Chapter 8
Obi-Wan rose at dawn as he did every morning, his body stiff from sleeping on the floor. He groaned as he stood up, his joints letting out a few small cracks in protest. To his slight surprise, he saw Lorna was already awake and preparing their morning meal at the kitchenette.
"Oh… sorry if I woke you," she murmured, setting two plates on the table. "I thought I'd take breakfast duty today. Bread and jerky. Again." She stood with her hands fidgeting at her sides self-consciously and her shoulders lifted in an awkward shrug. "There isn't much else," she added with a nervous laugh.
He couldn't help but smile in appreciation of her thoughtfulness.
"It's quite alright, this is my usual wake-up time. Very kind of you to prepare our meal." He sat at the table with her and then, his eyes crinkling with amusement, he added, "The next crop of pallies and tatoes will be ready soon, and then we'll have a proper feast."
He watched in bemused silence as she made quick work of her meal, cleaning up her dishes before he had even finished. "In a hurry to get somewhere?"
"I'm eager to begin my training," she said.
It was hard not to find her sincere enthusiasm endearing, but the reminder of what he'd agreed to made his smile falter.
"Ah, yes. Well, first, we have chores to do," he explained.
"Shouldn't we spend time in meditation first, to center ourselves for the day?" she asked.
Her mention of morning meditation was unsurprising; it had been standard practice in the Order to start each day with quiet connection to the Force. He had maintained this habit since arriving on Tatooine, finding it essential for managing the complex emotions left in the wake of Anakin's betrayal.
But he had grown accustomed to meditating in solitude. While communing with the Force in the presence of other Jedi had once felt natural, his meditations now often involved grappling with unnaturally dark memories. The prospect of sharing this vulnerable state with Lorna gave him pause, but he relented.
"Of course," he said, gesturing to the door. "I prefer outdoors."
"As do I," she replied.
The first of the suns had barely crested the horizon when Obi-Wan led Lorna out of his hut. He sat cross-legged on the ground facing the sunrise and she followed, lowering herself next to him. The crisp chill of early morning air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply, catching the mineralized scent of sand.
When he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the Force, he expanded his awareness, becoming conscious of the world around him. As the day's first rays of sunlight warmed his face, he could pinpoint every grain of the sand beneath him. He noted the simple yet contented presence of the eopie as it chewed on its feed. The Force showed him his garden, each plant soaking in the sun and drawing in the nutrients through the water that washed over its roots, turning it into energy for growth. A few plants remained unsatiated, reaching in hunger for sustenance that wasn't there–a reminder that he would need to add more nutrient powder to the system later.
He shifted his focus to Lorna, familiarizing himself with her Force signature, noting the gentle pulsing flow of her spirit. He tested her mental barriers and found them surprisingly solid. She returned the gesture, coming up against his own mental wall. An unspoken understanding flowed between them–neither were letting the other in, for the moment.
His thoughts turned inward. The Force grounded him until he was sturdy as a mountain, poised and calm. Though faint from this distance, he could sense the boy he had been tasked with protecting. Luke's presence in the Force was a beacon of hope, untainted by the darkness that had consumed his father.
His stomach twisted as he thought of the boy's parents. There is no death, there is the Force, he reminded himself. Padmé and Anakin were part of the Force now. Their suffering ended. He acknowledged the pain that clung to him, then let the Force sweep it away like detritus in a flood.
There was a shuffling movement beside him, and he pulled himself back to the present. He opened his eyes to see Lorna, still seated with her own eyes closed, rolling her head in a wide circle as if stretching her neck. Her shield prevented him from sensing much of her mental state, but she must not have been meditating deeply if she was fidgeting so much.
"Are you ready to begin today's work, Lorna?"
"Yes, Mas—Ben."
