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As soon as the red laser barriers deactivated and the long service corridor leading to the melting pit of the Theed power generator was fully passable, Obi-Wan Kenobi rushed forward at what seemed to be the speed of light. Breathing hard and flushed with agitation, he ran as fast as he could, praying to the Force that he would reach the end of the passage before it closed again.
“Come on!” he muttered under his breath, urging his body to cooperate, to move. “Only a couple more metres.”
In the distance, he could see that Master Qui-Gon had already resumed the fight against their mysterious adversary – a rumoured Sith Lord with astonishing Force powers. Both men knew that there was no reason to hold back, so they were giving the fight everything they had. Green against red, the blades of their lightsabers clashed in an increasingly frantic rhythm, humming ominously as they swished through the air.
Obi-Wan sprinted on, eager to join his Master, feeling somewhere deep inside that it was a matter of life and death. Something crucial and fateful that could possibly alter the future of the entire Galaxy.
Hang in there, Master! I am coming! He sent a quick message to Qui-Gon through their Force bond.
In the very next moment – much, much sooner than he had expected – Obi-Wan heard the telltale buzz of the capacitors preparing to reactivate the security laser barriers. A feeling of profound dread rose in his heart. It made his blood run cold as ice.
“No,” the young Jedi gasped breathlessly as the gravity of the situation suddenly hit him with full force. No, no, no!
He tried to speed up even more, although he was beginning to reach the limit of his endurance. There was only one thought on his mind – he had to keep running. Qui-Gon needed his help to overpower the ferocious Sith Lord. And Obi-Wan could not and would not let his Master down.
He was already approaching the last gate, when dozens of rays of bright red light suddenly shone out of its frame and sealed the entrance to the melting pit with a deadly laser wall, trapping Obi-Wan right behind it – a mere step away from where he longed to be.
An anxious whine escaped the young Jedi’s trembling lips. He tightly squeezed the handle of his blue-bladed lightsaber and gritted his teeth in frustration and worry. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he helplessly watched Master Qui-Gon and the tattooed Zabrak balance precariously on the edge of the deep melting pit – jump and duck, twist and turn, all while searching for a weakness in the other’s defence that would give them an advantage and ultimately bring the duel to an end.
For some time, Qui-Gon seemed to have the upper hand over his dark adversary. His lightsaber strokes were swift and unrelenting as he pressured against the Sith Lord and kept him on the defensive. But very soon, the tables turned. To avoid a particularly powerful downstroke, the young Zabrak gracefully back-flipped across the melting pit and assumed a new battle stance – one that gave him enough space to use the full potential of his double-bladed weapon against the older Jedi Master. The fight began anew, and it was fiercer than before.
Obi-Wan was becoming light-headed with fear and emerging anger. His breathing was getting steadily more erratic the longer he was forced to just idly wait behind the laser barrier and watch his Master face the Sith all alone. No matter how desperately he willed the rays of red light to deactivate and let him pass, they remained mercilessly intact, mocking him with their robustness. Obeying their inner time setting alone, they kept holding him back from the fight while precious seconds ticked away.
Hurry! Obi-Wan hissed, barely containing his impatience now. He had begun to notice clear signs of fatigue on Qui-Gon’s features, could see the way his Master parried the Sith Lord’s sharp and quick strokes with much slower and less vigorous ones. It was evident that he urgently needed help – Obi-Wan’s help.
And then, it happened. A split second of hesitation was all it took for Qui-Gon to be manoeuvred just where the Sith Lord had wanted him. In a wild whirl, the Zabrak moved so that his back was facing the front of the Jedi Master, then blindly thrust one of the crimson blades of his lightsaber backwards. Caught completely by surprise by the unexpected move, Qui-Gon did not have a chance to step aside and avoid it. He was hit right in his midriff, the lightsaber burning through his layered Jedi robes, through flesh and bone, until the tip of the glowing blade showed up on the other side of his body.
“ NOOOOOOOOOO!”–
Obi-Wan woke up with a start. His body was violently shaking all over and his heart was beating so fast it threatened to jump out of his heaving chest. He tried to make sense of what was happening to him, but his mind was clouded by a thick fog of anxiety. Caught in a horrible limbo, he found himself absolutely unable to distinguish between dream and reality.
It was deeply unsettling for the young Jedi. He sat up in the bed and began to frantically scan his surroundings in search of something – anything – that would remind him of where he was or why. Of anything that could quiet his reeling mind.
The first few attempts were unsuccessful, which did not help assuage his panic at all. Balancing on the very edge of unconsciousness, the distressed young man made one last attempt to take control of his faculties. He willed his lungs to take a slow, deep breath and firmly closed his eyes.
A couple of heartbeats later, Obi-Wan felt the Force starting to shyly flow through him like a slow river. Ripple after gentle ripple, it was bringing calm to his tired body and agitated mind, soothing them like a mother would soothe a crying infant. The panic gradually subsided, giving way to reason.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.
