The Sinyaquenta: Tales of Arda and the Galaxy

by Lord Exar Kun

Following the end of 'Arda Unleashed' this book contains the varied tales, adventures and stories of characters both old and new. Follow them through this new galaxy. Follow Sauron, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Aragorn, Gandalf and many more in the lead up to the next step in the great tale of Arda in the Galaxy. Much will change, for good and for ill. Time alone shall tell.

11. Roads Ahead – On and On

Chapter 11

Roads Ahead – On and On

The far green country and green pastures had seem like some idyllic painting crafted by a mind intent on lulling you into a status of pure bliss. Enraptured and ensnared by the raw beauty...but the beauty of this place was not bruising. It did not force itself upon you. Rather, it was the calm. The quiet and the sense of innate peace. Whispering winds gently slid as a breath across the flowering fields. Some petals remained in bloom and others seemed ready for colder seasons on the horizon, though Anakin could not be quite sure. The trek through the fields had been led by the two hobbits. Both Merry and Pippin were quite jovial. The two small, but grown beings in their own right all but danced their way towards Hobbiton. Leading with pronounced peppiness to their steps. A few poetic songs managed to loose from their mouths. More clearly meant for a drunken bar or cantina of some kind, but the two were perked up in mood. Eyes narrowed in joy, grins plastered onto their faces. It was enough to make Anakin and glance-sharing Obi-Wan smile subtly in kind.

"When we get deeper in, you have to come see the Green Dragon!" Pippin offered what must've been for the tenth time.

"Aye, but I'm not sure they'd fit inside, Pip."

"Oh I think they can! If not, we'll ask Rosie nicely to bring a table outside if one's not there."

"Ah, I see." Merry tapped his nose knowingly. "Sweet talk Sam's girl to help his friends, eh?"

"Nothing like that Merry!" Pippin, halfheartedly, refuted as the small group had moved from a long yellow tinged green field onto a road of sorts. Crafted by many hairy feet moving back and forth, along with the obvious twin streaks of pulled or pushed carts.

"Ah...the main road at last!" Merry sighed. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. At once, suddenly the hobbit seemed...a little pudgier than before. Not truly, Merry didn't suddenly gain weight crossing onto the road. But, as: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padmé, the twins who blabbered and stirred gently in their mobile, along with floating FourDee, crossed the field the hobbits seemed to become more relaxed. The four hobbits, well five with his brief encounter with Bilbo, Anakin knew that hobbit folk were prone to being proudly pudgy peoples. Hearty and with distinct love of food, beers and pipe weed. In a way they were more earnest and happy with their consumption than the more self-conscious galactic masses.

Healthier and maybe more primal? Anakin couldn't say. But, over the course of the War of the Ring, Anakin also knew the hobbits he had become companion with all appeared on the slimmer side. Hardship and the travels had their effects on them...especially Frodo and Sam when they had found them on the slopes of Mount Doom. Here now as they drew deeper into the Shire, the esteemed and often spoken of peaceful home of the Shire-folk, Anakin couldn't help but appreciate seeing the portliness of his friends relaxation. Their tenseness released from them. The soft winds that caused nearby trees to flutter; their leaves to shuffle in an orchestra of nature, they fluttered over both hobbits. Merry and Pippin, not for the first time, shut their eyes, and drew in deep breaths. Decompressing. It was enough to make Anakin smile. As if he hadn't already been doing so.

"The deeper we go, the...more beautiful it gets! Rare for any civilization." Padmé offered.

"Oh? And why's that, my Lady?" Pippin began as FourDee zoomed over the brown-headed hobbit.

"Well...civilization and society usually brings about more high homes. Towers. You saw Coruscant, Pippin. In the galaxy more planets become industrial than stay agricultural. Naboo, my homeworld is agricultural, but we have big cities. Just nothing quite like Coruscant."

"This place and Naboo share some similarities." Anakin agreed nodding. "Though...Naboo has more swamps, bogs and lots of Gungans."

"Oh right." Merry seemed to recall past conversations of the matter. "I would still very much like to see your homeworld, my Lady! Someday of course."

"Aye, me too!"

"You both are more than welcome to visit." Padmé beamed...Anakin watching from the side. Obi-Wan coming up along his right as Padmé's smile seemed to almost cast a sort of low glimmer. Lighting his world...he was getting dopey as the years wore on wasn't he? Ah well...he loved her more and more by the hour.

"The Lake Country! My family has a beautiful estate. Surrounded by waterfalls, and fields of flowers. You two would love it." Padmé offered. Anakin's mind flashed to Varakiyno. He quite agreed with Padmé on the matter. Though he recalled...other things that were not for sharing.

"Ahem." Obi-Wan intoned with an obviously forced and fake cough as Merry and Pip asked a few questions of Padmé.

"What?"

"You're projecting your emotions. Your feelings. Please, for the love of my sanity, keep those better hidden, Anakin." Anakin, for his part, breathed a scoff. Rolling his eyes and waving his Master off.

"Don't get started with me, old man! Do you know how many women of the galaxy we've encountered who more than clearly projected just what they thought of you?! Wanted to do, with you?!"

"That is not my-"

"Oh, and did Obi-Wan Kenobi find not too few of them...pretty in kind! The Jedi Master...the esteemed Negotiator putting on the charm! The witty banter, the coy smiles and sideways glances. The soft sips of tea as a wanting politician or monarch adulated you with praise!"

"Alright Anakin, alright!" Obi-Wan chortled in his throaty manner. The edges of his lips curling up mischievously at Anakin's tantrum. His beard almost seeming to curl along with his lips. "Just don't come crying to me when you happen to have such a powerful reaction around Master Yoda, or, Force forbid, Master Windu!"

"They know!"

"Yes, they know. But, I must say you did a far better job...nominally, at hiding your emotions before."

"Eh, I'm letting all that go. I'm tired of faking it to make it, Master."

"Probably for the best." Obi-Wan shrugged. "You were terrible at it anyways."

"Fooled you!"

"Mmm, I more allowed you to fool me, Anakin. In fact, thinking back on things, I must say you were not quite so subtle. All for the best, my old Padawan." Obi-Wan clapped Anakin's right shoulder and chortled again. Anakin's cheeks flared in mild embarrassment, but he beamed a smirk. Saying no more, but delighting in...just everything. Good company, good scenery, good feelings. He wondered if he deserved all of it? Turning back to Padmé giggling at something Pipping had said – requiring Merry to smack him upside the head...Anakin didn't know, but he welcomed the gifts the universe, the Force, whatever, offered him.

"Well well, looky what we have here!" A voice...an unknown voice barked out. Laced within the gruff treble was the obvious hint of condescension. Anakin and Obi-Wan looked left, down the way Anakin believed was towards the heart of Hobbiton. Padmé also looked while Merry and Pippin shared some kind of knowing look and turned full around. Merry's arms crossed and Pippin placed his hands on his hips.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took! Come back from whatever long holiday pulled you two away are you? Oh, and with some big-folk too! How joyous."

"Ted." Merry greeted with feigned cordiality. "Good to see you're still up and about. How's the mill?"

"Windy! As it should be. How else would it be, Merry?" The man, Ted, grumbled. He wore a dark tan shirt, dirty by the looks of it. Dark stitched overalls ran up from bottoms that acted as his jeans, around his shoulders. A simple straw like hat on his head tilted to the side. Likely not on purpose. He had an accent similar, but more growling and synthetically rural.

"You been acting foolish at all, Ted? I don't want to hear about anymore funny business."

"'Funny business?!'" Ted repeated, crossing his own arms. "Don't come 'round here expecting to tell nobody about how to run their business, or manage their business, Meriadoc! Last thing we need in these parts are any Bucklanders running off to the wilds and far wilds looking to mingle with strange folk and bring all that business back with them! Just like old crazy Bilbo Baggins, and his cracked nephew of his!" Ted was on a roll. Anakin tilted his head as Padmé looked back at him. Her brow furrowed and silently asking him who this Ted person was. All Anakin could do was shrug.

"That lad hasn't been the same since you two and Sam Gamgee brought him back from who knows where! Sticks himself alone inside Bag End just like old Bilbo. The last thing we need here in the Shire is anymore strangeness!" Ted noted pointing his look at the three tall folk.

"Oi, Ted why don't you have a walk? Take yourself to a stream, see some nice waters." Pippin clearly dared the man. "Better waters than what your mill pushes through."

"Now don't you start on again about my mill! I'll hear none of it come from a Took of all persons!" Ted grumbled. His fair features, scrappy and slightly aged, puffed up and turned just a bit red. The first time in a while Anakin recalled seeing a hobbit get angry. Genuinely angry.

"Alright, alright." Merry waved his hands both at Pip and Ted. "Let's not get all flustered, now. Go on Ted."

"'Go on?!' You go on! The lot of you! Back on up the hill or wherever you came from!"

"Your heart rate is elevated, sir! For a being of your size, stature, and weight it is highly recommended you calm yourself immediately." The robotic trill of FourDee suddenly announced itself. The floating body of the droid drifted down beside Ted. The hobbit snapped his head back and forth sending his wavy brown hair sprawling across his face.

"Who said...by my...what is that?!"

"FourDee!" Anakin called as the droid, its small circular frame came low and its photoreceptors peered into Ted's eyes. The hobbit gaping at the sight of floating metal that warbled the air rhythmically.

"I am designated as, One-One-Four-D, sir." FourDee chirped in the common pleasant droid accent. "I should remind you, however, your heart rate has risen quite rapidly! My instrumentation on hand is basic by my standards, but I am more than capable of detecting the elevation, sir. You should find a means to calm yourself as soon as...for lack of a better term, humanly, possible. Such stress elevation will only shorten your life expectancy."

"What is this thing?! Get it away from me!"

"Oi, calm down Ted!" Merry scoffed, jutting his hand towards the droid. "That's just FourDee!"

"What in the Shire is a 'FourDee?!' No...no, I don't need to know! You get that...get away from me! Metal bird...metal beast! Who heard of such nonsense?! Wizard shenanigans! That old Gandalf is behind it, I bet!"