He walked Lorna through his daily routine. Beginning with the hydroponic garden, he recalled that the plants required additional nutrients. He gestured to the intricate system of pipes and reservoirs as he retrieved a packet of powder from a storage container nearby. "This setup is crucial for growing food in such an arid environment," he explained.
She leaned in, examining the setup closely. "I've never seen anything like this before. How does it work?"
"The plants grow in a nutrient-rich water solution instead of soil," Obi-Wan said, opening the lid of a reservoir and pouring the nutrient powder in. "It's more efficient and uses less water than traditional farming."
She pointed to a row of vines bearing a green fruit that twirled up a makeshift trellis he had constructed. "What are these?"
"Pallies," he replied. "They're native to Tatooine. Quite nutritious, actually."
A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she digested this. "But if they're native, why grow them hydroponically? Couldn't they survive in the desert?"
He nodded. "They could, but they'd require more water and yield less fruit. This way, we maximize our resources. Plus, pallies only grow naturally during Tatooine's cooler season when there is slightly more moisture. If it weren't for this setup, I would have to wait several more weeks to grow them."
"I see," she said, her eyes brightening with understanding.
A small smile tugged at his lips in appreciation of her perceptive question. "Now, let me show you how to check the pH levels. It's crucial for the plants' health."
Her attention didn't waver once as he demonstrated each homestead duty, from checking the vaporator's storage cistern to changing the eopie's bedding. She was an astute learner, asking prescient questions and quickly proving an ability to perform the tasks. If she took to training with the Force as easily as she took to homestead chores, his task would be simple.
The truth was that the chores were an excuse to postpone the start of her actual Force training. He'd agreed to it out of compassion, understanding the girl's difficult situation and earnest desire to continue her path as a Jedi. Yet doubt gnawed at him.
He didn't think he would ever dislodge the guilt that had burrowed within him over Anakin's fate. But alongside that guilt, a simmering anger burned–at himself, at Anakin, at the circumstances that had led them here. His jaw clenched as he contemplated his failure as a Master. It was truly inexcusable. A surge of frustration coursed through him as he recalled how his former Padawan had been so desperate for guidance that he'd confided in a politician who turned out to be a Sith Lord rather than his own Master. What business did he have taking on another pupil when he had failed so spectacularly with Anakin?
Something in his chest constricted and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He released the anger that had been growing along with it. He had to remind himself that Lorna's presence here was only temporary. It was not a formal Master-Padawan arrangement. He would teach her what he could until she could repair her ship, and then she would head for Jabiim. Perhaps she would accomplish what she hoped with her training, perhaps not, but he wouldn't be responsible for what came after.
When the midday heat bore uncomfortably down upon them, he suggested a break from their work outside. Sweat had soaked through his tunic and a slick layer of sweat ran down his forehead. She had not once complained, but a quick glance at Lorna revealed she was in a similar state. Returning to the cool shade of his home, they took a quick meal together.
It had been too long since he had last visited his cave near the Lars homestead and he hoped to make another trip tonight. The boy's aunt and uncle had made it clear that they weren't comfortable with a former Jedi living near the homestead. They were meant to protect Luke, they argued, and that would be difficult with a wanted fugitive so close to their doorstep. So Obi-Wan had constructed his hut further out in the Jundland Wastes. Unbeknownst to Owen and Beru, he had staked out a cave near the homestead from which he could clandestinely check up on things. Its secluded and covered nature also made it his favored spot for deep connection to the Force.
He wondered how to broach the subject with Lorna. He had no intention of divulging anything about Luke's identity or location, so taking her with him to the cave was out of the question.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to use your fresher," she said as he was mulling over potential excuses. "It's been some time since I bathed and…" she trailed off awkwardly, eyes downcast.
"Oh. Yes, of course," Obi-Wan replied, suddenly aware of the opportunity her request presented. "Please, take your time. There should be enough water supply for a proper wash."
