Chapter Text
The room was silent.
Well, no. That wasn’t true. It was almost silent. Sort of. It was much quieter than it usually was with a group this size.
They should be laughing, talking and clattering about, making noise. They had work to do; they should be busy. Instead, everyone tip-toed around, close-mouthed, speaking only in hushed tones if at all.
It was really all quite ridiculous.
“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” Marcus whispered next to him. “Did you get it to work?”
He considered his answer. No, he had not done what was asked, but he had met his goal. The Force had shown him the true path when he had quieted his mind, as it always did. “Some,” he said.
Everyone else was blundering along, still following the directions.
He wondered why they hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Do you hear anything?” Marcus asked, stress and frustration in his voice.
“There’s nothing to hear,” he declared.
Marcus’s shoulders slumped. “Really?”
“Yes,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “It’s quiet in here. Too quiet. Everyone is acting like they did at Master Breel’s funeral.” He looked toward the others, clearly still floundering as much as Marcus was. Together, they silently observed the rest of the group. The intent looks of concentration, their heads cocked, their eyes squinting, and their brows furrowed as they tried to feel the Force wrong. To hear a noise that simply wasn’t there.
Across the room, Urdlea was quiet and still, then suddenly moved across with purpose, following her own path. He wondered if she had finally figured it out. The rest continued fumbling. He crossed his arms and shook his head at the whole lot of them.
“Is that . . . bad?” Marcus asked. He understood the comparison, but the room didn’t feel like a funeral to him. It felt like that time when they had visited an Agri Corps farm and had seen a herd of magnificent lake oxons and the air had moved strangely. Their guide had explained they oxon communicated at frequencies just below human hearing and if they were quiet and still, they could just barely feel the subsonic waves.
The sound had to be there, didn’t it?
Toobi let out a gasp, giggled, then scurried off to a corner as if he had discovered a fabulous treasure. Some of the others didn’t notice, not breaking their concentration, while a few watched him, skeptical and envious in turns.
He snorted. They should have just stayed skeptical. They would figure it all out faster that way.
“Yes, it’s bad. Nobody is using the Force. No one is using their brains. Everyone is trying to hear sounds that aren’t there.”
Marcus turned a skeptical eye his way, as if he didn’t believe him. The doubt was a good step but still in the wrong direction. “They said it’s a sound and that it might be hard to hear but it comes from the Force. It comes through the Force. And we need to calm our minds to hear it.”
He actually rolled his eyes. “They always tell us to calm our minds. And we did. That doesn’t make the Force happen. I’m calm. And strong in the Force. And I have ears. There’s no sound. It’s all . . . all . . . fake.”
“Fake?” Marcus yelped.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Fake.” He looked over the group again. “I can feel the Force just fine. There is no special sound in the Force. If there was, I’d hear it.”
Marcus frowned. “Do you ever hear Force sounds?”
He rolled his eyes again. “Yes. The birds and the trees and the gardens sing in the Force.” He gestured to the room, his tone one of contempt. “These don’t.”
Marcus followed his gaze. “But the masters said . . .”
“Fake.”
“But it might take time to—”
“Fake.”
“But not everyone will hear it right away.”
“Fake!”
His voice echoed in the quiet room. Everyone turned to stare at him for a moment, some looking annoyed. Disapproving.
Fools, the lot of them.
“Why do you think it is fake?” Marcus asked quietly after everyone had returned to their work.
“Marcus,” he said patiently. “I always hear the Force just fine. If there was something to hear, I would hear it, whether I calmed my mind or not. If I can’t hear it, it’s not there and the others are just too . . .” He knew he should not say stupid. “Too blurbely to question it.”
“Blurbely?” Marcus asked, eyebrows raised.
“Like Blurby,” he explained. “He believes everything.”
“They trust too much,” Marcus nodded.
“Yes. They trust what they are told more than what they feel.”
Marcus frowned. That sort of made sense, but this seemed like kind of an important thing that shouldn’t have been set up just to point that out.
