Obi Wan Kenobi gave a quick warning to the boy, and left him at the entrance to mingle in the throng of spacers. He didn't need Luke following him around like a nursing bantha calf.
"Good afternoon," Obi Wan approached the counter and greeted the bartender pleasantly, one of the few humans in the place. "You have a healthy crowd here today." Indeed the place was packed, dusty and dark. "Happy hour?" he inquired innocently.
"More like happy minute," the tender growled back. "What'll you have?"
Obi Wan named a cheap ale and asked to start a tab. The tender looked at him suspiciously; it was true Obi Wan's robes were shabby, but Obi Wan merely grinned at him and wiggled his fingers in a wave. "I have money," he lied.
Reluctantly, the man behind the bar grunted and opened a screen on tablet.
"I'm looking to get off-planet," Obi Wan said conversationally. "Anyone here who can help?"
The bartender wiped the counter from where a Devaronian had moved from his stool. "There's a few," he growled, not very forthcoming.
Obi Wan thanked him for being so helpful even though he wasn't, and turned his back on him to scan the crowd. It ought to be crowded, he thought. Most on Tatooine sought refuge from the twin suns in the afternoon, when the day's heat peaked. In a couple of hours, when the suns started their descent in the sky, the place would empty out. He brought his glass to his lips and toasted the planet silently. He was leaving finally, after nineteen years. He was surprised to learn he was a little sorry to go.
The cantina was a spacer's bar. Pilots, navigators, crew. Those with ships and some without. He would have to choose carefully.
Obi Wan wiped froth from his beard and dried his hand on his robe. He watched a human, a very gregarious one. He was dressed in a flight suit and buying drinks, celebrating some achievement. Not a good candidate for the trip; Obi Wan needed a fast ship, not a drunk pilot, but he seemed to be a regular and was greeting others by name.
Obi Wan checked on Luke. They youth was sitting at the bar, sipping a drink with shoulders hunched. Obi Wan felt badly for a moment. Luke needed a shoulder and an ear; he deserved an explanation as well, but hopefully there would be time for that later. He signaled to the bartender and ordered a better grade ale for the pilot. He handed it to him, saying, "Congratulations. There are not many who can boast so honestly."
"True, old man!" The pilot took the drink and held the glass high in thanks before draining it. "I beat Solo at his own game! 'Least, think I did. Hope to ask 'fore he takes off."
"Oh, he won't defend his honor, then?"
Another drink appeared in the pilot's hand. He guffawed. "He ain't got a credit to scrape together to fire up that bird of his."
Obi Wan hoped to hear more but someone clapped the pilot on the shoulder and Obi Wan was forgotten.
Still, the information about the pilot was interesting. He was leaving, yet he couldn't afford to. Well, then. Maybe Obi Wan could help him out. Again, his eyes drifted over the various life forms, wondering which this Solo happened to be.
Solo... Obi Wan could not assign a nationality to the name. Could be the Rodian. Their language used a lot of vowel sounds.
The Rodian sat by himself- herself?- it was hard to tell with Rodians, something about the blush of color around the ears; one sex had it and one didn't, and Obi Wan could never remember which was which. This one didn't have it.
The question of gender still undecided, Obi Wan took another reading of the being, and decided not to approach. He didn't need the Force to tell him the Rodian was preoccupied. His gaze was intent upon something but Obi Wan couldn't see past the huge Wookiee blocking his view, so he gave him up.
So much life, he thought. Mos Eisley was beginning to take on the character of a true port and less of an Outer Rim outpost.
In the past nineteen years, Obi Wan could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd visited Mos Eisley, and that was because he had given in to temptation. The Judland Wastes had a harsh and severe beauty he found surprisingly satisfying, but there were times, usually when digging out after a sandstorm, he found the role of hermit he'd taken on to be quite cruel. He missed the company of others. He missed being a part of the hum of the galaxy. So a few times he'd made the trip; he wanted to listen to the scraps of gossip he picked up from other tables and catch up on the news issuing from the holoset.
Not much had changed since he left. Palpatine was still in power, though whispers of a rebellion had grown loud enough to become talk. Rumors of Darth Vader had shifted over the years as well. Obi Wan's ears always perked up at the mention of Darth Vader. Nineteen years ago Palpatine appointed him with the task of hunting down escaped Jedi. It sounded so important, like it was the one thing to ensure the Emperor's safety.
Well, Obi Wan lifted one brow and darted his eyes to Luke. Maybe there was some truth in that.
