Star Wars: Arda Unleashed

by Lord Exar Kun

After the Arda Campaign ended in victory for the Republic and their local allies, the galaxy's eyes returned to the wider Clone Wars. However, the Dark Lord Sauron has yet to be vanquished. Now he has come to the wider galaxy free from the binds of Arda, and is ready to be unleashed upon the stars. As the Chosen One's fate, the Republic's and the Jedi Order's remains to be seen.

16. Comforts Causes Catastrophes

Chapter 16

Comforts Causes Catastrophes

"Now this is certainly a sight!" Pippin announced for all the Temple to hear. Anakin for his part, however, could only shake his head.

"Pippin, this is just the kitchen."

"Aye!" The hobbit beamed as a server droid warbled above his curly head. "Any kitchen is a sight to behold for a hobbit! Though I'm not one to say all hobbits are great eaters. Only that my stomach tends to lead the way in life." Pippin chortled as another droid, this one a cook, glanced his way and at once cut through a series of unknown vegetables and tossed the contents into a brewing pot.

"Ah, we all know your stomach is as deep as Mount Doom was hot, Pip." Merry retorted as Gimli tapped his axe to the metal floor and glanced from left to right along a serving table lined in a variety of dishes to be carried out to the nearby mess hall.

"Tell us, laddie, what are these fine dishes? Some of them smell mighty delicious!"

"To tell you the truth, Gimli, I don't know." Anakin chuckled and folded his hands into his robes atop one another. Coming to a stand beside his diminutive stout dwarf friend. "Well, that's not entirely true. I know a few of these dishes. I'm more partial to...simple foods. Call it a matter of my upbringing."

"Ah, I know what you mean laddie! My father was once in the company of Lord Elrond with a company of the finest dwarves in all of Middle-Earth! Bilbo Baggins, Frodo's uncle was with them you know!"

"Yes, you've told me the story before, Gimli." Anakin smirked and the dwarf seemed to not hear or pay him mind.

"Aye, when they reached Rivendell they were given a fine set of fanciful dishes. Yet, not a bit of meat to be found! Pork, beef, or any such salted morsel! Now I know the elves and even your men have your own variations on what accounts for good food, but the elves…" Gimli shook his stone mounted helmeted head.

"The elves….what?" Anakin prompted.

"Their choice of food is just limiting! Self limiting I say, laddie!" Gimli replied with a hearty grumble. Anakin shaking his head, and eyeing the two hobbits to his right as they tapped their fists on one of the chef droids. Right along its knee joint. Though it paid them no mind.

"Well," Anakin began and pat Gimli's shoulder. "They just don't share the same great appetite you have Gimli. Your...zeal for life and its many flavors."

"Aye! You understand laddie!" The dwarf gave hearty and loud a laugh that did nothing but broaden Anakin's smirk. Even if he did note a passing duo of Jedi poke their heads into the kitchen just see the strange sight. Though they said nothing and moved on upon seeing him.

"Do you know what this is, Anakin?" Merry asked as the hobbit idly grabbed a chunk of some fruit form the counter. The droid dicing it seeming a bit annoyed with a whir as it continued dicing the slices faster.

"Ah that." Anakin nodded and approached. "This is shuura fruit. It's pretty sweet. Go on and try it." Anakin watched Merry give the slice a sniff before he began taking a nibbling bite. Which grew to a full forced gnawing as his taste buds were met by the sweet promised taste.

"Mmm, that is good! Go on Pip have a piece!"

"Don't mind if I do Merry." Pippin had already grabbed a chunk left by the droid and was wolfing it down before his friend could even make the offer. Anakin only found himself laughing at the two. As always.

"You're not the first I've seen become obsessed with shuura. It's quite the popular sweet where fruits are involved. I myself don't mind a few pieces of Corellian sweet packs."

"What's that?" Merry wondered as he grabbed another shuura piece from the droid's chopping block.

"It's like chocolate. Though it has a more bitter taste. Where I grew up on Tattooine there wasn't much in the way of sweetened foods. Best you could hope for was savory dishes made by the local weequay cantina chef. Think his name was...Rindo? Ah, doesn't matter." Anakin waved off his own reminiscing.

"How about ale?" Pippin asked and Gimli perked up behind Anakin.

"Oh aye! That would be a fine bit of cultural exchange!" The dwarf laughed.

"Well sorry to burst your bubbles," Anakin began. "Jedi aren't known for drinking ale… Well not while in the Temple." To that the hobbits looked horrified.

"No ale?! Where's the fun in that?"

"Aye, that sounds like no fun at all!" Pippin followed by Merry lamented.

"Tell you what. Depending on my free time I'll take you three out to a local cantina one of these days. Now I don't go bar hopping myself-"

"Yet, you know the spots!" Gimli chortled coming up beside Anakin and tapping his waist with his axe.

"Yeah yuck it up Gimli. No, I know of them because they're some of the best places to get information. All kinds of people can be found drinking away their sorrows or money in the cantina."

"Oh yes, that's where we met Strider after all. Err, Aragorn I mean." Pippin offered.

"How is Aragorn anyways?" Anakin asked as he motioned the three over to a nearby mess hall entrance. They followed him even if they all had their minds and hearts set on the assorted foods they were leaving behind.

"Ah, he's seeming to fit into his role quite well. Sends his warmest regards and wishes!" Gimli offered up for the three as Anakin shuffled them over to an empty table. The nearby Jedi who sat eating or idly reading datapads paid them little mind. Those who did cast questioning glances and momentary stares. Though, noticing Skywalker with the three seemed to keep them all silent. Even those who had unspoken wariness at non-Jedi being so flippantly chauffeured through the Temple.

"That's good." Anakin nodded and sat beside Pippin, opposite Merry and Gimli. The three of them each being raised by small mobile seats embedded into the table lounges. All three gasping in their own ways at the sudden motion and whir. After all, the Jedi temple was no stranger to shorter species living among its halls.

"My, you folk do have quite the advancement in seating." Merry chuckled.

"Aye Merry, a hobbit could get used to this sort of treatment." Pippin rested his curly haired head into the back of his hands and grinned. "Though I could use some more of your Jedi fine dining myself!"

"Needn't you worry Pip." Anakin laughed. Pressing a button on the table a series of holograms appeared. Each utilizing a coloring feature and showing each seated guest plates of assorted meals. "Everyone take a pick. The droids will have it made in no time, and you can eat to your hearts content." Anakin swiped through and chose a simple breakfast entree. Even if it was well into noon.

"You can look at the food and order it without speaking to a barkeep or maid?"

"Yep, sure can Merry!" Anakin replied and smirked as Pip ogled what looked to be a nerf steak dinner.

"Just put your hand up like this, and swipe it." Anakin showed Pippin. The hobbit watched as a series of meals swept pass Anakin's face. Pippin followed the example and as he did the little gloved hand caused the nerf steak to warble away with a beep. Showing a new meal. This one looked to be some form of a ronto wrap.

"I haven't an idea what any of this is, but it looks delectable enough! I'll have a pick of the lot me thinks, laddie!"

"Hah, go on and pick whatever and however much you want, Master dwarf." Anakin waved him off as Gimli followed both the hobbits example and began swiping through the meals. To which Anakin showed them how to press for an order. To which each one of them ended up ordering at least four full course meals.

"Force...good thing I don't have to pay for any of this." Anakin intoned under his breath. The holograms soon receded from view and left them all sat at the sterile clean white table. Light shining in through a series of lined open viewports where the daylight of Coruscant's star streamed in. The subtle omnipresent hum of electronics beneath walls panels and under the flooring notable if you actively sensed after it. Just below the surface of perception. Anakin perceived for a moment as he let his senses fade in idle thought. Both the hobbits were chortling on about the table, its cold metal nature. The world faded from mind, and he was hearing it again.

'Personal representative on the Jedi Council.' He had never dreamed he would finally be made a Master! Especially after what happened on his friends homeworld. Sauron and that debacle with the dark witch. Though, Obi-Wan had left many details out of his report. Not enough to not let the Council know he had been tested of course. But, still...even if it was via the Chancellor, perhaps the Council would finally take him seriously?! Finally listen to and respect him more than just being the Chosen One. Shoved into their lives by Master Jinn all those years ago. He had always wanted to be a Jedi. He just wished they had been as welcoming of him as he thought he had been to them.

"Laddie!" Anakin was shaken free of his thoughts as Gimli pounded stout, but powerful fist to the table.

"Huh?"

"Bah! Just like an elfling! You fall far too deeply into your own thoughts. You lose too much perception of the world like that, you know!" Anakin furrowed his brow. Not catching Gimli's meaning, but only for a second.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry Gimli. Been kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts lately."

"Aye," Merry interjected. "It seemed that way since Gandalf found you the other night. You seem...troubled, Anakin. Are you alright?"

"It's not kind to pry, Merry." Pippin, of all people admonished. To which Merry scoffed.

"The last person I'm going to take that kind of advice from is you, Pip. Lest you forget who decided they just needed to look into the palantir."

"I said I was sorry!" Pippin groaned to which Gimli sputtered and shook his head. His great reddish beard shaking along with him.

"Pay it mind no longer my young hobbit friends! The Enemy is no more. Now we must speak on what troubles the lad's mind instead!"

"I'd rather you not, really." Anakin chuckled trying to dissuade the curious three. "I promise you it's nothing that you three should have any care for, or concern over. Just Jedi stuff. Politics too I guess. A little bit."

"Politics! Now there's something we all have a hand in these days."

"Pippin's right, Anakin!" Merry followed his aforementioned friend. "We've all been sent to represent Arda and Middle-Earth. If politics are what's troubling you, who better to ask then?" Even if their helpfulness made Anakin grin he did have to shake them off.

"There's no one more suited to talk about politics than you three. Direct, honest and experienced all of you. But, this is more...internal politics with the Jedi."

"Involving you?"

"Well yes, Merry." Anakin nodded. "It's a long and boring story. Just thinking about it is all. It's good news really! So, I'm just...lost in excitement, is all." Anakin smiled, and honestly he wasn't lying. Even if he was a bit worried considering how Obi-Wan made it sound the other day. Still, it wasn't enough to put a damper on his overall mood.

"Alright laddie, alright. We'll let ya' be. For now." Gimli grumbled and pat his hands atop the table. Catching the eyes of many Jedi once again. Their presence in the Force telling Anakin there was a mix of confusion and concern among them. Honestly it made him inwardly chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm boring anyways."

"Hardly!" Gimli was quick to cut Anakin off. "The first time I saw you and Obi-Wan spar was like seeing two warriors come to life from the heart of the First Age and the tales of old! Then I got to see you both tear through many a rabid orc and uruk with your light swords! You can move things with your hands without being near, and you, yourself even contended with the Enemy himself!" Gimli went on. "Don't ya' dare try and tell me you're 'boring' laddie!"

"He's got you there, Anakin." Pippin beamed while Merry nodded.

"Alright, alright. Fair enough. Not boring. Though politics, can we agree that is boring? At least, it should be." Anakin offered and they all seemed agreeable to that at least.

"Bah, always has been and always will be! Even the power hungry types can make interest in lordly matters nigh impossible! Yet, you shouldn't give the sharp-tongued ones free reign to play their petty games. Even when just among themselves, laddie."

"What do you mean?" Anakin wondered and leaned into the table as Gimli carried on.

"Look at what became of elves and dwarves lad." The dwarf began and seemingly pulled a pipe from out of nowhere...maybe his beard?