“Are you sure?” Marcus asked at last.
“I am,” he asserted, smug. “The Force already showed me what to do instead. Use the Force, Marcus.”
Marcus heaved a deep sigh. “I’m trying.”
He rolled his eyes again and sighed dramatically. “You know there is no try, Marcus. There is do. There is do not. There is done. I didn’t do it because it can’t be done. I did it my way instead.”
Marcus resisted the urge to say something rude to his friend. “I really don’t think this many people would lie for this long about something this important,” he said quietly. “That is mean.”
“You’re being blurbely too, Marcus.” He gave him a slightly offended look. “You don’t believe me,” he accused.
Marcus lowered his head, trying to release his frustration. “They said this could be hard. Maybe we both haven’t tried hard enough yet to do.”
“Force stuff isn’t hard, Marcus.”
“We all have different gifts,” Marcus quoted Master Della, one of their teachers.
“Good morning boys,” a deep voice spoke behind them, loud in the quiet, and they startled before turning around.
“Good morning, Master Dooku,” they chorused.
“Are you both listening to the stones sing?” their elder asked, his often stern face a little softer than usual.
Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything yet,” he admitted.
“And you, Qui-Gon?” Dooku asked.
He turned his skeptical gaze on the master. “Of course not. I know.”
Dooku’s face looked confused. “What do you know?”
Qui-Gon huffed, disappointed the master was also in on the charade. “I know the stones don’t sing. I can feel the Force. They don’t make noise. I’m not stu— um, a little kid, you know.”
Yan Dooku blinked, his mouth set in a tight line.
“Qui-Gon, you’re ten years old. You are, by definition, a little kid.”
Qui-Gon gave him a mutinous glare.
“And I can assure you that even if you’re having difficulty hearing it, the stones do sing. You may only hear a few of them yourself, but they do sing.”
“No, they don’t.” Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yes, Qui-Gon, they do,” Dooku insisted, slightly exasperated at the boy’s hard-headedness. “I’ve heard my own stones sing.” He looked from one child to the other. “Neither of you can hear the stones sing?” he asked.
“They don’t sing,” Qui-Gon retorted. “I figured it out already.”
Marcus looked torn. “I can’t hear anything,” he admitted quietly. “I can’t hear them.” His eyes filled with tears. “I can’t hear them, and Qui-Gon is stronger in the Force than I am, but the teachers said they can sing.”
Dooku forced a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes, desperately wanting to avoid a tween meltdown. He bent down and patted the distraught boy’s shoulder. “There, there. This is a difficult skill,” he glanced at Qui-Gon. “That you both need to learn.” He looked back to Marcus’s flushed face and wet cheeks. “Let me see if I can find someone to help.” He glared at the docent who was riding herd on the little ones but not really educating them. The teacher, one of the crystallography knights, was giving another student an exam and hadn’t noticed Marcus’s distress.
“I’ll be right back,” he assured them both.
“Okay,” Marcus sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
Qui-Gon mentally reclassified Master Dooku as untrustworthy. Which was a disappointment because he had seemed to be honest before.
* * *
“Elliot!”
Elliot looked up from his personal workbench to see Yan Dooku jogging into the workroom, a note of desperation in his voice. His eyes went immediately to Yan’s saber hilt, but it looked intact, and his stones were content. “What is the matter?” he asked as he took off his magnifying spectacles.
“Doubting and frustrated initiates,” Yan explained. “One is starting to cry.”
Elliot chuckled gently as he powered down his equipment then stood to follow Yan back to the classroom. He considered suggesting they provide two instructors for these early classes. Younglings left to flounder too long grew frustrated quickly.
“Having trouble hearing the stones?” he asked as they walked.
“Yes!” Yan confirmed. “One of them thinks the stones don’t sing and all the teachers are lying.”
Elliot snorted. “He’s not the first to think so.”
