Author's Note Here it is, the long awaited fifth (well fourth really) chapter. Thank-you so much for all the encouraging reviews. It took me a while to get this done because half of it was on my old computer and it took a while to get it fixed up. Plus I have bugger all confidence in my writing and I went over this chapter at least 50 times.

"Legend" won the Best Original Star Wars Fanfiction and jointly won Best Overall Star Wars Fanfiction over on Jedi net's Fanfiction Awards. So chuffed, I've never won anything like this!


Legend
The Inn of the Ogre

The Coruscantian vessel's white sails quivered in the brisk sea breeze which was sweeping into Theed's harbour like an invisible flood-tide. She was a magnificent ship. Every curve, every arch, every cord seemed to boast the strength and elegance of her kingdom. Even the silvery waves on which she glided seemed to rush excitedly up to greet her before shying away.

Padmé squared her shoulders as she stood at the bow of the ship. People were milling around the harbour and pebbled beach, carrying several trunks and crates and barrels of rum and wine. She watched her own trunk carried aboard the ship and felt her heart sink a little. The trunk wasn't packed with anything extraordinarily special, just expensive gowns and jewelry. But they would be her only reminder of Naboo.

Padmé braced her hands over the side of the ship and leant forwards over the water. She took a deep breath of the salty air and for a moment let herself enjoy the feel of the wind as it tumbled through her loose hair. Swirling gold letters caught the corner of her eye and she leant further over the side to read the words scrolled along the side of the ship, repeating them in a breath. "The Dove…"

"Lean any further and you'll be swimming with the fishes," the unmistakable motherly tone of her Handmaiden came from behind her.

Padmé shot her a mischievous smile. "If only. Somehow I feel tackling sharks would be easier than tackling Palpatine."

Sabé leaned over the ship beside her. "The water's so clear," she marveled. "With any luck it will stay as calm for our trip."

"Is Rabé worried?" Padmé chuckled.

Sabé frowned. "It's hardly funny, Padmé. She's terrified. She's convinced we'll either be dragged down to the locker by a sea monster or boarded by pirates."

Padmé sniggered. "Which would you prefer - sea monsters or pirates?"

"Don't you start," Sabé warned. "It's entirely you're fault Rabé reads that nonsense. You always feed her imagination with you're silly fibs."

"I never fib," Padmé protested. "I only… embellish a little."

"Well your little embellishments have woken me up every night for the past fortnight." She caught Padmé's gaze and the two shared a private smile.

Padmé loved these moments when the two of them could just be friends rather than the strict rigor of Princess and Handmaiden. For now it was just the two of them, the wind, the ocean and the enormous sky overhead that stretched to the horizon and infinity. But beyond that was Coruscant.

"This ship is called the Dove," Padmé said abruptly.

Sabé looked at her, bemused. "I know. I like the name. Fits the ship, don't you think?"

"I thought it did too, at first. But I've heard slave ships with similar titles – a charade to mask the gruesome truth below the decks." Padmé clasped her hands and narrowed her eyes at the horizon. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Sabé looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Coruscant's condescension and political malice are thinly veiled by its gleaming towers and high thrones. What if all this splendour and Palpatine's niceties are just a distraction from something bigger – more sinister?"

Sabé reached out a hand to her. "Padmé…"

"I don't trust him Sabé. I don't trust any of this."

"That's as may be, but we don't have any reason to believe Palpatine's proposal is anything but sincere. The people believe it is a good match which will ensure our country's safety."

Padmé nodded. "I'd risk what little trust in me they have and leave Naboo utterly defenseless against the Pirating Separatists. For Theed and my Kingdom it's the only path left."

"Besides that, we won't discover any conspiracy plots to overtake the Republic while hiding out in Naboo," Sabé smiled conspiratorially and squeezed Padmé's hand affectionately. "Leave the mystery to your Jedi friends. Go along with Palpatine's plans for now. He will slip up eventually."

"Perhaps…" Padmé sighed. "But I'm not so sure I'm such a great actress that I can live in the house of the man who killed my father and made outlaws of my friends."

Sabé stared at her hard, almost sternly. "You don't have to act."

Padmé looked alarmed. "Sabé…?"

The sound of approaching footsteps halted their conversation as the Captain of the Guard came aboard the ship, bowing deeply before them. Padmé's remaining handmaidens, Cordé and Rabé, stood behind him; the younger of the two edging further and further away from the sides of the ship.

"My Lady, we are set to sail at high noon," Panaka informed her. "I trust Sabé has discussed our protection program with you?"

"Protection program?" Padmé echoed. She tried to catch Sabé's gaze, but her friend refused to meet her eyes. "No… she has not."

Panaka looked a little vexed. "Well then, it looks like that is our primary objective." He glanced around at the ship's crew scattered across the deck with a measure of distrust. "But perhaps we're safer discussing it in a more private area."