"For too long I believed elves to be selfish, snobbish, better-than-everyone-else, bookish, fops! Yet, it was because I had for too long listened to the older among my people who had listened in kind to lords and kings who could not dare to speak to an elf. Even if they had wronged our people in the past we need not allow ourselves to be guided to believe of others because of what someone age since past claimed of them. Were it so, I would never have come to know Legolas. For an elvish princeling, he is a fine lad...a good friend! My friend, and ours." To that, Anakin hummed thoughtfully.

"So, you mean that because the lords and kings thought the elves were what you thought them to be, you began thinking of them to be that way in the first place?"

"Aye, in a sense." Gimli cleaned his pipe and blew a few stray particles of ash from it. "I have only come to see it after the Fellowship. I believed to know Legolas before I knew him at all! All elves are this way because lords and kings who felt slighted told all the other dwarves to feel a certain way. That is not to say ills were not done to us, and my people. Yet, forgiveness should not be so hard a thing, and worse still not all slights made against one lord by another should turn whole peoples against one another. How many friends have not been made? How many alliances have been destroyed before ever having chance to form because of the anger and jealousy or ire of those with power?" Gimli wondered, and it was one of those times Anakin again had to remind himself that Gimli, in spite of his usual manner, was no fool. Not that he ever thought him to be. Rather, Gimli showed himself to be a dwarf who preferred to keep such thoughts mostly to himself.

"So, all I say laddie, is that politics should be boring. But, don't let the lords and kings or whatever your people may call them to do as they please. That's when they decide to break the bridges to build their towers. Come time to cross the bridge in search of aid you will find crumpled stone and not a hand left to reach for."

"Oh, I rather like that one Gimli." Pippin offered, and honestly Anakin had to agree. It was something he was sure someone could've put in a more obvious manner, but he got the dwarf's point.

"Well...I see what you're saying, Gimli. Though in this matter I'd say I'm paying close enough attention." Anakin chuckled. At least he thought he was. The Council and Obi-Wan, as ever, just loved overreacting to anything and everything Palpatine did and said.

"Ah, but enough about me. How are you three liking Coruscant? I know I basically already asked the other night, but what about now? Any changes in mood? Thoughts?" As Anakin asked, and a few padawans moved by, bowing graciously his way, a server droid warbled out with steaming hot plates for the three companions.

"I'd say my thoughts of this place are improving!" Pippin began as a hot nerf steak was put in front of him and a side of some manner of rice it looked like. As well as something Anakin couldn't quite place. Though by the smell he thought it to be steamed fruit?

"Aye, the lad has a good point! Food is an excellent way to improve me mood! The best hosts know this, laddie." Gimli, ever boisterous and loud, clapped his hands together; pipe disappearing as quickly as it had come, as three plates landed before his great beard and glistening eyes full of a quite literal hunger. A bowl of bantha broth, a stew more like it. A side of liver...at least it looked like liver, and some form of fried cheese and dip. Merry was no better than Pippin and Gimli. Seeming to have taken the ronto wraps, three of them, and they weren't small. Corellian Drall chowder, and dipping sticks, along with steamed bantha-kabob. All served with vitamin rich juice of some manner. Of which Anakin took his mug and began sipping the fruitful liquid down.

"Well," Anakin chuckled as he swallowed. "If I must bribe you three with food to gain your favor for the Republic, so be it."

"A bribe?! I beg your pardon, sir! This is no bribe." Merry offered taking a napkin and shaking it out and folding it over his fine Rohirric tunic. "This is...what I and Pip would call a friendly meal between friends!"

"Oh aye! Nothing more than the best from the best guide through so large and grand a building!" Pippin added.

"Oh please." Anakin rolled his eyes. "Go on and dig in you three. I may as well show you something else besides fine easily and readily available food from the Temple kitchen's after this."

"The day is young, laddie!" Gimli, already mouth full of food and beard peppered with crumbs smacked loudly. Nearby Jedi frowning and causing Anakin to feel just a tad uncomfortable. "We have plenty of time!"

"I certainly hope not, Gimli." Anakin shook his head. Still laughing as the four fell into a recount of the Battle of Helms Deep, and the March of the Ents on Isengard.

---

"Welcome friends, to one of the temple's sparring rooms." Obi-Wan began as he led both the prince's and Tauriel into the room in question. Within it were a few familiar faces. Many Jedi present passed him smiles, and nods to which Obi-Wan did much the same to as many as he could. Many students and padawans nearing their knighthood, and many knights as well sparred against not just one another, but remote droids and holographic simulations.

"Such a strange manner of fighting your Order has." Obi-Wan believed this one to be Elrohir, who spoke.

"Many men duel here." The other, Elladan pointed out. "Not just the men of your race, however, many of your women as well."

"That and not just those among the race of Men." Elrohir pointed out. Their keen elvish eyes turning to a bith padawan speaking with his twi'lek master.

"Surely it's not so strange a thing, my Lords? To see women among the men." Obi-Wan wondered.

"Well...perhaps not as strange as it is made to believe. Many among the three races believe it the province of men alone to wage war. Elves, Dwarves and Men. Yet, we should watch our tongues, brother. The Lady Tauriel could give us a run for our crowns." Elladan joked turning to Tauriel. The greenly dressed elvish maiden smirked.

"Only should my Lords give me reason to." She jested, Obi-Wan was sure, but still he chuckled in case the mood need alleviating.

"This power your Order wields, it is called the 'Force' is it not?"

"It is." Obi-Wan nodded to Elrohir. "Many cults, religions, and mystics throughout the galaxy have different names for it. However, the Force has taken its name after many thousands of years of it being so."

"And this Force is a positive?" Elrohir pressed as Elladan watched one knight commit to a parry and set of dashing jumps in a display of the ataru lightsaber form.

"The Force, in its purest form is light. So the Jedi teach, and as I believe to be true, my Lord. The Sith, our enemy for many thousands of years, and those who think like them believe in the Dark Side of the Force. This, however, is a perversion of the Force. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together." Obi-Wan remembered the many lessons taught to him by both Master Yoda, and Qui-Gon so many years ago now when the galaxy made a little more sense than it did anymore these days.

"Life creates it," He went on. "Makes it grow. It moves through all things penetrating through all. The Force is created from life, it grows from life and the extension of life. Therefore, it stands to reason the selfish desires and inward search for power propagated by the Sith is well...antithetical to what the Force is."

"How so?" Tauriel spoke for Elrohir as she also listened intently and circled in from behind Obi-Wan to his right.

"Well, the Sith believe in using the Force to further themselves. Themselves alone. They only use it to further their own ends and their gain. Paying no heed to whom they trample, and who they dominate. The Force itself is not something they serve, but rather a tool. The Jedi have two schools of thought on the nature of the Force. There are those who believe in the Living Force. A belief that the Force has a will of its own, and plans for some if not all life in the universe. Those who believe such, act as willing vessels to the will of the Force." To his explanation the three elves nodded.

"Is that what you believe, Master Kenobi?" Elladan wondered. For his part, Obi-Wan took a moment to ruminate. He had not exactly seen eye to eye with Qui-Gon concerning his outlook and philosophy. Yet, since his old Master's passing he could not truly say he disbelieved him either. Was it because he felt obligated to remember Qui-Gon and his beliefs in some way? Or, did he actually believe in them? Even Obi-Wan didn't know for sure.

"I am...unsure." He answered truthfully.

"What of the other school, Master?" Elrohir prompted.

"It doesn't have so much an official name unlike those who believe in the Living Force which predicates the reality of the Cosmic Force. Or, the mind of the Living Force beyond death itself. Some call the opposing school the Physical Force. A belief that is more rudimentary but shares some aspects of belief in the Living Force."

"Being?" Elladan crossed his arms.

"Well both believe in the inherent good, or light nature of the Force. However, those who fall in line with a Physical Force believe that there is little intelligence or will behind the Force. There is no destiny or at least intelligent design, and no opposition to the dark side because it is an aspect of the Force that must be contained. The inherent light of the Force does not resist the dark side without those willing to do good deeds regardless of the belief in a higher intelligence. It's a debate on whether we take our actions because we are ourselves good, or that we were destined to be good."

"Men are gifted the freedom to explore the world," Elrohir offered with his airy, and thoughtful voice. "Perhaps it is not the way of men among this 'galaxy' to believe this. However, it is stated that Ilúvatar gave your kind the ability to explore and to choose your own destinies. So, I think your Order is split on a reality that is both as it is neither." Elrohir emphasized his point by placing both hands before himself, palms opened and upwards facing.

"Do explain, my Lord." Obi-Wan prompted, himself never one to resist a good philosophical debate. He loved them in fact! Which made trying to talk about it, or debate with Anakin a total mag-train disaster. The boy was many things, but one open to deep debate, not so much. In spite of how smart Obi-Wan knew Anakin to be.

"For one, there need be no denying that the 'Force,' as you call it, may have need of one for a certain task at a certain time. To believe one to be needed in the right time or the wrong time, depending on your view is not wholly antithetical to the idea that men still have a choice. A babe is born, and let us say the Force has need of him to grow strong and become a mighty king and leader of men. And he does indeed grow into strong a man, and inheritor of a great nation and people, but alas grows tyrannical. Before him were laid two paths. One that led down the road to what he was 'destined' for, and the other the ability to turn away from it. Perhaps he need not even be tyrannical, but opposed to such a life? The result is similar. A denial of 'fate' but his right to do so." Obi-Wan could see the logic. He was not sure he totally believed it. It certainly sounded similar to past attempts to synchronize the followers of the Living Force ideal and those who did not believe in an intelligence behind the Force.

"An interesting theory." Obi-Wan granted and folded his hands together. "I must admit I am still not sure what I personally hold to be true. I believe in the Chosen One. I believe that Anakin was foreseen to bring balance." Obi-Wan could see furrowed brows and sighed with a half smile planted across his face. "It's a long story. I shall explain another time." Obi-Wan laughed and luckily the three seemed receptive to hearing him out later. "I think the Force has a will. If it is an intelligence that oversees all such things, I don't know. If it is a presence that allows free will to take precedence over fate as it were...I don't know. I know that the Force can be put out of balance. To be out of balance is to pervert the true state of the Force. The light, with darkness. However we may achieve Balance perhaps doesn't matter? So long as we do."

"An excellent view to hold, Master Kenobi." Elrohir nodded. Seeming to accept the more utilitarian approach to the light and goodness as Obi-Wan explained it.

"Hmm." Obi-Wan sighed and shook himself of such musings. They too easily brought his mind towards the earlier business of the day. The Council, Anakin, the Chancellor, the war...he'd rather not think or dwell on such things while acting as a chaperone.

"Master Kenobi," Elladan caught his attention. The Prince pointing his finger towards one training zone. "Can you explain this to me, perhaps?"

"Explain what, my Lord?" Obi-Wan smiled even if he did wonder aloud what Elladan meant exactly. All that was there was a Jedi knight slowly moving through the stances of makashi. Which only prompted Obi-Wan to remember the temple's special 'guest' hidden somewhere in the medical wing.

"My swordsmanship is fairly well trained. At least I would like to think so. Yet, I have seen no less than five differing stances and movements from within this room. Do the Jedi train differently from one to the other?"

"I'm glad I'm not the only one to see it." Tauriel quickly intoned after Elladan.

