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Qui-Gon was enjoying his walk… to an extent. This isolated valley on the planet Aakals was gorgeous, full of lush, green bushes and grasses, towering trees, and the occasional picturesque waterfall originating from the surrounding majestic mountains leading to a winding stream. All in all, a welcome change in its total opposition to Coruscant.
His old Master Yoda had sent him on this ‘journey,’ (vacation? Was it a vacation? If so, why hadn’t he been allowed to make his own choice?) arming him with a small pack containing a change of clothes, two bundles of food for dinner and breakfast, and several bottles of a fine ale that Qui-Gon looked forward to trying. A bell attached to the pack chimed merrily as Qui-Gon walked, apparently a deterrent to large omnivores or carnivores that might be in the area.
Qui-Gon couldn’t help feeling that this journey was some sort of test, but he had yet to figure out the parameters. And surely, having been a full Knight for a decade, he was beyond basic tests? He’d overseen complicated treaty negotiations, supervised elections for new governments, fought space pirates, and performed many Important duties for the protection of the Republic and its citizens, what could this pleasant walk accomplish?
Had his Master seen some deficiency in him, that he needed to meditate more, reaffirm his sense of stillness and connection to the Force? Qui-Gon didn’t think so, he thought his connection quite strong and unwavering, but could one accurately examine themself? Well, yes, he thought, but Yoda was much older and wiser, Qui-Gon was willing to open to the possibility Yoda saw something Qui-Gon was missing.
He just wished he didn’t find the mystery quite so annoying, as perhaps his unwillingness to simply accept was part of the problem?
In the distance he could see the shack that Master Yoda had mentioned, a plain but serviceable building where he could stay the night before finishing his walk the next day. Qui-Gon was pleased. He wasn’t tired yet, but it would be pleasant to have a break, take off his heavy boots, drink one of the ales, and admire the scenery. Remove his socks too and feel the dirt and small grasses between his toes; the vegetation didn’t look to have stickers or spiky ends.
Between him and the shack was a sandy colored patch, perhaps a small outcropping of rock? Qui-Gon eyed the mountains in the distance but they were brown and covered with snow at the top. If it was a rock, it must be a different type.
As he got closer to the sandy colored patch, he realized it was a person and began running, for surely no one would lay on the ground in a deserted valley so carelessly, unless in some distress.
He was a young humanoid, lying prone on the ground, his face turned to one side, a Jedi Padawan by his clothes and hairstyle. His arms were stretched above his head, as if he’d fallen forward while walking, and his body shook with tremors. His entire body was wracked, shaking from his outstretched fingers to the tips of his brown boots.
The Padawan’s cape had swirled to one side as he fell, leaving his lower body uncovered, and a distant part of Qui-Gon’s brain couldn’t help but notice that his buttocks and legs in clinging leggings were as superbly toned as Jedi training required.
“Padawan.” Qui-Gon knelt by him, placing one hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremors. By his complexion and general body type, he and Qui-Gon could be the same species. He was very pale though, his lips almost blue.
The young man didn’t respond in any fashion, and Qui-Gon cursed that he didn’t have an emergency beacon. He could force run to the other end of the valley and get help, but he wasn’t sure who would be waiting or what resources they might have. Aakals’ population was very low.
Qui-Gon straightened the young man’s cloak over him, then unclasping his own, he placed it over the young man, tucking it around him. Maybe warmth would help. He gently rolled him to his back, keeping his upper torso tilted forward to compensate for his pack. The Padawan was lovely, attractive features and short-cropped, light brown hair that had a reddish tint in the sunlight. His Palawan braid was quite long, indicating many years of service at a Master’s side.
“Don’t worry, Padawan, I will take care of you,” Qui-Gon promised, knowing that often unconscious people could still absorb reassuring words. He picked him up in a bridal carry, being careful to wrap the two layers of cloaks around him as he did. He was at least half a head shorter than Qui-Gon, his weight light and no burden, even with his own pack on his back. Still, Qui-Gon was glad that the shack wasn’t far, wanting to examine him soon.