Obi-Wan's shoulders relaxed only to tense again a moment later as Lorna disappeared into the fresher. The sound of running water and the soft rustle of fabric from behind the closed door seemed to fill the small hut. When he'd offered his hospitality to Lorna, he hadn't considered the delicate nature of sharing such close quarters with a young woman. A slight flush darkened his cheeks as he heard her step into the shower through the hut's thin walls.
Stars, he wasn't some adolescent boy with little control over his baser instincts. He cleared his throat, gathering his composure as he found himself unnecessarily straightening items on the table.
He approached the fresher door. "Lorna," he called out, his voice carefully casual. "I just remembered I have an appointment to meet a local moisture farmer to trade some things this evening. Nothing too exciting, just some routine business."
"Oh, alright," came her muffled reply.
"I'll be back before nightfall," he added. "This way you can take care of your... ah, hygiene needs without worrying about privacy. Please, make yourself at home while I'm gone."
"Thank you," Lorna responded.
Obi-Wan quickly gathered his cloak and a few supplies. With one last glance at the closed fresher door, he stepped out into the harsh Tatooine afternoon, the heat in his cheeks having little to do with the desert suns bearing down on him. His thoughts lingered on the woman he now shared close quarters with as he left his once-solitary home.
By the time the entrance to his cave came into view, the suns were casting longer shadows across the sand. The cave entrance was situated at the base of a cliff that sat one and a half kilometers from the Lars homestead. With a pair of binoculars, he had a decent view of the moisture farm's above-ground structures, where he would sometimes catch glimpses of Beru carrying the infant Luke.
He was growing so fast. The last time he'd been here a few weeks ago, he had been privileged to witness from afar the boy taking his first teetering steps, stumbling out of Owen's arms and into Beru's. It had been a precious and rare moment of joy.
Taking the binoculars out of his pack on the eopie, he focused the binoculars' viewing lens on the farm. Owen was outside performing a repair on one of the homestead's vaporators, but he did not see Luke or Beru. He watched for another moment more, then headed into the cave.
In the cool dark recesses of the cave, there was a stone bench carved by some long-gone previous inhabitant.
It was here that he had begun his attempts to contact his former Master's spirit in the Force.
"In your solitude on Tatooine, training I have for you," Master Yoda had told him. "How to commune with him, I will teach you."
Obi-Wan settled himself on the stone bench, his legs folding naturally into a familiar meditative posture. As his eyes drifted closed, his breathing slowed to a deep, steady rhythm. The cave's cool stillness enveloped him, a stark contrast to the harsh heat outside. Master Yoda's teaching echoed in his mind: this task would demand a level of meditation far beyond any he had previously achieved. He had to reach for the very essence of the Force, to dissolve the boundaries of self and merge his own living Force with the cosmic energy that permeated the universe.
Thus far, his attempts had been unsuccessful.
As he sank deeper into meditation, the specters of his pain and guilt emerged to haunt him. One by one, memories of past wounds rose to the surface of his consciousness. Satine's lifeless body hung limp in his arms, her warmth fading. Anakin's eyes glowing yellow and twisted with rage. Qui-Gon's stoic face distorted with shock as Darth Maul's blade pierced his abdomen.
With each painful memory, he let the accompanying emotions break against him, then recede into the Force. Yet, no matter how many times he repeated this process, the tide of memories seemed endless.
He summoned his will and discipline to wrench his focus to the present and slowly the storm of his grief began to diminish. Like sunbeams piercing through storm clouds, thoughts of Luke and the hope he represented for the future broke through his dark mood. Unbidden, he found his mind also drifting to Lorna. Though he still had reservations about taking her as a pupil, her unexpected tenacity and commitment to the Jedi stirred a faint warmth within him.
At last, he achieved a sense of stillness.
Qui-Gon, he called out through the Force. Guide me.
He was met only with silence.
When he opened his eyes, the cave had dimmed as the suns descended towards the horizon. He mounted the eopie with a tightness in his chest that remained with him all the way back to his home.