Having gone through the entire mantra of the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan dared to open his eyes. In slight bewilderment, he noted – for the first time since he had so abruptly awakened – that the room was bathed in darkness.
He glanced around and found a switch of a small reading lamp on the bedside table. With a source of soft yellow light now beside him, everything seemed a lot less frightening. Once again, the young Jedi was able to perceive his surroundings with his usual clarity.
A spacious, lavishly decorated room. Bright-coloured tapestries. Thick velvet curtains. A large bed with an abundance of soft pillows and blankets.
I am in the Royal Palace in Theed on planet Naboo, Obi-Wan remembered at last. There is no immediate danger.
Alas, the relief he had felt at the realisation was terribly short-lived. As the truth dawned on him in its entirety and cruelty, every little detail suddenly resurfaced from the depths of his memory and swarmed his consciousness like vicious fire wasps.
The Theed power generator. The Sith Lord. Qui-Gon.
“Master…” Obi-Wan whispered brokenly into the dimness of the room, his eyes welling up with tears. The earlier warmth brought to him by the Force was all gone again and deep sorrow settled in his soul instead.
The young man could see now that what he had taken for a nightmare, a mere figment of his wild imagination, had in fact been a memory. A painfully precise recollection of the worst moment of his life. The moment he had forever lost his Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
It had almost been three days. Three long days since Obi-Wan had been able to sense anything else but cold emptiness at the other end of his training bond. For nearly thirteen years, he had felt the unfaltering presence of Qui-Gon’s brilliant mind in the Force, had felt the deep connection to the man’s beautiful soul that had completely transcended everything he had ever thought could develop between a Master and a Padawan. And then, all of a sudden, everything had been gone. Only silence remained.
Complete. Deafening. Lonely.
With a shaky inhale, Obi-Wan drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his wiry arms around them and rested his forehead on top of his knees, desperately wishing for just a few minutes of peace. He sighed wearily. He had not been able to sleep through the night ever since that fateful day. The image of Qui-Gon being impaled by a glowing crimson lightsaber seemed to be imprinted indelibly at the back of his eyelids, ready to torment him whenever he let the protective shields around his mind lower themselves, even if only by a tiny fraction.
A fresh flood of silent tears gushed from the bereaved Padawan’s eyes at yet another reminder of his Master’s tragic demise. One after one, big, fat teardrops ran down his reddened cheeks before disappearing in the coarse-grained fabric of his sand-coloured pyjama bottoms.
I am sorry, Master, the young man sobbed soundlessly. I could not save you. I am so sorry.
For many minutes, every thought crossing Obi-Wan’s mind inevitably ended up in the dark abyss of guilt the young man had created for himself in his immeasurable grief. He was inconsolable, unable to focus on anything else except his own misery. Until… he heard a soft mewl of discomfort somewhere very close to him.
Abruptly, Obi-Wan turned his head to where he thought he had heard the whine come from. He wiped some of the tears away from his face and blinked a few times. As soon as his misty eyes got used to the semi-darkness, he realised what – or rather who – had been the source of the unexpected sound.
On the other side of the room, in a bed identical to Obi-Wan’s, Anakin Skywalker lay under a set of warm blankets, his tiny form shaking like a leaf. Every now and then, his face twitched slightly, and he let out a quiet whimper. A frown was written deep into his forehead, marring his angelic features. His sleep seemed far from peaceful.
A rush of shame flashed through Obi-Wan like a bolt of lightning.
I must have projected my grief into the Force again, the young Jedi grimaced with genuine remorse and slammed the doors of his mind shut.
Seeing that this alone did not suffice to calm little Anakin down, Obi-Wan slowly extricated himself from under his duvet, stretched out a hand and Force-pulled a spare blanket from a nearby sofa towards him. Then, as quietly as possible, he tiptoed to Anakin’s bed and sat on the edge.
Up close, he noticed with worry that the boy had been crying in his sleep. His flushed cheeks were still wet from the tears he had shed. Obi-Wan gently wiped them away with his palm, careful not to wake Anakin up, then brushed a stray strand of golden hair from where it had been plastered on the boy’s forehead.
Do not cry, little one, Obi-Wan tried to soothe his young friend, sending waves of calming energy to him through the Force. You are safe now. Everything is going to be all right.
To support his words with a deed, he threw the spare blanket he had brought over those Anakin had already wrapped around himself earlier. A soft sigh of relief escaped the boy’s lips. Drowsily, Anakin pulled the newly-acquired blanket up to his chin and snuggled into it like a loth-kitten, eager to feel its warmth and comfort. His breathing began to even out and slow down, all worry lines on his face disappearing, until eventually, he managed to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Obi-Wan smiled faintly. A new kind of sadness that he could not quite place filled his heart at the sight. He returned to his own bed, lost in quiet contemplation.
