Chapter 1: The goodbye

In the end, Mother Irpenn and Father Khooshu took some delicate diplomatic handling before they agreed to send Beldorion to the Temple at Coruscant (but why did it have to be ME that handled them?, Rowe groused), but Beldorion seemed to take it as a foregone conclusion. The fact that the Jedi took his dreams so seriously and even consulted his superiors, multiple times, played a part in convincing them as well. Bel also loved all the little shows of Force telekinesis and acrobatics, even if he usually claimed "Master" Yoda was funnier to watch. Rowe knew both he and his fellow, elder Knight were just waiting to be named Masters, but it was still disquieting to see Beldorion consider it a fact, when he hadn't even met Yoda. He does seem more of a shoe-in for Master than my own lazy ass, Rowe considered, but still it seems presumptuous, somehow. A one week stay at Nal Hutta while being constantly glared at was not an ideal assignment, but it seemed a low price for signing up the first Hutt Jedi ever. Or at least the first ever registered Hutt Jedi, who knew after all what record keeping was like during the Sith Wars. Maybe it's the 123th Jedi Hutt and no one thought to write the rest down before, Rowe mused, or maybe he really is the first one and nobody else will care about it. The Force did touch all beings after all, so one race was supposed to be much like any other in Jedi doctrine.

Beldorion himself was a bit nervous, explaining he wasn't supposed to go to the Temple until he was older, but he came around as Force visions were explained to be just strong possibilities instead of an immutable decree. The fact that the dreams sometimes changed seemed to support this interpretation, and at last he bid a tearful goodbye to his genitors. Mother Irpenn seemed more distraught than Rowe expected, but as he hadn't actually ever seen a Huttlet before, he assumed motherly love might, in fact, be normal for Hutts. Most sentients care for their species over others, he considered, so maybe Hutts are just chuff-sucking leeches to every other single species in the galaxy. He shrugged mentally and watched Khooshu's version of a goodbye, more formal and barely emotional. Bel did look teary-eyed, and managed to extract a hug from the gruff older Hutt. It was not so different from the many other times the scene had played before him, taking a (comparatively) tiny child to be trained into the ways of the Force. If you forgot the lengthy negotiation, the implied threat of the security contingent that glared hatefully at him throughout, the overt threats of "the hell they would unleash o the Jedi if anything happened to Bel," and the odd youngling himself, at times serious and mature, at times like this just a youngling saying goodbye, and apparently a bonafide Seer. So maybe very different from the usual scene, actually, and more like vaguely reminiscent of a normal recruitment.

Thinking back to his holocalls seeking counsel, Rowe realized that despite the well justified prejudice against Hutts in general, Seers as a whole were considered important enough to justify more time and energy investment than a regular recruit, even if he was a Hutt with a difficult family, and a bit older than usual as well. His attention divided between reminiscing and the present, he still kept an eye on the prolonged farewell. Turns out slug isn't so pejorative when they themselves use it, he considered, and they do have nice, if pretentious nicknames. Shame about all the fetid swamps and hostile natives or I'd be happy to extend this educational visit for a few more months. Sensing that they were wrapping up, he turned his full attention to Lady Irpenn.

"My little Bel, dry those ruby eyes, darling child," Irpenn said as she hugged him again. "Even if Jedi discourage it, (and wow, had they hated to learn that part, winced Rowe, mentally) remember you are not forbidden to come home after you train there." He wasn't supposed to come back for years if at all, to be honest, but what are a few decades to a Hutt?, thought Rowe, if I was going to live for a thousand years, a 20 year vacation would be nothing. Nevertheless, the encouragement worked, and Beldorion seemed to take strength on his mother's words, nodding firmly. "I'll come back and visit, my g-genitors," he squeaked, "I'll bring profit to our clans!" He bowed, a bit clumsily, and turned to look at Rowe. "I'm ready now, Knight Rowe." He nodded, accepting the child's attempt at formality at face value, and turned to the parents. "We shall do our utmost to mold him into a fine Jedi, Lord Illip, Lady Anjiliac." With a final shallow bow, he turned to Beldorion and nodded. "To the ship then, youngling, let's make them proud." It cost him nothing to cater to their attachments for the moment, but the youngling was small enough that he'd mostly forget them when he started his instruction. Happened to the best of us after all, he mused, and we ended up all the better for it. Even so, he let him look back at them without remarking on it. Time enough to wean him off later, he allowed, time enough.

Author's note:

Beldorion is finally bound for Coruscant, after a tearful goodbye, gently advised by a higher power. (Me, it's me advising him).