"Go on, Ted, go on!" Pippin groaned as the portly, bright red hobbit stamped and stomped near, and then past the hobbits. Glaring through narrowed slits of eyes at Padmé, muttering for her to get out of his way, then the same for Anakin and Obi-Wan. FourDee floating after him, though pausing at Anakin's spot.

"His anger is unhealthy, Master."

"Yeah, I agree. But, you shouldn't go up and tell anyone you see what their pulse is like, FourDee. It's...odd. Also probably rude."

"Apologies, Master. I will temper my enthusiasm in the future."

"Thank you, FourDee." Anakin shook his head in incredulity.

"Who was that fellow?" Obi-Wan asked Merry. The shaggy headed hobbit scoffed. Wagging his arm like a wavering tree branch at the pathway Ted had disappeared up.

"That's old Ted Sandyman. He's a grouch. Always has been, probably always will be. He and his father and the Sandyman's for as long as I've known them have run the old mill on Shire-Water."

"Oh aye." Pippin added. "Ted has always been a bit on the rougher side. Complains a lot. Not one for big-folk or any strangers who come in or through the Shire of any sort really. Shortly before me and Merry joined the delegation he had some dealings with ruffians. Stirred up a lot of trouble when we got back."

"Huh…" Anakin hummed. "You know I recall you two mentioning something about that. Flippantly I mean. Hopefully all is well?"

"Needn't you worry, Anakin." Merry smiled with an abundance of hobbit confidence. Accentuating his almost boyish features. Contained within a manner of quiet repose, but no small amount of wisdom either.

"Me, Pip here, along with Sam and Frodo took care of it. Got the Shire to work on the trouble before it could get too bad. They were disorganized troublemakers."

"Hopefully their memory won't strain our visit?" Padmé was the one who thoughtfully wondered. But, both hobbits shook their heads and assured the group all would be well.

"Ah, but enough of Ted and his poor manners! Let's be off!" Merry swung an arm in dramatic fashion down the road where ted had first come from. His right index finger rigid as durasteel as he seemed to almost appear like one of the old Republic propaganda posters to be found on a Core World, to Anakin anyways.

"Let's get going! Sam should be 'round here somewhere."

"I'd check the Green Dragon!" Pippin hummed, resting both hands on the back of his head and happily jaunting beside Merry. Who, in kind, turned to Pippin and scoffed again.

"You still on that Pip? You just want a mug of ale."

"Haven't had a good sampling of hobbit brew in weeks Merry!" Pippin grinned for all to see as he peered back over shoulder. "Can anyone blame me?!"

"He's got a point." Obi-Wan chortled to Merry's scoffing dismay.

"Don't you go and encourage him Obi-Wan! Pippin will drink a mug, and come sunrise he'll be the whole barrel!"

"Now that I would like to see." Padmé grinned wickedly as they all encouraged Pippin.

"Oh?" Pippin chirped. "Then to the Green Dragon we must go! The Lady has spoken, Merry!"

"Alright…" Merry sighed in defeat. "You three are responsible for what's to come though."

"I'll carry him home Merry, don't worry." Anakin joined. Winking at his wife who giggled. Thus lighting his life and soul with newfound joy as Obi-Wan chortled. Wrapping his hands into his robes.

"A true friend you are, Anakin! Come along Merry!" All that much more quickly, Pippin led with a pep to his step.

Whilst Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padmé silently began to take in the sights around them with a greater degree of freedom from idle banter or chatter. Rolling hills with lush green blades of grass whipping gently by the ways of breathy winds. Trees scattered about the dips and valleys, some placed atop mounds and hills as though on purpose, whether true or so. They were yellowed and seemed to capture the light of the Sun. Beaming radiant glows of nature in prime, and primal manner that warmed one's spirits as much as their flesh.

The cascading rhythm of the leaves and branches creaking and shivering was enough to force a sigh of contentment from one. Anyone! While the waters of nearby rivers gently streamed on end. Some louder, and some quieter. As the song of crickets and birds melded to formulate the orchestra of peace herein.

The Shire bloomed with a calm contentedness. Not born from great power. Not a scar left by the passing of dead Sith nor the home or location where Jedi had lifted their spirits and left their own mark. This was something that could be found elsewhere, if one went looking for it. Quiet brooks. Distant fields of grass, or the shores of an old but happily forgotten sandy beach. Nature, the originator of art in all its forms save but for the most machine, when given leave to coexist or thrive free of the machinations of mechanization was home to a bounty of the Force. Where it seemed to almost bound that much more happily. As though the unknowable Will, the thought of the Force found solace, and peace in such places. Willing, or at least hoping such beautiful things were not and did not become lost to time.

Along the path would soon be seen jolly fattened hobbits meandering along the paths. Some staring at Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padmé. Merry and Pippin greeting Proudfoots, Bolgers and the like. Telling them to leave the big people be. They were friends. Some would walk up and give what Anakin assumed to be cautious greetings. Twang accented voices would holler greetings. The shabbily dressed, and earthy farmers would bellow hellos for it was good practice and manner to do so. While the more well dressed would greet with more concerned eyes, but no less amount of cordiality.

As they continued on, with idle chatter from an odd hobbit here and there, Anakin managed to catch sight of an old hobbit. Sat next to a hill, that Anakin now understood to be a hobbit hole. Rather a hobbit home. A sloped thing of grass over top along the roof. While built into it was a thing of light brown wood where circular doorways of deep green and circular windows met one's outward gaze. About the older hobbit's ragged and hairy feet were many potted plants. His face was creased in several flabby layers of flesh that one could imagine dust or dirt to become easily lost within. Whilst aged light eyes glimmered without direction as he leaned himself onto a rocking chair quite tall for a hobbit. A few stray chickens clucked about, digging at good earth for whatever their reasons. While a line of hung clothes swayed off to his right. His body layered in overalls, that seemed dirtied by some farming or tilling in the hours come before. A grumbling look to his face, before little hobbits, undoubtedly children, quite small of course, and assuredly his grandchildren giggled about. His expression remained frowning and disquieted. To then, like a switch flip. A toothy grin on his elder features as he reached out and pinched a young blonde girl's shoulder as she ran circles about him with a young shaggy-headed boy with brown hair. The girl squealed and ran as the elder hobbit growled in a manner old men did when playing with their youngest of family members or even the youngest of the shared tribe as the little ones scampered off the front stoop and its stray cobblestones.

"Ani?"

"Huh?" Anakin shook himself and caught Padmé's eyes. Those deep brown orbs searched his thoughtfully. Though in an instant Anakin knew he had been caught too long observing the sights as they passed the home by.

"What are you thinking about?" She wondered.

"Ah, nothing." Anakin smiled. Reaching out right he clipped his right mechanical, and gloved arm about her waist and pulled himself close rather than her and the carrier with their twins within. His mind fluttering to a future like that as he had just seen. Perhaps...one day? He would be sat on a chair on Naboo, at Varakiyno maybe? Padmé would be inside while Luke and Leia had families of their own and he was tending to his own business of lounging as the squeal of their young ones filtered in. Should they choose to have any of course.

"Something's going on in that head of yours." Padmé knew. Of course she did. Anakin rarely made it hard for anyone to know when something was on his mind.

"Just thinking of you...me...all of us."

"Us?"

"Us and the twins." Anakin stipulated with a smile. "When this visit is over with, and once me and Obi-Wan help Aragorn with his trip, I was hoping you would come with me, but you don't have to if you're itching to get back to Coruscant?"

"Depends on where we're going?" Padmé hummed. Her voice a song on his ears. Low and melodic. It made him all at once remember how much he loved her.

"Well, I need to go back...to Tatooine. I need to...I want to check in on the Lars' and see how they're doing. I think...mom would have liked that."

"That sounds wonderful, Ani...if you can...handle it?" She carefully pressed as the whole company kept moving. Anakin was aware Obi-Wan, as quietly as he could was listening in on them. But, Anakin felt no reason to call him out on it, nor try to hide his intentions. Obi-Wan had the right to know where his crazy old Padawan was heading off to more concretely even if he knew most of his plans.

"I can, Padmé. Don't worry. But," Anakin rolled his shoulders as the slightest of unease did in fact enter his mind. Old memories fluttered through the calm of the Shire. The sound of grunting cries, and the buzzing hiss of a lightsaber through tent, cloth and...flesh echoed.

"I need to see some things on Tatooine. Some things I never wanted to see ever again. I...I have."

"You don't need to say anything else, Ani." Padmé assured with her serenity, born of her time as both a Queen and Senator, but also innate to her being, showed through. It helped calm Anakin's nerves upon sight of it.

"Thank you, Padmé." Anakin sighed. "But, Tatooine being...Tatooine, I'd understand if you'd want to take off. Head back to Coruscant and get back to that mess."

"I'm on a very generous parental leave, Ani." Padmé beamed. A knowing glint in her wise brown eyes. Forcing a smile onto Anakin's face as she continued. "I intend to take it for as long as I can manage...well," She smirked. "I may call Bail and Mon and check in on things."

"You can take the Senator from the Senate…"

"Hush you!" Padmé feigned a scowling frown. "You left me a big mess to clean up Skywalker!"

"He tends to do that!" Obi-Wan called over shoulder to Anakin's silent one-handed salute. A peculiar nonverbal movement he had seen some people practice when upset on various worlds...though Obi-Wan as if sensing, and he very likely had, the 'sign' merely chortled.

"That said," Padmé continued with an undertone of a giggle in her throat. "I will be with you through Tatooine. I'll have the star skiff brought to a nearby system! We'll use that. Me, Luke and Leia will do just fine there, if the Lars' aren't willing to accommodate."

"I'm sure they will be." Anakin nodded. "Though you could use it for work or anything else. Of course you'd wanna bring the yacht...good thing I married up!" He grinned as Padmé's eyes narrowed into a manner that both showed mischievousness and bit of sensuality that made Anakin cock his brow curiously. Before Padmé hummed playfully and shrugged.