Despite the less-than-ideal start of their relationship, Anakin and him seemed to be gradually finding their way to each other. Obi-Wan was immensely glad about it. Still, he could not shake the knowledge that he had wronged Anakin from his conscience. In a bout of selfishness that he was not usually prone to, he had let his empathy and compassion become obscured by a dark cloud of foolish jealousy. He had perceived Anakin – the sweet little boy from Tatooine – as a threat to his laboriously forged relationship with Qui-Gon, when all along, it had been his own profound fear of having to let go of his Master before he was ready for it that had been at fault.
Obi-Wan was aware of his misconduct and he felt thoroughly ashamed of it. The better he was getting to know Anakin now, the more bitterly he regretted the harsh words he had said about him back on Coruscant. They had been so unfair, so unnecessarily hurtful. Anakin had not deserved any of them, and even less from someone as imperfect as Obi-Wan.
I really have much to learn still about the Living Force, the orphaned Padawan mused, dolefully recalling one of his fallen Master’s well meant observations.
Unlike Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had always been exceptionally adept at connecting with all living creatures through the Force, had always tried to see the best in everyone he had met. It had been like that with Anakin, too. The Jedi Master had been able to tell almost instantly that the boy was special, that his connection to the Force – albeit raw and unrefined – was inherently good, and that the strength of it was unprecedented even among the most powerful Jedi Masters. He had recognised great potential and hope where others had only anticipated struggles or even danger. He had found a heart brimming with kindness where others had seen little else but a wild tangle of attachments.
Qui-Gon had believed in Anakin, even when no one else had.
And Obi-Wan – more than anything else – wanted to believe now, too. He had made a promise to Qui-Gon. He will do everything he can to fulfil it.
“I will not fail you, Master. Not again,” Obi-Wan whispered into the quiet of the night, his heart aching but full of determination. I will train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council, if I must.
The next morning, Obi-Wan woke up early, just as the dawn was breaking. He rose, briefly stretched his sleep-relaxed muscles, then sat down cross-legged onto the floor, assuming his preferred meditation position. In spite of the extraordinary circumstances, he was intent on sticking to his daily routine as much as he could.
He took a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes, reaching out to the Force with his mind. He tried to imagine that he was back in the Temple, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – sitting amidst the flowers, shrubs and grasses, and listening to the chirping of small birds that nestled in the tree crowns.
He had hoped to find peace and consolation in the memory of his favourite place, his home. Instead, the image he saw in his mind’s eye was distinctly different. Sadder. Emptier. Devoid of its usual warmth.
With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan opened his eyes.
He felt his Master’s absence very acutely at that moment. Qui-Gon and him had used to meditate together every morning. For years, it had been a private ritual of theirs, a way for their souls to greet each other, to assure one another that their bond had remained strong. Obi-Wan had never felt closer to his Master or the Force than he had in those peaceful moments just after sunrise. He had cherished them all like the most precious treasures.
His heart clenched in pain at the thought of never being able to experience such intimacy ever again. The sudden loneliness seemed so surreal to him, so unfathomable.
There is no death, there is the Force, the grieving Padawan reminded himself, seeking comfort in the centuries-old wisdom of the Jedi Code for the umpteenth time since his Master’s unexpected passing.
Yet, the Force remained almost eerily quiet. As if it was indifferent to the scope of Obi-Wan’s suffering.
Numb and resigned, the young Jedi sat on the floor in complete silence for long minutes – not meditating anymore, merely staring ahead at nothing in particular. Only when a gentle chime of an ornamental chrono on the wall echoed through the room, he finally roused himself from his trance.
He glanced at the time. It was still too early to wake Anakin up. Barely going through the motions, Obi-Wan got up from the floor, went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, then dressed in his cream-coloured Padawan robes and long brown travel cloak.
After a modest breakfast, he decided to head for the city’s main spaceport. An Eta-class ambassadorial shuttle carrying the entire Jedi High Council was expected to land in Theed very soon. It was important for Obi-Wan to be there when it arrived.
He did not have to wait for long. Less than ten standard minutes after he had reached the landing platform, an elegant dark blue spacecraft from Coruscant entered Naboo’s atmosphere and began to descend.
As soon as the main hatch of the shuttle opened, the Jedi delegation disembarked, quietly and without fanfare – first Grand Master Yoda and Master Mace Windu, then the remaining ten Masters right after them. Great seriousness was written in their faces, the usual serene grace of their movements bearing a distinct undertone of grief. The loss of Qui-Gon Jinn – their brother in the Force – seemed to have affected them very much.
Obi-Wan bowed deferentially. “Welcome, Masters,” he said, unsure of a better way to greet the highest-ranking members of his Order.
Master Yoda nodded gravely back at him. “Devastating, the news of Qui-Gon’s death is. Great pain, it has brought us all.” His wrinkled green face was contorted, as if every word he said was deeply hurting him.