The news always boasted when a Jedi was "brought to justice", as Palpatine termed it, and at first there was a lot of interest in the story. Now one didn't hear of it as much. It was widely believed Vader hadn't managed to catch them all. Naturally, since Obi Wan counted among the number of uncaught, the rumor appealed to him very much. He even did his part to help spread it. But it wasn't good for Vader's reputation.
He had one nevertheless. Vader sparked fear just in his appearance- face concealed behind a full helmet, extremely tall, legs stomping with menace. But the true fear generated from his behavior. There was something desperate and angry about Vader; he was- again, rumors swirled- what was he, man or machine- he was barely in control of his own impulses and innocent lives got swept up in them.
Obi Wan knew that better than anyone.
He drained his ale and scanned the room again, daring to use the Force- just a little, just enough to separate the hard-working spacers from the thieves. Either he was very much out of practice or there were a lot of thieves here.
Luke was still holding his own; that was good. Someone appeared to be trying to start a conversation with him, but the boy's Force sense- untapped as yet, but strong enough that Obi Wan accessed it easily- screamed leave me alone. Obi Wan was wondering if perhaps he should collect the boy from the stool when something jabbed into his shoulder five times.
It felt like a metal rod. Stiff and strong.
Obi Wan rolled his shoulder and put on a doddering expression. He turned around. "May I help you?"
It was the Wookiee, the thick finger held upside down ready to jab again. He peeled his lips back and hooted at Obi Wan.
And Obi Wan hummed, his senses leaping back into galaxy at large. He- this one was male; Obi Wan at one time knew a lot about Wookiees- was not old but his eyes contained hundreds of years of experience. There was strength, not just in the huge body but in his spirit as well, a patience and a terrible sadness.
The Wookiee cocked his head and repeated his hooting. His eyes, very blue against the dark russet of his fur, twinkled at Obi Wan.
"I look out of place?" Obi Wan repeated the Wookiee's observation to be sure he heard correctly. It had been a long time since he heard the language.
The Wookiee's head bobbed side to side and he hooted some more. A very long answer for 'yes', but that's what Obi Wan understood.
"It depends on the place," Obi Wan smiled.
The Wookiee was delighted. He signaled to the tender and ordered a drink, which he handed to Obi Wan.
Obi Wan sipped. Brandy. He lifted his brows. "I thank you, my friend."
"Chewie!" a voice snapped. A human male's voice, Obi Wan identified. A rich baritone. Experience laced it, too.
The Wookiee turned his head toward the voice.
"Quit buying drinks," the man snarled.
The Wookiee turned back to Obi Wan, smiling broadly.
"Chewie?" Obi Wan questioned, and the Wookiee answered. "Ah, Chewbacca. Yes, that sounds more like a proper name."
The Wookiee returned to their topic of conversation. This does not look your place. If you don't mind my saying so.
Obi Wan answered slowly, allowing the Force to grant him context. "I don't mind at all. And in a way, you are correct. Tatooine has been my place. But today I seek to leave it, and that is why I am here."
You should seek that cub over there. Chewbacca pointed with his eyes to Luke, who was trying to move his stool away from two arguing colleagues, but the stool was bolted to the floor. He is more out of place than you.
"I know," Obi Wan agreed. "It is my fault he is here. But are we the only ones? Permit me to say, Chewbacca, even with all the life forms I see here, it seems to me you also are out of place?"
A Wookiee in a cantina...
They were aboreal beings. The way of life by human standards was somewhat primitive. Falsely so, no doubt, but that was another of Emperor Palpatine's programs. Wookiees were plundered from their world. If one encountered a Wookie it was most likely a slave.
I'm very at home in a cantina, the Wookiee answered. Did I not select an excellent brandy?
"Most certainly," Obi Wan bowed his head graciously. "You do know your liquor."
And I play a mean hand of sabacc.
"You have certainly a wide range of experience," Obi Wan said with a smile.
Ah, you are cheeky. Chewbacca crooked a clawed finger at the tender. My kind of human.
"Am I?"
Have another, on me.
"Don't think I didn't see you," the rich baritone voice warned.
"Is that another of your humans?" Obi Wan asked.
He is the human.
"Oh, the human," Obi Wan was intrigued. "And what does that mean, if you don't mind my asking?"
The reason there is a Wookiee in a cantina.
"Are you a mind reader?" Obi Wan was a bit astonished. "For I had that exact same thought a moment ago."
Chewbacca chortled. You wouldn't be the first.
"No, I suppose not. And he lets you spend his money?"
The Wookiee made a guileless expression and leaned backwards in complete innocence. What money? I put it on your tab. I heard you say you had money.