"You're lucky I find you...a looker. That's all I'll say, Ani." She dismissed him with a whip of her head and a grin unseen but felt as Anakin let her tug away. He followed her and admired every sculpted curve of her body. His love mingled with a passionate call to her within, and he let the emotion come and envelop him, and pass after. All of it mingled with his admiration and love for her. Beyond all base lusts and desires, and simplistic thoughts. He couldn't have asked for a better partner.

His mind fluttered back to that content fat old hobbit long since passed by now. A smile on Anakin's face as he patched together a future for himself and Padmé as content as that lone, and to the galaxy, politics, and war, unimportant man.

One day Anakin would like to know what it was like to be that unimportant, and at peace.

---

Dressed in pathetically simple orange garb the lone figure of an otherwise tall and sternly shouldered man sat at a clean plain steel table. His head was downward facing, and eyes set steely with unknown thoughts passing over them as they focused on the glare of his warped reflection. His fair flesh was creased here and there. The telltale marks of aging. The man likely had many decades left of life in him should nothing unforeseen happen, of course. A though quite present on his mind of late.

In the reflection, quietly he tilted his face right. Idly appreciating the dark head of well kempt hair even whilst in...this place. The only oddity to his appearance was the bushel of whitened hair that ran as streaks along the back of his head down towards the rear of his neck. That and the unusual amount of stubble running along his chin and upper lip. Days without proper shaving taking its toll upon his usually well kempt and cleaned face.

He sat leaning still. Unfazed by the clamping and clamor of distant boots unseen. An undulation of some unease did grip his stomach, but he did not utter it once to anyone. Anxieties, fears and the like were to be repressed especially in circumstances and days as he found himself. His clothing was clean, or what amounted to clean of the mass produced and mass cleaned attire. Orange pants covered his legs and he had strapless boots upon his feet. Straps of course, or rather any chords were strictly disallowed in a place as this. Lest the prisoner, any of them, came to the wild conclusion that suicide was preferable to incarceration. Though, he had no desire nor intent of ending his own life.

His shirt, tucked into his pants at the lower hem, was similar to factory-worker's attire. A simple shirt that buttoned up the center without buttons but velcro straps beneath the divides to remain unseen. Apparently, though he had known of this when he had been in power himself, some prisoner somewhere at some point decided to try and escape by way of eating all his buttons in hopes it would clog his stomach or intestinal tract and lead to infection or perforation from within. A foolish thought that hadn't work of course. The idiot had his stomach pumped and all buttons had been replaced with the velcro for some decades now.

The top two rows were opened up on him. Revealing an undershirt that was white, a collar wrapped about his neck, and kept him warm in the otherwise cold and drab box-like room he found himself. The floors and the ceiling were both metallic as the table before him. The seat he sat in was bolted to the floor along a track. Allowing one to forcibly push it back and then sit in it. Before the chair would push itself to the end of the track and plant the occupant in front of the table. Luckily he was not as plump as some prisoners. He imagined that some who sat here would have their bellies pressed against the metal. Forcing discomfort as a subtle means of coaxing the prisoner into confessions. The more stress, the more discomfort, the greater the mental anguish for a state unwilling to break bones, and tear minds...the more likely one could confess to all ills as they have committed.

Nevertheless, the room was a dull steel-gray all about. Gleaming in cleanliness. To his right, though he did not eye it, was a thick slab, a mirror of one-way polycarbonate. On the other side stood undoubtedly a few persons of various investigatory bureaus. Perhaps even a few politicians? He couldn't know for sure, and in the end it didn't really matter who stood on the side that could peer in, disallowing him the same visibility. He was their prisoner, their pet and experiment, but he was not one to easily give them all that which they yearned for.

Unlike his now deceased employer, Armand Isard knew those beings and those bodies that remained functional within the Republic had no stomach for pulling what information they wanted from him through 'extra-judicial' means. The Security Bureau was liquidated. Its members were all either arrested or put on indefinite leave. That much he had managed to gleam from several of his quite expensive attorneys. That arrogant bloated fool, Vandron, had found it worthwhile to put a blaster bolt through his skull than suffer these indignities. Armand thought it both a cruel show of rare bravery from the man, and the most base of indications the man had no right to be at the head of a Bureau like Security. No, Armand would find his own way out. Not like that.

Still, Armand could guess Republic Intelligence was suffering a similar fate. The Republic could ill go long without the agency and its functions in maintaining security and delivering reports on Separatist activity. Whether the Republic chose to call them Separatists anymore or not with the shifting tides of politics at play. However, Intelligence would have every member scrutinized, every agent recalled for interrogation. Every apparatus and operation would be sniffed over, time and again to ensure loyalty not to the fallen Chancellor, but rather, loyalty to the apparatus and continuity of the State. That also meant no one from either maligned and liquidated Security, nor from untrustworthy and suspicious Intelligence could be called upon to discern truth from fiction out of Isard's mouth. Not that lying was his intended strategy here.

To lie to those as questioned him here was tantamount to imprisonment without trial indefinite. For all the talk of law and order, or the following of the Republic's founding articles, in these alarming unsure times Armand could not, nor would not be allowed to walk free. He couldn't be. He knew too much, and had been far too close to Palpatine. Armand, as anyone with half a single brain cell could discern, knew where the bodies were buried. He was a prize, sure. But, they wanted bigger fish, and the galaxy was a vast pond.

Few things, few secrets escaped Palpatine's knowledge, and how did they think Palpatine managed the secrets of those he put in power? Not by his own cunning alone, no matter how great as his mind and powers had been. Rather, Security, Intelligence, and those who knew...well, they knew. And most of them were either going to be unwilling to talk, or they didn't know what they thought they knew. Whereas Armand...Armand did know. Armand prided himself on knowing. Now, would he share? That was the question. The Republic's hand was quite full of cards in this sabacc game, but Armand, in truth; though seeming the one weaker of power, held the single card that made him winner outright. They didn't just want the information he had, they needed it. Without prosecuting those as attempted to aid Palpatine in his rolling coup, the Republic would be seen not only as weak, but vulnerable from without...and more importantly, within.

Armand fiddled his thumbs one upon the other. Wrestling them in circles absently and without directed thought. Aware, as ever, that he was being watched. Monitored like a hawk-bat about to pounce upon an unwitting rat. His thoughts...troubled him still. Beyond what was his predicament at this point. He found it odd that no Jedi had come to see him. Or, interrogate him. Briefly, he had seen Obi-Wan Kenobi when he was being moved from one detention center to another. The elder Jedi Master had, at that time, been labeled as Supreme Commander of all Coruscant Forces. A position granted him by the Security Council in the wake of the attempted coup to stamp out the remaining unfocused elements like those rabbles and unimportant blithering fools such as COMPOR.

Kenobi had not sought him out. Nor spoke to him. No Jedi had. None in the weeks he had been the esteemed imprisoned guest of the Republic, Armand had once so 'dutifully' helped lead through war and chaos. Ironic really…

Regardless, Armand had found the Jedi absence curious. So too had been the collapse of Palpatine's plans. From a distance Armand had watched the political chaos and meltdown within the Senate Chamber as the Chancellor's true nature had been shown to everyone across the galaxy. The COMPOR fools engaged in battle with Coruscant Guard security forces who were meant to be gauging the reason why the 501st had ceased all operations on the Jedi Temple. Facilitating their escape, as best Armand had managed to piece together in the aftermath before his arrest.

His mind would time and again flutter to that woman. The blonde vile tart with something, and someone far more cunning and dangerous sharing her body. The keen interest Palpatine showed in her...in them. The ring, and importance of magics Armand guessed to be Force-craft. Such were the needs, and interests of cults and religions as the Jedi and Sith of old. As Palpatine had been one of the latter himself.

Vica. Her name was. The being within was Sauron. Armand and Crueya Vandron were the only two who truly understood who Palpatine's guest was. At least to some degree, and Vandron was no longer able to give any information of the matter. Yet, no Jedi came to him. The Temple attack had been put down, and Armand had come to understand it was by way of Anakin Skywalker. That the attacker at the head of the 501st had been killed by Skywalker in a duel. And, most importantly, before his arrest, Armand had managed to learn that the attacker's identity had been...Serra Keto.

"Hmph." Armand grunted from his throat. Shaking his head to himself.

He didn't quite understand how, or when or where. But, as a man of the intelligence community Armand could see, or at least see via way of hindsight, he had like Palpatine been played for a fool. The being inside of Vica had; because Armand refused to believe it to be by way of the woman herself, but both had gotten away.

Now...taking all things together as the sum of what had occurred in the collapse of the 'Palpatine Coup' there was a vital piece of information missing. A puzzle that Armand was sure would with years come together finely enough for those in power to move on. But, there would be some, beyond the mindless masses who believed anything and everything was conspiracy, but there would be some who understood there was something missing. One string of cloth that was left out of the hung tapestry. An ode to the failure of coup and power's taking from the Republic…

Armand saw no reason to share that piece with the Republic. No...no why should he? They didn't know, and they believed now that they had a clue with Keto. They and the Jedi were clearly not going to be on good terms even with the reality of Palpatine's machinations laid bare. The Jedi were not so morally superior as to forgive the death of thousands within the Order by the state they had sworn aid and all but absolute allegiance to. The Republic wouldn't know of Palpatine's esteemed guest. Any and all traces had been scrubbed when Vica was taken before him that final time. Palpatine's wishes.

Armand restrained a cold thin smile from growing along his face. It was not that he was happy to have knowledge they could not even begin to ask him for. Not necessarily. Rather, it was that Armand wondered with all the machinations of such a creature...and the abject failure of Palpatine's many decades long plans...what then was their aim? What horror were they looking after? What intent did they have? Armand did not understand Force magic as he called it sometimes. He didn't understand Jedi wizardry. Nor Sith at that. He didn't understand, but he had seen what those with such powers were capable of.

This being, Sauron, was both alike and not alike. He was seen by Palpatine to be of great power and use. For and to what end? Of course, Armand didn't know. He could only imagine, and the human mind was far too free to imagine anything and everything possible. But, Sauron had escaped without Palpatine or Armand or Crueya...without anyone who should have known, being any the wiser of it. Vica and Sauron were loose. The Separatists were coalescing into a state beyond a thatched military intent on fighting the Republic. General Grievous had not died on Utapau.