Panaka offered his arm, but Padmé quickly raised her hand. "Captain Panaka, if you don't mind telling me what this is about -"

"Believe me your Highness when I say it's for your own good."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The rain began to fall in harsh stinging sheets of water, but not a drop of liquid touched the still figures perched on the high dais. Like vultures they stooped over the edge of the overhang, dark cloaks billowing in the gathering wind, hoods pulled high over their heads - faceless, aside from two shining white eyes which gleamed menacingly from fathomless dark sockets; all aside from one, who could have been mistaken for the Devil himself. His putrid yellow eyes took wide sweeps of the land below, observing the quaint little village in the Backwater plains.

Without a spoken word, the Mare Esque leapt from their perch as one.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The pub was empty. The central room was cold and bleak with one small fire burning in a far corner, framed by a lopsided mantelpiece. A few tables dotted the bare floorboards, haphazardly covered with fraying tablecloths in a degree of various fading patterns. An icy draught blew under the door and through the cracks in the rotting window ledge where thin spider webs, long since abandoned, quivered in the icy breeze.

Obi-Wan raised a brow. "Homely," he muttered.

He edged inside, pulling the thick-furred collar of his coat up around his stubbled face and breathed into his cupped hands to keep warm. He had become accustomed to fearing the worst but he gratefully noted that there was no sign of a previous struggle in the little room.

A flicker of movement in a backroom suddenly caught his attention. The floorboards began to creak and groan under brisk, heavy footfalls and a plump little woman appeared in the doorway behind the bar. Her face was sharp and accusing in the luminous orange glow of the candelabra held in her hand.

"Yes?" she demanded shortly.

Obi-Wan bowed his head politely. "Madame, I am looking for a man named Dexter Jettster. I was lead to believe he was the proprietor of this establishment?"

"Now, there's a surprise," the elder woman remarked dryly and her shrewd, accusatory eyes looked him up and down in distaste. Obi-Wan felt quite suddenly self-conscious. It had been a while since he had taken a look in a mirror (or bathed for that matter).

"This way. Follow me," the little woman muttered curtly and turned abruptly away, moving at a brisk trot down a narrow passageway. Obi-Wan found he had to follow her at a half-jog in order to keep up.

The crooked building was much larger inside than it had appeared when he had first approached it. The corridor opened out onto a small hallway, sparsely yet tastefully decorated. A faded velvet blue armchair had been planted in stark contrast beside an elegantly carved bookcase crammed with dusty leather-bound books. An old grandfather clock stood at the foot of a narrow staircase; a great pillar of oak heavily carved with old runes that Obi-Wan suspected dated back to before the cultivation of the Jedi Order. He glanced at the intricately cut hands, both of which were pointing to the 9.

'Quarter to. I'm early,' he thought with relief, 'I may even have a chance to get some rest before our meet.' He allowed himself to imagine how a soft bed and pillow stuffed with feathers would feel beneath his cramped and aching muscles.

"Do keep up Sir," the elder woman said, turning her humourless black eyes on him. "I have enough patrons downstairs to keep me on my feet all night so you'll understand when I say I have no time to lead you 'round the house on a guided tour."

"Yes Madame, I do apologise," Obi-Wan said and repressed the urge to smile at the little woman's animated manner. It was to be expected of Dexter Jettster to get involved with his polar opposite. As he recalled the Ogre appreciated a challenge.

They continued down a dimly lit corridor running parallel to the staircase. The blue floral wallpaper was dotted with framed photographs and brown watermarks. Obi-Wan glimpsed a pair of familiar brown eyes smiling out at him from behind a mess of curly dark locks and smooth glass.

At once a name popped into his head which he had not voiced in a long while. 'Astri.'

"Down here, Sir, if you please," the woman motioned with a nod of her petite head to a cellar door which opened onto a precarious flight of stone steps. "Watch your feet Sir, these steps are a death trap. I keep tellin' him and all that man does is laugh it off. 'These steps have lasted near centuries and no one's so much as broken their neck on them', he says and I say his'll be the first!" she cursed and muttered under her breath. Shaking away Obi-Wan's offer of help, she attempted to hold her heavy skirts and the candelabra while at the same time grappling at the white-washed stone wall for support.

"Not even a blessed handrail!" Obi-Wan heard her add irritably.

The moment Obi-Wan stepped onto the dipping stone staircase a rush of noise and laughter rose up towards him, filling the air with a haze of smoke and warm light. From his viewpoint he could see the entire tavern spread out beneath him. All the fires were lit, roaring in the hearths, and patrons were spilling in through the back door demanding in loud buoyant voices tankards of beer and wine by the barrel.