Obi-Wan felt a lot of sympathy for the old Jedi Master. Qui-Gon had been Yoda’s grand-Padawan. They belonged to the same Jedi lineage, just like Obi-Wan himself. There was said to be a special, shared bond between its members, not unlike a training one. A bond that had been forcibly broken now, torn apart like a piece of durasheet.
“We would like you to recount to us everything that happened, Obi-Wan,” Mace Windu requested with his usual stoicism, interrupting the young Jedi’s sombre musings. His gaze was compassionate, yet piercing. It made Obi-Wan wonder if the Jedi Master could somehow see through all of his mental shields, right into the depths of his despair.
“Of course, Master,” the Padawan replied, lowering his head self-consciously.
One after the other, the Jedi Masters then passed Obi-Wan on the landing platform and headed to the Royal Palace to take a short rest. They had an eventful day in front of them – an official meeting with Queen Amidala and the newly-elected Supreme Chancellor of the Republic Sheev Palpatine, a series of Council sessions, and finally, at sunset, a Jedi funeral ceremony to attend.
The last of the group to leave the spaceport was Master Plo Koon. He stopped right in front of Obi-Wan and waited until the young man raised his head before he addressed him.
“I am sorry, Obi-Wan,” the Kel Dor Master said and gently placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Even though his words came out slightly muffled through his antiox breath mask, Obi-Wan did not at all doubt their sincerity.
Plo Koon had been one of Qui-Gon’s closest friends in the Order. They had been on several missions together, both before and after Qui-Gon had chosen Obi-Wan as his apprentice. The three of them had fond memories of adventures from various corners of the Galaxy. Memories only two of them will keep in their hearts from now on.
Close to tears by the sudden onslaught of feelings, Obi-Wan took a shaky breath and nodded, silently thanking the Kel Dor Master for his kindness and understanding, and offering the same back to him.
Plo Koon softly squeezed the young man’s shoulder before letting go, then walked away, joining his fellow Council members on their way to the Palace.
It took Obi-Wan some time before he could follow them.
The rest of the morning proved to be just as emotionally demanding for the young Jedi as its early start had been.
When the Queen and other leading representatives of the Naboo and the Gungans had cordially welcomed Sheev Palpatine on his home planet, the Jedi Masters returned to the Royal Palace where they had been given one of the many staterooms at their full disposal for the rest of their stay in Theed. A special session of the High Council was convened immediately, and both Obi-Wan and Anakin were asked to attend it to give a detailed account of everything that had transpired since their departure from Coruscant a few days earlier.
Standing inside an open circle of ornate chairs, Obi-Wan spoke with his usual eloquence and precision to the seated Masters – just the way he had been taught to. He strived to answer all of their questions to the best of his knowledge and ability. Only then he faltered, when he reached the point in his testimony where he was supposed to describe the three-way lightsaber fight against the Zabrak Sith Lord at the Theed power generator.
A big lump formed in Obi-Wan’s throat, making it suddenly harder for him to breathe freely. His heart began to ache with the same terrible, throbbing pain that he felt whenever he remembered the circumstances of Qui-Gon’s demise. It took him a few moments to find courage to continue and even then, his voice was shaking with emotion. Every word he said was uttered reluctantly, as if by a simple refusal to say them aloud the devastated Padawan could change the bleak reality and bring his Master back from the death.
After what had felt like a lifetime to him, Obi-Wan reached the end of his joyless report at last. On behalf of the High Council, Mace Windu – his face a perfect mask of polite seriousness – thanked him and asked him to wait outside in the anteroom while the Council would hear out Anakin’s version of the events, especially how he had managed to single-handedly destroy the Trade Federation Droid Control Ship.
Obi-Wan bowed to the Masters, then retreated from the makeshift council room. As he passed a wide-eyed Anakin on his way outside, he made sure to give the boy an encouraging smile before a heavy durasteel door separated them.
Feeling rather shaken and weary, Obi-Wan took a few uncertain steps towards a nook where a tall window faced the sunlit Palace Courtyard. He sat down onto its wide windowsill but instead of admiring the gorgeous view outside, he let his eyelids fall.
The audience with the Council had affected him more than he had expected. It had only taken a few seconds for all his carefully constructed mental walls to crumble to dust. The unhealed wounds in his heart still hurt so much. More terribly than anything else Obi-Wan had experienced in the almost twenty-six years of his life – and he had been tortured on one of his missions to the Outer Rim.
Imploringly, the young Jedi turned to the Force again and reached for the solace that lay hidden in its centre, like an upset child reaching for a parent’s comforting touch. He took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled – willing himself to stay in the present moment and let go. Let go of the gnawing pain of the past, even if only for a fleeting moment.
Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale–
Swoosh.
The door to the council room slid open, putting an end to Obi-Wan’s unsuccessful attempts at meditation. The Padawan quickly rose and took a step towards it, but as soon as Anakin walked out, the door closed again.