“Oh?” Dooku pulled up short as they neared the door. “Moosie thought all the teachers were lying?”
“No,” Elliot shook his head. “It’s more typical in students who are more oriented to the Living Force, or those who can’t quiet their minds enough at first.” He peeked into the room, looking at the pair of small boys Dooku had indicated. “Moosie just didn’t believe everyone else couldn’t hear every stone.”
“Ah. Opposite problem.”
“Indeed.”
Elliot followed Dooku into the room, waving at the instructor who had noticed him enter to indicate he was helping at Dooku’s request. Lira looked over the children in question, saw Marcus’s flushed face and nodded. She hadn’t noticed the boy’s distress before but knew Elliot had a gift for calming distraught younglings and welcomed an extra pair of hands.
Confident he wasn’t stepping on toes, Elliot smiled and knelt down across from the boys. Dooku did the same.
“Qui-Gon and, um, Marcus?” Yan asked, not entirely certain of the names of all of Qui-Gon’s little friends. Marcus nodded, still sniffling.
“This is Master Elliot. He is very good at hearing the stones sing and has been trained as a stonereader. I brought him to help you with your lessons.”
Marcus looked tearfully hopeful.
Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes at both masters. Master Dooku was usually nice and didn’t usually try to fool him. “I’ve finished this lesson, thank you.” He kept his tone quiet, trying not to sound as rude as he felt like acting.
“Did you?” Elliot asked, smiling warmly. “You’ve found what stones speak to you best?”
Qui-Gon huffed audibly. “No. The stones don’t sing. The lesson is wrong.”
Elliot’s warm expression didn’t change, nor did Dooku’s worried look.
“But you’ve finished the lesson?” Elliot prompted.
Qui-Gon scowled at him, wondering if this master was making fun of him. “Yes. The Force led me to the proper stones. And they don’t sing.”
Dooku opened his mouth to argue once more that the stones did in fact sing, but Elliot held up a hand to ask for silence.
“How did the Force lead you to a stone type and what type was it?” Elliot asked gently.
Dooku calmed himself; Elliot was getting to the root of the problem.
Qui-Gon looked back at Elliot, suspicious. No one had asked him that since this whole stupid lesson started.
“The stones don’t sing, but some of them glow. The emeralds glow the most. They are warm in the Force and feel right,” he explained.
“They glow?” Dooku asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes,” Elliot nodded. “Some of the stones do glow in the Force and often the ones you have an affinity for will appear the brightest. Most Jedi don’t see that glow until they bond with their stone.” He leaned closer. “You must be oriented to the Living Force quite strongly if you can see the glow but can’t hear the stones sing.”
“I can’t hear them because they don’t sing!” Qui-Gon insisted stubbornly.
“Qui-Gon is quite oriented to the L,” Dooku confirmed. “I know that stone reading is a U-based skill, but if he’s so strong in the L would that prevent him from hearing the stones? He is stubborn, but not usually prone to lying.”
“That is probably why he can’t hear them now,” Elliot clarified. “Many students who lean toward the L have trouble hearing the stones, but usually they can learn to hear the stones they are bonded to. Technically, one doesn’t need to hear the stones sing or even feel the Force to build a functioning lightsaber, but both skills help a lot.” He turned to Qui-Gon. “Can you go find a sample emerald that glows brightly for you?”
Qui-Gon cocked his head, considering this strange master who had given him permission to skip all the nonsense and just do the stupid lesson the right way. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” Elliot turned his attention to Marcus as Qui-Gon got up to go find the emeralds again. “Hello, there. Are you hearing any of the stones?”
“No!” Marcus suddenly wailed and he burst into tears.
Dooku grimaced, having no idea how to soothe children this young, much less how to help with this lesson.
“Oh, it’s all right.” Elliot pulled a handkerchief from one of his pockets and began dabbing at the boy’s face. “This lesson can be hard. I’ll help you figure it out and it will be all right.”
