Narimoyak: Odd Assembly
by ardavenport
Obi-Wan inspected himself in the mirror. He evened the hanging ends of his crisp, cream-colored tabards and the matching obi, wrapped around his waist, and straightened the brown belt over them. Then he turned and looked at the back of his tunic in the wide, full-length mirror in his room. The tunic and pants were the same spotless off-white as his obi and tabards. His boots were cleaned, the lightsaber on his belt polished. He ran his hand over his clean, short, thick brown hair. His Padawan's braid barely touched his shoulder, if he tilted his head to one side a little bit.
He stood at attention in the mirror. Then he sagged. He knew that he was just delaying leaving by fussing over his appearance. So, he turned and left the mirror in his sparsely furnished room and left, taking his robe with him. He shrugged the robe on as the door slid shut behind him.
Obi-Wan turned left and walked down the hallway, its stone-composite floors and walls simply decorated, the overhead lighting muted to be enough to comfortably see by but not bright. He passed other doors, just like his own. They were plain, blue-tinted metal with minimal, curling decoration at the edges that matched the pattern on the floor, each door in its own recessed entryway.
He turned left again at an intersection. A thick, green plant grew in a huge pot in the center of the room under a skylight. It was an artificial skylight since the living areas were deep within the thick walls of the Jedi Temple, but it was a very good one that displayed the same weather outside over the city.
He descended two flights of stairs. Two other Jedi passed him on their way up. Both were Ishi Tib with large, amphibian eyes on either side of their green heads and smiling beaks for mouths. One was a neighbor down the hall from Obi-Wan, Master Uoofeeu. The smaller one was his new Padawan, Aauuod. They exchanged smiles and nods as they passed each other. Obi-Wan exited the stairway and walked through another arched doorway into another intersection, similar to the one near his own room. The plant was different and flowering; the skylight had a slightly different shape to it. He turned right and walked a long way down another hallway where the colors were more green than upstairs, the subtle pattern on the floor more angular. He finally stopped at one door. The name on the wall panel in the entryway read 'Qui-Gon Jinn'.
Obi-Wan stood at his Master's door, his hand paused over the entry request. He didn't need the lighted 'occupied' indicator to know that Qui-Gon was inside. He could sense his Master's steady presence, as familiar as the hallway he now tarried in. He gave into the inevitable and touched the square on the panel. It lit up yellow and then the door immediately slid open. Obi-Wan stepped inside, the door closed behind him.
Six individuals stared back at him and he froze, not expecting there to be so many. He had thought that there might be only two or three other Jedi Masters besides his own and Master Narimoyak. Qui-Gon raised his hand and introduced Obi-Wan to the others.
Master Narimoyak, Obi-Wan already knew. He and Qui-Gon had rescued her from a crash on Yom Ber that had killed her young Padawan, Deena Sh'Shemi. Since then Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had not been sent on any other missions. They had been at the Temple for several days and Obi-Wan hadn't seen Master Narimoyak since they had returned. He hadn't expected that he would, but Qui-Gon had told him over their morning meal in the dining hall that Master Narimoyak had invited him to a semi-regular convocation that she shared with a group of Jedi Masters. Apparently, whoever was in the group and at the Temple would gather for an evening of discussion every ten days. Qui-Gon had accepted her invitation and offered his own room for them to meet in.
Obi-Wan had not wanted to go. As he had sat silently over his bowl of boiled grain and fruit, he had been able to tell that Qui-Gon knew that he did not want to go. Obi-Wan had offered to go anyway, feeling that if he did not go he would be abandoning Qui-Gon somehow.
Now, standing in a room of Jedi Masters, most of whom he did not know, he didn't feel so brave. He especially felt Master Narimoyak's serene, pale brown eyes on him. Obi-Wan regretted being nervous. He knew she could sense it in him. He did not wish to cause her more pain by wanting to avoid her, but seeing her again reminded him again of her terrible and very recent loss.
He now faced the Jedi Masters, all sitting on floor cushions around Qui-Gon's table. Obi-Wan nodded to each Master as Qui-Gon introduced them.