The building was plain but sturdy, the latch simple but one that required dexterous fingers to undo, clearly designed to keep out the wild animals in the area. In no time, Qui-Gon was settling the Padawan on the decent-sized bed in the single room. He put their packs and cloaks to one side and on consideration, he also removed the Padawan’s heavy boots, making him comfortable as the tremors continued to make him twitch and shiver.
The desire to go get medical assistance was strong, but equally powerful was the unwillingness to leave the young man alone. What if something more drastic happened? What if he needed even Qui-Gon’s limited intervention to survive? Resolving to stay, Qui-Gon removed his own boots and laid on his side by the young man, pulling a blanket over them before resting one hand on his chest.
Time passed excruciatingly slowly, as Qui-Gon could only watch and be alert, wondering how this young man came to be here. Was he also sent on a journey by his Master? Was this something the both of them were supposed to do? And if so, separately or were they supposed to link up and do it together? Qui-Gon had never seen this Padawan, so he must have come from one of the other Temples.
After a while, Qui-Gon thought the tremors were subsiding, then he was positive. With a soft whoosh of breath, the young man stilled, his body relaxing with the release of whatever stress it had been under, and his breathing deepened into sleep.
Getting up, Qui-Gon tucked the blanket around him and set to brewing hot water for tea, finding that the shack had all the basic equipment for their overnight stay. A small kitchen area, a tiny fresher, a table and chairs. And stay he thought they should, giving the Padawan time to recover before they would walk out together in the morning, allowing Qui-Gon to remain with him and make sure that he reached his Master safely.
He took the liberty of checking the other pack, not surprised to find it similarly packed to his own.
From his appearance and the length of his braid, he must be close to knighthood, Qui-Gon judged, though of course age was difficult to tell among the different types of humans. Appearances could be misleading.
The Padawan moaned and yawned, stretching as he woke after his brief nap, blinking a little, disoriented.
“It’s alright,” Qui-Gon reassured him, “you’re fine. I’m Qui-Gon Jinn, I’m here with you.”
“Knight Jinn!” The Padawan blinked at him a few times, really lovely eyes of a curious blue-grey-green shade sharpening into focus.
Qui-Gon felt an unexpected sense of pride that this unknown Padawan from a different Temple had heard of him. “Please, Qui-Gon is fine. And you are?”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs to the ground. “Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Please, take it easy. You seemed very ill.”
“Yes, of course, I was experiencing the shaking. It often comes several times for me.”
“The shaking?”
“You don’t know?”
From the young man’s surprise, Qui-Gon was missing something. “No, I don’t,” he replied, aware his tone was curt.
The young man stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, studying Qui-Gon, who loomed over him. “Is this your first time in this valley?” he finally asked.
Qui-Gon softened his tone, because his ignorance was hardly this young man’s fault. It was Yoda’s for sending him here without any explanation, and Qui-Gon promised he would have words with his old Master. “Yes.”
“That’s—surprising.” The carefully blank expression on the young man’s face shifted to reverence and awe. “You must be—” he stopped, biting his lip.
“Must be what?”
“I don’t know that I should try to explain, if your Master didn’t. I don’t know why he didn’t.”
Qui-Gon stifled his impatience at Yoda, though he felt his jaw tighten. “My Master occasionally feels I learn best from a situation when I approach it without any preconceptions.”
“Yes, or he felt you wouldn’t accept it.”
“Wouldn’t accept it? Accept what?” Qui-Gon asked sharply, not liking having gone from rescuer to ignorant.
Obi-Wan’s stomach gurgled and he looked down at his own flat belly with a laugh. “There is food in my pack, would you mind if I eat?”
“Of course not, I have food too. We should have dinner together.”
They laid out their food on the small table, finding that they had a surprisingly compatible variety, and Qui-Gon poured tea for them. As they ate, Qui-Gon talked a little of himself, finding that Obi-Wan was familiar with his career. A Jedi was not vain, but it was pleasing to know that his accomplishments were already being studied by the generation in training.
He encouraged Obi-Wan to share his background, and the Padawan willingly talked of his training on Tython, the missions he’d done with his Master, the fact that his Trials to be a Knight were near.