“I don’t see them glow either!” Marcus cried harder. “I was calm and meditated and everything!”
“And you still couldn’t hear any of them?” Elliot asked gently, rubbing his back.
“No.” Marcus’s wail had faded to a whisper, and his classmates, initially alarmed by his outburst, turned back to their work and tried not to look at him.
“Well, we’ll just have to try a different approach then,” Elliot reassured him. “Grownup Jedi need help with this too sometimes, isn’t that right Master Dooku?”
“What?” Dooku hadn’t been expecting Elliot to use him as an example.
Elliot gave him a pointed look.
“Oh, right. Yes. I had trouble hearing the stones when I was an initiate.”
Marcus looked less than convinced.
Elliot pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “I was referring to your padawan, actually.”
“Oh.” Dooku nodded. “Yes, he had some difficulties initially.”
“He couldn’t hear the stones at all and needed extra help,” Elliot explained.
Marcus took hold of Elliot’s offered handkerchief and wiped his own face. “And he learned to hear them?”
“Yes,” Elliot reassured him. “We figured out why he was having difficulty and he learned to hear the stones and built his lightsaber on time.”
Marcus looked very relieved. Fears about never building a saber were usually why failure in this lesson was so upsetting.
“But what if I still can’t hear them?” the boy asked, but he was calmer now.
“Then we will teach you to sense your stones differently,” Elliot explained, as if this were perfectly acceptable. “The same techniques don’t work for everyone. There are deaf Jedi and Jedi from species that don’t hear like we do, and they have built their own lightsabers. There is more than one way to skin a gundark, young one. We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” Marcus nodded, looking more reassured.
Qui-Gon chose this moment to return with a small sample emerald with a noticeable flaw. “This one glowed the brightest,” he declared. “It still doesn’t sing.”
“Ah, yes. I can hear why this one glowed brightly to you,” Elliot told him as he pulled out a magnifying lens and used it to show both boys the large imperfection in the stone. “The stones sing in the Unifying Force, but they usually glow in the Living Force. That’s why its easier for you to see the glow. If these stones glow strongly for you, you can probably feel them well enough to build a lightsaber with them, but just because a stone glows brightly doesn’t mean that particular stone will work. You are sensing these stones in the Living Force; you are feeling traces of life in them from long ago. Those traces are often stronger in the flaws, those little bits that didn’t crystallize. That can fool you into thinking it’s a good stone for saber work, but if you tried to make a saber with this stone it would shatter or explode.”
Qui-Gon still looked suspicious, but somewhat mollified that this Master Elliot was confirming his experiences.
“You should spend extra time in the workshop learning to grade the stones. Look at many different types, not just the ones that glow, since the glow strength could lead you astray and that is a skill you will need to depend on more.”
Qui-Gon bit back a sigh at more work. He had thought he was done, but he had been right, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” With a reassuring nod, Elliot returned his attention to Marcus. “See, more than one way to skin a gundark. We’ll find the way that works for you.”
Marcus nodded, glancing at his classmates. He had noticed them holding the stones close to their ears, not their eyes. “They really hear singing, don’t they?”
“They do,” Elliot confirmed. “But they all hear different things. Everyone is not the same.”
“Right.”
“What do you sense from the stones?” Elliot asked.
“In the Force?”
“In anything. Sometimes we don’t realize what we sense in the Force and not everyone feels it the same way.”
“Sometimes the stones feel warm,” Marcus admitted.
Elliot took his hand and laid the flawed emerald in his palm. “Does this feel warm?”
“No,” the boy frowned. “It feels cool, like marble walls.”
“Hmm, you might be sensing the strength or clarity as hot or cold. That doesn’t tell you what stone is for you yet, but it does tell us how you might be able to grade stones later.”
“Really?” Dooku asked before Marcus could.
Elliot gave Marcus a patient look before answering Yan. “Yes. Sound is not the only sense one can use to evaluate stones, even among stonereaders. Apparent temperature is a less common Force manifestation but it’s not unheard of.”