Master Annapaz sat next to Narimoyak. He was a Talz and he beeped at Obi-Wan in greeting and then sipped a drink from a plastic cup (there was a small stack of them on the table). He wore only sand colored tabards, obi and belt over his white furred shoulders; his four, dark gray eyes held no expression that Obi-Wan could read.
Master Lmod Bing Zu sat at the opposite end of the table from Qui-Gon. He was Abyssin with one large, slitted eye that looked Obi-Wan over carefully as he silently munched crunchy noodles from a disposable bowl before him. His tough, hairless skin was heavily wrinkled with age. Next to him sat another Abyssin, Master Bokku Od, even more wrinkled with skin like ash who had apparently been Lmod's former Master many, many years ago. They both wore the same color of reddish brown tunics. Bokku also silently appraised Obi-Wan with no comment as he plucked a noodle from the bowl.
Master Minee sat opposite Annapaz. She turned her head and greeted him. Obi-Wan knew her. She had instructed many Jedi younglings in Force studies. It had been years since Obi-Wan had been one of her pupils as a much younger initiate, but it still felt odd for him to be with her in such a purely social setting. She was Human, elderly with sharp features and long, iron-gray hair, tightly bound into one braid that hung down her back, the end of it laying on the ground behind her where she sat. Obi-Wan remembered that it went down past her knees when she was standing.
Master Narimoyak spared him from having to say anything by commenting to Qui-Gon, "Deena would sometimes be caught when this odd assembly ended up in my room. She always preferred to sit and observe her elders."
"She was a very good listener," Master Minee said quietly, with feeling. She picked up a square, brown cookie from a plate on her left. "Very mindful. I deeply regretted hearing of her loss," she said to Narimoyok, who bowed her ivory horned head in return.
Qui-Gon gestured toward his flat sleep couch on the opposite wall of the room and Obi-Wan gratefully retreated. He sat down, crossing his legs. Normally, he would have sat on a floor cushion, but they were all taken. There was a pile of Jedi robes next to him on the couch. Obi-Wan put his behind him, to keep it from being confused with the others.
Qui-Gon's living space was a single, windowless room, the same dimensions and furnishings as Obi-Wan's own room and for the thousands of other Jedi housed in the Temple. There was a private fresher and mirror to Obi-Wan's right, an alcove and wall panels for storage but very little else; a loose floor rug, the sleep couch, a table next to it and the low dining table and floor cushions. Unlike his own room, the wall opposite the sleep couch was curtained with heavy, deep red fabric, making the whole room darker, more contemplative. The overhead lighting was set to only illuminate the table area and the wide holo-picture on the wall to Obi-Wan's left was set to a moonless night scene of a beach with city lights in the distance. Obi-Wan sat in the darker half of the room where he hoped he would be ignored.
He watched and listened. Annapaz beeped an appreciation of Deena Sh'Shemi and Master Lmod agreed. Then he picked up the bottle of pink fizzie next to him and poured it into a cup.
Obi-Wan took note of the food and drink on the table, the pink fizzie, the large bowl of crunchy noodles, cookies as well as dried fruit, frosted with crystalline specks and what looked like borta-dipped nuts. The snacks surprised him; he couldn't imagine why Qui-Gon, who always ate sparingly, would have so much in his room. None of it was available inside the Jedi Temple itself. Obi-Wan recognized the labels on the fizzie bottle and the box of nuts. They were common brands easily obtainable from the markets in the city neighborhoods around the Temple.
Bokku prompted his former student about the Force metaphor that he'd been speaking about. Apparently that was the topic of the discussion that Obi-Wan had interrupted. Master Minee immediately declared her position that all metaphors were unnecessary and even harmful. That got his own Master into the discourse. Strong with the Living Force, Qui-Gon spoke of the it as a living thing, in the moment, guiding as if with a will. This was a minority view in Jedi Order and most of the other Masters looked unreceptive to it, though the two Abyssins nodded in agreement.