"Ah, you are perceptive! No, it's not that we train individually from one another or something along those lines. The Jedi Order has a set doctrine of seven lightsaber forms. Each Jedi is encouraged to learn them all, or rather their fundamentals. As we grow older, become knights and then masters we each come to specialize in at least one form."

"I see. I assume each has inherent strengths and weaknesses." Elladan stated, and Obi-Wan nodded as he swept one arm out to a younger ikotchi padawan.

"This padawan, she is in the very basic stance of shii-cho. This is the first form of lightsaber combat developed by the Jedi of old. Some say it is far too rudimentary and only teaches a Jedi the basic stances and movements expected of someone wielding such a finely handled weapon as a lightsaber. Yet, I know a master who has perfected this form for all intents and purposes. One among the High Council like myself, you saw him for a moment in fact, Master Fisto." Obi-Wan shrugged as he carried on. "I suppose I shouldn't say shii-cho was directly involved in lightsaber combat from its inception. Rather, it was a primary form trained into those within the Order when metal blades were still the chosen weapon for most Jedi. When the transition began to lightsabers proper that's when the second form came into prominence."

"Which form is that, Master Kenobi?" Tauriel inquired. Her eyes staring off as she watched a knight in muted wonder. The middle-aged duros ran towards a fellow Jedi. Seeming to be a master. An older human male who was in a Shien stance. The duros dove to his right, dashing into a kneel and swiping out aggressively. Their sabers likely in training mode. The duros missed as the master parried the swipe away and twisted back. Ducking on instinct by the Force as the duros jumped and swung savagely at his head. The master planted a firm kick to the younger knight's chest and he flew onto his back. Allowing the master to plant his saber's tip to their neck. Both sharing a smile, even as one was clearly defeated. The master gave a hand and lifted the duros back to a stand and they readied to start again. Obi-Wan could tell this Jedi had been testing the far more aggressive juyo form.

"Um...right, the second form…" Obi-Wan began. Realizing he had gone into a daze watching the encounter. Though none from among his elvish charges seemed to have minded. All watching their own duel intently. "The second form is interesting. Makashi, is its name. A form that has recently been given a poor name because of one of the Sith Lords. Nevertheless," Obi-Wan again waved Dooku's image aside.

"Makashi is a far more elegant form. Much importance given to swordsmanship, understanding one's own enemy as well as yourself. An intimate duel that requires skill in the wrist, the hand, elegant movements. Some say it's more akin to a dance. They have not seen some of the best makashi duelists when they are unleashed." He allowed a darker sort of chuckle to loose from his bearded face. Fighting against it, but seeing a memory flash of an encounter with Dooku. One of many. Where the elder fallen Jedi unleashed the sort of intense speed and elegant grace one may expect of a ballerina in the throes of an intense performance. "Those who do not perfect it are often times ridiculed by the higher practitioners." Obi-Wan carried on. Noticing the student from before angling their saber up into the proper makashi salute meant before a duel.

"Ah, I believe there are some among Men who I have seen partake in such a sword style." Elladan offered. "It seemed less a means of combat. More a game if anything."

"Perhaps that is its strength, brother." Elrohir countered. "To you, to us, it would seem a game. A finesse based whirl of a blade using elegance and grace. Yet, despite how one may move they still carry a blade. A wrong move, a fast jab, a true blow, and we are felled all the same." Elrohir nailed it. As far as Obi-Wan was concerned anyways. Makashi was the stance most likely to get into your head.

"An interesting idea." Tauriel lauded and took a step ahead. "Perhaps you could show me some of these 'forms,' Master Kenobi?" Obi-Wan raised a brow and momentarily forgot how to speak.

"M...my Lady?"

"Come, I was tasked with seeing your Order. Meeting with it and understanding it. This seems as good a means to do so." Tauriel offered. Her manner and demeanor strong and assertive. Though she seemed playful. Obi-Wan definitely gauging a fighters spirit within her. Which made sense if Legolas trusted her as much as it seemed implied.

"An excellent idea I think!" Elladan laughed and followed after his silvan kinswoman. "I'd rather like to see how a Jedi would handle an elven warrior as skilled as the Lady Tauriel!" Obi-Wan glanced to Elrohir. Alas, the calmer brother gave him no respite. Merely smirking and giving a rather un-lordly shrug.

"I wouldn't keep them waiting for too long, Master Kenobi. My brother and the Lady may just begin sparring some of your hapless compatriots."

"Well...I suppose that settles it." Obi-Wan gave a truly only halfhearted chuckle as he followed. The other Jedi turning. Confused looks crossing their faces. Some concerned, others seeming agitated. Even the presence of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could not stifle the inherent uncertainty many Jedi held in having one who was not among the Order partake in a duel or spar so blatantly within the Temple.

"Master Kenobi!" Obi-Wan had begun disrobing as a familiar voice hit his ears. He swung to his left to see the pronounced rounded head, and glinting bulbous eyes of a mon calamari stare his way. A smirk on her face as they saw one another, Obi-Wan could not stop the grin that bounded across his features.

"Bant!" He called as his old friend moved down to his level from the upper deck overlooking the sparring zones. Obi-Wan excused himself from his charges with a wave of his hand and raced to her. As she met him both crashed their hands together, before Obi-Wan allowed himself to be Anakin for just a minute. Capturing and hugging his old friend in a tight embrace. For her part Bant chuckled with the warbles common of her species in her still notably feminine voice. Her hands clapping his back in similar joy to his own.

"Force, I haven't seen or heard from you in ages! Last report I got of you was...Force before my year long misadventure!" Obi-Wan pulled back and laughed. Bant's eyes shone happily as she waved him off.

"I've been near Kashyyyk for a few months. My students and I had been keeping track of Separatist movements. That turned quickly into trandoshan movements. War has come to the wookiee homeworld, I'm afraid."

"Yes, I've heard." Obi-Wan only felt stricken of his joy for just a moment as he finally released his clasp on Bant's shoulders. "The Council is on it, Bant. I promise you."

"I have no doubt, Obi-Wan." She smiled and pointed one of her flipper-esque hands to the three elves. "What makes you think you can spar with our guests?"

"Uh...well." Obi-Wan ran his hand over the back of his head. Sheepishly feeling like an awkward initiate detailing one of his schemes to be made a padawan to the far smarter friend he had in Bant. Good old times. However, before Obi-Wan could make an excuse Bant merely grinned, and her eyes were wide in mirth.

"You have no sense of decency, my old friend!" Bant admonished playfully.

"I assure you uh...my Lady, it was my desire to see how you Jedi train for combat." Tauriel cut in. Clearly unsure how to address an alien such as a mon calamari. Bant appraised the tall elven woman and bowed her large head respectfully.

"Please, call me Bant! Any friend or ward of Obi-Wan Kenobi must be good people." Bant assured and pat Obi-Wan aside. Making a gesture to the other surrounding Jedi and their still present uneasy glances and stares. "The Temple is more than capable of paying respect to honored guests! Especially those to whom Obi-Wan Kenobi shows the utmost respect in kind." A subtle if still obvious admonishing of the others. Quickly cast all wary glances away and the padawans, knights and even a few masters back to their own tasks. Others seeming to get a chuckle from the embarrassment of their comrades.

"Well, go on Obi-Wan, miss err...actually I've been rude and not taken your names?"

"Elrohir, and my brother Elladan. Sons of the Lord Elrond of Rivendell." Elrohir answered. Quickly followed by both he and Elladan showing the customary hand-from-chest wave of the elves.

"Tauriel, of the Woodland Realm. Delegate of the realm and my Lord Legolas, and his father the King Thranduil."

"Very rarely do we have royalty wander these halls." Bant noted, but again dipped her head. "Welcome my Lords, and my Lady."

"Pleased to meet you, my...err Bant?" Elladan flubbed and Elrohir shook his head as Bant beamed and chuckled.

"The same in kind my friends! Come now, if Obi-Wan is to show off his skills I'll want to catch a look myself. It's been too long since we've sparred or seen one another spar, my old friend."

"Indeed, Bant." Obi-Wan shook his head and removed his outer robe. His tanned tunic showing as he grabbed his saber hilt and twirled it within his hand. As well, he turned the intensity dial. Turning the mortal beam into little more than a stinging pillar of light.

Tauriel smiled. Her eyes twinkled in a familiar warrior's delight Obi-Wan had seen in many young Jedi. Though he was not so foolish as to think her to be younger than him. With elves nothing was certain based on looks alone.

"Shall my blades be torn to shreds by your sword? I've heard from others among my company of your blazing weapons. Seeing them here as well, makes me wonder, Master Kenobi."

"As my saber is now, it should just cause your blades to spark on impact. If any damage is done, we'll be sure to fix it right up, my Lady." Obi-Wan assured and activated his brilliant blue beam. Steadying himself he closed his eyes for a moment and felt the Force flow through him as a raging river through a crack in a great rapid. Out the other end it went but the rising waters did not stop. He was one with the Force, and the light burned all darkness away. When he opened his eyes he was made calm and smiled as he swung the saber over from left back right and fell into his opening soresu stance.

"This is the form, soresu. The resilience form, the Way of the Mynock. This form is the expression of defense." Obi-Wan began and showed several of the opening movements. Flowing into several open parries from over left down right, swinging around himself, and back into the opening stance. Hand outstretched, two fingers pressed ahead, and the blade over shoulder pointed towards the opponent. "This form is the ultimate in defense. Wearing an enemy down until their strength is wasted, or their frustration peaks and they make mistakes. Mistakes to be exploited."

"An interesting idea." Tauriel gripped at her knives from her back and pulled them free. One in each hand she lowered herself slightly. Eyes planted onto him. Obi-Wan could sense her studying his own stance and position. A very Jedi like mindset. The elves had shown themselves in the little time he had spent with them to be very Jedi-esque. Especially from his time spent around Legolas, Obi-Wan had noticed their manner and skills. Calculating, controlled, and well versed in how to wield a blade. Thousands of years of training and life could turn even the simplest of their fighters into a galaxy renowned duelist by sheer comparison. Obi-Wan knew not to underestimate any enemy, but an elf especially.

"I shall not be so easy on you, Master Kenobi." The elven maiden seemed to come more alive than he had seen her. So, it gave Obi-Wan reason to chuckle.

"Very well, my Lady." Why should he deny her the chance to let loose and test his skill? Perhaps it would in fact be better for a report to Legolas and his father, and more importantly, Aragorn?

"Don't embarrass the Order, Obi-Wan!" Bant prodded and Obi-Wan smirked just as a slight pang echoed through the Force. A glimmer of light shown and his eyes set. Tauriel dashed toward him. Her speed undeniable! She swung right he parried. Their blades met and a dash of sparks flew out before being snuffed of life. Her left swung down, and he parried, sidestepping using her momentum to angle himself left in kind. She swung around and both blades crashed at his left and he caught them, twisting his saber under and over. He slashed right, but avoided her entirely. Gaining ground away from her. She was indeed fast.

Tauriel's hair flew about her shoulders, but she hardly showed any heavier a breath or a bead of sweat. Just as she ran at him and in a flash, as Obi-Wan raised his saber back into defensive posture she let herself fall. Her legs dashed out and kicked at his ankles. In just a second before they connected, he jumped up. The Force leading his movements. The elven maiden used her kicking momentum and jumped back into a pronounced half kneel half prone. One leg outstretched far from her central mass. The other angled into a kneel near her chest. At either side, of her body she held the knives out. They glinted free of blemish in the light of the room's lamps and the streaming daylight itself. They shone across his eyes, but Obi-Wan knew not to let that affect him.