“Oh.”
“But how can I know what kind of stone to use?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Elliot admitted. “I don’t know what will work for you yet. But I do know the problem isn’t that you aren’t quieting your mind or aren’t strong enough in the Force. You just sense the stones differently and we have to figure out what does work for you.”
“Okay.” The boy looked very relieved.
“Excuse me.”
All three of them turned to see another Jedi had come up to them. He was a grownup, but Marcus wasn’t sure if he was a padawan, a knight or one of the Service Corps technicians who sometimes worked here or taught students. He was huddled in a Jedi robe, hood up, even though they were indoors.
“Yes, Moosie,” Master Elliot addressed him. “What did you need?”
Moosie blinked at Elliot, then looked at the child. “Him.”
“You need young Marcus for something?” Elliot asked. Moosie rarely interacted with the younglings, finding their intensity unsettling, so his request was unusual.
“Yes. I have a message.” He turned to the boy. “You are Marcus Jerrold?”
“Yes.” The boy glanced at Elliot worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You missed doing something,” Moosie replied.
“I did?”
“Yes.” Moosie crossed his arms. “You were absent from class last week?”
“Yes.” Marcus frowned, not sure what he had missed. “The docent and the teacher went over the lessons with me on a different day. I had to stay in my room because I caught a cold.”
Moosie took a careful step back from him. Dooku swallowed a laugh.
“Yes, well it’s definitely you then.” Moosie made a slightly stern face. “The stones don’t like being ignored. Stop ignoring yours.”
“I don’t have any stones,” Marcus explained. “I can’t hear them sing.”
Moosie heaved a deep sigh. “They have been calling you.”
Marcus gave Elliot a bewildered look.
“They don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Moosie,” Elliot tapped his finger on the table quite deliberately and Moosie’s gaze snapped to it, then to him.
“What did I do wrong?” Moosie asked. “Was I not supposed to help?”
“You are welcome to help, Moosie. You just need to be more gentle.” He patted Marcus’s hand in support. “Marcus, this is Moosie Kanu. He designs lightsaber crystal arrangements and assists knights and masters with their sabers. Moosie, this is Marcus. He is having difficulty hearing the stones.”
“Difficulty?” Moosie seemed puzzled.
“Moosie,” Elliot’s voice was gentle, but firm. “He is only ten years old. He’s just starting out. He isn’t ignoring his stones. He can’t hear them.”
Moosie seemed very baffled by this. “Are you sure?”
Elliot took a moment to breathe, choosing his words carefully. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t heard them yet. It is still possible he may hear them later if we can determine which stones work best for him.” He gave Moosie a pointed look. “Do you have an idea of what stones may work for him?”
“Yes.”
“Which ones?”
“The Vesh Chrome Tourmalines.”
“Specifically the Vesh?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they have been chirping and singing for someone every time this class meets but did not the week he was absent. The are calling for him.”
Elliot nodded. “That’s a reasonable deduction.”
“I still don’t hear anything.” Marcus was trying not to cry again.
“You don’t?” Moosie sounded incredulous. It was the only inflection he had used so far beyond annoyance.
“Moosie.” Elliot’s tone was patient. “Are there any Vesh Chrome Tourmalines in the sample room?”
“No.”
“If there are no samples in this room, how would young Marcus hear them?”
Moosie blinked and stared at the boy. “Oh!” Without another word he turned on his heel and abruptly left.
Marcus gave Elliot a tearful look. “I don’t understand.”
“If Moosie is hearing the chrome tourmalines because they are calling to you, you weren’t hearing them because he keeps removing them from the sample room.”
Marcus looked very puzzled. “He was hiding them?”
“No intentionally,” Elliot explained. “He likes to keep these specific tourmalines together, but forgets other people sometimes need to use them too.”
Moosie hurried back into the classroom carrying a green tourmaline in one gloved hand that Elliot could hear chirping halfway across the room.