Obi-Wan had heard this lecture from Qui-Gon many times already and his attention wandered back to the table arrangements. He wondered where all the floor cushions had come from. He knew Qui-Gon didn't have any more than two or three extra. His questions about that and the food were almost immediately answered by the quiet sound of the door tone. Qui-Gon's hand immediately went up as he used the Force to answer it. The door slid open and another Jedi Master entered. He carried a large jug in one hand and his own floor cushion in the other.
The new arrival, Master Davemo Nooli, welcomed everyone, holding up the jug, putting it on the table between Minee and Booku and throwing down his floor cushion under it. He was human with very short arms and legs and a thick, nearly white beard that spread down over his chest. He bowed his balding head to Qui-Gon as his host and then to Narimoyak to express his condolences. She smiled warmly back and thanked him.
Davemo took his robe off and after scanning the room spied the pile on the couch and moved toward it.
"You and your Master were the ones who helped Narimoyak after the accident?" He pointed a thumb toward Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan solemnly replied. He didn't know what else to say. He had seen Davemo in the Temple, but he had never known his name before. Apparently Davemo did not know what else to say either. The Force rippled with sympathy around him as he patted Obi-Wan's arm before going back to the table.
Davemo then took Master Minee's side in the discussion arguing that the use of any living metaphor when referring to the Force invited abuse; people would attribute a personality to it and start claiming to know what it wanted. Master Qui-Gon looked quite affronted by the extrapolation. Narimoyak thought that the Davemo's example was too extreme, but she accepted his point. Annapaz was complaining to both Abyssins about careless anthropomorphic metaphors when two more Masters arrived.
Master Porum Kyas was a very thin Humanoid with reddish, hairless skin except for a gray topknot at the crown of his head. Master Tekta was a Gran with three raised eyes and dusty brown skin the same color as her tunic. She moved slowly with age, but her loud grating voice caught everyone's attention when soon spoke.
They came with a carton of sweet curls, a box of hard, tart-candy, a bucket of gooey mini-dumplings and a box of hand-wipes. Obi-Wan introduced himself to them as he took their robes and added them to the heap next to him. They acknowledged him politely before joining the discussion at the table. They also bowed to Qui-Gon and offered their condolences to Narimoyak.
Porum offered only lukewarm support for Force metaphors while Tekta told the white-furred Talz that if one wasn't allowed to depict the Force with living metaphors then one might as well also ban anyone from attributing motivations to diseases or avarice to molds. Annapaz beeped back that anyone was free to use whatever terminology that they liked, but he didn't have to respect it.
Safely out of the debate, Obi-Wan could now certainly see where the food was coming from. Qui-Gon had told him that one person in the group would bring something to eat and one something for all to drink. They seemed to have mis-communicated this part of the gathering. The door tone sounded again and another Jedi Master entered.
Master Yazal, an older Zabrak like Narimoyak, arrived with a box of deep-fried fil-pas and a bag of cookies. After making his offering of food and condolences and taking his place at the table, Yazal politely agreed with Minee's point that attributing the Force with any type of 'personality' was dangerous and asserted that the Force should be discussed and contemplated in only the most minimalist fashion. Tekta loudly disagreed, ticking off several historical examples of where minimalism had lead to gross misinterpretations and a few small wars while Yazal silently practiced his minimal style and helped himself to a fil-pas and a blue drink from Davemo's jug.
Qui-Gon took a cookie and a gooey dumpling from a plate being passed around as he answered the next door tone. A woman with very short silver hair and a very faded brown robe entered. Master Temmog bowed to Qui-Gon and Narimoyak; she brought a plasti-skin of spiced tea and a can of brightly colored mella-sticks to eat. Master Porum immediately helped himself to some green ones. Temmog made a space for herself between Minee and Davemo. Her long, extra-jointed fingers plucked a drippy dumpling from the bucket; she declared neutrality toward Force metaphors, as long as they were based on only non-sentient life-forms. Tekta testily challenged her to define 'sentient'.
The door tone sounded again.
