While Lok had performed his meditation, standing up, Eeth had started preparing lunch, deep in thought. What concerned him was not so much the boy's ploy to get his way, which he had reckoned with on some level, but rather his strange idea that Eeth was going to "kick him out". Eeth had not sensed any desire in Lok for this to happen; in fact, the boy seemed afraid of it – and yet he had practically pushed Eeth to abandon him. This was ridiculous, of course. Eeth was by now fairly sure that the Force meant for Lok to become his padawan, and even if that was not the case, Eeth would certainly not abandon his charge until he had found a new master. Obviously, the boy wasn't so sure of that, though. And Eeth was puzzled as to why that would be the case. He would have to think about this more and observe Lok's behaviour carefully.
While he was tending to Lok's rather thoroughly-punished bottom, he said: "I will finish preparing lunch in a moment. While I do so, you will call all the teachers whose lessons you missed today, apologise for your absence and ask for any assignments they might have given."
Lok sighed. "But that's just plain embarrassing!" he complained, turning his head to look at Eeth. Eeth returned that look with a glare.
"Alright, alright," Lok conceded. "I'll do it."
"I thought so," Eeth commented drily, thinking that the boy would have had to be rather dumb to start an argument about this after the punishment he had just received. Lok might be a lot of things, but he was certainly not dumb.
While Lok unenthusiastically, but dutifully made his calls, Eeth put small bread loaves into the oven and added fresh herbs to the Corellian spring stew that was simmering on the oven. He grated some kwetza cheese to go with it and put it onto the table; then the stew followed, and finally, the freshly baked bread. By this time, Lok had finished his calls, quickly washed his hands and come to the table.
"This looks and smells great," he said appreciatively. "Thank you. How come you're such a good cook, Master Eeth?"
He lowered himself onto the chair gingerly; Eeth had taken away the worst of the pain, but there was doubtlessly some lingering sting left.
Eeth sat down opposite him.
"I have had a lot of practice," he replied, "and I have to admit I quite enjoy cooking, too. Besides, it is a useful skill to possess, so I have made a point of acquiring it."
He took a bread loaf and indicated for Lok to serve himself.
"My master wasn't much of a cook," Lok remarked wistfully as he ladled stew into his bowl. "You're so similar to him in some aspects, but cooking - nope. He didn't like it and he wasn't any good at it."
Eeth had to smile a little, despite himself.
"No, he wouldn't have been," he said. "I remember that."
*******************
That was one point on which Jerad and he had differed. Eeth had thought it important to pick up all practical skills he could possible acquire, whether it be sewing or cooking. It would make him more independent during missions, he reasoned. With cooking in particular, though, it was more than that. Ever since he had been brought to the Temple from Nar Shaddaa, Eeth had been fascinated with the availability of a huge variety of clean, wholesome food. The act of preparing a meal almost had a sacred quality to him; he enjoyed experimenting with ways to get the best taste out of ingredients while preserving their nutrients to the highest degree possible. And although he never stuffed himself unduly, he definitely did enjoy a good meal.
Jerad, on the other hand, took the availability of good food for granted. He could go without it, if necessary, during a mission, but when he was at the Temple, he simply went to the dining hall and ate what was on offer there. He had been surprised when he had heard that Eeth often prepared meals for his master and himself.
"That must take up a lot of time," he commented. "Wouldn't you want to spend that time on your training instead?"
"But this is part of my training," Eeth argued. "Or do you spend your missions eating out? Have you never had to cook a meal?"
Jerad shrugged. "Well, yes, but I try to limit myself to opening pouches, to be honest," he said. "And if we really have to live off the woods, I know how to hunt and how to make a fire. That's enough to get us fed."
They simply had never reached an agreement on this point. Eeth found it rather strange to hear that Jerad's position had not changed after forty years.
*******************
Lok looked at Eeth quizzically.
"Were you friends with my master, then?" he asked.
Eeth had known that this question would come up at some point, although he had hoped to be able to avoid it for a while longer. It was not so much that he was embarrassed or ashamed of his history with Jerad; he just had his doubts whether a thirteen-year-old padawan needed to be burdened with the information that his recently-deceased master and his current guardian had felt sexually attracted to each other. Eeth tried to imagine how he at the age of thirteen would have handled such an information; he would probably have found it disconcerting, if not repulsive. Not wanting to lie to Lok either, he settled for a slightly evasive answer:
"I was, when we were young," he replied. "I was sixteen; your master was three years older than me. I admired him quite a lot. He was very self-assured and responsible. A good fighter, and very intelligent, too. And much better at getting along with others than I was. It took me a long time to work up the courage to talk to him, but when I did, we developed… a liking for each other and spent a lot of time together."