There it is. Not for the first time Armand managed to see past the veil. There, the tapestry and the puzzle that would remain incomplete without the knowledge of Sauron – beyond it there it was. Another puzzle. Itself being formulated. Sauron was part of it. The failure of Palpatine could not have come idly and alone by the Jedi. There was a pattern to it. Perhaps others would with time see that they were missing that puzzle piece? But, Armand wondered how many would see that the puzzle atop was masking another beneath? Even if they did, would they have any clue how to deal with such revelation? No, he didn't think so.

Armand sniffled idly where he sat. Leaning back in his seat and allowing both hands to slip easily along the cold flattened surface of the table. Patting his knees, the former Intelligence Director concluded again that he wouldn't share what he knew.

No. Not with them. Not for their own sake. For vengeance? Perhaps a little. In truth, Armand saw no use in it even if he did speak of it. He owed them nothing. They would give him what he wanted, so they could chase the ghosts of men who at one point would have led the new bureaucracy into the future. They were dead. They didn't know it yet, and the Republic wished to hasten their entry to the grave. So be it. The living, however, yet had parts to play. Armand was somewhere in-between he felt. There was chance yet he could still play a role. A chance at least to see that which made mockery of him burn.

A sleek door like the rest of the walls, ceiling and floor, slithered open. Metal gently grinding against more metal. A great slab opened before Armand opposite the seat. Light bloomed within from without, cascading upon the figure of a slim being stood on two legs in a human appearance. Their features not yet discernible, whilst behind them two figures stood. The central one turned slightly, held his right hand up as though silently ordering the two not to follow, though Armand doubted they needed such an indication. The two men held blaster rifles close to their chests. Armand doubted they were set to kill. More likely ready to induce quite the painful shock to stun him or any other prisoner in foolish attempt to break free.

The two armored men disappeared beyond the corners of the doorway entrance, while the central figure entered. In his left hand was carried a simple, and Armand thought curiously stereotypical steel briefcase. The man was familiar to Armand, and unknown to many who weren't in need of proper esteemed legal representation. Older, with slouching cheeks and bulbous flesh, he had green thoughtful eyes that, like Armand, seemed to at once check the room as he entered. Coy and subtly aware of his surroundings. Those green orbs fell on the one-way mirror, and Armand thought he saw the man's nostrils flare in a scoffing laugh that went unheard as the door shut behind him.

Fair skin for a human, the man was balding, and had a rim of fading hair desperately clung atop his scalp. Patches of liver spots showed on that dome, and his sagging flesh was otherwise clinging to his thin frame. Armand knew he had gone through several surgeries to lose weight in the years passing. Never the skin surgeries for the flab that remained. Giving the lanky figure an odd appearance with sagging flesh that formed creases and lines along his arms and face. But, that did nothing nor spoke at all to his skills as a lawyer.

Armand pushed the chair back. It ground along the rails, and he moved around the table in defiance of anyone who would otherwise prefer he remain sat without as much movement as possible. While the lawyer moved to the right of the table and met Armand. Both right arms rose and clasped the other. Shaking simply as Armand plastered a politically thankful smile onto his face.

"Karmin, a pleasure to finally have you in the flesh."

"Armand." Karmin Dollz nodded in greeting. An equally political smile on his ragged face while his green eyes cocked curiously and swept left to the mirror. "I see you've made quite a mess for yourself, haven't you?"

"It would appear so. At least, that's what the politicos tell me."

"Ah, yes, of course." Karmin chortled. Both he and Armand disengaged and Armand sat down in the old chair. Forcing the rails back to sit down. Being pushed forward nearer the table whilst Karmin grumbled to himself. Planting the briefcase on the table with a thudding clang of more metal scraping metal. Himself taking an opposing seat in an equally uncomfortably rail bound seat.

"I hope none of the others you've forced me to co-counsel with have given you any advice on speaking with any of your prosecutory team?"

"They have. Though, I have hardly listened."

"Good." Karmin nodded. "We can also best be sure they're listening to us. In spite of any attorney-client privilege that exists on paper somewhere, we shouldn't be deluded." Karmin smiled wryly with a coy glint in his eyes. "Not with what you've been accused of, Armand."

"No of course not." Armand sighed in feigned lamentation. "The Republic has more and more begun to lose its ways of moral righteousness and the rule of law, so-called. They can listen all they want."

"Very well." Karmin sniffled absently. Turning his briefcase he moved a few documents that Armand didn't know the use nor importance of, before he pulled free a datapad. Karmin turned it on and swept through several long paragraphs that shimmered in reflection upon his face and through his eyes.

"Now, as you are well aware, Armand, the Republic has levied quite a few hefty claims and accusations at you. However, I have spoken with the Chief Prosecutor's office. They seem to be under the impression you might know where certain wanted persons may be?"

Armand lifted his hands out where they had come to rest on the table. The fingers flexing in a shrug of the digits.

"It is reasonable for anyone to assume that the Director of Republic Intelligence would know where certain persons could be at any given time. Such a person would have necessary need of information if required by state and within the bounds of the law." Armand skirted outright declaration to the silent smile of Karmin.

"Of course. One could assume as much." He agreed. "Now, it has been posited that one of such a position could have knowledge relating to the whereabouts of certain individuals. Their names could be Kinman Doriana, Janus Greejatus, and Sate Pestage. Along with a slew of other less important bureaucrats that the Republic in principle for perceived past ills are looking for." Karmin waved his hand somewhat dismissively.

"A Republic Intelligence Director could be believed to have such knowledge of the whereabouts of such individuals, yes." Armand said nothing new. "However, I would think there are other persons with just as much knowledge of these individuals. Such as former Vice Chair Amedda?"

"You would be right." Karmin nodded. "The former Vice Chair has officially retired from politics, and has moved back to Champala. Unlike yourself the Republic bureaucracy has seen fit to allow an open supporter of the former Supreme Chancellor to walk free of his duties. Doubtless it will be revealed in time the Vice Chair has revealed what information the Republic wanted of the man and has been given conditional immunity to retire."

"Doubtless." Armand agreed with the faintest shadow of a frown on his lips.

"Likely," Karmin continued. "What intelligence the Republic assumes itself to have requires verification, or they need more. The persons as I have listed are notably well suited to hide themselves in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Flush with ill gotten credits one could assume at that."

"One could imagine that." Armand neither confirmed nor denied. "What would be important to someone being asked to find these men is what the Republic is giving back in kind for such intelligence."

"Of course." Karmin agreed with an absent nod. He pressed something on the datapad. Laying it on the table he circled it and pushed it towards Armand. On it the former Director could see that Karmin had noted the Republic was currently looking for all three men through what information Amedda had shared. They were following bank accounts that led to bank accounts and shell companies. Many moved through the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Hard nut to crack even with the war. So far the Republic's agents believed they were zeroing in on Greejatus. Following a pseudonym Armand knew well to the man's home sector of Chommell. One of the eldest 'friends' of the former Chancellor, if one could imagine such a being as having any friends that is. Greejatus was playing the age old game of hiding closest to home. Assuming, perhaps rightly perhaps not, that the Republic would follow this name to where it would inevitably lead. Eventually it would take the Republic out of Chommell and into Hutt Space where they would dig through muck and the Cartels to find a man who didn't exist.

The Republic wanted Greejatus because they believed the man had clues to the earliest machinations of Palpatine's ascent to power. Every move, every vote, and every act was now being scrutinized. Rightly so. They wanted to see how far back every oily and corrupt move went. Was Palpatine from the start an odious corrupt politician? Of course he was. They should know this. But, the new Committees in the Senate wanted to make a show of it. Playing the game of course. With Greejatus they could even get old acts and laws more readily rescinded on grounds of illegality of the Executive. Armand saw what they wanted in Greejatus easily enough.

For him, they were offering to take life imprisonment off the table. As well, Greejatus would be a show of good faith going forward. The prosecution, smartly in Armand's studious eyes, also indicated they would not take conditional release off the table. Not immunity, however. They expected Armand to admit to wrongdoing at some point. He was to be branded a criminal. Armand didn't need long to think it over. Prison? No, he wouldn't go to prison. Be branded a criminal? He could handle that. Who cared where freedom was concerned from ray shielded cells or the odious old styled bars? Release would mean freedom. He could get lost in the galaxy if he needed to.

Finally, Karmin indicated that the prosecution would be willing to release one of Armand's known bank accounts to his family. Under his wife's name, not his. Allowing them to maintain their lifestyle, while, for Greejatus he would not yet self-incriminate. That must mean the others would be when Armand admitted to any wrongdoing. Curious to be so generous so early, but Armand knew they wanted the more openly corrupt agents of Palpatine to be put on show. Not the Director of Intelligence. That was embarrassing.

"This name," Armand began as Karmin nodded without reason. "I've seen it before. It's nothing." Armand flicked the datapad away. "It will go nowhere. Nowhere but some swamp in Hutt Space."

"Fascinating." Karmin hummed dismissively. Though not at Armand, at the information rather. "The terms are agreeable I presume?"

"For now." Armand nodded.

"One moment." Karmin pressed something on the datapad. Armand would presume it was a means of sending a confirmation to the prosecutor. Indeed, Karmin held his right hand up, index finger pointed to the ceiling. A ping followed from the datapad, and then Karmin swept his open palm towards Armand.

"The floor is yours, Director." Karmin maintained the honorific, even if it meant nothing anymore where Armand's security and being was concerned.

"The name, Hathum? Goes nowhere. Greejatus is a man in love with his homeworld. Chommell Minor is where they should go looking for him. The bank they're following leads to a sham business created to hide Greejatus' money in Cartel operations until such a time as it became no bother to keep his credits in his own account. His own account is under the name Daygus Gorling. He's an inheritor of a gem mine on Dantooine. If you go to that farm world you'll find an office with no one in it, and no mine. Gorling's Chommell Minor address, however, you will find either Greejatus himself, or not."