After their meal, they took the chairs outside, sipping from the ales. It was still light, though Qui-Gon’s sense of time told him that it must be fairly late in the evening. He shivered, surprised, as the temperature was cool but not cold.
“We should take our clothes off soon and put them and the chairs inside.”
Qui-Gon was astonished by the out of the blue suggestion, not that he wouldn’t mind getting naked with this Padawan. Obi-Wan was attractive and intelligent, and all ways appealing. But still, only a Padawan. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ve been thinking about Master Yoda and what I know of you, and I think he must have assumed you wouldn’t believe it until it happened. So I will help prepare you but I won’t try to explain.”
The presumption—Qui-Gon took a deep breath, reaching for his connection to the Force, reminding himself that this young man had been violently ill recently, and it was hardly his fault that Yoda thought the truth should be withheld. “And you think taking off our clothes is the correct preparation?”
“Yes.” Obi-Wan grinned, surprisingly wicked. “That’s not anything I ever thought I’d suggest to such a distinguished Knight, but it really is the correct course of action.” He stood up and carried his chair inside, placing his empty ale bottle by the small sink. Then without another word, methodically disrobed. Qui-Gon watched him through the open door as he removed his tunics, folding them and placing them on the chair, followed by his trousers and underclothes. His feet were already bare, having removed his socks earlier. Fully naked, he stretched, and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but admire the perfection of his trim body; Jedi physical training really was first class. Obi-Wan’s buttocks looked quite as nice and curvy as Qui-Gon had noted earlier.
Then Obi-Wan gave a shiver, and Qui-Gon’s body shivered in return. This wasn’t a shiver of arousal, this was something different. Turning to face Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan said, “Please, Qui-Gon, trust me? You should undress.”
Trust was not the principal emotion Qui-Gon felt, looking at Obi-Wan’s naked body, the creaminess of his skin, the sprinkling of hair over his chest, the trail down to his groin, the organ which looked quite substantial for one so much shorter. But decide to trust he did.
Qui-Gon imitated Obi-Wan’s action, drawing himself up proudly. Though it was the cultural norm on Coruscant to be dressed, Qui-Gon was confident in his naked body, and knew it to be pleasing to the eye. At least, he hoped Obi-Wan found it so. “Now what?”
“Now we go outside and we wait.” Obi-Wan stepped out and Qui-Gon followed. Obi-Wan shut the door and latched it before sitting down on one of the lusher patches of grass, knees bent, arms resting on them.
Qui-Gon followed his example again, sitting a few feet away, feeling absurd but also somewhat aroused. The young man was really quite good-looking, without a flaw on his body except a few faint scars here and there, a common sign of an active life serving the Jedi Order. Having a few scars of his own, Qui-Gon wondered if Obi-Wan was examining them.
“We are the same subspecies of human.”
“Yes?” Qui-Gon prompted, aware that Obi-Wan was beginning to explain the thing that Yoda had chickened out on. He would have words with his Master tomorrow.
“A thing happens to us, after a certain age. It manifests differently, and earlier for certain types and later for others.”
“Types?”
“The type is…” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Yours will be magnificent, I’m a little jealous.”
“Yours is not magnificent?”
“Cute,” Obi-Wan said glumly. “Just cute.”
Qui-Gon looked sideways at him. “That would seem appropriate.”
Obi-Wan blushed, a reaction that seemed incongruous with his state of nakedness. “Thank you,” he said, but Qui-Gon barely heard him as shakes took over his body. This was what Obi-Wan must have felt earlier. It was the shivering feeling of being too extremely cold. He fell to one side, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to warm himself. But he wasn’t really cold, he realized, it was just the same sort of physical reaction, his muscles reacting for some unknown reason.
“Don’t fight it, Qui-Gon. You’ll be fine. You’ll be magnificent.”
Magnificent? Obi-Wan had said that before but Qui-Gon couldn’t make any sense of it. He couldn’t make sense of anything except that his body was twitching, shaking, as he thrashed around on the ground. It was worse than being too cold, than being ill with fever, than anything Qui-Gon had ever felt.
“It’s hardest the first time and will probably be harder for you than it ever is for me. Yours has taken so much longer to manifest.”