Obi-Wan chuckled. Finding himself having a bit of fun, as Anakin would say. Swinging his saber over himself into a more traditional stance. Both hands on the hilt and the blade at his waist outstretched upwards from his mass. She jumped up with such grace and natural speed and strength as to put most troopers to shame. She slashed one knife down. He blocked and parried, the other pushed at his neck and Obi-Wan angled left elbow out, the blade bent and caught it as well, swinging upwards she was thrown back from him. Tauriel in kind let herself fall back, but on her feet and staring him down. She glided on her feet, much as Galadriel seemed to do just in her natural walk. She spun like a ballerina and the knives swung rapidly, wildly and in differing angles around her form, but Obi-Wan moved back, letting his saber catch those outstretched jabs and feints.

When she came to a stop both knives were reared down to the floor, and she swung both up, and again Obi-Wan parried both. He sliced inwards taking the initiative. She jumped back and barely missed the blue tip of the saber. She came back at him. Leaping from the ground swinging one knife down. He caught it with the saber. A rain of sparks cascaded. While she expertly spun the other knife in her free hand, so the butt of it aimed at his gut as she punched inwards under their clash. Obi-Wan quickly planted a firm kick out into her gut and threw her back off of him. She stumbled and fell to one hand. Her red hair falling across her head and down from over her shoulders. She looked up and that same warriors fire burned in her eyes. As before, he recognized it well. Very much similar to that which showed in Anakin's.

"Excellent showing, Tauriel!" Elladan exclaimed as he clapped lightly but loudly.

"Indeed, and fair match, Master Kenobi!" Elrohir added. Catching Obi-Wan's attention. To finally note the crowd of Jedi watching in rapturous shock. As this being with seeming no use of the Force kept up with him. Of course he had been taking it...a little easy on her, but they were right to assume it a wonder that she was so fast and effective without the Force. The elf maiden turned and noted the others watching. Obi-Wan sensed a slight tinge of embarrassment pass from off of her. However, very strangely, he also sensed her mask it well. It wasn't impossible for those not trained in the Force to do so, of course. Politicians were some of the best at doing it without realizing they were doing so. Rather, it was odd in that Obi-Wan felt a faint tinge of something. He had sensed it before, seen it. All elves cast a powerful presence of light into the Force. From the tales that Legolas and the others told there was something more behind that. Yet, as he felt it again it ebbed with a thrum through the Force.

"Hmm…" Obi-Wan hummed. Not sure what to make of that.

"Obi-Wan, quit standing around and show your friends here what else a Jedi can do!" Bant prodded with a chuckle.

"It's not the Jedi way to show off, Bant."

"Who's showing off? You're tactfully expressing how we among the Order train to better fulfill our duties to the Republic and the Order!" Bant chortled, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

"You always were too smart for me, Bant."

"Don't forget it, my friend." She winked one massive twinkling eye, and Obi-Wan was reminded of easier, younger and more innocent days as he bowed towards Tauriel.

"Very well. Shall I show you some of the other forms, my Lady?"

"I'd like that, Master Kenobi!" She beamed. Obi-Wan obliged, bowing and falling into the makashi stance. Ready to keep having a little fun.

---

"Are we certain it's safe to be speaking here?" Mon asked as she, Bail and Padmé all moved their way out onto the veranda leading from Bail's office.

"I've had my offices swept multiple times. Only by men I trust from my personal guard. I assure you Mon, my Lady, we're safe to speak here."

"To think such questions need be asked." Padmé shook her head as the three sat on individual seats in a triangular pattern. Each showing similar expressions of despair.

"You speak correctly there, my Lady." Bail nodded. "Yet, these are the times we now inhabit. Best we be safe rather than sorry. So the adage goes."

"I understand, Senator. Though, I do wonder why we're speaking without the others?" Padmé questioned and grappled at a previously prepared cup of tea.

"These are sensitive matters, Padmé." Mon interjected for Bail. "It's not that we do not trust the others."

"Indeed. Some are merely busy." Bail added crossing his fingers together as he leaned into his seat.

"Right." Mon nodded. "We'll be discussing these matters with them when the time is right or allows it. The Petition has been signed by over a thousand members of the Senate. Senators and Representatives."

"That many already?" Padmé felt a momentary pang of hope fill her. Surely her old friend, the Chancellor, would have to listen to such a loud voice from so many members of the Congress! Shouldn't he?

"I believe we'll reach around two thousand members before we submit it to the Chancellor. You'll still be with us when we meet with him?"

"Of course." Padmé nodded.

"Good. Though…" Bail sighed. "I must admit I don't have as much faith in this petition's effectiveness. The Chancellor already has so much power centralized within his office. Why should he have to heed the desires of a fraction of the Congress?" Mon nodded somberly, and Padmé felt her hopeful mood unceremoniously stricken. Not that Bail worried without warrant. The years of this war...each one seemed to chip away further and further at any and all semblances of what the Republic had once looked like. Yet, even then it had not been some great bastion of bureaucratic capability. However, ever since Palpatine had come to power...the decline was not something that was maybe possible. More by the day it seemed likely, probable. It seemed as if the thing some idealistic if astray members of the Separatist cause had feared were coming to fruition. A Republic in name alone.

"We must hope it can affect something, Bail." Padmé intoned. Taking in long and heavy a breath. Seeking to ignite some vigor for the long day.

"My apologies, my Lady. I didn't meant to imply we shouldn't try." Bail raised his hands. "I have perhaps become too pessimistic of late. I had hoped the defeat and capture of Count Dooku to have been the rallying cry towards turning some of the members of the Senate back to sanity! Yet, they've only dug in their heels further. Complacent to the point of dangerous laziness. Belief, true or not, that the Chancellor alone knows what's best for the entire Republic. Some, I daresay don't even appear to remember that they're elected civil servants. Rather, some banal form of a new aristocracy!" Bail scornfully laughed. "I realize I say such among three members or previous members of some manner of aristocratic power…"

"No need to apologize, Senator." Padmé offered. It was ironic, but being member to a royal house, line, or dynasty did not mean turning the elected democratic republic of the Galactic Republic into a wider variant of an aristocratic court. These days though...far too often it did seem more and more to be that way.

"That being said," Padmé began again. Planting the teacup down and folding her hands together. She glancined between her two friends as she spoke "I don't think we're meeting about the petition. Are we?"

"No, Senator Amidala, you're right about that." Mon nodded. Though Padmé intuited a bit of a drop in her mood.

"Yes." Bail interjected Padmé's observation. "I've been in contact with our colleague from Corellia."

"Bel Iblis?" Padmé furrowed her brow.

"The very same." Bail assured. That explained Mon's mood. The two of them while friendly...never truly did get along all that well. Corellians as a whole were often times too arrogant, proud. Even if skilled, and astute. Corellia often times liked to think of itself as the heart of the Republic. Which made the invocation of an ancient treaty by the Corellians to remain out of the war all too damning for many within the Senate.

"I, and Senator Zar have spoken with Garm. He understands our position regarding Palpatine, and has added his name to the petition. Though, as you may well guess he won't be attending any meeting with the Supreme Chancellor."

"Of course." Padmé remembered the Corellian delegation being booed and jeered from HoloNet records before the signing of the Military Creation Act. Other senators calling Iblis and friends secessionists, and traitors. Corellia had come very close to joining, but the Separatists were always wary of the Corellian home fleet. Hadn't stopped them from attacking Coruscant and its own Home Fleet, of course.

"I've reiterated my position regarding what may need be done. Should all else fail. We've made mention of it. If not so plainly in our past meetings." Bail probed and Padmé nodded.

"Yes."

"Good." Bail nodded as well. "Bel Iblis is not an easy man to get along with. I understand that." Bail pressed a hand to his chest as he looked to Mon Mothma. The Chandrilan simply sighed. "But, we can't be so easy to turn aside those most able and willing to aid us should worst come to worse. He has promised that he has already begun shuffling assets."

"Force." Padmé shook her head. Her hair turned into a looping braid on either side, with the rest flowing down her back shaking as she did. "Do we truly understand what we're talking about here? How can we say we're not Separatists?"

"Senator, the Separatists want to destroy the Republic, not save it." Mon reiterated her point from their last meeting. As Bail then cut in.

"Yes. Senator Amidala I hold no view that we should set up a dictatorship. Even if it were to save the notion of democracy. Once we've done that, any democracy originally on life support has become brain dead. The Separatists, or 'Confederacy,'" Bail made air quotes with an undulation of contempt in his voice. "They want nothing but the utter collapse of the Republic. Figures such as Dooku and that machine monster of theirs make that all too plain and obvious. Yet, we cannot ignore what's been happening within the Republic."

"Rights, meaning and point stripped slowly away." Mon added. "Chipped at day by day. Executive Orders moving entire economies, dictating ethics and codes. Orders meant for committee and secretary are now instead made directly from the Chancellor's office via emergency purview and 'need.' Democracy hangs by a thread. Throttled and twisted to the point of near un-recognition!" Mon lamented and Padmé could not find a means to disagree. Her mind and heart gnawing at her. Remembering a younger version of herself. Placing a vote before the Senate. No confidence to be found in Valorum. A system breaking apart by the weight of its own bureaucracy. Now there was little left. The system had become a whim. The machine to a signature. Palpatine's signature.

Padmé sighed again and closed her eyes. Arching her head back. "What is it you need of me, senators?"

"Nothing at the moment, my Lady." Bail intoned. Himself showing weariness and wariness at what they spoke of. "Our three worlds, plus the power Garm wields is by no means enough to save the Republic alone. However, should the worst come we cannot rely on the GAR. The clones are even after all these years a known unknown."

"He's right. The clone army is effective, but even they've become entangled with the new machinations of the Chancellor." Mon scoffed.

"The new officer corps." Padmé intoned what they all knew to be happening. Entire officer cohorts being flooded into the military apparatus. The Governors and 'Moffs' becoming active military positions as opposed to segregated governing positions. The writing was well on the wall. You'd need to be blind to not see it. Blind or foolish.

"Myself and Mon are simply gauging what we can potentially pool should we need forces."

"For what?" Padmé felt her brow furrow into a harsh crease. "The clone army is just that. An army! You have the loyalty of the palace guard on Alderaan, and perhaps the local defense group? Mon," Padmé looked to the Chandrilan. Her own eyes averted to the ground. Contemplative, somber. "Chandrila is hardly known as a world of fighters and soldiers. What do you have? Credits? Who will you buy with it? Mercenaries, bounty hunters and fools too oblivious or brash to launch a coup on Coruscant?!"

"Padmé-" Mon began but quickly sighed.

"We're not sure of anything yet, Senator. Please." Bail pleaded. Leaning forward and clasping his hands together. His eyes set on her. Full of thought and concern. It was evident among them all really. As they allowed their defenses down ever so slightly among one another.

"We cannot be certain of what we can do, should we be asked to make such choices. We only wish to know if you have contacts among the Naboo guard who could be of use?"

"'Of use?'"

"Able to help lead. Set up checkpoints. Act as security detail." Bail expounded. Padmé shook her head. Thinking on...well a lot of things. A few names and faces came to mind, and she hated that she had to think of them as 'assets.' Bodies to be used should she call on them, beg of them their support in such a way as being spoken of. Yet…

"A few names come to mind." She offered. "I could feel them out further."