Moosie stopped a short distance away, taking in Marcus’s still flushed face and wet eyes and smiled at him. It was slightly unnerving.
“This,” he said, holding out the stone. “Is a chrome tourmaline from the Vash catacombs on Ledo VI. The addition of chrome to the crystals during formation gives them a green color and tourmalines from this source have unique properties, different from other tourmalines.”
Elliot held up a hand, then pointed to Marcus’s hand.
“Ah. Yes.” Moosie unsuccessfully suppressed a grimace as he dropped the small green stone into the child’s bare palm. “They have been calling for you.”
Marcus stared down at the deep green gem, similar to the emeralds Qui-Gon had been playing with, but much clearer.
“What do you sense?” Elliot asked after a moment.
“It feels warm,” Marcus answered cautiously.
“Yes. It’s a very clear gem,” Elliot explained. “I can’t hear any flaws.”
“I wasn’t going to bring a bad stone, Master,” Moosie huffed as if slightly offended.
“I know that Moosie. Marcus was noticing flaws in the emeralds by apparent temperature.”
“Oh.”
“How does it feel, Marcus,” Elliot asked.
“It feels . . . different, but I’m not sure how to describe it.” He continued to frown at the stone.
“Can you hear it singing, or does it feel like it’s vibrating?”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. He was reminded of the lake oxons again and their subsonic calls. He could feel that strange almost there feeling more now, and the stone in his palm felt strange. Alive. It reminded him of playing at the pond in the Meadow Garden when Qui-Gon would charm tiny frogs and place them on his palm and they would sit there, still as a stone except for their breaths and the tiny shimmer in the Force where their hearts beat before jumping back into the water.
The stone didn’t quite feel alive, and it didn’t quite feel silent.
“It feels like a frog sitting still. Alive, but frozen.”
“And the other gems didn’t?” Elliot asked. Dooku’s own brow was furrowed, trying to figure out how frogs were involved.
“No,” Marcus shook his head.
“Why don’t you quiet your mind, and we’ll leave the two of you alone for a little while,” Elliot suggested. “I’ll come back later, and we’ll try some different exercises. Don’t try to force a connection. Just see if you can sense anything else when we aren’t distracting you.”
Elliot stood up at the boy’s nod and led Dooku and Moosie away.
“Thank you, Moosie. Poor Marcus was getting very frustrated when none of the other stones would sing to him. That happens sometimes with the Vash stones, and not just the chrome tourmalines. They know their Jedi and the other stones know it too.”
Moosie looked down. “That’s why you wanted them in the sample room?”
“Yes, that’s why I wanted a few in the sample room. I know it distresses you when they are separated and call to their source mates; most of the stones don’t do that. Can you think of a different solution so both needs are served?”
Moosie frowned, thinking it over. “We could show each student having trouble with the stones the ones in the storage rooms to see them when they are together and happy.”
“That is one option.”
“We could keep more than one Vash stone in the sample room, so they don’t get lonely,” Moosie suggested.
“We could, but how would we keep them together?”
“Um.” Moosie resisted the urge to pace. This wasn’t a good room for pacing. There were too many younglings in it, but it was so noisy it was hard to think.
“We could make them a special box to live together in.”
“That would help, yes. Is there anything else we could do?”
“Um.” Moosie thought through the entire scenario. Putting a few Vash stones together in a box would let the younglings interact with them without them getting lonely, but eventually they would want to return to the group if they didn’t form a bond with a Jedi.
“They should take turns.”
Elliot frowned. “The younglings?”
“No.” Moosie shook his head. “The stones. We should change them out, so they aren’t away from the group forever. They would be less sad if they could return to the group. If they don’t form a bond, they want to stay with the group.”
“I think that a box and switching the stones out would be best for all parties involved. Why don’t you make them a special box next week after you finish that light staff for the Temple Guards?”
“Yes,” Moosie nodded. “I should be done by then.”