When Master Yumzumu and Master Elest Emordi came with pickled yag-fungus and a bag of air cooked ibidz kernels, Qui-Gon looked a bit concerned about the size of the crowd in his room and the large collection of snacks on his table, but Obi-Wan's Master looked resigned when Master Fedhr Tem came through the door moments later with a tube of yellow emod pate and a big bottle of sloggo-juice. A couple of bags of snacks were placed on the floor to make room.
Obi-Wan accepted their robes and put them on the pile. Master Yumzumu, a Sullustan with huge, black eyes, a tiny mouth and sagging, wobbly jowls, bowed to him and laid her hand in his; she had a wonderfully peaceful manner and a squelchy voice. Master Elest was a short stout Human woman with a huge head of gray frizzy hair and a brisk manner; she barely acknowledged him as she tossed her robe on the top of the pile. Master Fedhr was a Bothan with faded orange fur and long ears; she looked back to Qui-Gon and Narimoyak and then at Obi-Wan. Some insight through the Force told Obi-Wan that she was thinking of the Zabrak woman's now deceased Padawan. Obi-Wan remained still and solemn as Fedhr politely bowed to him before going to the table.
Like every other Jedi Master that Obi-Wan had seen arrive, the newcomers specifically invited Master Narimoyak to partake of their offerings. For each one, she would smile and take a bite or a drink and thank them for being kind and thinking of her before passing it on to Qui-Gon. Sometimes they mentioned Deena Sh'Shemi, sometimes they didn't; though Obi-Wan sensed the young Zabrak girl in everyone's thoughts.
Obi-Wan had seen the death rituals of many cultures. One common feature to most of them was the bringing of food. Even the ceremonies that required fasting always seemed to end with huge excesses of food. He was just surprised to see Jedi doing the same thing.
The discussion continued, or raged as it seemed to Obi-Wan, with a new side argument about sentience. Amidst it all, everyone munched, slurped, sipped or chewed. Obi-Wan was getting hungry, but he dared not approach or speak, fearing that he would be required to state an opinion about something he did not care about.
At the end of the table Obi-Wan could see, between Masters Fedhr and Davemo, that there was one, last deep-fried fil-pas in the box. It was a large one with a flaky golden-brown outer coating and darker brown sprinkles.
Master Tetkta's grating voice declared that if metaphors were dangerous, then just speaking about the Force was hazardous as well. Elest, Davemo and Annapaz replied, speaking over each other, each unwilling to yield to the others.
Obi-Wan gathered the Force to him. No one at the table seemed to notice. With his eye on the fil-pas he held his hands out in front of him. At that end of the table, Lmod whispered something to Bokku. Qui-Gon said something to Annapaz and Yazal tilted his head back to empty his cup. Obi-Wan felt the Force, extending from his hands to the table.
The fil-pas leapt up out of the box and sailed in a perfect arc to land in Obi-Wan's hands. He didn't even have to reach for it. Grinning, Obi-Wan raised it to his mouth...
The room was suddenly silent.
Frozen in place, Obi-Wan stared back at the fourteen Jedi Masters who had all turned to stare at him.
Master Elest Emordi, who had crammed her floor cushion in between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak, looked at Obi-Wan with irate disapproval. "Well, Padawan, you have some–"
A pale cookie shot up from the table and hit her squarely on the nose.
For a moment Elest was too stunned to speak, her mouth open in shock. Then she looked about the table accusingly.
"Who did that?!" The other Masters cringed back, innocently looking at their neighbors, but Obi-Wan was sure that he had seen Qui-Gon's hand move just before the cookie had launched.
"Who did that?!" Elest demanded again, her large, frizzy hair waving from side to side as she probed each of the others with her glare.
The bag of ibidz kernels on the table exploded.
Obi-Wan dove for cover.
He landed on his stomach on Qui-Gon's rug just as the rest of the food started to fly. The Masters fell back as they were pelted with snacks and as they hurled their own missiles. Flavored liquids splattered as cups and boxes became projectiles as well. Exclamations, yells, grunts and growls followed; Yumzumu squealed while Tekta's loud voice cursed inarticulately. The howls of outrage could have been Narimoyak, Yazal or Fedhr, or all three.
