the mild breeze—if it could be called such—kept him comfortable. His destination: the Lars' moisture farm.

His hut was quite the distance from the homestead, yet walking hadn't bothered him in the slightest. It never did—it allowed him to contemplate his failure and the one true hope to the Galaxy in these times. He found the life of a hermit to be a mixed blessing—he lived alone and was not disturbed; yet he was aware of the dangers that lurked throughout the land and had no one to rely on, save for himself. He found he had only one purpose—and that purpose was coming ever so closely to its destiny.

His rich brown cloak covered him; his hood was draped over his head, covering most of his face. The only thing one could make out was the snow-white beard on his slightly weathered face. Obi-wan Kenobi had been watching young Luke for a long time now.

He had been the unseen guardian of the child since the beginning—protecting him from harm when he didn't know it. Sending ripples of the Force towards the boy to calm him when he was upset, as much as it also helped to awaken the Force within him. Obi-wan knew that Luke had been a special boy from the beginning—just like his father before him.

He sighed. It had indeed been a failure on his part to watch another Skywalker fall to a fate that should never have been his in the first place. It was tragic and most of all, it was something with which he had to live with for the rest of his life.

He had unleashed a plague on the Galaxy that was the full embodiment of the Force. Obi-wan had been responsible for the deaths of countless billions.

He sighed wearily. He had to live with that for 20 years. He had heard all too well about the Emperor's right-hand man Darth Vader. But now was not the time for self-pity—there might not be a time for that for much longer. It was time for Luke to follow the way of the Jedi, and Owen no longer held stewardship of young Skywalker.

He continued to reminisce about the way things had been before the Emperor—before the Dark Times. He had been one of the very few and fortunate—if one could call it that—to survive the Jedi Purge.

As he continued to walk through the dale, he felt several tremors in the Force—tremors he had dealt with on more than one occasion. Sand People, he thought to himself. He had spent a long time on Tatooine—long enough to understand the method and machinations of the Sand People.

His hand went to a familiar and cylindrically shaped object that rested comfortably on his hip. It was the lightsaber of the Jedi Knight: a civilized weapon for a more civilized time. It was much more elegant than a blaster—which was random and crude.

He knew there would be no alternative as soon as they had fired the first shot from an ancient blaster rifle. His hand swept the lightsaber into his hand, feeling the familiar grip as the blade thrummed to life, emitting a cyan glow. He deflected the blast high across the dale—if it was one thing about the old Master, age and time away from the Order had not dulled the senses or the skills—and sent three more flying towards the small gathering of Sand People that stood before him, dropping two of them.

I have to stop them before they gather, he thought as he deflected to more blaster bolts and in a blur, brought his lightsaber down on the Gaffi stick of one hapless nomad.

The nomad fell as his staff was sliced in two and found himself sailing across the ground and into his other comrades who struggled to get out of the way.

Now Obi-wan had them. He gathered the Force into himself as he let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream that echoed across the valley, resonating against the rocky walls and inspiring fear into every living thing that resided in that area.

The Sand People began to turn back and run, ignoring pleas from stragglers as they ran from the merciless creature they had undoubtedly awoken.

Obi-wan shook his head as the lightsaber flickered out of existence. What would Qui-Gon have said about this? He wondered. He shook his head and holstered the hilt as he continued his trek towards the Lars' homestead, eager to bring Luke to the teachings of the Jedi.

When he finally reached the Lars' homestead, he found that Beru greeted him warmly. Where Owen was—well, that didn't mattered. He threw off his hood and smiled at the gentle woman. His white, thinning hair was ruffled from the wind and the altercation with the Sand People.

"Obi-wan," she said as she hugged him and smiled warmly. "It's been a long time."

"Yes," he replied warmly. "It has been far too long. How is Owen? I trust he and Luke have been well?"

Whatever smile she had was soon lost as it turned to something akin to worry. This obviously startled the Jedi Master.

"What's wrong?" He didn't need the Force to tell him that something was obviously mistaken.

"It's about Luke and Owen," she started. "Perhaps you should come inside, you need to hear this, but I think it would be best for us to sit down."