"What happened?" Lok inquired. "I mean, you said you were friends with him when you were young. What stopped your friendship?"
Eeth was tempted to tell him stop being so nosy, but that would hardly be fair.
"We did not exactly stop being friends," he answered slowly, weighing every word. "We simply… lost touch with each other. Both of us were on missions quite a lot. And I, in particular, was not very good at maintaining friendships."
That last bit was a tad more deceptive than Eeth normally felt comfortable with. While technically true, it had nothing to do whatsoever with the reasons for which he had avoided contact with Jerad for forty years. It seemed to satisfy Lok, though, because the boy asked no further questions.
It took Lok about two hours to complete the assignments his teachers had given him. It might have taken longer since he was entirely unenthusiastic about the task; but Eeth watched him like a hawk and did not allow his attention to waver for long. He could see that Lok needed to be pushed in order to make an effort and focus on his work.
"The longer it takes you, the more it will detract from your free time," he told the boy.
"Well, it's not as if I care much about having free time," Lok replied a tad sullenly. "And no, I still don't want to meet any of my friends or go the padawan lounge, so you needn't ask."
"Be that as it may," Eeth replied firmly, "I intend to take you to the pools this afternoon when you are finished, so you will kindly look at your data pad instead of out the window."
Lok sighed, but complied. If Eeth was like this now, he could just about imagine how much leeway he would be given when the end-of-term exams were approaching…
Eeth had made a habit of taking Lok to the pools at least twice a week. The boy was a fairly good swimmer and seemed to enjoy himself even when Eeth raced him through the pools. More importantly, Lok was currently going through a growth spurt, and Eeth knew from his own experience as a teenager that one could lose a lot of muscle power during such periods if one was not careful. Swimming was good for building up muscles, and probably less boring for his charge than the weights room.
Eeth had little problems with Lok during their workouts; like his previous apprentices, Lok seemed to enjoy physical exercise, generally complied with his instructions and hardly ever complained, even if Eeth drove him hard. This was probably as much a result of Jerad's training as it was in Lok's nature; in any case, it suited Eeth well.
He was a little more generous with praise now than he had been in former years. He had learned that most teenagers needed some encouragement. Besides - and this was something that Eeth was loathe to admit to himself - he kept wondering how Jerad would have behaved towards Lok and how it compared to his own teaching style. He was not sure, but he suspected that Jerad, who had been quite friendly and outgoing, handed out praise much more readily and naturally than he did. So Eeth, while not exactly lowering his standards, made a point of telling Lok whenever he did something right.
After their return from the pools, Eeth had Lok help with some chores around their quarters until dinnertime. Again, the boy helped with such things quite willingly and rarely complained. His stubborn streak notwithstanding, Lok had many traits that Eeth found desirable in a Jedi padawan. Such considerations aside, Eeth was genuinely starting to like the boy.
Their joint meditations were all the more unsatisfactory in that light. Lok kept lowering his shields for the smallest possible degree, allowing for no more than a very basic link that permitted Eeth to guide him through a meditation, but made it impossible for their Force presences to connect in any meaningful way. Eeth had not said or done anything about this so far because he knew that a boy who had just lost his master would need time to build up a relationship to a new one. But this state could not continue indefinitely. He resolved to talk to Ngka about it at some point.
After dinner, Lok helped clear the table and wash the dishes, then flopped down on the couch and switched on the holo. Eeth opened his mouth to reprimand him, but reconsidered. Normally, he had never allowed his apprentices to watch the holo or play games without asking for permission. On the other hand, this was the first time Lok did anything other in his spare time than withdrawing to his room and lying on his bed. It might be a good sign, and Eeth was not sure whether it was wise to discourage it. Besides, Lok had completed all his assignments and chores today satisfactorily. Eeth decided to leave him be, for now, and address the matter at a later point if necessary.