The fil-pas had squished in Obi-Wan's hand when he had gone down and he stared down at the purloined prize that seemed to have started the fight. He hurriedly stuffed it in his mouth. It was filled with sweet-moolu-nut, just as he had speculated, his favorite. He ate it faster than he would have liked, but he didn't have much choice as bits of crunchy noodles and cookies bounced off his head. A whole, mella-stick came straight at his face; he caught it and with only a moment's pause, ate that, too.
"STOP THIS!!" It was Qui-Gon. His presence in the Force filled the room every bit as much as his voice had. Silence, almost as loud as the ruckus preceding it, followed.
Obi-Wan lifted his head. Everyone stood back away from the table and the colossal mess they had just made. The Jedi glanced at each other, embarrassed and shocked. No one dared look at their host, except for Narimoyak. She sadly looked at Qui-Gon, then closed her eyes and bowed her head. Obi-Wan felt sadness down in his throat when he saw that, a cruel embarrassment that she hardly deserved.
Master Minee moved first. She reached down to the box of hand wipes on the floor, took one and started to ineffectively swipe at the splotches that hardly showed on her floor-length brown tunic. She passed the box to Masters Temmog and Fedhr whose lighter colored tunics showed more damage.
Unnoticed, Obi-Wan slowly rose and backed away to stand by the fresher door and Qui-Gon's wall mirror. Cookies and snacks crunched underfoot as everyone silently took away the floor cushions. Some of them picked up the largest bits of debris, plates and cups, stacking them in an untidy pile on the table. Others took the hand wipes and futilely tried to lessen the various splatters and stains on themselves. Yumzumu wiped a few gobs sticking to the maroon curtain behind her, but the sticky residue remained.
No one spoke. His tunic damp with pink fizzie, Qui-Gon folded his arms before him and glared around at his guests as they moved about. A few large crumbs clung to his beard and his off-white tunic and tabards were splotched brown in places.
"I believe that the discussion is ended," Qui-Gon finally announced. The repentant glances, mutters and lowered eyes seemed to satisfy him.
They finished cleaning up what they could and Annapaz and Yazal went to the sleep couch for their robes. The others slowly followed.
Obi-Wan had a moment of panic when Bokku Od picked up his robe and started to put it on. But the Abyssan large eye widened as he immediately realized his mistake and put it aside. His former Padawan, Master Lmod Bing Zu, handed him the correct one and helped him into it. There was quite a bit of confusion over whose robe was whose from the pile of over a dozen but they more or less worked it out and then filed out of the room.
"We should have offered him something to eat," Davemo grumbled to Tetka, his hand waving toward Obi-Wan. The loud-voiced Gran mutely nodded agreement.
They each bowed apologetically to Qui-Gon, some offering to call the custodial droids for him. Qui-Gon waved them off, clearly wishing for no more penance from them than their absence, though his expression was less severe toward them than it had been.
Narimoyak remained last, holding a dark brown robe over her arm. She bowed to Obi-Wan, still in his shadowed corner, still hoping not to be noticed. He inclined his head to her. She walked toward him and dread filled him. Putting her arms around his shoulders, she hugged him.
"You do your Master credit. He is very proud of you," she spoke softly in his ear. He clumsily lifted his arms, but she released him and stepped back before he could even attempt to offer a return embrace. She stood back, her hands on his shoulders.
Then her expression inexplicably changed to a bright, cheerful smile. Confused, Obi-Wan stared back at this sudden happiness; he felt it, real and bright in the Force.
Narimoyak released him, turning away and going to Qui-Gon. He stood rigid, looking down on her.
"This did not go well," she stated, her back to Obi-Wan.
"No. It did not," Qui-Gon agreed, his expression severe.
"I assume you will not be available for any of our future...discussions."
"You assume correctly, Master Narimoyak."