The message the Council was sending to Obi-Wan by this was implicit, but clear. The Masters were asking for some time to confer in private before they would announce their decision regarding both his and Anakin’s future in the Jedi Order.
Nodding shortly in acknowledgement, Obi-Wan sat back down onto the windowsill, then beckoned to Anakin who had yet to move from his spot by the door.
Without uttering a single word, the boy came closer and sat down beside Obi-Wan, his gaze despondently fixed on the tiled marble floor under his feet. Overwhelming anxiety was seeping into the Force through the flimsi-thin shields of his agitated mind, along with grief, confusion, and also – the young Jedi noted with some relief – the smallest hint of hope.
Obi-Wan felt a mighty rush of protectiveness and compassion flash through him as he observed the hotchpotch of Anakin’s feelings. His own suffering instantly became of secondary importance. He wished that he could give Anakin clear answers to all of his unspoken questions. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to ease the worries weighing down on the little boy’s mind, to assure him that he will become a Jedi, that Obi-Wan will make sure of it.
However, the Padawan also knew he could not give Anakin any such guarantees. Not yet. While staying true to the heartfelt promise to his Master, Obi-Wan felt that he had to wait and let the High Council make the first move before taking any kind of action himself. Everything could still turn out just the way they both wished. The way Qui-Gon had wished.
Obi-Wan was aware of all that, so he offered Anakin at least the little he could at that moment – a temporary reprieve from the sadness and uncertainty that he himself felt just as intensely. He cracked the fortified door of his troubled mind open and let Anakin glimpse inside. He tried to convey that no matter how gloomy and tangled up everything might seem, neither of them had to face the future on their own. They were quite alike, Anakin and him – two tiny starships lost in the boundless and unknown Wild Space that was life without Qui-Gon Jinn. Maybe, just maybe, they could be each other’s safe space harbours.
Anakin’s reaction to Obi-Wan’s sincere offer was immediate. He eagerly lunged at the consolation like a starving man would lunge at a three-course dinner. He turned his head to face his Jedi companion, gazing at him bashfully but with such hopefulness that it made Obi-Wan’s heart overflow with emotion. A grateful smile slowly bloomed on Anakin’s round face, then before Obi-Wan knew it, he had the boy in his arms.
Such sudden display of unadulterated affection surprised the young Jedi quite a bit and gladdened him even more. Shifting closer, he obligingly wrapped his arms around Anakin’s skinny frame and let the boy bury himself in the soft folds of his multi-layered Padawan clothing. Having found a comfortable position for both of them to stay in for the next few minutes, Obi-Wan then closed his eyes and breathed out a quiet sigh, losing himself completely in the soothing warmth of their unexpected embrace.
He kept trading fondness and gentle reassurances with Anakin in the Force like precious goods, until a little sparkle of impatience ignited in the boy’s mind.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin addressed his Jedi friend in a timid voice and reluctantly pulled away from the hug.
“Yes?”
“Do I…” Anakin started, then paused, as if to re-evaluate the suitability of his question. “Do I have to wait here until the Council invites us in again?”
Obi-Wan considered Anakin’s words for a moment. “That depends. Did the Masters ask you to wait?”
“No,” Anakin vehemently shook his head a few times. “They just said that I could go.”
Obi-Wan nodded. He had expected as much. “Well, then I suppose you do not have to stay here if you do not want to.”
Anakin hesitated. A pensive frown appeared on his face. Obi-Wan literally heard the cogs turn in his head, as the boy considered his options without even attempting to shield his thoughts from him.
I could stay here with Obi-Wan and we could talk and maybe cuddle some more. That’d be really nice. Or, I could visit Ric Olié and Artoo. That’d be so wizard, too! Ric said he’d show me the Headon-5 sublight engine of the Nubian…
Both options seemed to be of equal allure to Anakin, which Obi-Wan found incredibly endearing. Nevertheless, he made no attempt to persuade the boy to choose either of them. Anakin needed to do that on his own.
In the end, curiosity and desire to explore seemed to have prevailed – at least this time.
“I don’t wanna be a problem, but…” Anakin began, still a bit unsure of what was considered acceptable behaviour in his situation. “Can I go visit someone in the palace hangar?”
Obi-Wan smiled, his sad heart melting a little at the boy’s mildness and sincerity. “Of course, you can, Ani. But be careful. And take your comm with you, just in case.”
Anakin’s face lit up so brightly that it occurred to Obi-Wan that the boy must have taken some of Tatooine’s sunshine with him when he had left the planet.
“Yippee! Thank you!” Anakin exclaimed cheerfully and gave Obi-Wan a quick hug before sprinting away, his steps creating a loud echo in the long, spacious corridor.
As the young man gazed after the boy, a hopeful thought came to him, almost casually.
This could be a beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Obi-Wan let his fond smile widen into a grin, the prospect warming him inside more than the summer sun that kept shining on him through the Palace window.
The bright morning had long since turned into a hot afternoon when the durasteel door finally opened and Obi-Wan was invited to rejoin the special session of the Jedi High Council.