"If not?"

"Follow the credit flow of a terbium company. Well, shell company. It's officially incorporated out of the Corporate Sector, but it will undoubtedly lead you to a bank account making consistent payments for an upper level villa on Nar Shaddaa. Greejatus will hide there if he is not on Chommell Minor. But, he's on Chommell Minor." Armand shrugged carelessly. Reclining into his seat.

Karmin nodded absently. Himself dully enamored with how easy and well Isard was able to pull such information from his mind. A spook if ever there was one. Armand wondered if for a moment the good lawyer contemplated if his own life was an open book to him? It was. Armand knew where his bodies were buried. Not literal ones, perhaps, but that which people wished to keep hidden, within reason was so easy to garner without much effort. Armand, Intelligence even, didn't need to put bugs in homes, nor secretly ingratiate an agent into a mark's life to learn from them all their personal secrets. Not most of the time. Most of the time people assumed they were more secretive than they really were. All you needed to do was listen to them talk in passing. Follow their airspeeder here and there.

Greejatus? The others? They did a nominally better job of hiding their tracks. But, even they didn't know how well Isard had kept his eyes on them. Perhaps, Armand even allowed a thin wicked smile to grace his face – perhaps he was simply better than most on tracking people? Perhaps it was harder? But, it didn't matter really. He could and he did easily enough sniff them out.

Yet, it was what he knew that no one else cared to know that truly mattered. A secret that nobody wanted or even knew about. What was more alluring to a man who dealt in secrets than one nobody would ever look for? One he would never share? That, in its own way, was power.

---

The deeper into Hobbiton they meandered the more and more the Shire truly bloomed into a village or town in the traditional sense. The domed hill-homes became more numerous, but quite spacious. Their tops laden with grass and many flowers of yellows, purples and all kinds of vibrant colors. As such, the deeper they tread the more hobbits came into view. Many of them greeting Merry and Pippin like those come before. All of them to some degree a bit more welcoming than Ted Sandyman. Though the snobs that did find it within themselves to say hello to the two hobbits, even they didn't or couldn't bother Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padmé.

Knowing what both hobbits had done, and could do, as well their own strengths made the sideways glances, and snootiness seem utterly immaterial to all of the group. The stroll was filled with a cool wind, while the sun warmed everyone. Maintaining an enjoyable in-between temperature for all. The twins, sleeping as they did basked in the glow of the shining star's light whilst buzzing insects and the stray calls and songs of birds maintained their lulls. Anakin couldn't help but sweep his eyes over and across, again and again. Every so often pausing them on his luminous wife. Her figure set against the greenery and natural world...it was picturesque. Idyllic even. With the twins? It was pure bliss.

"Ah, and here we are!" Merry stopped the troupe. Coming, more so than Pippin, to be the leader and guide of the group. Garbed in his Rohirric armor, the blonde Hobbit crossed his arms over his chest and stared into the distance. A noticeable trail led along a path from where the group came to a halt. They were atop a hill that led down, but from their vantage point they could see across what seemed to be a neighborhood. A plot sat nestled among the dwellings, where a tree sat. Anakin pondered silently if this was the 'Party Tree' he had heard of before? But, didn't ask. It was a vast thing, beautiful and proud, whilst beside it sat shimmering even from this distance a pool of water.

Several small figures could be seen loitering about. Laid under the tree or a few with stools or chairs were beside the pond. Throwing lines into it and peaceably fishing the day away. Anakin couldn't help but smile for their comfort. Merry, however, pulled his attention away by jutting an arm forward and across their field of vision from their angle they could see another hobbit home. This one nestled atop a hill, with a pleasant pathway leading along the front of it. A rather large hobbit home, with a brilliantly green circular door that one could make out even from this distance. A great tree grew atop the home. Itself almost a match for the party tree in its sheer size and seeming weight. A gate could be seen sprawled along the front, and the home certainly appeared affluent, at least as hobbits were concerned.

"That there is Bag End." Merry finished. "That's where Frodo lives, and old Bilbo had before him."

"Aye, and for which the Sackville-Baggins won't ever forgive the old hobbit for living as long as he did. Then handing it over to Frodo!" Pippin added nonchalantly as it was whimsically nostalgic.

"It looks lovely." Padmé offered as FourDee floated down beside her right shoulder unspoken. "Who are the Sackville-Baggins?"

"Ah, needn't you worry about them, my Lady." Merry shrugged. "Just a bunch of 'proper' Bagginses who don't proper like Bilbo or Frodo. Bilbo I would think because of the Tookish family relation."

"Tookish?" Anakin intoned.

"Oh yes." Pippin proudly repeated what Anakin was sure information he had heard at some point, and let slip. "Frodo and old Bilbo are relations of mine, distantly as it may be! Bilbo's mother was Belladonna Took! The Baggins family should be more than happy to have Tooks among them!"

"It's just you Pip." Merry jabbed. "You scare all other families off."

"How so, Merry?" An earnest question that left Merry to roll his eyes as the others cackled gleefully. Even as Pippin looked about in further earnest confusion.

The mood, the look, the nature and quiet happiness of this place. Anakin once more took it in. his blue eyes trailing the hills near and distant. The small dots, figures moving about. The sound of whimsical chatter and laughter. Nowhere about one could see great aims for power and the enchantment of fortunes beyond what corners the hobbits made for themselves. Though Anakin tempered himself. Knowing it naive, especially with Ted Sandyman and these Sackville-Bagginses coming to mind. There were bound to be greedy hobbits. But, the home they had made for themselves as a people as he found it...it was comfort. Quiet and soothing where one could become lost. Especially after years of toil and torment.

Though, Anakin's mind also recalled Bilbo. The old hobbit met back in Rivendell. An adventurers mind that had long managed to nestle himself into comfort and perhaps even a hint of agoraphobia here in hobbit country, among similarly minded hobbits. It was enough to make Anakin smirk even as the aches of his legs throbbed silently from the walk. Old wounds rearing their heads that he did not let the others know or notice. Consideration flashing over a more wise mind to remind him that even here in the comfort and quiet of the Shire which astounded him, even here there were those who wished to explore. To take a step outside their door and go places they had never been. To see things they had not known.

As many who wished to rest here in golden hills, among green trees and glittering blue streams. Just as many wished to have an adventure all their own. To meet new faces, friend and foe alike. To not yet rest as age or weariness took them. Somehow this place made that simple reality feel profound. What wrong was there in it? What would one call it? Living, perhaps? Yes, Anakin liked that. Life. What was wrong with a life well lived? A life lived as the living so chose so long as it did not hurt others readily and happily. Life was art, and it was, it is, profound.

"Now this is a sight I haven't seen in some time, I reckon!" A voice...none of theirs spoke. Though Anakin recognized it. He turned to Obi-Wan who met his gaze with a familiar glint in his eyes. Both of them knew it, and then as they seemed to at once reach out through the Force, doubly their understandings were doubled. While Padmé looked right along the intersecting path that led towards Bag End. There standing on it, upon two large hairy feet with a stout, strong, and not as portly frame as had once been, was Samwise Gamgee.

"Sam!" Merry greeted and marched over. Pippin too. Both hobbits beaming, grinning and howling in camaraderie-laughter. The dirty blonde hair of the great hobbit who had aided Frodo on his own cast a whimsically happy smile, his thumbs linked under the straps of overalls that led to gray trousers over a clean white shirt. Sam let the straps go and Merry came in, clapping Sam's right shoulder as Pippin did the left.

"You two managed to leave on another adventure right quick. Only to come back and bring two Jedi heroes with you I see?"

"Ah, you know us, Sam! Always up for more!"

"More trouble that is." Sam softly, but pleasantly enough rebuked Pippin. "Oi, don't think I hadn't recognized you two, Mister Obi-Wan and Anakin, sir! Glad to see you two again, long as it's been."

"Sam!" Much as Merry had announced Anakin swept his arms out and neared. Nearing the hobbit and clapping two mighty hands on his shoulders. Sam winced, but made no scruples of the movement. Anakin released his pinching grasp up some though, and grinned.

"It's good to see you again! Merry and Pippin forced us at knife point to come pay you, Frodo and the Shire a visit!"

"We did what?!"

"Ah, sounds like them I would say, Mister Anakin." Sam happily played along. His quieter demeanor and manner that Anakin had once known when all the Fellowship had marched together had long since thawed. A more confident, still quiet, but strong and much etched by war and travel hobbit had taken his place. Not changing Samwise Gamgee. No, rather revealing the hobbit that had always been down underneath. A good man if ever Anakin, let alone anyone else, had ever known one.

"A proper good bit of luck I should be walking this way." Sam carried on. "I had heard some rumblings from folk of big people about."

"Already?" Pippin wondered in a tone that didn't really seem that surprised.

"Aye, rumors travel no less quickly these days. You two ought know that by now! Carrying on bringing Mister Anakin and Obi-Wan on the beaten path."

"It wasn't no trouble. Besides, there's no laws barring anyone from moving into the Shire...yet."

"Yet?" Obi-Wan cocked a brow towards Merry.

"Oh, it wouldn't be the Shire-folk, not hobbits I mean, Obi-Wan. Aragorn told me and Pip about plans involving laws about Men traveling through the Shire. He does rule over all of Arnor, after all. Even if he doesn't quite have a lot of his knights and people living these ways."

"Seems somewhat exclusionary." Padmé, who had only just now pipped up, offered. Her airy voice taking on a familiar politically conscious demeanor Anakin was long used to. "But, I would guess these parts aren't known for strangers visiting."

"Aye, that's about right, Miss." Sam greeted, stepping nearer. Confidently shuffling between Anakin and Obi-Wan. Both smiling at the stout hobbit's boldness as he presented his hand, and Padmé eagerly took it. Shaking gently as Sam peered down at the twins.

"Sam Gamgee, though I'm sure you know that, Miss…?"

"Padmé Amidala-Skywalker. Anakin's most esteemed wife."

"Oh!" Sam jolted. His eyes glimmering in memory as he glanced over should towards Anakin. "Aye, Miss Padmé! He mentioned you quite decently he did! Of course this was after he began admitting as such and we all came back together after the fall of Sauron, and such."

