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Qui-Gon rotated his shoulders and shook out his legs. The dressing room was quiet, but beyond its doors a murmur was growing in the auditorium. The whole Temple had turned out to watch this final battle. Qui-Gon began moving his head in large circles, stretching out his neck. He was the surprise of the day, he knew. Now everyone wanted to see how the clumsy oaf would fare against the graceful Hakola.
The tournament had begun at noon, with the younger classes facing off first. Those matches had been short, but, as the day wore on, the matches had lengthened as more skilled combatants competed. And the crowds had grown with each declared winner. Until now. The oldest age grouping: Padawan learners up to age 16. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and breathed in calm. It didn't matter how many beings watched. All that mattered was connecting with the Force, feeling its essence coursing though his veins. He smiled. But winning would be nice.
A throat cleared.
Without opening his eyes, Qui-Gon said, "Hello, Master."
"Well, you have done today," Yoda commented.
Qui-Gon turned to face his small green mentor. "Thank you, Master."
"Arrogance, I sense, in your greeting."
Qui-Gon's shoulders tensed, just a little.
"Fast, is Hakola. And one year older. Expect not, that this battle will be easy," cautioned Yoda.
Qui-Gon relaxed. "I know his weaknesses, Master. And my performance today has caught him off guard."
"Mmmm," Yoda mused. "But blind to your own weaknesses, you seem to be."
Chagrined, the Padawan sank into a crouch. "I know I have much to learn, Master."
Yoda cut him off. "Learned enough for this day, you have."
Qui-Gon blinked. His Master had just paid him a compliment, regardless of how it was wrapped. Qui-Gon nodded. It was enough.
"Come, someone has, to watch your match. Asked he did, to see you." Yoda pointed the gimer stick behind Qui-Gon.
As Qui-Gon stood, a question on his face, a Wookiee howl broke over him. [I have come to see the great warrior, Qui-Gon.]
A smile erupted as the Padawan turned to greet his Wookiee friend. "Jarga! Hey, you look great." He paused. "What happened to your hand? It's back."
[The kidnappers sent it to my father in carbon-freeze. Healers were able to reconnect it -- it is only a little weaker than it was.] Jarga shrugged.
Striding over to his friend, Qui-Gon held his left hand out in greeting. Jarga tilted his head in a puzzled manner, then chuckled. He extended his own, recently re-attached hand, and gripped his friend's. Qui-Gon pretended to wilt under the strength of the grip. Jarga broke out into a full woofing laugh and pulled the Padawan into a hug.
"Whoa," Qui-Gon pushed at the Wookiee's chest. "Let go, friend. I can't breathe."
Jarga released him and Qui-Gon bent over, shaking in laughter, as he inhaled a few calming gulps of air. He straightened and patted his friend on the arm.
"Later, is time enough for foolishness," Yoda said, his winged ears level. "Sounded, has the warm-up bell."
Qui-Gon winked at Jarga as he pointed his thumb at Yoda. "My Master is a little touchy some days. Best we do as he says."
As they strolled past the diminutive Jedi Master, Yoda muttered, "Show respect, young Padawan. Reach your thigh, I still can."
The Padawan stopped and gaped at his Master, but no trace of amusement showed on Yoda's face. Qui-Gon hesitated, then nodded and hurried out the door.
The Padawan and the Wookiee advanced down an aisle that led straight from the dressing room to the battle mats. Here, the murmur was closer to a dull rumble. Sweat chaffed along the neckline of the Padawan's tunic. His confident stride slowed to a measured walk as Qui-Gon marveled at how many beings were crowded into the auditorium. Not just students and other Padawans. Caregivers, maintenance workers, Knights and Masters. The judges were seated on the far side of the arena, facing this aisle. Qui-Gon gulped. Half of the Jedi Council would be deciding if he won or lost.
Beings were starting to quiet down as they noticed his entrance. Qui-Gon's toe caught on a crack and he stumbled forward. Jarga stopped him from falling. The Padawan's neck burned as he heard a soft chuckling spread through those that had noticed his blunder.
Qui-Gon willed away his embarrassment. Suddenly he caught sight of Tahl and Remi, waiting for him on the first step leading to the bleachers. He veered toward them, Jarga close behind.
"Hey, Remi. Sorry you lost out." The small boy hung his head. Qui-Gon added, "Will you take care of Jarga? Make sure he gets a good seat."
The boy's head bobbed back up, a smile lighting his features. "Sure, Qui-Gon." He nodded to the Wookiee.
As Qui-Gon turned to compliment Tahl on her third-place finish, she clasped his shoulder and leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. Qui-Gon's face burst into flames and he jerked backwards, bumping into Jarga's broad chest. Laughter rang in his ears.
"What did you do that for?" Shock filled Qui-Gon's whispered words.
Tahl shrugged and gave him a small smile. "For luck, I guess."
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. Force help me.
The ready bell sounded.
Spinning, Qui-Gon stumbled onto the mat. He hurried to the judges and handed over his lightsaber to have its settings checked, then closed his eyes to let the Force caress him with calm. He sensed someone come to stand beside him. Hakola. How could such a graceful warrior have so much tension shimmering under the surface?
"Have a nice chat with your girlfriend?" Hakola's voice was low, taunting.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, staring straight ahead. There is no emotion, there is peace.
"Your luck stops here, Klutz. Prepare to learn how a real warrior fights."
Qui-Gon accepted his lightsaber with a deep bow. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
"All the Masters think you're hopeless. Yoda can't wait to get rid of you and get a real Padawan." Hakola's words sliced deep.
Qui-Gon turned and bowed shortly to his opponent. There is no passion, there is serenity.