“Good. And good work. Just be gentler with the younglings. This is new and intimidating to them, like ballroom dancing or gymnastics was for you. You heard and understood the stones right away. It’s very frustrating for those who sense them differently.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I will do my best to be gentler, Master.”
“I know you will, Moosie. I’ll give you a finger-tap if I see you going astray.”
Moosie cocked his head. “If young Marcus was called by the Vash chrome tourmalines, do you think he remembers a past life when he was one of the corpses interred in the catacombs that—”
“Moosie!” Elliot half-whispered sharply. “Finger-tap!” he said as he mimed the movement.
Moosie closed his mouth.
“Ten years old,” Elliot reminded him.
“He’s too young to learn about that?” he guessed.
“Much too young. You can tell him all about it and ask if and after he becomes a padawan. He’ll be older then and he’ll need to build a thicker skin to work in the field so that story would be appropriate then. Not for crechelings.”
“Oh.” Moosie suddenly realized the implications. “Yes, Master. We don’t want to scare him away from his stones, nor give him bad dreams.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Why don’t you see if you can help Qui-Gon over there? He can’t hear the stones either and is using their glow in the Living Force to pick his stones.”
Moosie stared at the child in question. “Weird.”
“Go take a crack at the puzzle.”
“Yes, Master.” Moosie headed over to introduce himself.
Dooku watched the interaction, wondering if he was witnessing an irresistible force meeting an immovable object and wasn’t sure which was which.
“You said Moosie kept removing those particular stones. No one stopped him?”
Elliot chuckled. “I pick my battles with Moosie carefully. He feels the stones deeply. The only way to make him stop was to make him truly understand the need and come up with a solution to both problems.” Elliot stretched. “We already knew the solution, we actually want to keep the Vash stone identifiable because those veins produce stones with unique properties, but they aren’t distinguishable outside the Force. But Moosie insists the stones prefer to be together, so there had to be an important enough reason for them to make the sacrifice.”
Dooku chuckled. He had bonded with his own stones but not enough to consider their emotional health.
“Were you here to check on Qui-Gon or did you have another reason to come visit the C&W?” Elliot asked.
“I’m not checking on Qui-Gon,” Dooku told him, his tone confused.
Elliot gave him a look. “I can see your bond with him. Shopping for your next padawan?”
Dooku kept his face stoic. “Perhaps.”
Elliot just barely smirked. “But you had another reason to stop by?”
“Yes.” He held out his hand to show a callous forming at a strange spot on his palm. “My saber hilt is not quite working out. I’m gripping it too hard to keep hold of it during some moves and it’s also leading to strain in my fingers and hands.”
“Well, that won’t do,” Elliot told him as he examined the marks. “Pain in the joints or along the fingers?”
“Both,” Dooku admitted. “But the joints are the greater concern.”
“I agree. You don’t want arthritis in your hands.” He pulled out his comm and called up his calendar. “I have to finish a repair for Master Drek today before his ships out tomorrow. He lacerated his fingers and can’t do it himself, although he’ll be fine by the time his next mission starts. I can meet with you tomorrow in the little salle at thirteenth hour. If you could make a wood and metal mockup of your hilt, we can try to root out the source of the problem.”
“That would be very helpful, thank you.”
Elliot dug through his pockets and pulled out two metal rings with attached brackets. “Put these in the mockup, near both ends of the hilt. We can attach mini cameras to see how your hands are positioned during each move.”
“Oh, that would be helpful.”
“It really is.”
“Tomorrow then.”
“Yes.” Elliot smiled, then headed back over to Marcus, while Dooku opted to check on Qui-Gon before he left.
“How are you two doing, Marcus?” Elliot asked.
Marcus looked up, his reddened eyes a bit hopeful. “I think I heard something.”
“What did you hear?”
“It wasn’t a song. It was just a hum. Kind of a hmmmm,” he stopped, trailing off in confusion.
“Did the sound change?” Elliot asked.