As soon as he entered the large round stateroom where the meeting was taking place, he felt a quiver of anticipation run down his spine.
This is it. The future has been decided. The question is – how?
Obi-Wan shortly glanced at each of the twelve Council members, searching for an answer in their familiar faces. Their expressions remained as unreadable as ever. For a moment, a wild thought that the Masters were keeping him on edge on purpose crossed Obi-Wan’s mind, but he quickly banished it as childish and improbable. Instead, he turned to face Grand Master Yoda, bowed to him and waited to be addressed as was customary.
Yoda squinted a little and gave Obi-Wan one of his signature looks of deep contemplation. “Considered everything that was needed, the Council did. Decided, we have. Confer on you the rank of Jedi Knight, the Council does, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he announced solemnly.
Obi-Wan’s lips curled up in a grateful smile. “Thank you for the honour, Masters,” he replied politely and let the pleasant feeling of achievement wash over him in gentle waves.
“We are decided about young Anakin Skywalker, as well,” Mace Windu, Master of the Council, continued in a calm tone where Yoda had stopped.
“He is to be trained?”
A single eyebrow raised in amusement on Master Windu’s usually placid face made Obi-Wan realise that he had foolishly allowed his impatience to get the better of him at the least appropriate moment. Blushing the lightest shade of pink, the newly-promoted Knight lowered his head in embarrassment and bit his tongue, waiting dutifully for one of the Masters to elaborate on the topic in their own time.
In the end, it was Yoda again who spoke, though somewhat grudgingly, the young Jedi noted. “Trained, the boy shall be.”
Obi-Wan felt a surge of great relief flood him at the Grand Master’s words. He fought hard to keep it contained within the protective walls of his mind, away from the Force where everyone in the room would be able to sense it. Careful not to exasperate the Masters with more unseemly excitement, he let but a subtle hint of his glee appear on his face.
His shielding must have been only partially effective, because Yoda studied him for a long while, his green face tightened with disapproval. “Pleased with this decision, you are, Obi-Wan? So certain it is right?” The old Jedi Master demanded. “Clouded, this boy’s future is. The Chosen One, he may be. Nevertheless, a mistake to train him, it is.”
Obi-Wan froze, a sudden fear for Anakin’s fate stinging him like Kashyyyk scarlet nettles. He had assumed – after Yoda’s earlier words – that it was no longer an option for Anakin to be dismissed by the Council. Now though, he was not entirely sure of it.
It unnerved him greatly. His thoughts were riddled with worry, until the memory of the promise he had given to Qui-Gon dawned like a morning sun on him.
Anakin’s fate and mine are bound together now. Wherever he will go, I shall follow.
This simple, indisputable truth filled Obi-Wan with a sense of peace that he had only ever experienced in a state of deep Force meditation before. It provided him with new strength and determination. It gave him courage to stand up for his young friend even against the wisdom of the Grand Master of the Jedi himself.
“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said with respect, then continued more firmly, “Qui-Gon believed in Anakin. He understood what the rest of us did not about the boy. I gave my word to train him. And I will do so. Within the Jedi Order, or outside of it.”
“Qui-Gon's defiance, I sense in you,” Yoda growled lowly. “Need that, you do not!”
The stunned silence that followed their exchange was charged with nervous tension. The Grand Master and the young Knight-to-be gazed intently into each other’s eyes – neither of them willing to be the first one to back down. Time itself seemed to have stopped in that brief but crucial moment.
Eventually, Yoda let out a deep sigh of resigned acceptance. “Decided, the Council has. Your Padawan, young Skywalker will be. Although disagree with that decision, I must.”
Reassured by these words, Obi-Wan took time to consider Yoda’s demur again. The extent of the Grand Master’s concerns must have been great indeed, if he felt the need to emphasise them now – after the will of the Council as a whole had already been determined. Such discordance among the Masters was very unusual, to say the least.
Obi-Wan chose his next words carefully. “I will train Anakin in the best way I can, Master. I will bear in mind what you have told me here. I promise to proceed with care and to heed your warnings.”
He could feel the gazes of all Council members on himself as he spoke. He half-expected to be reprimanded, but when he paused and dared to glance from Yoda towards the Masters sitting the closest to him – Mace Windu, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Plo Koon and Yaddle – he sensed nothing but respect and approval from them. It almost seemed as though he had just passed an important test without even realising he had been taking one.
Humming thoughtfully, Yoda nodded. “Your promise, remember well, Obi-Wan. Sufficient, it will be, if you do.”
The young man bowed slightly. “I will remember.”
By this, the matter of Anakin’s training was closed for the time being.
Obi-Wan had thought that he would be dismissed from the council room straight away but – much to his surprise – the Masters asked him to stay for a while longer. As it turned out, the next item on the Council’s long agenda was his knighting ceremony.
