Author's Note
I forgot to mention, sometimes a chapter will be in Din's point of view. Like this one. I may even do Grogu's point of view eventually, that might be cute.
Anyway, go onward and enjoy!
Setting the Course Pt. 3
Din watches Mahin walk out of the room. The passion in her burns hotter than the forge in front of him. Hotter than someone so small should be capable of. "That girl is something," he comments absently, a strange note to his voice that even he can't place.
Something about the girl affects him more than he thought possible, ever since the first moment she regarded him without the usual hint of fear most people stink of when in his presence. Then she uttered those first words of Mando'a and showed a respectful regard for his culture. Not treating it like some sort of circus act.
The change is…refreshing.
"Woman," the alor corrects firmly.
His head swivels back to her. Sure, Mahin works as a mechanic in the shipyard, but he guessed late teens. She wouldn't be the first teenager he's met thrust into the world too early. "Really? She doesn't look that old."
"Looks can be deceiving." Her skillful hands start methodically sorting the items Mahin provided for the covert, lingering on the blanket that's obviously homemade. "If asked, she'll say twenty-four. However, I suspect her age is closer to thirty."
Din pauses for a moment, trying to reconcile this new fact with the small, sunshiny girl he met this afternoon. Then he remembers her wariness of the shipmaster. The way she kept herself apart from everyone in the bar. It speaks of someone who's learned not to trust anyone and that sometimes it's necessary to scrape with tooth and claw in order to make it in this world. Someone who learned that a long time ago. "Deceiving indeed. She hides her real age well. Even from you, though?"
"Though she acts familiar with everyone in this covert, she's only known us a year. It's not a lot of time to someone who's always looking over her shoulder. But we don't ask. We respect her privacy, just as she respects that we cannot reveal everything about ourselves. As we all know, sometimes secrecy is the best form of defense."
His hold on the child in his lap tightens a little more. "What would someone like her have to defend from?"
"I don't know," the alor sighs heavily. "I suspect she's running from someone. And who's to say we won't give up her secrets if that someone threatens the covert trying to get to her?"
"Would you?" he challenges, for some reason just hating the thought of it, wanting to keep Mahin from that pain.
The alor raises her chin, as regal as a lioness. "No. We think of her as one of our own and will defend her as one of our own. She has shown no interest in taking on the Creed but…she is still our ad'ika."
Din runs a finger along one of the kid's long ears, eliciting a happy giggle from him. He smiles under the helmet. "I know how you feel."
He'd do anything for this kid, even before he truly decided to take him in.
"So," the alor says, firmly setting the topic aside, "how can I help you, Mando'ad?"
"I look for information on this child," Din explains, bouncing the child slightly on his knee. The child won't put up with staying still for much longer and he'd rather not have the kid poking around a forge filled with sharp things. The kid giggles in delight as he's hopped up and down. "My alor decreed him my foundling. I need to either raise him as my own until he is old enough to take the Creed or reunite him with his people. But I…don't know who his people are. Only that they were sorcerers called Jedi."
The alor leans back slightly, shock coating her voice, "I've heard of the jetiise, but only in stories. Their kind was said to have been completely wiped out before the Great Purge, when Emperor Palpatine first rose to power."
Din deflates a little. "He truly has no one, then."
A part of him, deep down in a place he doesn't want to look at—a part of him feels relieved. But he's also utterly terrified.
"Is it really so important to you?" the alor asks, with an amazing amount of perception that all Mandalorian matriarchs seem to possess. "That you find others of his kind?"
He sighs deeply, never really sure how to explain this. "When I say sorcerer, I mean that literally. He can do things. Things I'd hardly believe if I hadn't seen it myself. I've seen him lift tons of weight with…with the power of his mind. I've seen him heal people—fatal wounds completely erased in seconds without leaving even a scar."
"It sounds incredible," she replies in awe, leaning closer to peer down at the child. "Impossible, as you say, but exactly as depicted in the old stories of the jetiise."
"It is incredible, but he's still only a child. He doesn't know control or restraint. He once almost strangled a friend because he thought she was hurting me. We were only arm wrestling."
"He's a child." She shrugs a shoulder, so matter of fact about the possibility of a child capable of killing them all with the power of his mind. "Children don't know any better. It is up to us to teach them."
"That's why I'm looking for his kind. I'm looking for a teacher for him. Someone who can help him learn about the things he can do and how to properly use these abilities."
"It sounds to me that he knows what he can do." She stretches out a hand, holding up a finger to the child who happily wraps his little fingers around it. She lets out a fond hum. He's good at that, wrapping people around his fingers. "And quite well at that. What he needs most, I suspect, is to simply learn right from wrong, just like any other child. He needs to learn when to use his gifts and when not to, when other actions, or words, would be better. And that is something any parent can do, especially a Mandalorian."
Din's chest tightens almost to the point of pain. "What are you saying?"
"You are as his father," she says, repeating his own alor's words. "He is your foundling. Your ad'ika. So teach him. Like you would teach a child how to use a blaster. When to use it. When not to use it. The danger and deadly potential they hold in their hands, a danger to others as well as themselves. How it can be used to harm, but also used to protect."
He swallows thickly, suddenly finding it hard to breathe under the helmet and wishing more than anything to take it off. "I…I don't know if I can."
She leans back, folding her hands on the table like she's sitting on a throne. "You have the Creed. Use it."
"He's too young to take the Creed."
"But there are still many aspects of the Way that will help you. Teach him about our people. Our heritage. Your heritage. Let the Way light his path, and yours. For the foundlings are the future."
Can he do this? Really do this? When his alor gave him this task, he expected to search for the Jedi for a few weeks—months, at best—and then hand the child over to them to raise. And that would be it. Din would never see him again. It would hurt, more than he's willing to admit, a whole kriffing lot more than it did when he handed the kid over to the client.
But he'd do it. For the kid. Because that's what's best for him. Who's Din kidding, trying to take care of this child on his own? He's no father. He can barely keep himself alive, let alone another living being.
But he wants to be good enough. He wants to be all this child needs.
Clutching the child close to his chest, he replies, "This is the Way."
Author's Note
You know, it's always bothered me that people in the Star Wars universe seem to have forgotten about the Force and the Jedi. It's not like Order 66 was that long ago. Anyway, considering the history between Mandalorians and Jedi, I figured some of the Mandalorians would at least have stories. And, yes, I know learning to control the Force is more complicated than the alor thinks it might be in this chapter, but, again, they only have stories. We'll get into all that later.
Last chapter of the day will be up shortly.
Hope you enjoyed, PLEASE REVIEW, and see you all next time!
Translations:
alor (leader, chief)
ad'ika (little one)
Mando'ad (Mandalorian, singular, son/daughter of Mandalore)
jetiise (Jedi, plural)