“Yes.” The boy stared at the stone, confused. The sounds really did seem to be coming from it.
“That happens sometimes, especially with the Vash tourmalines. When you tried to make the same note the stone tried to sing with you. That usually only happens with a stone you’ve bonded with, but the Vash stones will do that with anyone who has an affinity for them. Green is probably your color, but the Vash tourmalines seem to be working best for you.”
“I heard it correctly?”
“You did. Next class we’ll bring more of the Vash tourmalines, and we’ll see if you can find a stone to bond with for your practice saber.”
“But these tourmalines are different and special and don’t like to be separated. The teacher said so.”
“They don’t like to be separated unless they bond. And if you don’t find one this time, you can try the regular chrome tourmalines again.”
“Yes, Master Elliot.”
“Give that stone to Teacher Lira at the end of class so she can put it away properly. Start with the same kind when you come back next week.”
“Okay. Thank you, Master Elliot.” Marcus hugged him impulsively.
“No!”
Everyone turned to see Qui-Gon Jinn and Moosie Kanu in an epic showdown.
“Yes.” To his credit, Moosie was not the one yelling.
“No! They don’t sing. And your song is stupid. It’s just one note!”
The other students looked horrified that Qui-Gon Jinn was not only yelling, but using the ‘S-word.’ And to a grownup.
“That is what stones sound like,” Moosie explained. “They only sing better songs when you are ready to hear them.”
“You are lying!” Qui-Gon accused. “And you’re weird!”
Moosie stood up straight and crossed his arms. “I am weird. And rude. And I do things you don’t understand. But I don’t try to insult people when I don’t understand something anymore. You still do. And you need to learn to do better if you are going to be a Jedi when you grow up.”
Elliot began walking over to break them up, but Dooku stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“No. Qui-Gon needs this.”
“He’s a child,” Elliot hissed.
“He’s a child who is the strongest in his clan class and has never been challenged before by something he couldn’t do. He does need to find a better outlet for his frustration.”
“You are weird!” Qui-Gon insisted. He could feel it in the weird man’s Force presence.
Moosie narrowed his eyes, clearly drawing on the Unifying Force to make some pronouncement of varying relevance. “You’re going to need a weird Jedi to save you someday. It would serve you well to start being nicer about it now.”
Moosie stood, catching Elliot’s eye as he turned and immediately looking down. He was expecting a reprimand and correction but for now chose to retreat to the much calmer workshop, to cool his temper.
“I’d better go talk to him,” Elliot sighed.
“I’ll talk to Qui-Gon. I think he’s had enough of stone reading for today.”
“I meant Moosie, but thank you. I’ll explain why he should apologize.”
“You will not,” Dooku insisted. “Qui-Gon needed to be put in his place by someone of equal, if different talent who was not interested in protecting his feelings. He dismisses the Unifying Force entirely. It’s time he learned anything he can’t do immediately isn’t,” he shrugged. “Stupid.”
Elliot winced. This was not going to make Moosie more comfortable with the younglings. “Is Qui-Gon neurodivergent?” he asked quietly.
“Like Moosie?” Dooku whispered. “No. He’s been tested. But he is stubborn enough to make one wonder. He is very L-oriented and is only now being truly challenged with Force skills that don’t come naturally. His sense of self and the world are being disrupted.”
“That explains the skepticism, but the anger needs to go.”
“I’m working on it with Della,” Dooku assured him.
“Good. Because while he has a workaround for now, he will need to learn other techniques to advance.”
“He loves saberwork,” Dooku gave him a wry grin. “That should motivate him after he gets past his pride.”
“If he gets past it.”
“You should probably double check his work to prevent explosions.”
Elliot sighed, carefully avoiding the swears he would rather indulge in. “I’m teaching the workshop next term.”
“Is Moosie assisting?” Dooku asked, alarmed.
“No.” Hell no.
“Thank the Force.”
Elliot stood up to go after Moosie. “I already have.”