"So this is the White Rabbit," Obi-Wan chuckled. It appeared the tavern's entrance, or bordello as it obviously appeared to function as one, had been tucked so cleverly away into the crooked back alleys of Slash City that is was practically impossible to find it if you did not know where to look.

The hot air stank of smoke and spices intermingled with a strong scent of various perfumes. Obi-Wan had the grace to blush as two young women in brightly coloured, revealing dresses motioned and smiled seductively towards him. He turned his face away and looked expectantly to the little old woman who was currently talking with a blonde, freckle-faced waiting-girl whose eyes kept sliding past to look at him. If he had felt self-conscious before it was nothing compared to how he felt standing in the middle of the tavern.

"Hermione, go and tell Dexter he has a visitor and check on the roast lamb for table 16. Waz will need a hand in the kitchens. It's going to be a busy night," the little woman spoke hurriedly then turned sharply back to Obi-Wan. "You'll find him over there near the fire," she pointed, "telling stories no doubt. If you want a girl that'll be 5 credits for an hour, 17 for the night." Her shrewd little eyes looked him up and down once more and she added, "and you'll want some stew and ale no doubt."

Obi-Wan smiled broadly. "Just the stew and ale for tonight, Madame."

She nodded her silver head shortly, a touch of humour glittering in her sharp black eyes, and took off around the large room stopping to bob at every other table. Obi-Wan thought the woman was quite bird-like in her mannerisms.

The smell of roasting lamb and vegetables was beginning to make his mouth water and his stomach growled; an audible reminder that he had not eaten since that morning's meal. A roar of laughter made him turn towards the main fireplace in the room where a large crowd was clustered around the hearth, listening intently to the familiar gruff voice of the Innkeeper. Dexter was a master storyteller and always commanded a person's complete attention. It had been a while since Obi-Wan had listened to one of Dexter's enchanting tales.

He strolled towards the fireplace where Dexter currently sat sprawled in an armchair, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe which he held in one large hand while his other three continued to assist him in his animated storytelling. A broad grin spread across the Innkeeper's face as he noticed Obi-Wan standing in the glow of the fire.

"Obi-Wan!" he bellowed.

Obi-Wan smiled and stepped forwards to greet him. "Hello Dex," he said.

"It's so good to see you my friend!" the old 'keeper stood to embrace him in all four of his burly arms. He held Obi-Wan away from him at arms length and looked him up and down, cheerfully surprised. "Well ah'll be! Jest look at tha'! Look at how tha' has grown! Last I saw thee, tha' were but a ruddy sapling! Now look at thee, look at thy beard!" he shook his head and tutted while settling back into his armchair. "Must mean the years are catchin' up to thyself too. Oi, Flint! Get outta that 'ere seat! This n's been travellin' fair far abroad. He'll be bloody knackered, give tha' lad a seat."

The man grumbled irritably but was quick to oblige. Obi-Wan thanked him as the man sauntered off in the direction of the bar before taking his seat opposite the four-armed Ogre.

"Ah was just sayin' to Jocasta and Astri there the other day, whatever 'appened to Qui-Gon an' Obi-Wan? Quite a pair were they. Always getting in an' out o' one scrap or another!" his eyes twinkled in delight. "Nobody said it but we was worried about thee. 'specially Astri."

"How is she?" Obi-Wan asked.

"She's well enough, but that rat of a husband 'o hers, Obi-Wan, she could do without," Dexter grumbled.

"Yes, I…" Obi-Wan's gaze shifted to the floor. "I heard she married."

"An' had a kid as well mind! What a lively little bugger he is, Astri loves 'im more than anythin' in the world. But ah'm sure she'll tell thee thysen'. She'll be in later, gone out to do some last minute shopping. Shops are all opened late 'cos of the Winter Festival. Been the busiest year yet, got customers comin' in from all over the country. Even abroad." He puffed on his long pipe. "But enough 'bout that. What can ah do thee for? Place to stay? Someone t' warm tha' bed?" he lowered his voice and bent closer. "Or do tha' respectable Jedi go in fer that?"

"Well," Obi-Wan began carefully, eyes twinkling. "I could not say the Order are entirely celibate."

"Only you, ah?" Dexter said with a deep, throaty chuckle.

"I'll stick to a stew tonight Dex," Obi-Wan replied with a smile as the young, freckled-faced waitress, Hermione, approached them. Gingerly she placed a tray laden with a platter of steaming roasted lamb and vegetables and two tankards full of ale on a low wooden table between the two chairs.

Obi-Wan breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread, cooked meat and garlic and thanked Hermione sincerely. The young girl's face flushed red with embarrassment and she curtsied quickly before hurrying away.

