Dear Qui-Gon,
Since I am still alive to write these words, you can assume that all went well at the Tusken camp. Although perhaps "well" is not the best phrase - "better than it could have been" is a more apt description.
Marei was an asset. The girl was nervous, which was to be expected - as was I! I had informed her of the intricacies of the dispute as well as I knew them, and she provided insight into Tusken culture - body language, a rise in voice pitch to indicate aggression, their fear of krayt dragons and the special bond between a ranger and their bantha.
Although the Tuskens were suspicious when we arrived at their camp, Marei was able to convey her willingness to act as a translator and this seemed to satisfy them. I'm sure they wondered how she knew their language but if she told them I will never know, their grunts and gruff words as intelligible to me as ever.
We sat before the Shaman once again, and through the Force I could sense his agitation as he greeted us.
Marei turned to me. "He asks what you could have to say they have not already heard."
I had never been sure of the Shaman's comprehension of Basic, but it seems that they have understood my words far more than I have theirs. When I spoke, Marei translated for me anyway and I was glad for that, as perhaps she would be able to phrase things in Tusken that could not be conveyed in Basic. I told him of my wish for peace, that I was not a farmer nor a demon, and that I had only drawn my lightsaber to protect Luke.
The Shaman made a low-pitched sound, the large black goggles over his eyes and swathes of fabric over his face concealing all. He spoke to Marei, a short question it seemed.
"He asks where your tribe is, if you have no allegiance here."
A pain that would never cease. "They're dead," I told him. "There were thousands in my tribe, spread across the stars. But they are all gone now, hunted down by the Empire."
The Shaman cocked his head, and then beat a fist against his chest twice. The other gathered Tuskens followed suit, and I could hear a mourning wail from the women gathered near the huts. It was sympathy from a people to whom their tribe was everything, and to be isolated from them worse than death. Even though they must have guessed that one of my people had once slaughtered theirs by the blade I carried, they still felt for me.
"Thank you," I said, looking around at all of them in acknowledgement.
The Shaman spoke again, and I looked to Marei for a translation, trying not to see her pity, to feel her empathy wash over me like a warm summer tide.
"He asks why you care for the boy, if he is not your tribe."
"I suppose...Luke is." I looked down at my hands, the skin red and cracked from the constant heat and dry air. "I am not his father, nor his guardian. But in a way he is the only one of my tribe left."
Not technically, of course. There is still Yoda, and I am sure there are other scattered Jedi out there in the galaxy, hiding like I am. But in my heart, and in every way that counts, Luke is it. One day he will be The Last, even if everything works out for the best.
Negotiations went better after that, and I believe they stopped seeing me as an enemy. However, they certainly did not see me as a friend.
"Farmers are all the same," Marei said, translating the Shaman's response when I assured him I could broker a peace. "They steal and hoard water rather than revere it, and their offences grow with each passing year, encroaching on the ancient lands."
"Please ask him which areas in particular," I said, unrolling the map I had brought with me. "Perhaps we can work out a boundary."
The Shaman shook his head and waved one hand in clear dismissal, his words clipped and short.
"There can be no treaty with those who lack honour," Marei translated. "Those who...steal from the sky gods. They are never content, they always want more than they need, and they will never learn."
"The farmers are not all the same," I said to the Shaman. "You saw it yourself in the boy who came unaccompanied and alone into your camp. He was worried for the sake of his family and community, and that concern was stronger than his fear. He believed that there could be peace between his people and yours, and risked his life to try and achieve it."
The camp fell quiet, and the Shaman sat still while Marei relayed my message. He stared at me for a few moments, or so I assume since I could not actually see his eyes, and whether he was angry or I had broken though was impossible to know. Then he began to speak, low utterances, and Marei took a moment before translating.
"You said the boy was your tribe, so it is not the same," she told me. "He is not one of them."
I grimaced. "He is both," I suggested. "And either he will grow still believing that there can be peace, or that despite his efforts the Tuskens cannot be reasoned with, as his Uncle believes. Young Luke will grow into a community leader, not truly a farmer, but not an offworlder either. Someone who respects your people, unless circumstances convince him otherwise."
Marei began to speak, gesturing to me with her hands and then the Tusken tribe. But her words continued long after the time it would have taken to translate my message, so clearly she had gone off script. But I wasn't about to interject – the Shaman seemed to be listening intently.
When she finished the Shaman conversed quietly with his people, and I looked to Marei for an explanation. She shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes still fixed on the Shaman, and I followed her example.
When he turned back to us, the Shaman jabbed at the map I had provided, indicating the ridge where the farmers were starting to build new fields of vaporators. This meaning was plain enough – I had to convince them to stop, and keep to their existing lands. That was why they had started raiding again, but my earlier offer to enforce firm boundaries had been rebuffed. Whatever Marei had said to them must have been more convincing.
Marei stood, and I did the same – our audience was over. She said a few words, one I recognised as the equivalent of thanks, and I repeated it to the Shaman, nodding my head in acknowledgement.
He nodded once in return, then pointed to the exit of the camp. I was under no illusions that the peace could be kept indefinitely, what Marei and I had achieved was a stopgap measure only, to pacify both sides until the next dispute arose. But for now Luke was safe, and that was my primary concern.
"I must go," Marei said as we left the camp, looking to the north where a trek across the wastes would lead her back to Jabba's Palace. For anyone else, the journey would be perilous but not even the Sand People dared risk Jabba's wrath by accosting one of his slaves.
"What did you say to them?" I asked.
Marei smiled, and touched my arm lightly. "Your words worked – they sensed strength in Luke, that was why they did not kill him when he walked into their camp. I simply told them that you were not to be underestimated, that you had defied Jabba the Hutt himself with no fear, and brokered a favourable deal with him – after that convincing the farmers to heed would be easy. I also said that you were a great warrior, and they were right to fear your blade if they did not agree to terms."
"I see," I told her, not entirely happy to win through fear.
"The Tuskens respect strength," Marei said, frowning slightly. "It was the only way you were going to reach an accord with them."
"I do not mean to sound ungrateful." I realised my error and took her hand, patting it lightly. "Thank you, Marei, truly. You have saved many lives today, and I could not have done this without you."
"There is little a slave can be proud of in her life." Marei smiled sadly. "Because even if she has the good fortune to serve an honourable master, no deed is through her own free will."
"But this was," I murmured, understanding. "It was your choice, and therefore your achievement. The first of many in your life, my dear. You will not be a slave forever."
She looked up at me, her eyes bright, that sad smile unchanged as if she still didn't believe me. Marei said no more, she simply withdrew her hand and walked away.
I must now put every effort into keeping that promise. I can tarry no longer, Marei's freedom requires singular focus and I am sure the answer is there, I just need to find it.
I swear, Qui-Gon, that by the time I return from the mission to Kiffu, I will have a plan.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
