Author: TemporaryUniverse
Summary: Lem Ninnudrar is back at the Jedi Temple for the first time since they were Knighted. They spend the day doing what they love most, and maybe contemplate taking a Padawan along the way. Tomorrow, they decide. They'll do it tomorrow. But something dark lurks around the corner of the night, and tomorrow may never come.
Character(s): Original Jedi Characters
Word count: 2,370
A.N. This was written for The Jedi Order's Last Day collab project on Ao3, in which a group of us wrote fics about the day before Order 66 in the lives of ordinary Jedi characters. You can check out the collection over there.
Lem sighed as they keyed open their quarters and crutched their way in. It was the first time they'd been back to the Temple since… since their Knighting. And that had been… Actually, Lem wasn't sure how long ago that was. Time tended to blur on the front lines, but it had been at least a few months.
They stumped over to the barely-used sofa and lowered themself down with a sigh, setting their crutches against the arm and lying back on the cushions. They should probably go get a coldpack for their aching leg, but now that they were down, they didn't really want to get up again. Healer Nema had said they were on medical leave for the next week while their leg healed up and Lem wasn't sure what to do with the break now that they had it. Since the war had begun, there had been precious little downtime. They could count the amount of shore leave they had gotten on their headtails.
But before, Lem had always had their Master. Now… they were alone.
Their quarters abruptly felt very empty and silent. Lem was used to the quiet, Master Kayana was a man of few words and he would often spend time with his Padawan just existing together, but this quiet was heavy and uncomfortable. Lem couldn't stand it.
They huffed out a breath and sat up, grabbing their crutches and levering themself to their feet. Maybe the Archives would do them some good. There were always things they could do there.
It was a long trip through the halls of the Temple, made longer by Lem having to move slower than normal because of their crutches and knee brace. Once these halls would have been teeming with Jedi, all going about their daily lives, the air suffused with peace and contentment and warmth.
Now Lem only saw a few. Most Jedi had been called into service as generals, anyone who could fight, all but the young, the old, and those whose duties or injuries kept them from the front lines. And then there were those who would never make it home. The Temple felt so empty these days. So cold. Lem wasn't the only one who felt it. They had heard some of the elder Masters discussing the war during a meditation session in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. And Lem's crechémate, Elenan, had mentioned it over holocall when she last visited the Temple. They both remembered what it was like when they were Initiates. The Temple was still the safe haven it was then, but every day the horrors of war encroached on that safety a little more. The very Force itself was filled with a deepening dread.
There were rumors, though, that the war was coming to an end. Count Dooku was dead, and without him the CIS leadership was crumbling. Lem had heard that Master Kenobi had been sent after General Grievous, and they had no doubt that he would succeed against the Jedi-killer. Something in Lem twisted in satisfaction at that. Revenge was not the Jedi way, but after what Grievous had done, to Lem and their Master, to hundreds of other Jedi, they would not grieve a murderer.
Grievous was the reason Lem hadn't been able to bring Master Kayana's lightsaber home. The reason Lem's Master hadn't been at their Knighting. A galaxy without General Grievous would be a better galaxy.
Lem sighed, shaking out their headtails to rid themself of the un-Jedi-like emotions their contemplation had stirred up. They had reached the Archives.
They passed through the massive, arching doors and hobbled over to the circulation desk, greeting Madame Nu. The archivist gave them a smile.
"Hello, Knight Ninnudrar. Did something happen to your knee?"
"Good day, Master Nu," they said, tapping a bit closer to the desk and quieting their voice in deference to the environment. "It's nothing really, just a battlefield injury that needed surgery. Master Nema says I should be ready to go by next week."
Her presence in the Force pushed relief and comfort at them, and they gratefully accepted the emotions.
"I am relieved to hear it is not serious and wish you the best during your recovery. Now, what brings you to the Archives?"
It was Lem's turn to smile at Madame Nu.
"What always brings me to the Archives, Master. I was wondering if there are any documents in need of translating that I could work on." Lem had been trained as a Jedi Consular, more specifically a Researcher, in the linguistic field, but the war had changed many things.