"That's all we ask, Senator." Bail raised his hands again. A show of appreciation and submission.

"We need to be careful, however." Mon interjected again. "You can't raise any concerns on actually needing their support for any radical effort. No moving to Coruscant, no requesting new detail. Anything of the sort. We just need an idea of what we're able to work with."

"Right...I understand." Padmé agreed once more. Knowing full well how dangerous such talk was in and of itself. The endless ruminating of what had become of the Republic from this damnable war flooding her head with thoughts. Dark brooding thoughts. Too much to even think over in sequence. The Senate, the Chancellor, the Grand Army of the Republic, the attack on Coruscant, Grievous. Not to even mention the fear she felt welled and hidden deep at the thought of what this galaxy promised Luke and Leia. Her husband coming to mind mutely. She swore she was aging a year by the day.

"Well," Bail cut into her thoughts once more. Rising to a stand he wiped his finely pressed blue cloak and sighed. "I think we can leave any further talk on this matter for later."

"I think that's for the best." Padmé quickly agreed. Not wanting to speak too much more on the matter, regardless.

"Very well. If you two will allow me the time, I did want to go over a few amendments to the wording of the petition?" Mon and Padmé nodded.

"I'm open to hearing them." Mon forced a smile as did Padmé quickly thereafter. Bail thinly returning it as he moved back inside his office. Likely to grab the adjusted text from a datapad or disc. Silence passing between the two women for a moment. Both idly tapping their fingers along the armrests of their seats. Dusting unseen and likely imaginary flecks of dirt form their dresses. Padmé glanced up and saw Mon's eyes darting left to right. Stricken in what was an undoubted miasma of thought and fear. For her part Padmé swallowed through the dryness of her throat and cleared it. Catching Mon's eyes.

"I'm sorry about being so...forward before, Mon. All this talk is making me irritable." Padmé offered a weak smile. Luckily and happily Mon shared it and waved her off.

"No apologies needed, Padmé. I understand. This is not fun. None of this is. Nothing has been right about the galaxy for the past three going on four years."

"You can say that again."

"I'd rather not." Mon chuckled and Padmé joined her. Both women allowing the intensity of the last few moments fade.

"You and Bail have my support. Just...I want you to know that." Mon stared at her for a moment. Soaking in what Padmé had said. The Chandrilan woman ran one of her hands atop her brow. Nodding, but clearly shaken. How was this any way to live? In constant fear, in the cloak with the dagger! It made Padmé sad. Just sad.

"Thank you, Padmé. Friends are harder and harder to come by. Let alone those committed to the preservation of the Republic."

"We'll get through this, Mon." Padmé assured. It did seem to make her relax. Even if just a little.

"I hope so. For all our sake."

"Now we just need to make it through Bail's speech writing." Padmé scoffed and both her and Mon fell into a bout of chuckling.

"Force protect us both!" Mon added and the two better allowed the dark clouds fade just a little.

A sound caught Padmé's ear. As she allowed herself to laugh she jerked her head right overlooking the vastness of Coruscant and the streams of airspeeders. A squawk and flapping filled her ear. Loud, but the moment after distant. Her brown eyes sifting through and over the skyline until she saw the origin of the sound.

"Oh my, is that a hawk-bat?" Mon wondered aloud. Seeming to have spotted what had caught Padmé's attention as well.

"I think so. Rather high up isn't it?"

"Not unheard of." Mon waved it off. "The battle likely uprooted or destroyed many of their chosen homes in the lower levels. Poor beasts. I think that one had been perched just under that awning." Mon pointed to a turn in the metal case that ran above the veranda alongside the building out of sight. Padmé gave an agreeing shrug. It made sense. She supposed. But, Force had that scared her. All this talk of espionage, and a simple hawk-bat had made her jump.

Of all the things to worry about!

---

"Come, sit you must." Yoda offered. The diminutive Jedi master climbing atop a small rounded plush seat cushioned for comfort. He grumbled and gave clear indication to his age as he did so. His large eyes catching his two guests. The older man, so he looked at least, gave him a curt and thankful nod as he took up a seat to Yoda's left. Planting himself down with a similar grunt to Yoda's. While the other, this Galadriel, sat to the right. Her form very gracious. Very royal and noble, graceful and gliding. Yoda could remember some of Obi-Wan's reporting, and that of Skywalker. The two both matched their descriptions quite well.

"You are most kind, Master Yoda." Gandalf began. Yoda for his part chuckled kindly and folded his hands over his Jedi robes. The daylight to his back warming him.

"Happy I am, to speak with those who gave aid to Master Obi-Wan and Knight Skywalker. My thanks, you have."

"They did quite enough aiding all their own!" Gandalf chortled as he placed his long staff against the wall behind himself. "The Enemy the Free Peoples had long since waned in the shadow of has been defeated. In no small part because of the efforts your fellow Jedi played. They are proven friends of the Free Peoples." Gandalf went on, Yoda subtly probing his senses through the Force. Sensing a radiating and nearly blinding light of unknown power emanating from what Obi-Wan and Anakin had both termed a 'wizard.'

"Happy that they helped you and your cause, I am. Though missed they were."

"We've heard, and seen." Galadriel spoke. Yoda could sense her presence was quite loud, and burning in the Force as well. Guarded but lesser so than Gandalf's. Much power lay hidden, and Yoda felt compelled to put up stronger defenses through the Force. More a compulsion than anything else.

"Yes, terrible conflict. Brought to the capitol by the Separatists. Much death, unnecessary pain." Yoda listed off. His large ears turning downward and sorrowful. "Mourn all who have been lost, many do."

"Not you." Gandalf stated rather than asked. Yoda hummed and nodded.

"Those who become One with the Force are not to be mourned." Yoda waved his little hand in explanation. "Death is a natural part of life. Become one with the Force, transcended the mortal coil - the crude matter we wear, they have."

"Hmm." The white wizard hummed. Seeming to be in partial agreement at least.

"Those who die in their sleep, perhaps." Gandalf began. "Death comes to all mortal races that is sure. I have seen death come in many forms, and even after all these long ages in the count of Men I dare not claim to know what lay beyond the 'mortal coil.'" Gandalf repeated Yoda's phrasing. "Yet, when one is felled in the heat of battle, the pain and sorrow of chaos and war there is little to be said beyond the need for sorrow. Not all tears and not all pains need be seen as evil." Yoda furrowed his brow. Understanding they had already delved into philosophy was not unexpected. These two seemed far older than they showed. Which made Galadriel's appearance all the more striking.

"Rare it is," Yoda hummed. "to speak with another, or two older than even I." Yoda chuckled. Causing this Gandalf to smile while Galadriel thinly joined her far from home compatriot.

"You see with greater sight than many, Master Yoda." The 'elf' woman intoned with her airy voice. So full of power and from a place beyond Yoda's reach. Or, so it felt.

"Hmm hmm!" Yoda chortled. "Live to be nine hundred years old one should, to see with such sight!"

"Nine hundred! Now that is an accomplishment." Gandalf noted though with far less astonishment as others who had heard Yoda's age before.

"Pry, I do not. Though, wish to know your age, I do."

"Oh...it is difficult to put into a number you could comprehend, for myself." Gandalf offered. His eyes turning upward as he sighed. "There was the time before the making of the world, and all such things within it. Including what you and our friends have come to call 'Arda.' Years in such a space, and in such a way does not...exist."

"Hmm, not a human, you are." Yoda declared more to himself. Gandalf merely smiled and bowed his head. The flowing white strands of hair rippling about him as his presence bounded in the Force.

"As you, and your people understand it, no. I am not 'human' or a Man. Not an elf, a dwarf, not any of the unknown many who walk across the surface of this...strange world." Gandalf intoned. His eyes averting to a nearby viewport. Yoda nodded. Having to remember that this being, despite his presence and diplomatic form of speech must be astounded. Yoda could sense this Gandalf reserving himself. Still soaking in his surroundings, perhaps guaging Yoda and the Order? He did not know. Only that he would try to help put this wizard at ease.

"Understand, I do and do not." Yoda finally chuckled. "And you, my Lady?" The Master prodded Galadriel next.

"By the count of Men, well beyond 7,000 years, Master Yoda." To that Yoda could only chortle again.

"Thankful to you two, I am."

"For what?" Gandalf wondered.

"Not easy, it is, to make me feel young again!" To that all three joined in a bout of laughter. Though the Lady's was far more reserved.

"Yes well, if you will allow me then, Master Yoda, I believe we were on the subject of death." Gandalf rounded back to their original topic. To which Yoda had no reason to object. Though it was interesting that the wizard desired to speak on this subject more.

"Hmm, yes, on death we were. Not the Jedi way to mourn for those who transcend into the Force." Yoda explained again. Playing what he believed to be his part in order to win favor with these strangers form afar on behalf of the Republic. Not that he didn't wish to speak with such beings so much older than himself neither.

"And, I had stated that mourning need not be seen as a triviality, nor an evil." Gandalf reminded, and for the first time in a very long time Yoda felt as though he had been openly admonished.

"Hmm, speak you do from experience." He relented. "Old the Jedi Code is. Served us for many long centuries it has. Safeguarded many Jedi against the temptations of the Dark Side."

"Yes, the dark side." Gandalf repeated. "I have heard that term used many times in many ways by both Obi-Wan and Anakin during their time with myself and our Fellowship. Yet, it seems rather...applicable. To anything and everything." Yoda tilted his head to that. Not exactly sure what Gandalf meant by that statement.

"Explained to you, the Force has been?"

"More or less." Gandalf nodded.

"The Force, light it is. Its true nature, balanced, light it shows. Energy that binds all living things together. Life gives it power, gives it energy. Through all things it flows. Unnatural, the dark side is. Corrupting it is. Born in greed and hunger for power. Turns the greedy into tyrants. The fearful into murderers, the angry into the merciless, the suffering into the next victims of its snare."

"So, this Code is meant to protect a Jedi from falling." Galadriel simplified. Yoda sensing that she was mutely observing the conversation.

"Protect a Jedi from falling into the grip of the dark side the Code does. Cause terrible pain a fallen Jedi can. Bring great pain and suffering a Sith does. Be they fallen Jedi or never a Jedi at all."

"These...'Sith' some are made or become Sith without having ever been involved with the Jedi Order then?" Gandalf asked and Yoda nodded.

"Many Sith, come from outside the Order they have."

"If that is so, then what power has your code over them?" To that Yoda opened his mouth, but as he did he realized in a moment of odd insecurity that he did not have an answer.

"Hmm…" Yoda hummed. A small hand grazing his chin in thought. "Understand your point, I do." Yoda admitted, but he did not relent. "If a Sith comes into their own beyond the Order, the duty of the Jedi to resist them it is."

"Ah, I see." Gandalf nodded. "So, what power then does mourning the lost have over the Jedi? How can it turn one to this dark side?"

"Hmm, overly simplified my words have been, perhaps? Rejoicing, not rejection. Those who pass beyond the mortal coil, gone back into the Force they have. Not the Jedi way, it is, to dwell on loss. To dwell on loss, sadness, regret, anger, and pain. Strong these emotions are. Lead to unclear minds, strong emotions, they do. In Jedi, strong emotions can be destabilizing. A great danger to others, and themselves, a Jedi with great power, can be."