"He mentioned you as well." Padmé beamed. "'One of the bravest of beings you'll ever meet!'"

"Oh...well I don't...I...well…"

"Ah, come on, Sam!" Pippin jumped forward and clapped the broader shoulder of his friend. "Everyone knows by now, you're one of the bravest hobbits there's ever been. Best just get used to the honorific."

"You two did more than your right share of brave deeds."

"Yes, but who else threatened to fight Anakin when he had the Ring?"

"Did he?" Padmé coyly cocked a brow along her elegant face. Full well already knowing the story as Anakin cackled beside Obi-Wan. His old mentor shaking his head.

"You two…" The Jedi Master intoned while Sam sputtered.

"No...nothing like that, Miss! I mean nothing about...well you see he had...I-" Padmé giggled at the last, and the two other hobbits joined her as Sam turned rosy red along his cheeks, but smiled all the same.

"Never mind them, Sam." Obi-Wan came to his aid. "Padmé knows full well you were doing what you had to. They are insufferable teases! You would hope to expect better from a Senator, or a politician like Miss Skywalker here, but alas...once you take on the name Skywalker you become a Skywalker."

"What's that supposed to mean, old man?" Anakin hummed.

"You know full well, Anakin!"

"I...yeah I do."

"An evil trick, Mister Anakin. Hmph!" Sam played along now. Turning to Padmé again. "Whatever the case, I welcome you to the Shire, Miss. Are these yours?"

"Mine and Anakin's."

"Ah, I see! Hopefully they grow up to be better looking than him. Take more after you, one should like."

"Oh, thank you Sam!" Padmé beamed.

"Hey!" Anakin feigned insult as everyone laughed now at his expense.

FourDee zipped down close and inspected Sam. The hobbit turned to the droid and jumped slightly at its closeness.

"FourDee!"

"Apologies, Master." The droid replied to Anakin.

"That's one of the...good...what did you call them? Droids, right?"

"Yes, and yes." Obi-Wan answered for the others. "This droid here is FourDee. Helped patch Anakin up after some recent...injuries." Padmé's mood soured but a little, while the others joined her. Sam, sensing the shift nodded.

"Ah, I thought something looked different about you, Anakin. Well...you lot have lots of stories to tell I'm sure."

"We do!" Pippin, ever the icebreaker offered. "We were heading over to the Green Dragon...to look for you of course!"

"Aye, sure you were." Sam snorted as Pippin carried on.

"Well, seeing as you're here, we could head over to Bag End to see Frodo. Care to join us Sam?!"

"Aye, I was heading there myself. Mister Frodo's garden has been needing a light trim along the fencing I thought. I wanted to get a look at it."

"Still gardening, Sam?" Anakin cocked a brow.

"Aye! Good earth, good soil, and a fine hearth! What more do you need in a home?"

"Hmm…?" Anakin turned to Padmé. Their eyes met, and some unspoken recognition of the other, deep and loving, passed between. Sam, the insightful strong hobbit he now was, seemed to pick up on it in a way neither of the others quite did.

"Well...there's always use in having a spare chair to enjoy the fireplace, I should think." He clasped his hands under his overalls. Sam turned and marched himself towards the distant hill of Bag End.

"Come along you two! Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Miss Padmé, after me if you'd please."

"And who went and made you the troupe guide, Sam?"

"I did, Pippin, come on!" The three hobbits hurried forward as the three humans quickly followed after.

"So, that's Sam." Anakin added for no particular reason.

"A brilliant observation, Anakin." Obi-Wan hummed.

"I was just-"

"Hush now, Ani." Padmé quieted her husband. "Attend to your twins, they're waking up."

"Attend how?" Anakin waved his hands up as both Luke and Leia stirred.

"Your face, my old Padawan. It is humorous enough."

"You...I…!" Obi-Wan quickened his pace and chortled away. Leaving Anakin flushed and smirking as he lock-stepped beside the carriage his children were in and cooed down at them. Guiding their as of yet still blurry vision towards him. Babbling coos and grunts followed as he spoke nothings down at them.

The wispy winds about sung their songs, shaking tree branch and grass gently. Nearby streams and the chirping crickets unseen carried on. The cool air and lively sun shone. The Shire almost seemed to welcome them into the fold of this tranquil refuge.

---

"Today, at eleven o'clock local time, an explosion rung out in the city center. According to the local authorities following the intense action captured by local security cams, and recorded by passerby's, the attack was conducted by the so-called, 'All People's Front,' organization." A series of faces sat illuminated in a dimly lit and stingy room. all of them were turned to watch the news report on the HoloScreen. The news anchor was a human woman expertly dressed and clearly reading from an unseen teleprompter whilst beside her head a small screen animation had formed, and the 'camera' zoomed in.

The room these men resided in was dark, a few lone ceiling hung lights illuminated their faces. Many of them bore angered expressions. One of them, a tall strong man ground his teeth unheard by the others. As another, lankier man further sat from the group watched without show of outward expression. All watched as the news switched to the 'small' screen that then took up all of their own.

What followed was an impressive, flash of burning orange light from what had to be a security camera placed outside some random shop, and then the expected boom! The screen shivered suddenly and all manner of debris from uprooted concrete, clocks of stone used to build the commonly seen white nearby buildings and steel that was charred by the explosion was tossed up from the roads where a crater now could be partially seen.

"The APF has thus far not released a statement claiming responsibility for the attack. Police, however, including the newly arrived supplemental security forces from the Confederacy, both believe the attack to coincide with the group's tactics. Designated as a terrorist organization two years ago, the APF first came to public consciousness with the bombing of Sienar Labs here in Anxarta. The attack had claimed the lives of sixteen Sienar employees and a further twelve persons outside the facility when a bomb planted inside a parked speeder detonated. Several members of APF have since been arrested, and tried, though no formal convictions have thus far been made."

"The damn fool!" One of the men nearer the screens broke the silence in the group.

"Melx, please," The lean figure at the back tried to stop him. Melx, however, swiveled around in his seat. His hands thrown up incredulous as the woman continued behind him now.

"That...that man is going to get us all killed! What has he and his roving little gang contributed to us, beyond scores of dead civilians and his karking 'political contributions?!' We know where the credits come from! All of us do, and I for one don't want his damn credits!"
"That's easy for you to say." Another man sat two seats away from the lean man at the back, began. Another middle-aged human with an academic look to him. Spectacles placed, more a fashion statement, near the tip of his fair nose, while dark eyes shimmered in the reflection of the news report. A trimmed mustache above his upper lip, and a dismissive wave of his right hand followed.

"No one else here brings in any kind of credits that could be used for direct action. That's what the argument to be, isn't it? We should be out there fomenting marches and rebellion! We should somehow get the masses out of their stupors and rise against not only Santhe-Sienar Technologies, but now too the yoke of Confederate oppression!" The man mockingly wondered.

The lean man at the back turned his gaze back to the screen watching as the news report showed the new scores of dead outside of the latest bombing site. Poorly done blurs and sometimes they didn't exist at all showed bodies and parts of bodies here and there. Remorse and good conscience had been withered and worn down by the wider galactic war. People stopped being shocked by violence. Access and ease of that access through the HoloNet made them numb to it for the most part. The news station, all of them everywhere, fiendishly reveled in the reporting of blood and guts. It made the lean man sneer, but he returned to the argument at hand.

"What are you suggesting? We let him blow everyone up so we can prove a point?! All this will do is unleash both the Sienar bought and paid for police, and their Confederate masters free-reign to bulldoze over anyone and everyone with sympathies to the cause!" Melx continued as others nodded in downcast absent agreement.

"No, what I am saying is this gets results." The bespectacled man, a one Talun Gul-Darion shrugged. He was pragmatic, and one could say he was in a way, his own brand of insane. Not like the man they were currently arguing over...a man many looked down on, and could not, for the life of them, get rid of. He was like the lightning rod. Attracting all the negative attention they could get as an organization. As well, he attracted people with both good...and ill intentions to him. No matter how many bombs he let explode, and especially no matter how many banks he burst open the people still found him. Especially because he would break open banks hoarding liquid credit assets from the countless, and ever more freely flowing streams of credits from the Confederacy's constituent corporate elements. With those credits, like a man come from the shadowy woods of some fable he would arrive in another city here on the world of Lianna, and throw credits to the wrecks and wretches that meandered about forgotten by the powers of the galaxy.

Both the Republic and the Confederacy in their prosecution of the Clone Wars had lost all interest in the day to day lives of the countless living souls that made up the galaxy. Nearly literally countless, beyond trillions and certainly at least in the quadrillions. The Senate of the Republic and the newly found Parliament, but more purposefully empowered, the 'Separatist Council' were not concerned with the many millions on the streets of what were supposedly affluent worlds. Worlds like Coruscant and Denon, city-sprawls with billions, and Coruscant's case, a trillion lives. Where millions, tens of millions were in squalor. Worlds in the further reaches of the Outer Rim were having every cent, every credit stripped out of them by the Confederacy's corporate masters. Everyone who was a fool, years ago, believed Count Dooku, a nobleman and of the galactic aristocracy, had come to liberate them. Instead, he had handed over whatever nobler idea had gone into the Confederacy's foundation to a gang of corporations that in his absence, and ever before, had begun the work of hoarding wealth beyond imagination. Trillions of credits, enough to build an untouched agri-world into an ecunemopolis to rival Coruscant thirty times over, were locked up in but a little over two dozen accounts that belonged to the 'leadership' of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Not even to speak of the sordid inborn corruption of the far more aristocratic Galactic Senate within the Republic.

With an armistice at hand the Republic could perhaps limp its way back towards some manner of populist revival. Persons such as Padmé Amidala, or Skywalker, whatever the case, she could move some legislation through to relieve the burden in the Republic. Her and the cadre that had managed to finagle its way into power with Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and the ilk. Even then it would always be hampered by the powers that had been weighing down the Republic even before the debauchery of the great galactic enemy on everyone's lips these days, Palpatine.