"We certainly have no shortage of those. But I think Nevi Padenyth kat Ora-Soo Talesha might interest you. Section G, shelf 285."
"Thank you, Madame," Lem bowed as best they could with their crutches, really more of a nod of their head than anything, and went in search of their book.
With Madame Nu's directions, it took them less than ten minutes to find the correct holobook, a Dai Bendu reference grammar, and a spare datapad for note-taking, and then a few more minutes to find a suitable desk to sit at, one not too exposed, but still in a semi-busy area where they could feel connected to their fellow Jedi.
They settled in to work, flicking on the holobooks and datapads and beginning their read-through. The original flimsi copy of Ora-Soo Talesha's work, found in a long-lost Jedi Temple that had only recently been rediscovered, was kept in the Vault under preservation conditions due to its delicate nature, but it had been scanned and digitized into a format for public use. It looked like nobody had bothered to translate it yet. Most of those who would and could were out fighting a war, like Lem themself.
Lem had missed this, the complex puzzling of linguistic work that was as satisfying as it was frustrating. Before the war, it had been their main duty, they would spend hours each day working through translations and grammars until their brain hurt. Sure, a computer program could do it, but computers didn't understand the soul of a work, the intention of its author. And more often than not it couldn't catch the nuances and idiosyncrasies of a language, the subtle things that made them alive.
People made the languages, languages made the people. The two were so intertwined it was impossible to study either in isolation. That was what made Lem's work so valuable. They were fluent in five languages, proficient in a dozen more, and had the basics of twenty more than that. And more importantly, they knew about the cultures of each of those languages too.
Lem loved linguistics.
"Knight Lem!" Someone whispered.
They looked up from their notes to see a sessehshellah standing by their desk.
The mustalid's ears flicked happily as kar squinted at Lem, kat karel whiskers pushed forwards, broadcasting kat karel delight through the Force.
"Hello, Jhasma," Lem greeted, offering their own joy up in response.
Lem had first met Jhasma eight years ago, on Shaymore. A tiny, wet, pitiful orphan, alone and abandoned. And so very bright in the Force. Lem and their Master had brought karak home. Jhasma had… imprinted a bit, and Lem had gone to visit karak often the first year kar was in the temple. Master Kayana had always joked that Jhasma would be Lem's first Padawan, but Lem hadn't been so certain. Jhasma would be ready for Padawanship far earlier than Lem would be ready for a Padawan. Now kar was nine standard, although kar was fourteen in kat karel species, and Lem would have thought kar would be chosen by a Master by now, or assigned one, as was common with the war.
It was also standard practice for Knights to wait a few years before taking a Padawan, to give them time to adjust to their new role and responsibilities, but that had disappeared with the war too, for the most part. Lem had heard the Knight Skywalker had been assigned a Padawan only a month after his Knighting. Lem had been given a bit a leeway, given… everything. They had been a few years off their Knighting when Master Kayana died, but the war had driven Padawans to be Knighted earlier and earlier, and the Council had decreed Lem to be prepared to face their Trials after the loss of their Master however many months ago. They had passed by the skin of their teeth, but they had passed, and been promoted to a General in charge of the 377th battalion, who they'd been commanding over the past three years alongside their Master. They were glad not to be separated from their battalion. They were close with many of their troopers, including Commander Patch, their second-in-command.
"What are you doing?" Jhasma squeaked.
"I'm translating a book from Dai Bendu. Nevi Padenyth kat Ora-Soo Talesha."
"The Teachings of Ora-Soo Talesha?"
"Yes, very good." Kat karel tail wagged in response to the praise. Jhasma also shared an interest in Dai Bendu, the ancient and near extinct language of the Jedi. Kar had chosen kat karel pronouns from it.
"Can I see?"
Lem tilted the pad so kar could read their notes so far. Kar mouthed the words as they read along.
"What's this say?" Kar asked, pointing to a line that Lem had not translated yet.