"That assumes pain, and sadness will mean harsh reaction." Gandalf coolly countered. "Grief left unattended to can fester, that I grant you, Master Yoda. Even the greatest warriors and most hearty of Men must let their sorrow loose. A brother, a comrade, a dear friend lost in the cruel indignity of careless war is not so peaceful a thing. Nor is rejoicing such a loss so easy when their body lay so hewn; last words spoken between men of the better days to come. Or, worse still, words spoken in anger, and argument before one is lost. Apologies left unspoken, and one to live and feel the burden of guilt laid upon their shoulders forever without reprieve." Gandalf went on, raising his hand in emphasis. "The cruelties of the 'world,' the galaxy should not be endured alone. Endured alone if one must, but no one being; no matter how mighty or weak, can bear the weight of the world. The understanding of loss, the cruelty of it, the peace in it, the paths yet traveled beyond the Veil, be all as it may that does not quiet the pain felt when one is taken from another."

"Ah, but 'taken' one assumes!" Now Yoda countered, pointing small finger towards Gandalf. "Loss, great it can be. Great and terrible! Attachment to that which is lost, to those who are lost leads to jealousy. A shadow of greed, that is. To claim ownership of another. Refusing to allow the natural course of things to play out. Think, some Jedi have, that resist death one must. Unnatural such a path will lead one down."

"Of course." Gandalf conceded. His voice losing no sense of good-natured argument and debate. His reservation felt through the Force slipping ever so slightly as they engaged one another. "That still leaves my point, however. One cannot be asked to not feel. Just as one cannot be asked to not think. True being, truly living means experiencing all the facets and realities of life. Which includes death. Only those barren of empathy, of remorse, of emotion and sanity can refuse such basic functions. All life may experience life and all its wonders and pains in different ways, by differing means and expressions. However, we all must endure what we are given us, with the time we are given." Yoda again found himself humming thoughtfully to this wizard's words. There was indeed some truth in them. His little hand planted itself to his chin. Thoughts buzzing through his head. A very similar conversation coming to his mind. Though with entirely different context when he spoke with young Skywalker just the other day.

"Not the Jedi way, it is." Yoda intoned.

"To feel?" Galadriel wondered aloud. Her face betraying no emotion or thought of the conversation at hand. Though her words did make Yoda wonder. It was odd a thing, to be questioning ones outlook whilst being so old. He was not coy nor foolish enough to deny his age, and his ways as he knew them. These were dangerous times though. Dangerous for Jedi to stray from the tried and true as they were known. Philosophical debate was not welcome where the halls still spoke of Count Dooku and his ignominious fall. The man himself asleep within the temple, locked inside a cage of his own mind. Such thoughts only made Yoda's mind buzz with a thousand further thoughts.

"Your point, well made it is." Yoda conceded. "Meditate on this, I should."

"Forgive me," Gandalf offered. His eyes showing an earnest expression. "I did not mean to begin our friendly meeting with a debate of your ways. Well, it is meant to be friendly, at least." Gandalf chuckled, and Yoda hummed graciously, bowing his head in respect and gratitude. Hoping to have thinned both of their reserved walls some as well.

"No apology needed. Long has it been, since debated another I have. Not a Jedi, you are. Understand the ways of the world, you do. Much wisdom."

"Was that at question before?"

"No." Yoda assured. "Unknown to me, you were. Make such judgments a Jedi should not. Strange, the reports from Master Obi-Wan and Skywalker were. How to prepare for a meeting like this, unsure I was."

"Fair point." Galadriel spoke up. "Your world is so strange. To all of us. Your ways stranger still. Even upon Arda none who met your wayward friends could truly understand who and what they were. Even when so readily described." Galadriel informed as Gandalf nodded in agreement. The Force betraying little of them. Though her stating the strangeness of such things was progress.

"Much to learn, all of us still have."

"For some, much to relearn!" Gandalf offered boisterously and prompted a bout of laughter in kind. Galadriel remained smiling, but her eyes did set on Yoda once again. She straightened herself where she sat so regally and graceful in every move and manner.

"This does prompt me to ask a question of you, Master Yoda."

"Hmm, a question you have? Ask, and answer I will, if I can." Yoda waved his small hand in emphasis. Galadriel glanced to Gandalf who said nothing. Their eyes meeting and an unspoken conversation almost seeming to pass as the Force whirled across both of their forms. Perhaps they had been testing him? Yoda wondered if that was why they were reserved? The world strange, the galaxy unknown to them, and many questions hung on their lips. Had they been testing to see his reaction? Or, were they just unsure of asking? Yoda wondered, obviously. Though he did not know.

"When your Jedi came to Arda I was beset by a vision." The elf queen began. Cutting through Yoda's thoughts. "Rather, a flurry of them. I do not ask for another to interpret a vision I bare witness to. For, even the wisest know not all avenues the future may hold." To that Yoda nodded in ready agreement. "These sights I saw may well have been of times before, in the present or yet to come. I don't know. Only that I shared such visions with your Knight Skywalker. Those which he looked upon seemed of some manner significant to him. Though he did not speak to great degree on what we shared in sight, and it is not my place to speak of such."

"Hmm, understand I do." Though it did add a new layer to Yoda's conversation with the Jedi Knight from before. Strange that Skywalker would not share such information. Or, perhaps he had, but only claimed it was recently he had premonitions of death? Yoda again did not know.

"More disturbing to me, however, was what came after your Jedi departed."

"Your meaning, my Lady?" Yoda wondered. His tiny brow furrowing thoughtfully. Gandalf, however, interjected.

"Your war came to Arda. No fault of yours, nor of Obi-Wan and Skywalker." The wizard began. "We have seen what terrible cost your war can incur on those who are wrapped up in its web. The Lady Galadriel had a vision that seemed of some significance. It is one of the reasons we have come, you see? A shadow has fallen on her mind, and I do not doubt her senses on such matters."

"Hmm, dark visions you say?" A rhetorical response as Yoda pressed his fingers against their opposing counterparts and let the Force flow through his body and mind. Perhaps this was also why both seemed more reserved as well?

"Yes," Galadriel spoke up again. "Concerning matters I do not know the meaning to. The only thing that seemed of importance was one aspect of the vision."

"A lone aspect?" Yoda repeated and Galadriel nodded.

"I have been thinking of it for many long waking hours. The vision is a distortion. Many sights, sounds feelings and scenes that may yet be. However, what stood out was the darkness that shrouded the central figure. A thing of power, darkness, strength only borne of those with the will to dominate. I have seen it before."

"We both have." Gandalf added after the lady. Yoda rested his chin atop his folded together hands. His mind also turning to a familiar quandary beset upon the Jedi. An unknown figure, a Sith Lord hidden in the shadows. He could not deny that these as of yet vague visions gave him reason to wonder if perhaps they were in some way connected?

"The figure was holding something, however." Galadriel went on still. "A sword of flame. It burned hot and was raised before an undulating mass. What appeared an army. The skies were a hue of darkness and the tint of blood. An ill omen if ever I was to see one." She all but sneered as the sights must have come so viscerally back into her head. Yoda almost made the mistake of telling this strange woman to control her feelings. Much as he would any padawan learner. She wasn't of course. Her manner merely reminded him too earnestly of one. Though perhaps not a padawan, but a Jedi Master in many ways.

"Perhaps a similar problem, we face." Yoda offered. The two nodded. Which let Yoda know their minds may have already turned onto such a thought like he had.

"Our friends, Obi-Wan and Anakin, made mention of your war. I've been piecing together some aspects of it over the last few days. Even before then, when they came to Arda and joined the Fellowship. Often Anakin speaks of these so called 'Sith.' You've stated them again here." Gandalf noted. "I understand these Sith Lords are known as Dark Lords as well?"

"They are." Yoda nodded. To which Gandalf seemed reservedly put on alert. As Galadriel perked up and interjected again.

"The sword of flame; the one I bore witness to in my vision, it is noteworthy that many across Arda have come to hear of two warriors that traveled with the Fellowship wielding swords of colored fire. The skies were ignited in flames. Above Pelennor Fields, and Pelargir. Across the Eastemnet, and through the skies of Harad and over Mordor itself before it sunk into the earth." Galadriel intuited, and Yoda could see the connections himself.

"Understand, I do." Yoda darkly noted aloud. "A sword of light, you saw. Believe you do, in some way connected to a lightsaber, it is?"

"That is an initial guess." Gandalf hummed. "Guesses, are all we have at the moment, Master Yoda. While we are here on official request; at least for myself, by the King of the Reunited Kingdom, we are also hoping you could help us?" Yoda noted the wizard. Seeming earnest, concerned, as one would expect, but respectful. Yoda saw not immediate reason to say no. After all, these two seemed wise, and older than he could even fathom. Their powers roamed beyond the reach of the Force, yet burned so brightly within it. Though, such a vision as Galadriel spoke of did give him pause.

"Understand, and welcome this, I do. Help however I can, I shall."

"Then this is good news!" Gandalf smiled, and Yoda could see how young Skywalker took a liking to this man...this being. His reports all but gushed of this figure.

"Perhaps heard of the capture of one among the Sith, you have?"

"Anakin and Obi-Wan made mention of it in passing I believe, Gandalf?" Galadriel asked and the wizard nodded.

"That they did. A 'Count Dooku?'" Yoda nodded to Gandalf's unsure recollection of knowledge shared.

"Much do we know, and much we do not." The green Grand Master seemed to speak in morbid recollection himself. "Though captured, Dooku is, aware we are of another. 'Darth Sidious.'" Gandalf's brow furrowed and he leaned back into the seat he resided upon.

"That name...I think our Jedi companions have spoken it before. Yes...in relation to our fallen Enemy, Sauron. This 'Sidious,' he is the one behind this war the Jedi and Republic wage?"

"They are." Yoda corrected. For none among the Jedi knew if Sidious was man, woman, or even of a two sex species! Let alone real. Some dared to imagine a crafted lie by Dooku to keep the Jedi on their heels. Though the Force's darkening and stagnation could not be denied, and Dooku alone, Yoda believed, was not powerful enough to do something like that.

"Know not, whom they are. Only, spoken of them Dooku has. Captured Dooku is, seen the protests outside, you have?" Both nodded. Yoda chose not to dwell over that little bit of political incitement on behalf of the Supreme Chancellor. "It is true, the Order, captured Dooku we have. Defeated in battle by Skywalker, he was. However, in a coma, he is." Both looked puzzled, and Yoda imagined they had perhaps been used to the word 'coma?'

"Unable to wake him we are." He added just to be sure, and both shared another look. Unspoken words seeming to flow among them both. "Perhaps involved in your vision, the Sith are. Perhaps it is of Sidious themselves! However, know for sure, we cannot." Yoda noted and rose to a gruff stand. Both joined him out of what felt to be politeness and decorum.

"Help you unravel the mystery of your vision, I shall. If I can, my Lady." Yoda called his gimmer stick to him from what it lay against the wall. The Force pulled it to his hand and both watched him in muted fascination. Obviously having seen such acts before.

"That would be greatly appreciated, Master Yoda." Gandalf nodded. His aged sage eyes showing more of that depth of kindness that seemed forever coiled about this being. It did wonders to soothe even Yoda's troubled mind.

"Don't let this distract you, Mithrandir." Galadriel waved her hand across her form. "You have sworn duties to Elessar."

"That I do, my Lady!" Gandalf hummed happily, and grabbed his staff much as Yoda did. "Alas, I must ask for another favor in that regard, Master Yoda."

"Hmm hmm!" Yoda chuckled. "Ask it of me freely, you may."