His what? Qui-Gon wanted to demand but then he was gasping, one hand punching upwards and changing, lengthening, growing brown fur, his fingers cramping into a fist and then solidifying into a black hoof. His nose felt like it was stretching out as an anguished braying sound ripped from his throat. Something strange and discomforting was happening on his tailbone and on top of his ears, the skin feeling like it was stretching out, something punching out from his body. Qui-Gon rolled and came up on all fours, making that horrendous braying sound again, in anguish as he looked down at his legs, longer and spindlier now, covered by short brown fur. He was taller than he had been, the ground seeming further away. His head was heavy, and he thought maybe he had horns or antlers.
“You are magnificent,” Obi-Wan repeated, reaching up to stroke down his long nose. “Don’t be afraid. This is natural for us. There’s a small pond, that way,” he pointed southeast. “You can—”
Look and see yourself, Qui-Gon finished mentally, his brain finally functional again now that the pain of the transformation had passed. Obi-Wan couldn’t complete his sentence because he had dropped to his knees, doing the same shaking, except that his limbs were shortening. Fur was growing all over his body, longer, lighter brown, and more strokable-looking than Qui-Gon’s own. His ears rounded, expanded, his face lengthening into a snout, as Obi-Wan became a small mammal. A squirrel, and as cute as Obi-Wan had said he would be. He chittered at Qui-Gon, who brayed back, before lowering his snout. He nudged Obi-Wan gently. He wanted to go to this pond and he wanted the other Jedi with him. Even if they couldn’t talk, they could share this experience.
Obi-Wan chittered again, perhaps not understanding the direction, and Qui-Gon tried to make his nudge a more ‘upwards’ direction. Seeming to understand, the squirrel scampered up his long snout, over his head, and down his long neck. Little claws curled into Qui-Gon’s mane. Confident that his passenger had a secure hold, Qui-Gon turned southeasterly, loping toward the pond.
#
Qui-Gon woke, facing Obi-Wan, his arms around the Padawan, in the bed that was comfortably large, but not quite sufficient for both of them. Somehow, after the time spent transformed, they had managed to get under the covers before they fell asleep, exhausted and not very coherent. Only the fact that their hips were tilted back prevented embarrassment, except that Qui-Gon didn’t think he could be embarrassed around Obi-Wan ever again.
How could he feel any sense of shame around someone who had explored the valley and the woods with him in their animal forms? Who had spent the night helping Qui-Gon comprehend a life he’d never expected to know?
Explore they had, Qui-Gon’s four long legs easily eating up distance. First to the pond where Qui-Gon stared at his reflection in the crystal-clear water. A moose, he knew, a not uncommon animal on many planets. A long nose, limpid brown eyes, a quite impressive set of wide antlers, Obi-Wan’s furry little body appearing between them, his snout wrinkling as he chittered away. Obi-Wan hadn’t been that talkative as a person, but clearly his squirrel had much to say.
Obi-Wan kept looking to the right, waving his little arms in that direction, so Qui-Gon followed his indication, enjoying the feel of his long muscles, the sound of his hooves thumping into the dirt. He could get an impressive speed when Force running, but that was nothing compared to the length of his moose form’s stride.
The squirrel apparently wanted nuts, as they reached a grove of trees, and Obi-Wan launched off Qui-Gon’s back. His furry body clambered around the tree limbs, gathering several nuts, before scampering back to his perch on Qui-Gon’s back. The thought of eating made Qui-Gon realize he was feeling a bit peckish, the transformation having drained energy out of him.
Qui-Gon nibbled at the leaves of the tree, finding them tasty. His brain was the same, he was Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight, but his senses were different. His eyes saw more than he normally would at this time of night, his taste buds found leaves appealing, his nose was bringing more input to his brain. Processing the new input with his—enhanced, or maybe just different—senses was natural and easy.
“Was I right to not try to explain?” Obi-Wan’s question brought Qui-Gon back to an awareness of the here and now, and he sighed.
“I like to think that I am open and willing to listen to new information.”
“But?”
“It would have been a very difficult truth to believe.”
“Truth often is.”