"Hmm." Lem examined the line for a moment. Soser tumi tarii'ah nak jedi Dai'ak nepa chareau'el, ji im tumi bexlah qaak. Bexl enoah kan ve kai'anel ta ru paisolah ezrhu'ythux. "A Jedi must love the Force above everything, but not covet it. To covet is to flee from inner peace and yield to suffering."
"Cool. Reash, Lem," kar said, practically bouncing up and down.
"You're welcome, Jhasma." They smiled at karak. It always warmed them inside to see karak excited about something.
"Sorry for disturbing you, I should get back to my studying. I have an exam tomorrow." Kar bowed, clasping kat karel paws together.
"I am always happy to teach you, Jhaz. Not many other Jedi are as interested in learning Dai Bendu as you are."
"Really?" Kar tilted kat karel head.
"Dai Bendu is a forgotten language, young one," Lem said. "But it is our heritage. It's up to us to keep it alive."
"Thank you, Knight Lem," Jhasma replied, bowing again in gratitude. "Your work is very valuable, and I'm glad you were willing to share it with me."
"Always. Good luck on your exam."
Kar squinted happily up at them again and then rushed off to go do kat karel studying. Lem smiled after karak for another moment and then turned back their translations.
They worked a few more hours, and gave up when their stomach began to rumble and their vision began to blur from staring at their screen. They stood and returned their materials, passing by Madame Nu with a smile and a nod as they left. A quick meal in the closest refectory later, and Lem finally headed back to their empty quarters.
After washing their face as they prepared for bed, Lem found themself staring at the mirror. Their starry black eyes gazed out of indigo skin, headtails waving leisurely behind them. They sighed at how tired they looked. Their skin didn't show dark circles under their eyes, but there was a dullness to it, a certain sallowness to their features, from years on the warfront with little rest. They turned away from the mirror and headed for their bedroom, sinking onto their bed and setting about removing their knee brace.
They flopped backwards with a huff once they were done, listening to the silence, and an idea began to percolate in their head.
Their quarters would feel a lot happier with a Padawan.
But were they ready for it? Were they rushing in too fast to something they weren't prepared for?
When they reached out to the Force, it sang that they were on the right path. They wondered if their Master would say the same, if he was still alive. But Master Kayana would never see the day Lem took a Padawan, not anymore.
Lem fumbled for their comm on the bedside table, and then shot off a quick message to Commander Patch.
How do you feel about a Padawan Commander?
Patch replied almost instantly.
Yes!
A smile tugged on Lem's lips.
I'll ask Jhasma tomorrow.
:), Patch sent back.
Their commander informed, Lem opened up a line with Master Puto, the Quartermaster.
Good evening, Master Puto. I may need a Master-Padawan quarters starting tomorrow, if you don't mind. Thanks!
Master Puto's reply wasn't as quick as Patch's, but it came a few minutes later all the same, just long enough for Lem to start to feel nervous about their decision.
Congratulations. I shall set something up for you. Good luck asking karak, and may the Force be with you.
A wide grin split their face. It seemed they weren't as subtle in their affection for Jhasma as they had thought, if even Master Puto knew who they had chosen.
They set their comm back on the table, and closed their eyes, still smiling as they let themself drift to sleep.
Tomorrow they would ask Jhasma, and inform the Council, and then pack their things to move to their new quarters. They couldn't wait.
Lem fell asleep to a silence that was somehow less oppressive in its temporariness.
They woke to the sound of screams and blasterfire outside their quarters and a cry of danger in the Force.
Grabbing their crutches and lightsaber, they made their way out, and opened the door to chaos and death.
There would be no tomorrow. There would be no excited Sessehshellah with a new string of beads behind kat karel ear, or beaming Nautolan weaving a bond of promise. There would be no more Jedi to translate old Dai Bendu texts. There would be no more old Dai Bendu texts.
The Temple would die, and with it the Jedi, all the promises of the future lost to fire and the swing of a lightsaber, the bolt of a blaster.
And bells of mourning would toll in the Force.