The Confederacy, however? It no longer even pretended to hide its economic monopolization and oligarchical ambitions with pretense. It was there, of course. It was far more shameless. The founding of an official Parliament on Raxus Secondus would be a home to the most base of privilege and economic vampirism.

So, on a world, a one lone world like Lianna, steeped in the history of the Allied Tion Cluster where corporate power had already been great, such movements as the APF were all but specks of sand attempting to pierce a great tidal wave kilometers high as it swept over one and dashed them against the rocks of the powerful. Yet, on did they fight. The APF was but one piece of a broader movement, but even then the word broad required some nuance. The APF was an organization looking to free Lianna from the long enemy of the people, so-called, Santhe-Sienar. As well as the other corporate overlords of the Confederacy and on. So too was the 'All Action Union!' And the 'People Justice Organization!' And the quaintly quickly relevance losing, 'End War, Embrace Bread, League." Yes...a quaint name, but it had its charm, especially its mouthpiece, Melx Brakin.

"-and I don't think that this serves any purpose!" He came back to the conversation at hand. Melx was answering a question asked by another member of the coalition, a skeletal and moody man named Haglin Mageel. "Do we enter homes and slit the throats of children if it serves our ends?! Do we spread diseases among the masses in hopes it would wither away the corporate capability to operate on Lianna? Such thinking will only make violence as the mechanism, into the end in and of itself! The most base and useless of tactics in winning over the masses."

"You may say that." Talun offered with his ever present self-satisfied, arrogantly academic tone grinding on the many ears of the room. He was a decent speaker. When speaking to a rally of the poor and homeless. There his academic nuance allowed him to speak down to them in such a manner as to let them believe his beliefs were theirs. He never really liked the 'people' much, but he hated the injustice of their lives more.

"Terror, as a tactic, can and does have its day."

"So you embrace it?!"

"No." Talun shirked his head while elongating the word. "I didn't say that. I am speaking of the historical context. The value in crude tactics in furthering the movement towards a better tomorrow."

"A better tomorrow seven kids will never see! They're plastered along the karking concrete in front of the First Continental Bank!" Melx emotionally rebuffed. His face flushed red, and eyes nearly teary, one could say. One of few truly moral revolutionaries. Most men by now would have become cynical. One had to respect Melx, even if most thought his ideals naive. As Talun did, and so he shrugged dismissively.

"I know what you're trying to say, Melx. Don't misunderstand me. Juso is not a man I would count as an ally. A brute, a thug, a gangster, and-"

"If we all know this then why do we allow him to continue affiliating with us?!" Melx demanded, smashing his right closed fist onto a nearby table. Two of his fellows from 'EWEBL' jumped as it rattled under their hands and arms. Juso, as Talun called him was the center of the argument...as usual these days. Juso was shorthand for the man's real name. Jusoph. The nickname stuck, but only when the man wasn't around. He had...an ego. Jusoph was Jusoph, Juso was what his father or mother or someone in his hardly known past had called him and filled his dark eyes with a simmering wrath no one could quite claw out of him. Even those as he respected, which was blazingly few people in all the galaxy. Perhaps one could gleam something from a list of such beings that contained the likes such as that of General Grievous? Most did, most just, as had become usual, didn't say anything. Melx, was the last among the disparate leadership to make his opinion explicitly clear. Even as most loathed Juso.

"Laqmir, you have to have a say of this!" Melx turned, at last, to him. Laqmir, was the nominal leader of all the disparate factions. Well respected among the lot, and especially the lower tiers and rungs of the organizations. Seen as a sort of, as he well understood it, man of great vision. It was not a post, nor a designation he had fought for, but one his long years of pamphlet making, HoloNet diatribe producing, and outspoken speeches had earned him.

Laqmir was a lanky, and beady-eyed man. His head sported thinning gray hairs that flowed back along his circular dome, slightly bigger than would seem to some seemly. His face, sported a thin encircling goatee that was well maintained. He wore a cap atop his head and slouched into his seat. Showing no outward emotion, and at being called upon finally shirked upwards in his seat. Sighing and clapping his hands to his knees. Stretching his arms out in a shrugging fashion as he began.

"No one here will fight you Melx. Jusoph is a pest! A scoundrel if ever one was to come crawling out from the muck itself. He has, all of us know, committed many atrocities that we decry the empowered and long ingrained creditors of doing. With them, they do it through their business practices, and the accumulation of wealth. Juso does it with the age old criminality expected of racketeers and bank robbers. If we lived in a world freed from the likes of Santhe-Sienar, the Confederacy and I daresay, necessarily, the Galactic Republic, I would soon enough order him shot in the back of the head myself!"

"We-" Melx began, but Laqmir cut him off and continued.

"However, Talun makes some good points we cannot simply ignore for strictly moral reasons. Strictly, and morally speaking, half of us should begin shooting the other half for actions taken in the pursuit of a better tomorrow for all. Then the half that shot the other must then turn their blasters on themselves. The cycle of self reduction for moralization will see us all sooner dead than arbiters of the future we all espouse the founding of." Many hums and grunts of agreement followed along with ubiquitous nodding. Many eagerly hanging upon the great Laqmir's every word. Save for Melx, though.

"Let us consider the state we're in. We have neither the firepower, nor position with the masses to establish ourselves as leaders of a broad movement. Let alone Lianna. We are in hiding nearly at a constant. Those of us that can move are always keenly aware we're likely being watched and when we break away we're that much closer to arrest or outright assassination. Do not think the CIS above such measures. We need credits. We need the fear of the police who are as lapdogs to the power of Santhe-Sienar, who own as well the Planetary Assembly! What small wins we can muster can only be exploited if we use them to the furthest benefit as we can amalgamate. Juso is our weight to carry. A burden. Let us use him to our advantage, and when time comes, as we have spoken before, we will be rid of him. Eventually, my friend."

"It doesn't feel right!" Melx reeled into his seat. Dejected, but seemingly placated.

"We can-" Laqmir began, but all eyes and heads turned as the doorway down into this stinking cellar scratchily ground. The light above harshly shone down and a jacketed man stepped down the three top steps and slouched to speak. One of their guards dressed as little more than your average city-dweller.

"Sorry to interrupt, Juso is here."

"Speak, and he shall appear." Talun could be heard humming sarcastically as others rose to their feet.

"He was patted?"

"Clean." The guard nodded.

"Send him down."

"He has some sacks with him. Those are clean too." The guard chuckled and moved back up. Laqmir, as did the others knew well what that meant. And, in no time at all, the heavy thudding of several feet sounded. Boots on the simple stairs. Two men who seemed hardly to have showered in days ran down the steps chortling hushedly to one another carrying vast heavy sacs on their right shoulders which made them seem near ready to fall over. Whilst the man himself followed. Hanging down in both hands were two more sacks. A small indication of Juso's strength as he came to the bottom step, dropped the bags with hard thuds, and swept his arms out, bearing a wide, if toothless smile.

Jusoph bore a head of lively black hair swept back and naturally curled in several stray, handsome strands that gave him the look of a HoloNet heartthrob. While along his face were the blackened trimmings of a young man's burgeoning beard. Allowed to grow but taking its time to do so. Dark eyes were lit in quiet satisfaction while a black coat hung down to his ankles over an almost military style suit of the common style these days.

He was younger than most anyone else in the upper ranks of the cobwebbed organization. He had not been forthcoming with it, and Laqmir suspected he took it as a slight when asked. Though Laqmir suspected he was perhaps twenty-two standard years old. He was taller than many on Lianna, who were considered shorter compared to other humans in the galaxy. Making him, in that way, average. His skin was fair and white, and he was a strong shouldered man. Burgeoning with rebelliousness and little joviality. An enigma. A man who could at once blow a mag-train full of civilians to pieces and steal their shredded remains of all jewelry. Who could get drunk beyond hope or reason and laugh at any which thing, and at once never seem to truly enjoy the company of even his ragtag group of thieves and brigands pretending at political revolution.

His eyes though. Laqmir found them the most interesting. Dark, and set within his sockets deeply, but not too far as to be unseemly. They could train on one and move not an inch. Piercing and terrifying, transfixing if he should need them to be, or if he could train himself to be less a thug, and more a leader. Though, perhaps it was best he never ascended to such heights? Indeed it was, Laqmir thought as he stepped forward and met Jusoph halfway between themselves.

"Jusoph."

"Brother Laqmir! My fellows." He planted his hands to his chest and swiveled to observe the full room. "Apologies for the late arrival. Me and my compatriots have had a long night of...well, I'm sure you all know." He chortled in an even almost melodic masculine tone. He rarely spoke with variation to his tone. Laqmir never quite knew if that was on purpose or not? Though it likely didn't matter. Either possibility was in its own way telling.

"You mean the bombing of the bank?!" Melx strode forward. Stopped only as Talun and one of his men blocked him. "You plastered children to the pavement, you son of a kath hound!" Laqmir eyed Jusoph, and saw nary an indication he felt incensed by Melx. Rather, Jusoph shrugged his head to his right and hummed a 'yes' from his throat.

"That would be the why, yes, brother. I should think everyone here knows the First Continental Bank is where everyone who works for Santhe-Sienar hoards their wealth. Anyone and everyone who went there and were caught in the...unfortunate crossfire work for the company or are family of those who work there. They took the risk of their labor, and now they suffer for it. Better to die for Lianna's freedom, than after old age and infirmity have the company spit on you and throw you out."

"You don't care at all, do you?" Melx scoffed incredulously.

"It is a tragedy, brother." Jusoph clicked his tongue and bobbed his head. A sort of simulacra of an agreeing nod. "But, we have all suffered tragically under Santhe-Sienar and their puppets in the Assembly. Blood is on my hands, but they drown in blood their own. By way of my open palm the blood drips into their deep, deep pool. Brother Melx, I apologize for your righteous anger. Know this," Jusoph patted his chest with his right open hand.

"I shall take greater steps to limit such needless deaths in the future."

"We have heard such before." Laqmir, at last, noted.

