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“Which do you choose?”
Luke watched the indecision wrack through young Grogu’s body while feeling his own emotions wash over him. He took in a subtle breath, deep but quiet, and released his anxieties into the force as the texts taught.
He wanted to rebuild the Jedi Order—if he was going to do it, he was going to do it. No try, just do.
Pushing his awareness out, he sensed the conflict within Grogu. Images flashes in his mind with the youngling’s racing thoughts. Grogu thought of his fear during the extermination of the Jedi on Coruscant, blaster fire coming from the masked faces he trusted so much. He thought of the lightsabers—glowing lights flashing across his visions in blues and greens as the Jedi around him died for his protection.
Grogu thought of his friend, the Mandalorian. Luke experienced the warm comfort Grogu felt when he was with the Mandalorian, the caving pain he suffered in his absence. Luke’s heart ached alongside Grogu as he pictured the Mandalorian removing his helmet; the first time Grogu had ever seen his face after all of their time together.
Luke pulled back and focused on the force; he refused to influence his first student into a decision. Ahsoka had told him precious little about her time as a padawan learner, and even less about her experience as his father’s padawan learner outside of cryptic comments here and there, but he could surmise that even the smallest amount of hesitancy for the Order would lead to disaster.
He pushed down his own hesitancy, and steeled himself. Do.
Luke let himself drift in meditation until Grogu began making cooing noises, the turmoil in his mind settled. Luke opened his eyes and saw Grogu’s small fingers playing with the Beskar chainmail, tinkling chimes ringing out as the metal moved against itself.
Grogu looked up at him, a smile wide across his little face. It took barely any effort to see images of the Mandalorian’s new ship running through Grogu’s thoughts, of the feeling of resting comfortably against his armored back, of watching stars stretch into beams as they flew through space. His excitement at seeing him again was paramount and Luke sensed no regret in him at this decision.
Luke felt the disappointment, the sadness, and released it (most of it, nearly all of it) into the force.
“I’m sorry you’ve made this decision, Grogu,” Luke said, and Grogu shook his head, shook his entire little body, and made soft noises of protest.
“No?” Luke asked. “You’ve chosen to leave the order; I can’t teach you, little one.”
Luke felt Grogu’s mind press against his and his eyes closed and he could see Grogu’s intention—through Grogu’s mind, he visualized himself, growing older and wrinkly and hey, he might not age that poorly. Grogu giggled a little, but still the visions continued to shift and grow; he saw Grogu, a little older and Beskar-clad with the Mandalorian, equally greyed and harrowed as Grogu imagined Luke. He saw the Mandalorian dying, and Grogu coming back to this temple—finished, flourishing, filled with students and masters.
In Grogu’s mind, he still had to hop with the force to move with any speed.
When the images slowed and faded, Luke opened his eyes and saw Grogu again; his fingers twisted in the chain links of his Beskar armor from where it half lay in his two tiny hands. His eyes implored Luke to understand.
“A short time for you is a lifetime for someone else,” Luke said, repeating himself. He meant for the words to urge, to guide, to show Grogu the gravity of his choice and Grogu twisted them in his quick little mind.
It was awe-inspiring and biting and cleverer than Luke could have anticipated. Long before he could reach the age of maturity for his kind, he could be with the Mandalorian for the rest of the man’s natural life and then come back for Jedi training, even if he had to get it from Luke’s students instead.
“That’s a dangerous choice,” Luke warned. “You could be ensnared by the ways of the Dark Side before you get the chance to continue your training.”
The look Grogu gave him in return was new almost pitying, like he felt bad for Luke, and at first he didn’t make any effort to impart any thoughts through the Force, as if Luke should have known better before saying anything.
“You disagree?” Luke said, leaning forward to be on Grogu’s level. “Help me understand, then.”
Grogu closed his eyes and raised his hands, and imparted to Luke all he’d learned from the Mandalorian—not necessarily the code of the Mandalorian religion, but the man’s personal code; his honor, the way he cared for Grogu, for their clan of two. Their family of two.
And who was Luke to fight against that? Even now, with all his determination to live by every tenet possible of the Jedi religion, he could feel Leia through the force, could feel her pulse of light from star systems away.
When the visions cleared, Master Yoda’s lightsaber hovered in front of him as Grogu guided it with the Force, one clawed hand still gripping the chainmail.
Luke grabbed it and put it away, to keep safe for the decades to come.
“You’ve made your point well, Grogu,” Luke said, standing. “Come, let us get you back to your Mandalorian.”
Grogu pushed some feelings of worry towards him, of concern not for himself, but for Luke.
Luke knelt down in front of Grogu. “You’re worried about leaving me here?”
Grogu nodded.
Luke waved a dismissive hand in front of him. “No, don’t be. I’ll have Artoo to keep me company.”
Grogu’s face was skeptical, but the worry eased.
“The real question we have here is how we find him.” Luke paused. “He might have told Ahsoka where he was going.”
Grogu shook his head and closed his eyes. Quickly, impressions of Tatooine, the streets of Mos Espa, came to Luke, and he was impressed with the seemingly limitless nature of Grogu’s power. Or, maybe of the strength of the bond he shared with the Mandalorian.
“Mos Espa it is,” Luke said, straightening and moving towards the door.
Grogu did not follow, and he turned with one hand raised, anticipating the need to help him hop. Instead, when he turned he saw Grogu holding up the little chainmail shirt and tugging on the collar of his tan robe.
Eyebrows raised, Luke knelt again and said, “You want to put it on now?”
Grogu nodded, and managed to undo one of his buttons.
Luke smiled, and helped him change. Without the bulk of his little jumpsuit, Grogu looked impossibly small. It was a struggle to get on the Beskar, but easier when they stopped trying to get it over his head and put his feet in first.
Fully changed, Grogu stood, shivering in the armor and his little under suit, and Luke quickly helped him put his robe back on over it.
Satisfied that Grogu was comfortable, Luke stood again.
“Alright, little Mando, let’s get going,” Luke said.
His brain froze for a moment and then he sighed.
Rubbing his head, he asked, “Do you happen to remember where I parked the X-Wing?”
Grogu nodded and slowly walked out of the small temple.
Through his tan robes, Luke could hear the Beskar jingling.