Obi-Wan could not see her expression, but she bowed her head. Then she reached up to Qui-Gon; her slender hands caressed his beard. Over the crown of her whitish horns, his eyes closed, his brows lowered with worry, then sadness. Obi-Wan sensed it.
Narimoyak lowered her hands and backed away. She took the robe from her arm.
"Uh." She stopped, looking a bit disappointed. "This is Minee's robe," she said, holding it out in front of her. She put it on anyway, covering up the few dark stains on her long, brown tunic. She bowed one last time, her arms folded before her, and left. Obi-Wan self-consciously brushed at his own tunic, but she had not gotten any of it on him when she'd hugged him.
Qui-Gon did not relax until the door had closed behind her. He went to com on the wall and summoned a Temple custodial droid. Obi-Wan finally stepped away from his corner; he sadly looked down at the heaps of trash on the table and on the floor around it. His Master turned to him.
Qui-Gon froze, staring at Obi-Wan. Suddenly alarmed, Obi-Wan stared back, then hastily looked down at himself. What was wrong? He thought he had managed to avoid getting hit or smeared with anything; his tunic and tabards were still smooth and unblemished. He looked back up again. His Master's expression changed.
Grinning, Qui-Gon started to laugh.
Completely nonplused, Obi-Wan watched his Master succumb to inexplicable humor, his low, rumbling laughter shaking his whole body. Again, Obi-Wan looked down at himself; there were no crumbs, no spots, no globs of food sticking to him anywhere. And why would his Master think anything like that so funny anyway? He hastily ran a hand over his head, fearing that something had landed there and stuck, but he felt nothing. His short hair was perfectly clean with not even anything clinging to the braid hanging behind his ear or the very short tail of hair tied at the back of his head.
Subsiding into hearty chuckles, Qui-Gon stumbled toward the table and bent over it. After pushing aside some of the wreckage, unavoidably dragging his sleeve through a wet, blue puddle, he retrieved a hand wipe from the depleted box. He straightened and took it to Obi-Wan who stared up at his Master with some concern.
Qui-Gon dabbed at Obi-Wan's cheek, by his mouth. The hand wipe came away smudged brown from the creamy filling of the fil-pas. Obi-Wan flinched back, shocked, but Qui-Gon, obviously enjoying himself, took his chin and continued to clean his face. Obi-Wan guiltily submitted while his Master fastidiously removed every speck and sticky trace of residue. Qui-Gon had at least stopped laughing though his eyes remained alive with mirth.
By the time he was finished the door tone sounded and Qui-Gon lifted his hand, answering it. A barrel-chested, custodial droid rolled in. It was V4-88, the same droid that also tended Obi-Wan's room and all the others in their section of the living area of the Temple. It's dull-silver-metal head swivelled around on it's neck-post as it scanned the messy clutter on the table, the spots and debris on the floor, and the stains on the wall curtain. It's orange eye sensors seemed to grow larger with surprise before they finally turned to Qui-Gon.
"I shall call for some assistance," it's male-tone voice informed them with an undertone higher-pitched than usual. Qui-Gon bowed to the machine.
"We shall vacate the room to allow your to work." He went to the alcove to retrieve his own robe, hanging on a hook. Like the other Masters, Qui-Gon fastened it at the neck to conceal his stained clothes underneath. V4-88 began clearing the table with it's spindly arms, putting the trash into a waste bin in its body, as they left the room.
They walked together down the quiet, green and pale tan hallway, but Obi-Wan let his Master lead. Passing the doors of other Jedis' rooms, Obi-Wan supposed that anything could be going on behind them; the sound-proofing in the living areas was extremely good. But he wondered if any passerby wold have sensed through a quirk in the Force the furious food-fight that had taken place behind Qui-Gon's door, even if it couldn't be heard.
They reached an intersection with a lush, trailing plant that spilled out of its pot, it's leafy tendrils hanging down nearly to the base of the pedestal it sat on. The overhead, holo-skylight here was always set to rain; the plant apparently liked that. Doorways at the intersection led to a stairway, other hallways, a utility alcove for the droids and three meditation rooms.