In all honesty, Obi-Wan had not expected to be officially knighted until after they were all back on Coruscant. However, he understood the Masters’ reasoning behind their decision. Since the entire High Council was present in Theed now and plans had already been made for him to take a Padawan learner, there truly was no reason to wait any longer.
In spite of having been familiarised with the course of the ceremony in painstaking detail for many years, Obi-Wan could not help the nervous fluttering in his stomach, nor the shiver of excitement that ran down his spine when he knelt down onto the white marble floor before Master Windu. He watched with bated breath as the rest of the Masters stood up from their chairs and formed a perfect circle around him, one by one drawing their lightsabers and holding the colourful blades in front of their solemn faces.
Obi-Wan was in awe. Ever since he had participated in the Gathering on Ilum as a Jedi Initiate and had returned to the Temple with a beautiful blue lightsaber of his own construction, it had been his greatest wish to become a Jedi Knight – one of the legendary guardians of peace in the Galactic Republic. And now, everything he had been dreaming of was finally coming true.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Mace Windu addressed him in a sonorous voice and placed the amethyst blade of his lightsaber just above the Padawan’s bowed head and shoulders. “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I name thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic.”
No. Not everything is coming true, Obi-Wan realised bitterly as he looked up from the floor for a brief moment. Beside Master Windu, prepared to cut off his Padawan braid and thus symbolically put an end to his Jedi training, stood a Cerean Master Ki-Adi-Mundi – right where Obi-Wan had always imagined the imposing figure of Qui-Gon Jinn would tower above him, looking with pride and joy at his former apprentice.
Obi-Wan quickly bent his head back down – less in adherence to the ceremonial protocol, and more in fear that at any moment, streams of tears of immeasurable woe might gush out of his rheumy eyes and flood his cheeks. He could hear the loud hum of Ki-Adi-Mundi’s lightsaber as it was lowered closer to his right ear, and then – in one swift motion – the blazing blue plasma slashed through his auburn hair and his braid fell down onto the polished floor.
Gasping soundlessly, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated all his strength on keeping a mask of calmness on in the presence of the Council. He raised his mental shields as high as he could – all while inside, his heart was screaming at him and threatening to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces at the thought of his Master’s forced absence at the most important event of his life.
There is no emotion, there is peace, the familiar words automatically found their way into Obi-Wan’s sorely tried mind.
How the young man wished it were so.
Back in the privacy of the room he shared with Anakin, Obi-Wan – clad in a fresh set of soft, sand-coloured robes of a Jedi Knight – sat in complete silence on his bed and wistfully gazed at the chopped Padawan braid lying in his palm.
This is not how it was supposed to happen, he reflected back on his knighting ceremony.
In his dreams, it had always been a joyful occasion, a celebration of the strong and sincere bond that had existed between his Master and him. It was supposed to be the moment the two of them would begin to write a new chapter of their lives – together, as equals.
Obi-Wan had been preparing for the glorious day ever since he had become Qui-Gon’s apprentice thirteen years prior. He had grown a long braid as was traditional for Padawans, had kept it neat and well-groomed at all times – even on long missions. Over the years, the rusty strands of plaited hair tied with coloured bands had become the ultimate symbol of his commitment to the Jedi studies and the outward expression of the deep devotion he felt for his Master.
There had been – metaphorically and literally – a part of Obi-Wan hidden in his lovingly maintained Padawan braid. A small part that the young man had always imagined he would gift to Qui-Gon as a little memento of their shared past, a promise of the future, a heartfelt thank you.
That was what Obi-Wan had dreamt of, but when the long-awaited moment had finally come, his Master had no longer been there to share it with him. Instead of relief, elation and a sense of togetherness, overwhelming sadness and loneliness dwelled in the young Knight’s heart now. Instead of a lively celebration of their Master-Padawan bond, a funeral ceremony was about to be held in Qui-Gon Jinn’s memory.
Obi-Wan gave out a heavy sigh and listlessly looked out of the open window.
The sun had already begun to set behind the rolling hills surrounding the city of Theed. In less than two hours, the leading representatives of Naboo’s citizenry, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and the entire Jedi delegation will gather in the Funeral Temple to honour the fallen Jedi Master and bid him farewell. And then – what once had been, will be no more.
The very thought of what was to come was making Obi-Wan’s chest constrict in pain. Absent-mindedly, the young man started to caress the silky auburn locks of his Padawan braid with trembling fingers.
Then, at once, an idea crossed his mind, a small revelation born out of sheer despair.
Clutching at the thought like a drowning man at a straw, Obi-Wan glanced down at his braid again. Having reached a decision, he firmly closed his palm around it, then stood up and walked out of the room.
It did not take him long to reach the Funeral Temple. The ancient, domed building stood on the outskirts of the city, but could be directly accessed from the Royal Palace via a narrow cobblestone path and an old stone bridge that crossed the mighty Solleu River right before its waters plunged down over a tall cliff. On any other occasion, the route would make a very pleasant walk. This time however, Obi-Wan found himself wholly unable to admire its scenic beauty.