"The history of your Order, of the...oh what is it called? Galactic Republic? Yes that's it! I would very much like to hear and learn of your histories if I could?" The wizard leaned into his staff and kindly intoned as Yoda gave a nod and hummed happily once more.

"Ah yes, come come! To the library, I take you! More to discuss we may yet have."

"Hopefully we're not taking up too much of your time, Master?" The 'elf' woman wondered aloud. Yoda for his part waved her off and tapped his gimmer stick to the floor which elicited an echoing thud.

"Time? Much time! Old I am, and life yet to live within me. No harm to be done, by aiding in your exploration into history, I believe."

"Then you have my gratitude." Gandalf chuckled and shared another glance with Galadriel. Neither speaking it, but both liking this small creature...being. Perhaps his views were a little misguided, but he and his Order seemed good enough. Perhaps they could help, and be helped in kind?

Perhaps.

---

"Preparations are underway, General."

"Keep me informed then." Grievous flicked his bony metal hand at the side. All but dismissing the droid informing him of their movements. Utapau was darkening. He didn't know the system's cycle, let alone this planet's. Only that the daylight was dimming to a hazy orange hue. Droids moved through the core ship wedged into this rock. For his part the General remained quietly staring out from his 'office.' The yellow of his eyes dared to glare into their own reflection. Mutely noting the hustle and bustle of the droids. Operating machinery, towing machines of war and handling computer consoles strewn about.

Grievous let his mind wander back to the battle. Coruscant should have been burned if nothing else! He had him...he had had him! The damnable Supreme Chancellor by the hem of his cloak at one point, and confined within his ship for the rest of it. Dooku...how could that fool let himself be captured? Even if his mentor and a being who he allowed some measure of trust between, Grievous saw a foolish failure when it was so utterly presentable! The council of witless CEOs, corporate board members and oligarchs who supposedly ran the Confederacy had been livid at the news. Had tried to unleash a torrent of disdain and anger his way. He paid them no mind then and would give them little now. Damn them all, and especially that fool Gunray! Were it to him he would kill that neimoidian at least!

However, it was not up to him. Lord Sidious wanted them moved, and they would be. He would dutifully await further instruction and see whom this new apprentice to Sidious was. Grievous did not understand the Sith. In many ways just the inverse of the Jedi, but more honest to what they were. What they sought and how they sought it. Such musings reminded him of his youth on Kalee. Thinking the Jedi and Republic were honorable warriors like himself. Then the war with the Huk came. The bugs killed his people and both the Jedi and Republic did nothing. A flash of hatred bound through him! Seething as the pain ripped across his body, and a bomb exploded. Dooku and San Hill of the Banking Clan showed him the reports that it had been by the Republic his shuttle had been destroyed. He had rejected the Separatists and the Republic still bombed him! Bombed him to save themselves, but couldn't pull a lone trigger to protect his world.

"Bah!" He growled to himself. Waving that same bony metal hand at his own reflection. "Worthless memories!" Grievous intoned. Reprimanding the machine beast he saw looking back at him. As opposed to the kaleesh that had once been. It made the darkened slits of his eyes narrow to but a crack. A crease of darkness cut down the center of each yellowed eye. The metal shook, but not from rage, for that always festered inside.

Instead the General flung his body left and loosed a rasping bout of coughing. Hacking, once, twice, three times, and repeat! His hands slammed to the metal casing surrounding his chest. A feeble attempt to dissuade those hidden remnants of himself from more painful sub-psychological wheezing! Grievous slammed his shaking right fist to the nearby metal support to the viewport he had stared from before. A dent formed, but none of the nearby metal bodies reacted. Droids didn't jump so easily. Just machines. Useful in their own ways. Grievous though refused to let even them see his state. His metal frame was shaking. The fluid in his organ sack jostled, and he wished for more adequate repair and surgery to be done. Utapau, however, was not the world for such things. He would need to wait. Bide time, move the Separatist Council. A feat already underway, as the droid from before had noted. Soon all pieces would be in place and the Council sent to a magma hell in the depths of the galaxy. Then he could, and he would repair what that damnable Jedi did to him. Perhaps his cough would never be gone entirely. This had occurred long ago, in that fateful bombing. However, as he rose to a stand once again and looked to his reflection Grievous knew this current state he lived in was untenable.

"Damn it all." His gravely voice wheezed. A long few days these had been, and if he could Grievous would like to remember what sleep was. Because, he felt like he needed it. When had he last slept? His head twisted thoughtfully as a prolonged single wheeze traveling up phantom bronchial tube howled from his masked remnant of a face. Grievous couldn't remember. All he knew was what he would do, and do as ordered. Simple. Effective.

Had he slept since the bombing though? He still couldn't remember…

"General, sir." Grievous turned. All such thoughts in an instant vanished. One of the more tolerable magnaguards stood waiting him. Electrostaff in hand planted to the metal below.

"What?"

"A transmission for you. On your personal comm system, General." The baritone voice informed, and wordlessly Grievous gave a curt single nod. Waving his guard stay put. Grievous passed them by, and the other droids attending their duties for him. His cloak swaying along down his back. A side door opened, and he returned to the terminal he had spoken to Sidious on. It beeped along the console as he neared and the door behind him shut with a hiss. All droids from earlier had evacuated the room, and he saw no need to bring any with him.

"Hmm?" The General paused, and intoned. His head swiveled as he saw a transmission code he did not recognize strobing along the console. Was it a military unit somewhere? No, they'd go through an official channel. The droids would route it easily enough. Who had his personal transmission code? He changed them regularly enough...though he could not recall when last this was done now that he thought of it...

Growling, Grievous narrowed his gaze and pressed the accepting keys. Wondering if the person on the other end was either a fool, or a dead fool?

"General Grievous." A voice came through after a moment. Grievous did not immediately reply though. The holotable activated and the hum of a projected picture sounded as usual. But, the table didn't show anything. A warbling distortion shook at the center of the table where a body would stand, and the voice didn't betray any accent or sex that he knew of. It was layered in what was obviously a modulator of some kind.

"Who is this?!" He demanded pointing a finger towards the unseen gyrating mass of mobile pixels. Whoever lay on the other end he hoped would see his display and understand he was not to be trifled with.

"Who I am doesn't matter, General." Came the terse retort. "What matters is that you listen to me."

"I don't listen to any being foolish enough to test my patience over a holocall!" Grievous growled and hovered lone finger to the dismissal button.

"That may be. I, however, think you'll want to hear me out. Even if you don't like what it is I have to say, or how I say it." Grievous gave momentary pause. In all earnesty he was curious. Mutely so perhaps, but he couldn't deny it so easily. Who had this code, after all? It gnawed at his easily irritable mind. All as another gag loosed and he reeled back and forced the rest of the coughs from loosening.

"Ho...how did you get this code?!" He demanded through a long whirring wheeze that strained his machinery.

"It was shared with me by a mutual friend of ours."

"Then your transmission is secure, fool?" Grievous intoned in a warning.

"I wouldn't take myself for a fool were I you, General. Why can't you see me now?" That made sense. Grievous merely grumbled in reply.

"Then what is it you want? If he gave you this code, why has he not contacted me himself?"

"You should know he is busy. Many schemes to plot, many things to do. I assume you've already been given your orders?" Grievous eyes darted right. The ever present gnawing suspicion rose inside his mind.

"I have my orders." Was all he relented. The shuffling image presented by the holotable seemed to flutter just a little.

"Good. Tell me, have things been to your satisfaction since returning from that world you were stuck on?" Now that was an odd question.

"What's the point of this?!" He demanded again.

"There's a point to everything I say, General. Now, have things been satis-"

"Enough!" Grievous growled. Both an order to cease this line of questioning, and an answer in and of itself. "I am in prime capacity to do as ordered!" He growled recalling the words of that Master Windu after he caved in his chest on the Republic's capitol.

"Fair enough, General." The voice intoned. "Dooku's capture will set the entire Separatist movement back. Dissent is likely to foster from within the Council. Keep your eyes on them. Especially Gunray."

"I know this already! You're not telling me anything I don't already know. Sidious should have had you report sooner!"

"Report? I'm not reporting anything, General." The voice coolly countered. "I am in fact warning you."

"'Warning me…'" Grievous repeated. "Warning me of what? What do you know?"

"Much." Again a cool response. It frustrated Grievous. His mind flaring with a great many questions and concerns. Who was this?! How did they know so much...Sidious must be involved somehow. As they said.

"I will have more to report to you in the coming hours and days, General. The war footing is fluid. Though, you know that." That seemed to be a mockery of himself. His own tone from before, his flippant disregard of what the voice said. Now it was just testing his patience, and Grievous felt himself writhe inwardly!

"Do not test me!" Grievous warned once more.

"That is precisely what we're doing, General. Testing if you'll make the right decision or not."

"What does that mean?! Who are you?!" Grievous rasped which forced three gravel laced coughs from himself. It also hit him. ''We're?'

"Your lungs are in no position to get so worked up, General." His body shook in a rage not yet unleashed. "Now, if we can skip this meaningless back and forth?" Grievous dared not say anything. Forcing phantom tubes to resist a phantom cough, or perhaps a real one? He couldn't tell anymore.

"Good. Now, continue to do as Lord Sidious has ordered. However, it is strange how easily Dooku was pushed aside, was it not?" Grievous cocked his head quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing not already imagined even by yourself, General." The voice declared, and Grievous narrowed his gaze again. He now understood.

"Sidious didn't send you."

"No, he didn't." Was the cool reply. Grievous felt a boiling rage rise and coiled his hands into shaking fists.

"You miserable k-"

"Now is not the time for that, General." They cut him off. "Before you inevitably hang up on me I want you to know that I have your best interests in my mind. For there are great minds at work, and the war situation is developing not necessarily to either the Republic or Confederacy's advantage. There are strings everywhere, and puppets being played with them. You are currently bound by a set of them, and so too are the Council. Both of the factions don't realize it yet, but they're woefully unaware of how easily toppled they both can be."

"Your feeble attempts at psychological warfare won't have an effect on me, fool!" Grievous growled again pointing accusatory finger to a blaring shapeless blue mass.

"The one advantage you may have, General is that you now know." The voice continued on as if Grievous hadn't spoken. "The Separatist Council doesn't know. They are puppets, Dooku was and still may end up being a puppet. You, however, you now know what you are. And such strings are so easily cut if the puppet but look up and swipe them aside."

"Enough of this!" Grievous pounded fist to table denting it slightly and sending a wayward spark from the console. "I'm not going to listen to anymore of this! Your games won't work on me, Republic scum!"

"Think on it, General. I'll be in touch." It happened so fast he hadn't a moment to even process it! Grievous reeled back and glanced left to right as though expecting an assassin. When none came he realized whoever that was had ended their transmission. Not himself.

Another rumbling sound racked his body and before long, so too did another retching bout of coughing that nearly toppled him. Eyes narrowed, and hands clamped to the console to steady himself.

"Who do they think I am?! So easily played?! Republic scum, Jedi scum!" Again he leveled his fist into the metal rim of the holotable and it dented with a thudding crack. It was not Grievous' place to ask such questions! Dooku lost and was beaten by the Jedi. By Kenobi and Skywalker, the perpetual thorns in his side. Dooku was cast aside because Sidious was not one to foment nor tolerate failure. The Council were pawns, because their credits were needed to pay for this war, as were their foundries and droid armies.

What would Sidious do with them after the war?