Dexter wagged a large finger at him. "Thysen' 'as already caught the attention of my prettiest waiting girls." The Ogre relaxed into his broad armchair and puffed carefully while Obi-Wan washed a mouthful of food down with the ale. "Say now, 'as thy got a family yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Obi-Wan replied indifferently.

"No? Time's pushin' on tho'," Dexter chuckled.

"Let's just say I've been a little preoccupied with current affairs."

A deep frown creased the Ogre's large forehead, "Aye…" he drew out. "Aye, ah knows all 'bout that. Ruddy pillocks. Ah'd be watchin' tha' back if ah were you Obi-Wan. Lott've new folk around these parts and they're comin' in 'ere and tha' knows folk talk. Bad business brewing abroad. Ah'd feel better if tha' would stay put awhile."

"I'm afraid I can't promise anything at the moment Dex. I'm awaiting some… friends." He held Dexter's gaze long enough until he was sure the old Ogre understood exactly what he meant.

"Ahhh," Dexter nodded and stroked his bristly chin, "ah see." He grinned. "Well if we're havin' more company, best get Jocasta to put some more stew on! We'll 'ave the finest brew this fair city 'as to offer – only the best for such esteem-ed guests, ay?"

"I'm sure they will appreciate that Dex." Obi-Wan wrung his hands together and gazed at the ticking clock above the fire anxiously. 'When they turn up.'

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Anakin's mind was buzzing with excitement as he made his way through the narrow cobblestone lined backstreets towards the outskirts of the neighbouring village. The awkward size and weight of the two large kegs of ale did not bother him as it used to. Neither did the dimly lit streets and abnormally quiet households. A thousand and one adventures were racing through his young, impulsive mind.

The Winter Festival had already started in the Capital and throughout the larger towns. Perhaps Kit would even allow him to join in the festivities. Anakin had only attended the Winter Festival once when he was a lad, but now he remembered the life and music which had pulsed through the city streets: all the pretty girls in twirling skirts of a thousand colours, ministers and clerks dressed as jesters running and leaping shamelessly through the streets, the singing of bawdy songs and torch-lit processions. It was a festival of fools, a sparking off to enter the New Year in high spirits. Anakin desperately longed to see it all again.

He chuckled softly to himself and doubted he would get a wink of sleep that night. Suddenly, his sharp senses bristled at the rustle of heavy material behind him. He threw a cautious glance over his shoulder. The street was empty.

Anakin quickly turned on his heel and hurried along the road. He had been attacked once or twice before while ferrying Watto's ale back and forth between cellars. But he was an able opponent, a fact which had become well known throughout the neighbouring villages. Nevertheless, he picked up his pace, still feeling watched.

He felt a little more relieved once he had put a bit of distance between himself and the village. Clearing a hedge in one great bound, Anakin landed in a wide muddy field which separated the two villages. Glancing backwards to make sure he wasn't being followed, he began to traverse the muddy field. The icy drops of rain which trickled down his collar and slid down his back did not deter him. Over the turf he slogged, dragging his feet through the mud as the rain pelted his face. The feeling of being watched still lingered however. As he approached a tall standing stone on a rise in the middle of the field he made up his mind to turn the tables on his prowler, quickly leapt behind it. No common lout would soil his good temper.

Anakin held his breath and waited. After several minutes he dared to peer around the side of the Megalith, half expecting to see some hulking, great rune beast lumbering across the plain towards him. But there was not a sole to be seen.

Anakin sighed, exasperated with himself and shook the beads of water from his hair as he continued on his way. He was feeling very sheepish now. What would Kit have to say? Such an accomplished explorer would have no use for a coward on his adventures. And what in Sun's name would you do if you really did encounter a rune beast? Anakin scoffed at his own cowardice-

-and froze suddenly. He had passed this way countless times before and never had he seen a standing stone in the middle of the field.

Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, he turned around. Where the Megalith stood only moments ago now towered a giant of a man half hidden in shadow.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Before anymore people ask, Hermione is the blonde waitress you see serving in the background when Obi-Wan talks with Dexter in AOTC. I looked her name up on the Star Wars com databanks. She has no links to Harry Potter whatsoever!! XD

Nikki92: Glad you're enjoying the story. I'm really sorry I've, er, bumped Siri off though.

Trinity Day: Thank-you very much. Don't worry, "Legend" certainly hasn't been abandoned – I'm having too much fun writing it. I keep delving into my old Scottish/Irish folktales books for ideas. I'm part way through the next chapter and I know where the story's going now.

ShalBrenfan: Haha, thanks – next chapter's on it's way!

Jenny: Thank-you. Oops, I suppose I've given you a bit of a cliff-hanger there. I'll remedy that ASAP.

"an interested fan": No worries, like I said I'm enjoying writing this far too much to simply abandon it. It has a long way to go yet. Hope you enjoyed this chapter : )

Thank-you all for the great reviews. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to…well suggest them