"I'll defeat you so fast, you'll be so embarrassed, you'll wish yourself dead."
Qui-Gon advanced to the center of the mat beside Hakola. There is no death, there is the Force.
The tall Padawan pivoted, ignited his lightsaber and turned back. He nodded to his adversary and whispered, "So be it."
The first strike jolted down Qui-Gon's arm, and he jumped back. Hakola was strong. And aggressive. They circled warily. Hakola's pale violet blade traced small circles through the air. He struck. Again. Again.
Qui-Gon deflected each blow with ease. He felt himself slipping into the flow, just as he'd told Remi. His focus narrowed to the moment. Sounds faded. Everything faded except for his opponent. And the Living Force whispered to him. Jump. Feint. Roll.
Hakola's frustration was building. Qui-Gon could feel it and knew that ten minutes without a victory was like a defeat to the older Padawan. Hakola pressed the attack, pushing Qui-Gon back, back, back. He sensed the boundary behind him and launched himself over Hakola's head, surprising the golden-skinned Padawan, and almost catching his back exposed.
Another ten minutes and Qui-Gon noticed sweat running down the center of Hakola's face. The younger Padawan felt like he could fight forever, as the Living Force pulsated around him, energizing him.
Qui-Gon slowly began to take the battle to his opponent. Again and again the violet blade was forced to block the green blade to prevent a killing blow. Qui-Gon saw defeat flickering in Hakola's golden eyes, and with it, sparks of anger. What was happening? He suddenly knew he had to end this. It had somehow gone beyond a simple competition to something more personal.
The tall Padawan lunged and feinted. He spun and struck. Again. High. Low. Low. Hakola faltered. With a quick upsweep of his blade, Qui-Gon sent the violet lightsaber cartwheeling into the air.
The crowd gasped.
Stretching out his hand, Qui-Gon called Hakola's weapon to him and held it out to his winded opponent, offering to continue the battle. Hakola glanced down at his own trembling hands, then glared at Qui-Gon for a moment before dropping to one knee to concede defeat.
The auditorium shook as the audience jumped to their feet as one, the loud cheers rolling over the two warriors.
Qui-Gon offered his hand to Hakola. The older Padawan took it and pulled himself to his feet. Instead of letting go he squeezed hard and regarded Qui-Gon through narrow slits.
"You were toying with me," Hakola said, his jaw clenched. "I hope you're happy. My humiliation is complete."
Confusion wrinkled Qui-Gon's thoughts. "But I didn't mean ... It was the Living Force. I was just ..."
"Save it for someone who believes your pathetic act, Jinn. Just stay away from me."
Hakola spun to leave, but was stopped by the approach of their two Masters. He bowed curtly to his Master who only lifted an eyebrow before turning to Qui-Gon. Hakola marched off the mats.
Qui-Gon bowed low to Master Yoda and turned to face Hakola's teacher. The severe mien staring back at him gave him a moment of uncertainty. He ran his fingers over his scalp.
"Barely even broke a sweat. Impressive." The stocky man stood in martial rigidness as he glanced up at Qui-Gon. "Your victory was earned. But next time, don't toy with your opponent. It is beneath a Jedi to do so."
The man spun a tight circle and followed in his Padawan's wake.
Qui-Gon slipped into a crouch and searched his Master's face, seeking censure. He found none. He shook his head slowly. "I, I didn't toy with him, Master. Truly. It's just ... The Force revealed his every move to me. There was no way he could have touched me."
Yoda sighed. "Sensed your connection, I did. Strong, it was. But ended it sooner, you should have."
"But I did move to end it as soon as I sensed his emotions shifting. I just didn't realize ... I'm sorry, Master." The victory tasted suddenly bitter.
"Your fault, it is not. Complete was your concentration. Hakola, it was, who let the Force slip from his grasp." Yoda tapped his gimer stick. "Go now, to the banquet. Celebrate with your friends."
Qui-Gon looked up. The crowd was milling around, giving him a respectful distance as his Master spoke to him. He spotted Remi, bouncing on Jarga's shoulders, and Tahl beside them.
The Padawan made his way toward his friends. A hand on his sleeve stopped him, and he turned to face the Cerean Knight, Ki-Adi-Mundi.
The Knight's soft voice was gentle. "Congratulations, young Jinn. I have never seen a victory more complete."
Qui-Gon nodded. "My thanks. My victory is due to my teacher. He is a wise Master."
Ki-Adi-Mundi smiled. "Your victory is due to your connection with the Living Force, and well you know it. But it pleases me that you honor your Master, just as I honored him when he was mine."
Surprise pulled the Padawan up short, but before he could reply, the Knight had melted into the crowd. Odd how Master Yoda never speaks of past learners. He raised a hand in salute to the disappearing figure.
A smaller hand grabbed his and pulled it down. Qui-Gon started. He looked down at a beaming Tahl, and stepped back, throwing both hands in the air.
"No more kisses, you crazy girl. What were you thinking? Kissing me in front of the whole Temple. Ugh."
Tahl's smile drooped. Qui-Gon sighed. Open mouth, insert boot. But the sparkle suddenly returned to Tahl's brown eyes and Qui-Gon felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. He valued her friendship more than he could admit. He grinned at her as Jarga wrapped a hairy Wookiee arm around his shoulder and shook him like an escape pod in an asteroid storm.
The Padawan's back was black and blue from congratulatory slaps by the time they reached the banquet hall, but he didn't feel a thing.
Pride swelled with each step. His Master was pleased. Famous Knights spoke to him as equals. Everyone was treating him like a hero.
Nothing could touch him. He was Qui-Gon Jinn.