Qui-Gon palmed the door of an unoccupied mediation chamber. The door slid open with a mechanical swish and closed behind them. White, winter-like light shone behind the vertical slats on the gray walls around four cushioned pedestals. They took two of them, sitting cross-legged next to each other. Qui-Gon said nothing as he closed his eyes and visibly relaxed.
The air in this mediation room was cool and crisp, like the lighting. His robe hanging loosely off his shoulders, Obi-Wan's own body heat kept away the chill; he didn't even need to draw on the Force for that simple, physical discipline. He breathed deeply, long calming breaths, but he did not meditate. He turned his head and watched his Master.
Qui-Gon sat up straight, his head up, his lips slightly parted, his long, brown hair falling off the shoulders of his darker brown robe. The Force seemed to gather around him on it's own, with no effort from Qui-Gon, as it always did when he meditated. Obi-Wan felt embarrassed, but had no idea how to sort through it. He felt no guilt at all for anything thrown by Narimoyak's friends. He would freely admit to selfishly using the Force to get himself his own snack; he only felt a little guilty about that. But he hadn't and he never would have participated in such a humiliating brawl.
His eyes still on his Master, Obi-Wan suppressed some of his ire about the fight when he recalled his certainty that Qui-Gon had thrown the first cookie. He wondered if that was the source of Qui-Gon's current tranquility; if he was as guilty as the others, did that lessen the guilt? The shame reminded him of Narimoyak; Qui-Gon had offered her a kindness and her guests had disgraced her. He still felt badly for her. He knew he should let go of that feeling; he'd seen that she had in her last words to him, and whatever she'd said to Qui-Gon before leaving.
Still gazing at his Master's face, Obi-Wan wondered what that last exchange had been between the two older Jedi. He breathed in, letting that thought go. It had been private. If Qui-Gon wished to share it, he would. Drawn in by his Master's repose, Obi-Wan's thoughts gradually stilled into his own semi-meditation.
Time passed. Sitting comfortably on his pedestal Obi-Wan watched, not thinking, the calm settling into his whole being.
The calm receded, gentle but swift. Obi-wan started.
Qui-Gon was looking at him.
Obi-Wan blinked back, a little embarrassed to be caught unaware. Qui-Gon smiled back.
"Have you learned anything, my Padawan?"
He had no answer. iNever invite old, obnoxious Jedi Masters into your room? Or at least not too many at a time? And especially not with food?/i He stumbled over a response.
"I'm sorry...that it went so badly. For Master Narimoyak," he finally said.
"Ahhh." Qui-Gon nodded sadly. "That is why they all came," he said. "For her." He inhaled through his nose, flexing his shoulders, loosening his legs from where he'd been sitting. "I sensed that she was very glad to see them, even though they behaved badly." He unfolded his legs. They stood and stretched a moment, following the same simple exercise together.
"Did you learn anything, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Yes," he answered with a long-faced and serious expression. "I shouldn't eat sweet curls and yag-fungus at the same time." His hand rubbed his stomach over his belt for emphasis.
Obi-Wan gaped back at him. Then he grinned and Qui-Gon smiled back, dispelling the momentary gloom.
"I believe that the droids should have finished by now," Qui-Gon stated. They both left the cool, peaceful room.
When they returned to Qui-Gon's room, they found it spotless and empty. The table was cleared and polished, the floor cushions, also freshly cleaned, neatly arranged around it. The floor and rug were free of the snack debris that had been ground into them where the boots of the others had walked when they had all retrieved their robes; the curtain hung on the wall unmolested. Even the air felt cleaned with not even a trace aroma of food remaining.
A plate of a few salvaged sweets and a cookie sat next to a datalink in the center of the table under the overhead lights. Qui-Gon picked up the flat device. A note from Narimoyak glowed on it's small screen.
"Your patience exceeds my loss. We are changed. The Force is with you."
END - - - Narimoyak: Odd Assembly
(this story first posted on tf.n: 26-Apr-2006)
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.