The three men were a sight to see. Lanky frames clothed in an eye-hurting array of colours, they stood before Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, each bobbing his head in an identical manner. Obi-Wan was exerting all his efforts in trying not to laugh. The moustachioed trio looked very close to identical, with tanned skin, high cheekbones, long noses and dark eyes. They way they looked, however, was not what had Obi-Wan in a near state of hysterical breakdown. It was they way they moved; when one nodded, the other two joined in, the head bobbing looking very comical in comparison to a normal nod.
"Oyah. We could lend yous some tools," the one in the middle, and presumably the oldest, stated.
"Tools," the one on the left repeated.
"Oyah," the one on the right added.
"By the way," the first added, "My name is Dod Nobrin. These are my brothers, Fod and Lod."
"Pleased to meet you," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "I am Qui-Gon. This is Obi-Wan." He gave the youth a grin and a wink.
"Oyah. We know," Dod said with the distinctive head bob. "Elanor already told us."
Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. It seemed that their precaution in keeping their Jedi heritage under wraps was well founded after all.
Fod picked up the conversation and added, "We can have them brought up to you as soon as we get them together."
Dod gave his brother a curious look. "Elanor and Atariel?""
Lod shook his head. "The tools."
Dod bobbed his head. "Oyah. S'right. The tools."
The midday sun beat hot against the back of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders. He had done away with his tunic an hour earlier as he dug into the hard dirt. He paused to wipe his brow, noting that Qui-Gon had finally figured out how to properly use the tool the Nobrin brothers had named a sickle and was currently hacking away at the tall, stringy grass in the pasture.
Obi-Wan glanced down at the hoe he was using and then gave the field a cursory glance. "The soil is as stubborn as the locals," he muttered, bending over to once more dig in.
"I'm glad you think so," the laughing voice of Atariel startled Obi-Wan badly. He had been too keen on the heat and the job at hand to be mindful of anything else, much less the Force. Atariel laughed as he stumbled and fell flat on his face. Reaching out a hand, the girl giggled. "You should be more careful."
Obi-Wan tried to glare at her, but failed as she hauled him off the ground. "What brings you up here?" He asked as he brushed dirt off his chest. He suddenly wished he hadn't taken off his tunic.
"Just wanted to make sure the Nobrins remembered to bring up the tools they promised." Atariel gave Obi-Wan an appraising look. "And to make sure you were getting along alright in using them properly."
"What makes you think we wouldn't…?"
"Don't pretend, Obi-Wan. I could tell you weren't a farmer when I first saw you. You don't have the right build."
Uh-oh... Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. "And what type of build do I have, exactly?" He was dreading the answer.
Atariel gave him another glance and furrowed her brow. "I haven't decided yet."
Relief flooded the Padawan and he smiled shyly. "Let me know when you come up with an answer." He picked up the hoe and prepared to launch back into work. A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him and he blushed.
Atariel shook her head. "You're doing it wrong. Don't hack at the ground. You'll get nowhere in this soil. You should use a shovel first, to break up the ground and turn it over."
Suiting action to words, Atariel demonstrated. Once she had a section of ground turned she picked up the hoe. "Then you use this to smooth it out and make the furrows for planting."
"I guess that is easier then what I was doing." Obi-Wan grinned. He picked up the shovel and speared the ground.
By the time Qui-Gon had removed the last bundle of grass and debris from the pasture, Obi-Wan and Atariel had over-turned half of the field. The sun was hanging low in the Western sky as he watched the two youngsters. He smiled indulgently and then called out, "I think it's time we ended for the evening."
Obi-Wan wiped his brow on his forearm and nodded in the direction of his master. He and Atariel picked up the tools they had been using and brought them to the shed. "We made a good start, today. Thanks for your help, Atariel." He sighed as the cool of the shed washed over his searing skin.
"It was my pleasure." Atariel giggled. "And you, my friend, are sun-burned."
"Why so you are, Pada-, er, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon winced inwardly at his near fumble, a teasing smile playing over his lips. Atariel gave him the briefest of glances before grinning once more at Obi-Wan.
Atariel, walked back into the golden light of dusk. "I'll nip down to our place and grab some Aloe leaves for that burn. You two wash up. I'll be back just after dinner."
Obi-Wan winced as the soothing balm of the aloe-soaked cloth touched his back. Atariel had been true to her word and had dropped off a fair supply of the herb only a half-hour before. She stayed only long enough to show Qui-Gon how to prepare them. That suited Obi-Wan fine, as he didn't want her to see him undergoing his treatment.
"W-wouldn't bacta have been better, Master?" Obi-Wan said as the cloth settled upon his back. It felt like a sheet of ice.
"It would, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, gently patting his Padawan's back. "But we need to ration our supply, as I'm not sure how readily available it is here. It should be saved for grievous injuries."
"Well, one thing's for certain."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Not only am I wearing my tunic all day tomorrow, but I think," Obi-Wan said as the cloth was removed to be dipped once more, "that I shall not be sleeping on my back for a few days."
Qui-Gon's laughter made the youth smile as the Master continued tending to his Apprentice's burns.