While they changed, Lok threw furtive looks at the unknown Jedi who had bullied him into leaving his room. Of course, he had heard of Eeth Koth. The man had been on the Council until a few years ago, and he had a reputation of being really, really strict. But he had not been on the Council any longer when Lok had been made a padawan, and he probably hadn't been around the Temple much these past years, or Lok ought to have seen him at least occasionally; especially if it was true that he knew his master. And why should it not be true? Lok had yet to meet a Jedi who lied to him.

Master Koth was nearly, but not quite, as tall as his master had been. A little less broad-shouldered, but no less muscular, and a Zabrak like himself. His shiny black hair was flowing down his back, pulled into two loose braids. It had a few streaks of grey that suggested he was not as young as he looked at first glance, probably more around Master Delapar's age. Unlike Lok, Eeth was tattooed, so he had decided to go through the rites of passage. All Zabrak Jedi were given that option as teenagers, but Lok had been undecided so far. He fleetingly noticed a number of scars as Eeth shed his tunic and changed into a workout shirt. He was certainly a Jedi of great experience.

That this was the case became immediately obvious when Eeth, after a few rather strenuous warm-up exercises, started chasing Lok through the gym in what was supposed to be freestyle combat, but consisted mostly of Lok stumbling away from the Jedi Master's fast and precise attacks. At best, he managed to block them. Of course, he hadn't had any exercise for a week now, and it showed. Besides, his heart was not in this at all, but unfortunately, Eeth did not seem to be particularly forgiving about that fact.
"Focus," he barked, coming at Lok with a complex attack sequence. More out of instinct than out of conscious thought, Lok went into the counterattack sequence that his master had relentlessly drilled him in just a month before his death. It forced Eeth to jump out of harm's way.
"Good," Eeth said approvingly. "So you do know how to spar."
And he came in again, not leaving Lok a second to gather his thoughts. The boy was forced to rely on his instinct and his sense of the Force. Lok had not wanted to rely on the Force at all. The Force had taken his master. He resented the idea of meditating; he had outright refused to do so during the past week. But he registered with grudging admiration that Eeth had driven him to draw on the Force within less than fifteen minutes after entering the gym.

After a while, Lok came to wonder for how long Eeth was planning on continuing this. He had hardly slept for a week, and the fight was fast driving him to the point of exhaustion. He could be tenacious, though; less well-meaning people would call it stubbornness. So he kept on even though he was panting, drenched in sweat and increasingly unsteady on his feet. Only when he was just about to humiliate himself by pleading for mercy, did Eeth call the fight to a stop.
"Walk around the gym three times and drink some water," he told Lok. "Then we will take a shower and get changed."

As he walked, Lok realised that he was tired to the bone. He did not want to sleep, though; it felt sacrilageous to just give in to sleep when his master... his master... He swiped at his eyes angrily and quickened his steps, feeling Eeth's gaze on him. It did not irk him as he thought it should, and that was another thing he found frustrating.

They showered in silence, Lok fighting hard against the exhaustion he felt. He did not even sit down to pull on his socks and shoes for fear of not being able or willing to get up again.
"Come," Eeth told him as they emerged from the gym, and turned into entirely the wrong direction.
Lok stopped.
"Where are we going?" he inquired.
"To a meditation garden," replied Eeth. "And before you ask the next obvious question: We are going there in order to meditate."
Lok's lips tightened into a firm line.
"I don't want to meditate," he said, and this time he was too angry to care how childish this sounded.
"I think we have already established how far this line of argument is going to get you," Eeth said sternly. "You might not want to meditate, but you need to. Therefore, we are going. Now come."
"No," said Lok, his green eyes flashing.
Eeth raised his eyebrows.
"Do you honestly think you'll get away with telling me no?" he asked calmly. "If you do, think again."
"I said no, and I meant it," Lok ground out. He was shaking with exhaustion, but he was determined not to give in.
Less than five seconds later, he found himself tucked under Eeth's arm and something rather painful exploding on his bottom.
"Fuck!" he yelled, not feeling inclined to be particularly polite. Besides, this hurt like the dickens. Apparently, though, this was the wrong answer because the next swat felt twice as hard if that was even possible.
He hissed and stamped his foot. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw a few passing knights throwing them curious looks, and that gave him an idea.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled. "You're not my master! You have no right!"
Eeth did not even dignify that with a response, nor did the knights. They just exchanged a look with Eeth and kept walking.
Lok hissed, stamped, twisted and wriggled his way around the next set of painful swats. And then exhaustion and pain became too much and he started to cry.
He cried in deep, heaving sobs. At some point, he became aware that he had been pulled up and was crying into Eeth's robes. Had he been less exhausted, he would probably have minded, but right now he needed all the comfort he could get, not to speak of the support that Eeth's broad chest offered, since he felt very unsteady on his legs. He leaned his head against Eeth's chest, hid his face in the older Jedi's tunic and cried and cried.

A very long while later, his sobs died down a little. Eeth wordlessly handed him a handkerchief and waited until he had cleaned up his face. Then he picked up both their gym bags and said in a low, surprisingly gentle voice: "Come. You might not want to meditate, but you need to. The longer you shirk away from it, the harder it will become."

Lok felt too weak and confused to resist any longer. He allowed himself to be escorted into the nearest meditation garden where Eeth picked a secluded corner for them and sat down in a cross-legged position, beckoning for Lok to sit opposite him. Lok complied, feeling utterly drained, emotionally shattered and unable to argue. He drew a deep, shaking breath, closed his eyes, entered a meditative trance and lowered his shields the tiniest bit, just enough for Eeth to link with him. He half expected Eeth to reprimand him for this and ask for more, and he honestly did not know whether he would be able to bear that. But Eeth said nothing; he merely linked with Lok and sent him a tiny hint of approval through their link that Lok was very grateful for.

Connecting with the Force felt exactly the same as it had done before his master had died. Lok did not know whether he felt relief or anger at the realisation. But he was suddenly glad that he was not doing this on his own. Eeth's Force presence was there to lean on, just like his chest had been, back in the corridor. It felt calm, solid and entirely unobtrusive; it demanded nothing. Lok was so thankful for this that he hesitantly dropped his shields a little further. And then, he knew no more.