He merely nodded. Obviously something did not bode well—and he was beginning to fear that perhaps his own feelings overwhelmed his reasoning.

As they sat down inside the dining area, Beru went into detail over the last few years on how Luke had slowly become restless. He applied to the Academy every year and always scored the highest on the testing. And before he would leave, Owen found some way to keep Luke back.

Obi-wan noted all of this with keen interest as a familiar cold feeling came from the pit of his stomach. Luke was more like his father than the Master had previously thought. After a few more moments of listening to Beru tell him the rift that was coming between Owen and Luke, Obi-wan finally spoke up. "Owen has every right to hold him back, but I sense his overprotective streak will cost Luke more than he thinks. I'm afraid that it is time for Luke to fulfill his destiny, Beru."

This caused the woman to recoil visibly, but she nodded grimly. "Owen won't like this, but I understand, Obi-wan. I just can't bear the thought of something happening to him though."

"I understand Beru, but more danger will be caused to Luke if he stays here."

"I know, but what if he sees Vader?"

"Then let us hope that the Force will guide Luke to do the right thing."

At that moment, the heavy footsteps of Owen Lars made its way into the doorway, announcing his presence. "Can I help you?" He asked Obi-wan bitterly, eyeing the Master with disdain or fear, but obviously with mistrust.

"Is Luke here, Owen?"

"No," he replied coldly. "No, he is not. I thought I told you to stay away from him." He looked over to Beru, who averted her gaze, and then brought his attention back to the older man. "And from this place," he added, almost as if it were an afterthought.

"Owen," Obi-wan started, "Luke's time has come. He's growing restless, let me take him and train him in the ways of the Force."

"Ways of the Force?" He snorted. "So what? So Luke can join you on some damnable quest and get himself killed? Like Anakin?"

If Obi-wan was hurt by those words, he made no motion to display it.

"No, I won't have him join you. He can live a comfortable life here. We've given him everything he's ever wanted and I won't watch you sentence my nephew to death."

"Owen, you must understand, the boy's growing restless and is beginning to resent you. Can't you see that it is time that we helped him fulfill his destiny?"

"Destiny? You are going to send him to his death!" The farmer looked at the Jedi Master with disgust. "All you do is take. You've done nothing but hound him from the beginning, filling his mind with your poisonous thoughts about the Jedi. Can't you leave him alone? You've twisted his mind enough, and we don't need your help. We're fine on our own."

"If you continue to keep Luke here, he will already be dead."

"You didn't take care of him for his life. You're not the closest thing to his parents! You were responsible for both of their deaths!" Owen shot back.

"Owen!" Beru scolded.

He looked at his wife. "No, Beru, I won't hold back. Luke needs us and I am right. He is just going through a phase."

"I can see that this is not going anywhere. Owen, in time you will have no choice but to lose your grip on Luke. He's a man, and he will find his destiny—with or without our help. The best we can do is to guide him along." The Master rose, obviously a signal that his time had come to an end and he would leave.

"Luke will be fine here, on his own. Goodbye Obi-wan, I never want to see you on our premises again."

The Jedi Master paused and looked at Owen. He respected the man and knew that he was terrified of the idea of Luke getting hurt. But he also knew that Owen would one day have to let Luke walk on his own. As he resumed making his way to the exit, he heard Owen mutter something.

"Damned, know-it-all Jedi," the farmer said.

Obi-wan continued to make his way back to his hut, biding his time, and he found himself armed with new information. Luke is more like Anakin now, he thought. Perhaps there is some way I could help Luke learn more about his father—from a certain point of view. Perhaps I can offer something that I was never able to offer Anakin completely: my trust, loyalty and unremitting love. He smiled, as he made his way through more valleys. In time, he would train Luke to the ways of the Force. And hopefully, Luke's persistence was a strength he would be able to use against the Emperor and Vader.

As much as he also regretted the idea of using Luke to save the Galaxy, there was one important reason that set him above anyone else: Luke is the one last hope in the Galaxy. Nothing—no one could rival the power that was Darth Vader and Darth Sidious, except for Luke. Not even the Emperor knew that Luke would grow to be the most powerful Jedi in the Galaxy.