When he arrived in front of the small, secluded dome, the young Jedi paused and took a centring breath before entering. The Temple’s interior was very modest and unadorned, yet Obi-Wan had to admit the way a gentle breeze was blowing inside and golden-red rays of sunshine were shining onto the stone walls and floor through a dozen of pane-less triangular windows was beautiful in its own, special way. The Temple was, first and foremost, a place of mourning, but also of meditation. It encouraged its visitors to reflect on the transience and fragility of life, and to seek peace in the inevitability of death – the oldest and cruellest law of balance in the universe.
Bleakly, Obi-Wan wondered if he would ever be able to find at least a sliver of such peace. It seemed so distant to him, so unattainable. He sighed, then before he could get too bogged down in his dismal thoughts, he began to climb a short flight of steep stairs leading to the centre of the Temple where a stone catafalque stood directly underneath a large open ceiling.
As soon as he reached the sombre structure and his eyes fell upon the body lying on the funeral pyre, a loud, tearful whine escaped his lips before he could stop it.
The dear, familiar face of Master Qui-Gon looked so serene in the soft afternoon light. As if he was merely sleeping or immersing himself in a meditative trance. Only the extreme pallor of his skin was giving away the devastating truth – that his was a sleep from which it was impossible to wake up.
Hot tears welled up in Obi-Wan’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks as he realised with new and terrible finality that his Master, his friend, his family was truly and irrevocably gone. There will be no more joint missions to be sent to, no more sparring sessions to challenge each other to, no more quiet evenings with sapir tea and jogan fruit biscuits to revel in.
From now on, there will be no new memories for us to make together.
Drowning deeper and deeper in the dark waters of his grief, Obi-Wan took a few hesitant steps towards the pyre and gingerly sat on the edge. With utmost care, he took one of the hands that lay folded across Qui-Gon’s broad chest into his own and pulled it closer.
It was so cold! Gone was the comforting warmth that Obi-Wan had long since learned to associate with the touch of his Master’s hands – so firm when they had held a lightsaber to protect those in need, so gentle when they had expertly dressed Obi-Wan’s wounds or cradled him in a loving embrace.
“M- Master,” the bereaved young Jedi mumbled as violent sobs continued to rack his whole body. “I miss you… S- so much.”
Obi-Wan could still see Qui-Gon’s final moments clearly before his eyes. The way he had quietly slumped onto the floor after the Sith Lord had pulled the blazing red lightsaber out of his body. The way his deep blue eyes – two bottomless wells of wisdom, solace and kindness – had forever lost their mischievous spark and his tender smile had frozen on his lips. The way his last words had been but a breathless whisper against Obi-Wan’s ear – one last quiver of the strong, velvety voice that the young man loved so dearly.
With every passing moment, Obi-Wan’s broken heart was howling a little louder at the cruel fate that had befallen his beloved friend and Master, his buoy of certainty in the vast sea of doubts and fears. He felt hollow and empty. His sorrow was slowly eating away at him, leaving nothing but a gaping, Qui-Gon-shaped hole behind.
And then, when he had almost thrown himself into the chasm of hopelessness, Obi-Wan suddenly felt it. Somewhere in the boundless, mysterious depths of the universe itself, the Force finally answered his desperate calls for help. It reached back to him with wide and open arms and wrapped them around him in a healing embrace. It kindled a tiny glimmer of light in the impenetrable darkness of his tormented soul, and let it grow – larger and larger until the agony that had seemed so inescapable and never-ending only a few moments ago abated and became but a painful memory.
Obi-Wan clung to the soothing warmth the Force exuded with all his might. It felt like a balm applied to a wound in his heart, like a gentle caress. He took a deep, cleansing breath and blinked through the thick veil of tears still draped over his eyes.
The regal face of Qui-Gon Jinn looked as peaceful and calm as it had always done. Obi-Wan silently gazed at it, committing every line and crease to his memory with as much precision as he was able to find within himself.
I will never forget, he fervently promised, meaning every word.
His connection to the Force was still disturbed and his heart still ached, but there was a new hope slowly blossoming inside him. The Galaxy needed him as a Jedi Knight, now more than ever before. Little Anakin needed him, as a friend and as a mentor. And Obi-Wan will not let them down. He will always remember his promise and persevere. In the memory of his Master whom he had loved so much and lost.
Carefully, Obi-Wan raised Qui-Gon’s hand that he was still clasping in his own to his lips and planted a soft kiss on the cold, pale skin. Then, he returned the hand back to its place on Qui-Gon’s chest, hiding a small bundle of auburn hair – his treasured Padawan braid – under the large palm.
Having wiped his tear-streaked face with his sleeve, he smiled faintly, and said aloud the words he no longer feared to say.
“Goodbye, my Master. May the Force forever be with you.”