Chapter Sixteen: P
P is for Part
The physical part of Elanor's Trials is behind her now.
Her test was designed to test her in parts.
The first part tested her physical endurance – and tested her severely. Crossing the desert without food or water or her lightsaber took a lot out of her.
The landscape was barren and deserted as she crossed it, immersing herself in the Force to support herself when she grew weary. It has taken her a long time – actually a bit longer than she expected.
She did get into a scuffle with some Tusken Raiders, but it was only a patrol of three Raiders and she recovered from the surprise much faster than they did. She did suffer a few scratches here and there, but on the whole she thinks she did well – no serious injuries and no major delays.
The main challenge was in sustaining herself. The Force gave her comfort and soothed away her exhaustion, but even the Force couldn't summon up new energy that usually comes from eating and drinking.
Thankfully, though, she was able to use the Force and what she has learned to find things she could consume safely.
The first part was difficult, as her Master planned.
But now that it is over, she settles down in her chosen cave to have a short nap before she dives into the issue of reconstructing her lightsaber.
As she does, her mind turns to her Master. Their bond is blocked – he set the block there shortly after she left, because a Master is not allowed to interfere in a Padawan's Trials – but it is strong and runs deeper than that. She can still sense his worry, and she guesses that he probably hasn't slept a wink since she left.
The thought touches and slightly concerns her.
She is touched because it tells her the depth of his affection for her. She cares for him as well, but she is younger and has not known as many people as he. For him to give so much of his time and effort and affection to her of all people, then, is a bigger gift than her own affection for him.
But she is also concerned. While Jedi are encouraged to cooperate, they are not encouraged from coming to rely on their fellow Jedi. Master Kenobi is not her fellow Jedi – not yet, for she is still a Padawan – but she is coming to rely on him . . . and the steady affection she feels from him.
It's just become next to impossible for her to imagine her life without him, without their friendly banter and steady routine and powerful bond.
That is a very bad thing.
But she can't help it. There's just a strange fluttery feeling in her heart that lingers even now when he is not near, one that makes her utterly and completely comfortable around him . . . and that, even now, makes her wish that he was here.
Not because she has grown used to his presence – which she has.
Not because he could help her – which he could.
Not because she misses him – which she does.
No, it is somehow much simpler and yet also much deeper a reason than that. Something she doesn't even truly understand, despite the fact that it originates from within her. Something that she has a sneaking suspicion that is from the Force itself.
In any case, whatever the reason, she still wishes he was here, and she cannot change that, no matter how she tries to reason with herself or rationalize the thought.
She clears her mind and turns her attention to getting a good rest. She has endured the physical trials, and she has survived.
Now, Elanor must endure the second part of her Trial – the emotional and mental part.
P is for Pacing
Obi-Wan Kenobi is pacing.
It was only that morning that the Force had trembled with power, and he had known that she had finished the physical part of her Trials and was preparing to reconstruct her lightsaber in the last part.
It would be the most difficult part, for it would be then that she would face who she truly was in the Force for the Trial of Spirit – the Trial that was the one thing that usually tripped up most candidates.
He had first thought that the pain and the worry about sending her off were bad.
Now, he knows better.
The agony of waiting for her to return is a hundred, a thousand, a million times worse, and it ate at everything he had – his mind, his heart, his soul.
So he finds himself pacing. Pacing back and forth across the floor of the hut. Pacing to try and get rid of the nervous energy that was building up inside of him. Pacing, pacing, pacing.
It is not proper of a Jedi, much less a seasoned Jedi Master, but he just can't help himself.
The fire in his chest – the fire she inspires in him – is a nervous ball of sparks today, now. Especially since it knows that he sent her off with no food, no water, and virtually no way of contacting him should she be in trouble save the Force – which he knows she most likely will not do, for to break the block and reach out to him for help is to fail the Trials.
It takes all of his self-control not to break the block himself. It takes even more not to pace outside and scan the horizon for her every ten seconds.
He wishes he could, but it would not be proper and would send the wrong message to her.
So he paces inside, hands folded behind his back, immersed in the Force, senses ready. At the slightest twinge of alarm or fear or anger, he knows that his self-control will snap and that he will go after her – no matter what.
He values her safety much more than he values anything else, much less the Jedi Trials.
But he knows how much the Trials mean to her.
So as he paces, he wrestles internally, trying to decide what he will do should he be confronted with that choice.
Should he ignore it and let her deal with the problems herself – which might cost her her life?
Or should he go to her aid, therefore ruining her chances of passing the Trials – but which might save her?
He doesn't know which to choose. He values her, completely and totally. Her life and her dreams matter equally to him, and he isn't sure which he should side with.
But all that conflict becomes moot when the door opens and she steps inside.
He whirls around to face her, a wide smile breaking out on his face and relief – sweet, glorious, sweeping relief – fills him.
The block drops from the bond, which hums to life instantly, as she smiles at him. She is dusty, and tired, and in need of a shower, but right now he doesn't care.
She is back. She is safe. She has passed.
They step forward at the same time, and he pulls her into a solid embrace. She returns it just as tightly, and for a few minutes – or is it hours? – they remain like that, with her face buried in his chest and his face nestled on top of her long gold-brown hair.
When he finally and reluctantly lets her go, he notes the new lightsaber she carries. It is sleeker and finer and a better design than before.
He scans her face, noting similar changes there as well. She seems more at peace, more assured now that she has faced the depths of who she is and has returned – while not unchanged, at least unscathed.
As she walks away, he lets out a long breath he didn't even know that he was holding.
Elanor has returned to him, safe and sound, and the pacing that Obi-Wan Kenobi was doing before now seems months ago – and utterly useless.