How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him!
Charles Baudelaire
When Obi-Wan Kenobi received the message from his Master, he was curious and a bit suspicious. An old man of astounding power in the Force wanted to meet him in the middle of the desert. It sounded like a set-up or a trap to him. Still, for some reason, he wasn't getting the bad feeling he always seemed to get before things began to explode.
It was their second day stuck on Tatooine. Obi-Wan struck out into the desert on a borrowed sandspeeder, following his Master's Force signature like the trail of bread crumbs in an old children's story he had heard once. Eventually he came to... well, you couldn't quite call it a house. It had evidentially been a one-room dwelling before being added on to haphazardly. It did not impress, but Obi-Wan could clearly sense the nexus the Force had created there. It was a fated place.
The Padawan hopped out of the speeder and cast around with his senses. There were multiple presences, but three stood out. One was his Master's. The other two were stranger. One was untrained, volitile, but of greater power than he had ever sensed before. The other was... different. It was trained, obviously, but it ran deeper than any he had ever sensed save Yoda's. It was mysterious, sad, old, wise. The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched. That would be the old man, Ben, that his Master had told him about.
The presence came closer. He was drawn to it for some reason, perhaps because it was oddly familiar. A man with a shock of white hair and a scruffy beard emerged from the dwelling. He didn't look at Obi-Wan, but he knew he was there. Ben gestured for the twenty-five year old to follow and began walking toward a rocky outcropping. Obi-Wan hesitated, but he followed.