"Great Brother," Jusoph began with his ubiquitous use of the familial diction. "I have endeavored to be less embarrassing! Many a time I have learned of executives from Santhe-Sienar moving on trains or through shuttle ports lined wall to wall with the citizenry. I have had every opportunity and every moral justification to level blocks, or take hostages. Yet, I haven't. By your guidance and wisdom. I am doing my absolute best, I assure you." He smiled thinly. Almost managing to seem genuine. Some would buy it. He had that power, much as Talun did when speaking to the unlearned in such matters. But, unlike Talun, Jusoph could feign humility among his betters in superior fashion.

One day, this man had to die. Otherwise, Laqmir could see now, he would be dangerous. Far, far more dangerous than he was now. For now, though...just for now, he was useful.

"Very well." Laqmir, after a lengthy silence, nodded. The others in the room following the example of their leader while Melx shrugged off the others and moved away back towards the opposing end of the room. His back to the rest and head turned up at the screen. The news now showing a chart of Sienar's stock prices rising on speculation of the Confederacy's lax corporate rules and regulations. His eyes tracing the screen, a frown deeply creased along his face. His brows down-turned and evidently saddened. While the others meandered, some clapped Jusoph's shoulders. His bags full of credits divvied out 'for all to share.' Credits turned towards outreach, towards agitation and bribes as necessary to safeguard this, by terms of the galaxy, infinitely small, movement.

Between Jusoph and the stocks of the corporate powers that be, Melx stood alone. His morals as lonely as him, and unseen eyes looked into the back of his head. Narrowing, before Jusoph finally turned away.

---

In the days before his departure, as Sauron remained a guest of the reborn Lord of Yavin IV and the System beyond, the Dark Lord stood upon a balcony of stone. Beyond his sight, with eyes flaring with a deep rumbling fire beneath the facsimile of normal human coloring, he absently watched. Watched as shuttles landed in clearings natural and forced by landing crafts of the Confederate Navy. A central body where massive wings jutted at either side. The whirring howl of the Vulture droids mewled and crowed about. Wings of three in flight, V formations guarding nothing, but the show of force was a pleasant display to Sauron.

It had been mere hours since he had traveled with Exar Kun to one of many temples within the forest. There lay within was a great obelisk that thrummed with a distant dark ebb of life. An ember of darkness that had long since cooled from the great inferno as had been before. From within that ember, there had seemed to be contained a sort of...memory. A flashing reminder of what had once been there at the sudden pulsation and unleashing of Kun's power that ripped spirit from body. Idly Sauron wondered what...Eru thought of such a thing? To tear fëa from the hröa, and to not wither. To not go to any call from beyond, though, as Sauron had gleamed Exar Kun had...heard calls from the distance. Beyond the gnashing wails of the many other distant unwilling to recede spirits through the galaxy, indeed the universe! No, greater calls. A beckoning that would will him come forth. To rest, but his resting place...with what he had done? Sauron did not think it was the call of Mandos a man like Kun would have heard. The whispers from the dark beyond...His call was just as powerful as Mandos.

"Hmm." Sauron hummed. Shaking the rumination from mind. Vica, in spite of her excitement, had disappeared in the fashion Sauron had become used to when her mind needed 'sleep.' Or, whatever the state was. Her brain, the thing of flesh that housed the thoughts and processes of the being, it housed two personalities, and though Sauron made little use of it, but for the processes and functioning of her being, it could be overtaxed. Leading her to sleep, and his spirit to, as with himself, heal what small damage was done in kind. While still, even months on, consuming what power the Force gave, siphoning it to rebuild his spirit. So too to rebuild Vica's body.

The Dark Lord; as many had and would even now still call him should they know he was and is, turned his gaze down at his left. In a courtyard that had once been well tilled of the wild grasses of Yavin IV, about what stone remained he saw the reborn Kun. The man, the Sith Lord, was practically giddy. Still, hours later, jumping for joy. His body, based upon that snapshot within the Force, was rebuilt with those minor adjustments he had spoken of.

A broad and strong man of the race of Men. Human, as was commonly spoken in the galaxy. He had sharp facial features and structure. Defined cheekbones, and a powerful chin. He bore steely gray eyes that peered powerfully. Apparently he was one of the rare breeds of the Sith whose eyes did not shine yellow, at least, not without intense collapse into the depths of the Dark Side. His natural gray seemed to only become that much more. Sauron didn't quite understand how the Force affected some differently than others, but with time, he would.

Nevertheless, his skin was a shade darker than Sauron would have thought. Fair, but browned from what Kun had said was long years on the world of Dantooine. The Force too, perhaps played a part in this? Either way, scars, apparently, had been on the man's cheek. Three gashes made by an opponent of old. A Cathar woman, a feline biped species. Kun had swept that away and he was unblemished, save for a scar it would seem. A raising of his flesh along the brow in a jagged but uniform quad armed symbol that rose up along the brow and twisted inwards. The Sith claimed another long dead Sith, even by his time, Marka Ragnos had burned that sigil into his brow and another on Ulic Qel-Droma's.

Naked upon his rebirth Sauron had found him wobbly-kneed, but his physique had been captured as it had been. Powerful muscles. His legs and arms built for combat, and quick movements. Defined by years, as he had stated, of training under a great Master of weapons, Vodo-Siosk Baas. His chest and abdomen too. All of it rippled with raw musculature in the lean form. Sauron had appreciated the strength and power. Though, he had wondered if Kun had modified it slightly to appear even more powerful than it had been? But, in the end, Sauron sensed an ego on the man. He doubted much had changed beyond what blemishes he so wished gone.

The man's voice was articulate, and well-mannered. He carried a Jedi quality to him which made sense, seeing as he had once been one of the Order. So too did he carry a sense of longing for power and knowledge. He was giddy. Even when speaking of what power and knowledge he already retained. In some ways Sauron saw similar qualities between himself and this man. A yearning for power of course, but a deep respect for knowledge. The brutes of the world, of the universe imagined raw physical strength could garner for themselves all victories they may desire. Often, small minds thoughts such. Greater minds realized the awesome power of imagination.

What simple mind could fathom a weapon such as the sling? A small pebble or rock placed in a band whirled about the air to then be sent with incredible speed and force. Crash! To slam into the body of an opponent and crack bone, wear body, and fell them where they stood? Simple minds raise boulders, like the Uruks. They grab sharpened sticks and jab them at eyes. The greater minds, take charge of such fools, and then teach them to hoist spear aloft and heave from afar.

With a huffing laugh, Sauron remembered why he, like Exar Kun, were masters of peoples and lands. While those who 'languished' under them were not. Ambition, imagined a cruel and evil word in Westron and Basic. What is ambition, if not but another word for...well, for hope? One man's hope for a greater world tomorrow, is another man's ambition to make that world a reality.

He let his mind wander again. Sauron centered it. Watching as a now simply clothed Kun, in a dark tunic and gray leggings kicked his right leg up. Testing the flexibility of his body. A head of long blackened hairs tied behind himself by a thick brown band. Exar brought his leg down and whirled himself into a punching posture, with his left arm reeled back in at his center. The Force whirled about him and cast stray leaves and rocks scattering around him. They rose in a circle and he repeated a series of slight jabs, and kicks that he doubtless learned under this Vodo figure. The Dark Side, but more presently, the Force in its raw state whirled about. Subdued by natural self-restraint, but writhing in the incredible strength inherent to both Sauron, by way of Vica, and Exar Kun.

Droids were about. B1 units with construction droids. Trees were being uprooted around this temple, and soon the others. Magnaguards stood on guard at the entrance of the temple. While in orbit Grievous was being annoyed by requests by the political apparatus being formed within the Confederacy for a myriad of matters. Such things Sauron left to Grievous. If the General wanted his input, he would come and ask for it. In time, he would very well plead for it. Such men of power, like Grievous, lead armies. Nations, kingdoms, whatever have you, that was a different matter. While partners, Sauron made sure to defer. Once deferred enough, even whilst privileged with such powers as he had, Sauron wanted Grievous to want him to take those powers more readily. The nature would then become secondary. In time, Grievous will have surrendered all pretense of political leadership to Sauron. Unlike with Palpatine, it shall be a willing thing, and Grievous shall be grateful for it. It had already begun, and they were well on their way towards the dynamic's total fulfillment.

All the same, Sauron had other matters to attend to. Eve now, whilst he plucked the palantír from the simple satchel he had it wrapped about, Sauron closed the eyes he wore. There in the palantír a churning boiled. Fire groaned from within the depths as cloudy formations swirled. Pushing silently further beyond. Sensing that power far beyond as many called out. Seeking absolution, and freedom. Return to corporeal state.

The Dark Lord had already...felt a few embers of fire in the cold dark. Much as that obelisk had retained a snapshot of long withered power, so too were such memories, and actively groaning spirits about. All Sauron would need do is follow them. Let the palantír lead him. Lead him to them. As with Exar, they would bend knee, or be cast into that Void. The same that beckoned them forth.

For now, he had some learning to gleam from Kun. Some further aid where something called a 'Golden Globe' was concerned and Massassi held within. Then, more travels to be had.

The 'Far Outsiders' too. More needed to be prepared, and planned. More information...more power. Already the plan was coming to fruition. The beginning stages were at hand. Knowledge...that and wisdom, these were power. Sauron smiled in the lonesomeness of his own company.

Gandalf, and his prior defeat, had reminded Sauron of that.

He would be sure to take it to heart, forevermore.

---

L's Note:Think this a day late Christmas present to everyone. XD I tried to edit it in time, but got lost in the holidays. Sadly, Thomas Drovin, there was no room to have holiday based fun inserted into the story! But, perchance, another day. :3 Lord Kun appreciated the idea though!

Hmm, old and new characters. I wonder what will come in the days ahead? ;)

As usual, thank you all who have reviewed, and please do continue to do so to make Lord Kun keep writing! Also, I have edited and reviewed this sucker, but as always, I have likely missed some errors. Please either ignore or point them out to me to fix. Thanks again everyone, Happy Holidays if you celebrate, and good day regardless if not! :D

-L

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 12/26/2023