Qui-Gon hummed a noise of agreement in his throat, reaching out with his thumb, stroking along Obi-Wan’s jawline. The short stubble was pleasantly raspy, an interesting sensation against Qui-Gon’s thumb, but not soft and silky like the squirrel’s fur. “How many times have you experienced your transformation?”
“This is my third season. I’ve done some research on our kind. We’re very rare, most of us having been wiped out, but often strong in the Force. Thus, the Jedi maintain this valley for us.”
“Our ancestral home, I assume.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “I can send you the research I’ve gathered.”
“I would appreciate that.” He let his thumb rest in the slight dimple in Obi-Wan’s chin. “I’m glad you were here.” He would have coped, but having someone else to share the experience made it easier to accept. And enjoy.
The smile Obi-Wan gave him was cheeky. “It was my pleasure. I never thought I’d be Knight Jinn’s first in anything.”
“You’ll be taking your Trials soon.”
Obi-Wan nodded, a hint of surprise in his eyes at the change of subject.
“You’ll be assigned to a senior Knight for a few missions.” They both knew the system, Obi-Wan must guess where this was leading. “I’d like to request to be that Knight.”
“You really don’t know anything about me other than we share a genetic history.”
“I know I want to know you better. If that’s acceptable to you.” And if he guessed right, Yoda and Obi-Wan’s Master already had the request form ready to go. Though he hated to fall in line with his Master’s scheming, he was smart enough to accept when Yoda was right, the little imp so often was.
“You’ve shared with me something that no one else ever has.” Obi-Wan’s chin dropped, dislodging Qui-Gon’s thumb, but capturing it quickly in his mouth, giving it a light suck, his tongue circling the digit.
Qui-Gon felt the immediate reaction, the faint morning arousal hardening into painful readiness.
“I’m interested in everything we can learn together,” Obi-Wan said, his voice throaty.
“I share that interest, and desire to teach you everything I can.” Qui-Gon promised, before very pointedly shifting away and rolling to sit on the side of the bed, his back turned to Obi-Wan. “After you have passed your Trials and I am your senior Knight.” A relationship at this stage wouldn’t be forbidden, but it wouldn’t be viewed with approval either. Qui-Gon disregarded most other people’s condemnation, but he wouldn’t have it focused on Obi-Wan without good reason.
“Yes, of course.” Obi-Wan sat up, forearms resting on his raised knees.
“Deep breaths,” Qui-Gon advised, standing up and beginning to dress in his underwear and trousers. He didn’t glance over his shoulder to see if Obi-Wan was looking at his bare back. “Release your feelings into the Force.”
Obi-Wan gave a shaky laugh. “Teaching me already.”
Qui-Gon continued dressing, realizing that his hair tie had been lost somewhere during the transformation. He raked his hair back with his fingers but accepted it would have to be loose until they walked out of the valley. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Obi-Wan getting up and dressing. “Shall we see if we happen to have coordinating breakfasts too?”
“Breakfast would be greatly appreciated, I’m starving. The transformation always leaves me hungry.”
“Even if you’ve eaten in your other form?” Qui-Gon started water boiling. Mountain spring water from a creek had been delicious but now he wanted his morning hot tea.
“Even then. And I always do. Nuts are—so amazing and tasty when I’ve transformed. I’m me, but there’s also a primalness, like I need them and want them so much.”
“I’d like to hear everything about your experiences,” Qui-Gon offered, measuring the tea for the pot.
“The first time…”
Qui-Gon listened as Obi-Wan described his first time, staying focused and not getting distracted by imagining what other first times they might share. As they laid out their breakfast, the Padawan talked with animation, knowing that his audience was perhaps the only person who could truly understand. Or were there more of them among the Jedi? And if so, what were their forms? How often did they need to take their forms? Was it only possible here on Aakals?
Qui-Gon had so many questions, questions he hoped Obi-Wan or his research could answer. Maybe Yoda would break free with more information.
For now, he listened and learned, happy to be sharing his morning with Obi-Wan, knowing that soon they would officially share their future. First as Knights, and then perhaps as bonded Knights?
And forever as Moose and Squirrel.