His head turned up. He had never asked that question before...what would he do after the war? The armies would need a leader, of course! The Republic would die, and so too would the Jedi. That was all that mattered. All that ever mattered. Since Ronderu died, since his shuttle exploded. Since the Republic bombed him.

He was no puppet!

...

...

...

---

"Mistress Una," Arsuna lounged on a cushioned seat overlooking Coruscant's financial sectors of wealth. Her purple hair let down. Youthful face showing no discernible emotion and herself garbed simply in silken cloth worn around her home. She tilted her head right as her hulking droid stomped onto the open veranda. Jaythree's metallic footfalls sounded whirs she had since heard coming her way from inside her lofty and quiet penthouse. Again, Arsuna found herself rolling her eyes at the childish nickname. She was after all, no child.

"What is it Jaythree?"

"Your personal accountant, Dovan Heel is on your personal comm channel. Line four."

"Ah," Arsuna perked up to that. Throwing her legs over the side of her lounge chair she grabbed one of her comlinks. Activated and set it to her personal home codes. "Thanks Jaythree. You're dismissed."

"Of course, mistress." The FLTCH droid bowed its head and moved back inside. Arsuna shut the sliding glass behind him and moved out further onto the veranda. Itself lined in bustling plants and décor befitting an ancient pantoran painting of a villa. The open cool air contrasted by heat vents built expertly into the flooring and walls keeping the many potted plants and twisting vines pelted in flowers alive.

Arsuna snapped the comm to life and the sitting chagrian visage of the aformentioned Devon Heel appeared in tiny form within her hand.

"Ah, there you are, miss Sipillona. Hopefully I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Nothing at all." She was honest. The day was bright enough. All she had to do today was tend to her mood. Strung out happily lazy across her veranda. Though duty now called.

"Excellent, excellent. Now, I've done as you requested, my dear. I, however, just wanted to make a final call to make sure everything is still on. Don't want any pesky second or third thoughts propping up after I've liquidated some assets." Devon smiled. An older chagrian and not one who didn't know his way in the vast and undulating world of finances. He was the personal manager of many accounts in the upper classes of Coruscant. Which meant he also knew how to keep his mouth shut, and pockets heavily lined.

"Nothing to report on my end."

"Good, good." Devon repeated, rubbing his one hand's knuckles with the other. A tell Arsuna had come to know meant he had something to ask.

"Something to say, Devon?"

"Oh no...well, maybe something to ask." He smirked. "Listen I've helped your father for a long while, girl. You are good for your debts, your assets don't cause me the kind of ulcers I'm getting from these so called 'Moffs' calling me every waking hour of the day-"

"Moffs?" Arsuna furrowed her brow quizzically. To which Heel waved her off.

"Bah! Some new functionary position imposed on Republic territories by your boss. You know, goes by 'Supreme Chancellor?'"

"Ah, that boss."

"Don't you keep up with his decrees?"

"No," She honestly replied with a shrug of her bear blue shoulder. "Can't say I do. The Chancellor does his business when not being abducted by a three-quarters machine beast, and I do mine."

"Fair enough." Devon laughed. "Nonetheless, my point; to wrap us back around, is that I don't particularly like liquidating small sums only to flush them back through Hutt space."

"This channel is secure, right?"

"Oh precious!" Devon sputtered in mock insult. "What am I? A wet behind the ear toydarian on Axxila?!" Arsuna shook her head with a thin smile.

"No."

"Good, and don't forget it! Now, as I was saying – pray tell where is this money headed?"

"Awfully curious, aren't you, Heel?" Arsuna leaned herself onto the veranda's stone inspired rail arching her back and letting the cool breeze of the high elevation sweep over her.

"Why yes, yes I am. It's not everyday I get to play with precious metals. And, I expect someone of your wealth not to play with a few million. I thought your father raised you better than that! Millions instead of tens-of-millions? For shame"

"It's not being hid, Devon." She informed. Choosing not to speak of her father. Thoughts flashing back to her brother.

"Really?"

"Yes...is that so hard to believe?" Her eyes narrowed and her youthful features twisted noticeably.

"Well, no. Alright sort of."

"Why?"

"SipTrade is on the downward trend, my dear. Everyone sees it." Devon waved his hands out before pressing them back together. "I figured you'd found a new loophole and were liquidating some assets into hard currency for a post SipTrade galaxy."

"SipTrade isn't going anywhere!" She growled, but caught herself. Ever careful to show her dainty little princess persona as she desired it to be seen.

"Is that right?"

"Yes, and I needed a few million for what I like to call...necessary funds for investment."

"Where?! The back end of the Corporate Sector? The Unknown Regions?! Please at least be in Wild Space!" He laughed, but Arsuna didn't meet his mirth and instead sighed through her nose.

"There's a world and you won't find it listed anywhere official, and no I won't share the hyperspace coordinates." Arsuna warned and let her eyes glare. Though Devon showed no sign it affected him.

"And?" He prompted.

"And...if I get the world to sign a simple compact with the Republic, form a charter and open itself and thus its coordinates to us I'm looking to revitalize my father's business. Trade not seen since before the Trade Federation and Corporate Alliance lost their kriffing minds and started a galactic war!"

"Fair game then." He tilted his head in a shrug. His lekku sweeping over his shoulders as he did.

"Why gold and silver?"

"The world is a technological dump. They haven't even created slug-throwers let alone blasters. No space travel, and hardly what I'd call cultured. Yet, they've got a pesky King. I don't remember all the details nor do I care." She waved him off. She did remember everything but felt it better to only tell him what she felt necessary. "He needs to be brought to a reasonable negotiating position, and as such SipTrade is investing in a bit of political action."

"Just not officially, not with company funds, and not with any traceable goods? I like it!" He smirked. Arsuna again reminded of his cavalier and disgustingly diplomatic manner.

"I dind't take you for one to get into the regime change business, Arsuna." Devon intoned and leaned back. "You sure you know what you're doing? If they find out in that pretty little desk job you got in the Survey Corps they'll-"

"I know what I'm doing, Devon. I'm not a child."

"No...but you're also not the CEO of SipTrade."

"Meaning?" Arsuna frowned.

"Meaning you do an awful lot of what you're not doing."

"Doesn't mean I can't handle this."

"Of course." Devon raised his hands in relent. "I'll have the metals placed in the care of your man at Out-Rim Station. From there to the Survey Corps supply depot, and outta my hands."

"My thanks for your efficacy and silence."

"My lips are sealed, my dear." Devon promised, and she was sure he meant it. Even if not he had little to work with, and the GAR wasn't known for too many undesired Intel slips.

"Mind if I at least know the planet's name?" Devon prompted. His tone a feigned beg. "If and when it comes into the market you know I'll need to know so I can get some contracts lined up." He all but grinned. Arsuna rolled her eyes. She shrugged as her hair whipped about her face.

"Arda, I believe. Keep an eye out for it."

"You're the best, Arsuna. Give me a call if you ever need me again."

"Of course." She bowed her head and both cut their call. Arsuna sighing and arching her back out further and planting her forehead into the railing. Letting the cold faux-stone covering the durasteel underneath cool her head.

"HRAACK!"

"Hmm?" She whipped her head back up and heard the call of a hawk-bat. The flapping wings of one of them zoomed up from underneath her veranda's jutting crescent. It flew downward likely back to whatever deep dark pipe it called home in the dregs of Coruscant's lower cities.

For her part Arsuna went inside for a drink and some more home comforts.

---

The lone creature descended down into the depths it was familiar with. Though not too deep as its will was oppressed and called to another. Floor upon floor it fell, and when it reached the depths demanded of it the daylight still prominently streamed but was shrouded in many pathways for the tall creatures to walk across between the scraping metal mountains. The beast flew over jaded, apathetic and mindlessly moving undulating masses crowding walkways. Voices loud still, arguing, speaking and calling to one another. Others pushing, shoving, their heat notable.

However, the creature dove right into a stinking alleyway. Itself mostly kept clean by droids, but a darkened recess all the same. The stink of vents wafted through it before the air-scrubbers could fully tend to the odor. Next to a garbage compactor stood a lone figure. Their body slim, and encased in a dark cloak. So dark that it seemed almost abyssal compared to the shadows of the great spires it stood wedged between. The hooded head turned and the hawk-bat squawked and circled within the small passageway before the figure held their left arm out. The hawk-bat flapped its wings once, twice and clasped its talons onto the flesh arm covered in cloth.

"What have you seen?" She asked it. Their eyes met. Hers distant, vacant of life. A will imposed by a thousand restless years of mental torture that spanned but a few days. Serra Keto's eyes flashed a yellowed color with white percolating around the iris. Unnatural as it seemed she showed no pain. She was free now. The beauty of her freedom came at the cost of her will. Though she was not one to know such.

The Force howled silently around her and the beast. A sickened wretch that still clung to life; that was what became of the Force through Serra, but again she didn't notice. Or, at the most didn't care. Within her mind came the ever present flash of a burning white light, and the ever present gaze laid within it. Then her mind was her own again and she saw, and heard what the beast had. Her eyes widening with a recollection of a name not known to her.

"Return to the messenger. This must get back to the Master." Serra hissed lowly as a breath of cold emptiness. Yet, her hand pet the top of the beasts head over its fleshy tendril, and her eyes bore a disturbed mirth and joy.

"He will be pleased. Now go!" She threw her arm back out and the hawk-bat called before flying to find the one of the brood who had awoken them all. The scarred herald of their new Lord with will stretched afar.

"I await your call, Lord. Have mercy on me, Lord. No more pain...no more pain." Serra cooed to none but herself. Returning to the statuesque stance she had taken up before. Head down turned and seeming crazed. None would dare approach her.

A flash of the great burning mass centered with the darkened heart blasted across her mind, and seemed as though she could see Him with her waking eyes. She smiled and grabbed each arm with the opposing hand. Feeling at peace. Awaiting His call, and His will to be done.

---

L's Note: Alright, since it's been ages I'm posting this chapter only after my first real editing job of it all the way through. There are bound to be grammar issues and such. I will go back in the next day or two and edit it again, so if you like reading and taking breaks just note some things may be a wee bit different in terms of sentence structure and so forth. If needed. You got anyone you see you really think I should fix right away? Lemme know what and where!

Also, L here, and Lord Exar Kun are still very clearly alive. The story is not dead, but ya'll need to chill the f**k out. I understand being excited for another chapter, but this is one of the reasons Lord Kun doesn't manage this account. Impatience and a lack of understanding. I'm not mad nor is he with anyone, don't take it that way, but seriously chill out.

As well, before ANYONE complains this is not ALL the time the delegation will have with the Jedi. Just saying that now before anyone gets mad at the lack of more conversation between them and the Jedi. It's coming, cool your jets!

Peace,

-L

PS: I've updated this chapter. I've seen multiple people complain about Gandalf. I don't have the time to get into your complaints here. Only that the chapter needed another editing to get across why he was reserved this chapter. He doesn't know Yoda. Doesn't know really where he is. He's still getting used to this world and these people. Hopefully my rewrite/edit will make that more obvious. As well, I am NOT getting into the timescaling debate. You guys who think you know so much of how time worked in Tolkien's work and are shoving that into Star Wars can either wait to see what happens, or frankly get mad things aren't going the way YOU want them to go and find another story to read. Sorry, not sorry. Lord Kun dealt with people trying to dictate his story to him, but I won't.

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 3/7/2021