That night, when Lok had gone to bed, Eeth sat and thought about the boy's reluctance to socialise. By all accounts, before his master's death, Lok had been well-liked by his peers and had had a number of friends. Quite a few of them had called repeatedly and left messages, so they must care about Lok. Eeth did not want to force his charge to go to the padawan lounge or visit friends - at least not yet. Maybe things would improve once Lok started his classes for real. In addition, Eeth decided to register both of them for an open master-padawan sparring class tomorrow. These classes were typically attended by three to five master-padawan teams and gave padawans the opportunity to work with other masters while their masters could gain a perspective on other padawans' level of skill, compared to their own. Eeth was interested to see what Lok would make of the situation.
First of all, however, Lok had to go to school, and he went. With little enthusiasm, but he did go. And Eeth knew that he attended all of his classes because he had called all of Lok's teachers last night and asked them to call him immediately if Lok did not show up in time to any of them, or if there was any cause for concern. Knowing that he would receive a message if anything needed his attention, he went to the gym alone for the first time since he had taken on Lok and had a very long and very thorough workout.
He returned home and prepared a noodle soup and bread rolls for lunch. Waiting for Lok to come home felt strange, like a return to the normalcy of having a padawan learner, instead of having a disturbed and grieving child to look after twenty-four hours a day.
Lok seemed to have the same feeling of strangeness when he returned home; he appeared a little awkward.
"Hello, m-" he said without thinking, then broke off, turned away and hastily pulled off his boots.
"Good afternoon, Lok," Eeth said calmly, giving the impression of not having noticed the slip. "Wash your hands; lunch is ready."
He did not ask how school was. Lok seemed no worse for the wear, but being asked to admit that school had not, after all, been the terrifying ordeal he had made out it would be might be a bit too much for his adolescent pride, Eeth thought.
Instead, he said as he ladled out soup: "I have booked us in for the open master-padawan sparring class at four."
Lok scowled.
"So you're my master, all of a sudden?" he asked acerbically.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Eeth brusquely. "You are a padawan, and I am a master. Any objections to that assessment?"
"Very witty," said Lok disparagingly. "What's the point of making me go? So I can spar against masters who are not my own? I get that every day already."
Eeth put down his spoon.
"And I," he said in a dangerously low voice, "have not suddenly started to tolerate disrespect Do you want to eat your lunch in peace, or do you want to eat it on a sore bottom?"
Lok glared at him, but apparently came to the conclusion that it might be better to desist.
"Sorry," he ground out and started eating his soup. Eeth normally expected better apologies than that, but he had no particular desire to push Lok into a temper tantrum, which was undoubtedly brewing, so he contented himself with giving Lok a look that clearly told him he was walking on thin ice, then continued to eat. Eeth could tell that the boy was still frustrated, however.
They finished their lunch in silence due to the fact that Lok was still sulking. When they were done, the boy took his plate into the kitchen, banged it onto the counter, made his way to the couch, plopped down and switched on the holo. This was altogether worse behaviour than Eeth was prepared to tolerate. Resolving to never put off talks about the rules again, he crossed over to the couch in quick strides, switched off the holo with a wave of his hand, pulled Lok up by the ear and snapped: "I do not care whether you are in a good or a bad mood, you will help me clear the table and wash the dishes. Is that understood?"
Lok writhed in his grip.
"Let me go," he demanded, a hand clamping around Eeth's wrist in a futile attempt to make him release his ear.
In response, Eeth merely tightened his grip.
"Furthermore," he said sternly, "you will not use the holo without having asked for permission, and certainly not before your chores and homework are done. And lastly and most importantly, you will not try to order me around."
"Let go of my ear!" yelled Lok angrily, pulling at Eeth's wrist futilely.
Eeth looked at him through narrowed eyes. Then he complied; but only to grab Lok by the shoulders, bend him over the arm of the couch and pull down his pants. One moment later, his paddle crashed down onto the boy's underwear-clad bottom.
Twelve very hard swats later, Lok was crying steadily.
Having ample practice at ignoring such things, at least momentarily, Eeth pulled him up and said firmly: "I don't know what has gotten into you, but it stops here and now. Understood?"
Lok nodded mutely, wiping his sleeve across his eyes.
"Good," said Eeth calmly, sticking the paddle back into his belt. "The dishes will be your job now and after dinner, then. When you are done, do your homework. Or don't you have any?"
Lok shook his head.
"I do," he said in a subdued voice.
Eeth nodded and put a hand onto Lok's shoulder. The boy looked for a moment as if he wanted to lean into Eeth's chest, but on second thought, he decided against it and went into the kitchen.
As was usual these days, Eeth wondered whether he had done the right thing.