"If I am a cheeky human, then certainly you are some kind of Wookiee. I'll start with mischievous."
Chewbacca was modestly proud.
"But you are letting him think it is his money... I see," Obi Wan's eyes gleamed. "I have a confession, Chewbacca. I have no money."
A lying human.
"One who tells the truth to you. I hope you don't think any less of me."
Not possible. You really are seeking to leave this place, then.
"I am." Obi Wan waved his hand. "It is no matter; I will find a way."
Where do you wish to go?
"That is a good question. I am not sure. But I have need to get to Alderaan."
The Wookiee gazed at him a long time. Finally, serious for the first time, he said, Needs over wishes. I know that, too.
"I expect you do."
Do you know why else a Wookiee would be in a cantina?
Obi Wan shook his head and his eyes were wide. "No, I can't imagine."
The mischief had returned. When he is first mate.
"Ah!" Obi Wan exclaimed excitedly. He was glad he had not made any assumptions about whether or not the Wookiee was a slave. When offended their temper was great. "Your human has a ship, then?"
We have stopped lying?
"Oh, yes. That game is long past."
He has a ship. And too much pride, and too little money.
"You're saying he will charge me too much."
He'll mean for you to pay.
"Of course."
A hard-luck story automatically gets a ten percent surcharge.
"My." Obi Wan pretended to be impressed. "I will avoid any details. I thank you for the advance warning."
The Wookiee's teeth bared again. He is the human. But he doesn't like to get involved, and blames the job.
"I would call that customer service."
Ha, Chewbacca burst out in laughter. His is good, but it doesn't come free.
"I am very curious about this human. Which is he?"
That one. The Wookiee used his great head to point to a boothed table against the far wall. Solo.
Ah, Obi Wan thought to himself. So that was him. A Corellian name, it seemed. A young man, close to the age Obi Wan was when he stepped outside the Force, sat by himself. Elbows on the table, fingers around a glass.
He was exactly as Chewbacca described. Proud and... not poor, exactly; in need was a better way to describe it. And preoccupied, but in a different manner than the Rodian. That had been because of a dominating task; this young man just seemed to have things on his mind.
He was the human who made it possible for a Wookiee to be in a cantina. A working Wookiee, Obi Wan remembered. First mate. Most unusual.
Of Obi Wan's earlier assessment of the room, he wasn't... no, there it was, a tiny flicker of thief. A work ethic as well, though. Hmm. Perhaps he thieved from himself.
Obi Wan found that amusing and he smiled. Doesn't like to get involved. He pictured the young man dragged into a situation against his better judgement, hollering, "stop, thief!" while everyone looked around and he was chasing himself.
Obi Wan shook himself. Two glasses of brandy added up quickly. And the ale. He was being silly.
And he was a good-looking human. Did it only stand out in this place, filled with smells and elements that were not human, or was it because Obi Wan had been so lonely all these years?
He glanced back at Luke, who also could be considered a good-looking youth. Clean cut. Chewbacca's captain was not clean cut. Far from it. In fact, the preoccupation and element of danger surrounding him caused the young man to stick out, for he had a table all to himself when so many others were relegated to standing in the crowded cantina. No one was invited to sit.
How would he get a charter, then, with that attitude?
Obi Wan looked at Chewbacca. "I need to leave as soon as possible. Is there business which will keep him here?"
The Wookiee's Force sense fogged with worry. It is business which I fear will have us leave in a hurry.
"Are you sure you are only first mate?" Obi Wan asked slyly.
Chewbacca chuckled deep in his throat. Call me customer service.
Obi Wan laughed. The brandy was talking again. He liked this Wookiee very much. And he liked Luke, and wanted to help him, badly. And the galaxy. And he thought he might even like this young-old, honest-crook man scowling at the room and telling it to leave him alone even though he needed help.
Obi Wan sighed. We all need help, he thought.
Obi Wan remembered Luke, who wanted to sit by himself and in the crowd found he couldn't. Funny how Obi Wan couldn't even really tell apart his own species. Either the being standing aggressively over Luke was humanoid or a human that lived his life so differently than other humans that it altered his appearance.
"One moment, Chewbacca. I want to see how the boy takes to your captain. Let me collect him."
Of course, Chewbacca said, and glanced at Luke. He chortled again. It should be fun.
"Yes," Obi Wan smiled in agreement. "I expect it will be."
AN: Did anyone read Tales from Mos Eisley Cantina? It is a book of short stories about all the customers we see in the classic scene out of ANH. The pilot mentioned here claimed he had beaten Han's "par sec" record but he never got to ask Han about it.
Thank you for reading and all the fun interaction!