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There had been a time when Qui-Gon believed great, transformative change was possible. That these changes had been foreseen millennia ago by the Jedi mystics. How young he’d been. How innocent, how optimistic.
Sounds like me.
No matter how unorthodox Qui-Gon was, Obi-Wan knew he was lucky to have such a Master. He just had to find a way to make Qui-Gon feel lucky to have him.
Aww, this makes me want to give Obi a big hug!
“As Jedi, we possess power that average beings do not, and never will. Holding power over other beings will always require us to be vigilant against the darkness within us. Our ability to sometimes glimpse potential futures is no more or less dangerous than any of our other talents.”
Never assume your friends are above wrongdoing. Even good people can make terrible mistakes. But I believe they should be helped to understand and account for those mistakes,
That was another thing Obi-Wan had always respected about Qui-Gon: his compassion. Obi-Wan wasn’t uncaring, at least he hoped not, but sometimes it took him longer to see when someone was hurting, or what they might truly need.
This is so me!
He’d been distracted these past several days, still wounded by Qui-Gon’s failure to tell him about the Council. Even the innocent remark about having goals to aim for seemed to have stung. Qui-Gon wondered how things could’ve gotten so bad, so quickly. The probable answer: They’d been that bad for a while, but he’d failed to see it. He’d been so busy judging Obi-Wan that he hadn’t thoroughly judged himself.
“What your Padawan’s doing is totally normal. Adolescents go one of two ways—they’re either rebels to the core, or even stricter than their elders. So Obi-Wan’s the latter. He’ll relax after a while. Know what? If his new Master is stricter than you, I bet he’ll loosen up immediately, just to be contrary.”
Only through sacrifice of many Jedi will the Order cleanse the sin done to the nameless.
A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored.
“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon said, “how much of a privilege it is to have one’s entire future predetermined—in this case, by an accident of birth.” Okay, she needed to be more diplomatic with the Jedi—but Rahara couldn’t help it. She snorted. Pax gave her an appreciative look, probably pleased she’d helped him meet today’s sarcasm quotient. That much she expected. What she didn’t expect was Obi-Wan frowning at his Master. “It matters what that future is, doesn’t it? Fanry was born a princess. That’s a privilege.” “It’s still something chosen for her,” Qui-Gon insisted. “Not what she herself chose.”
“You were talking about yourself. Because it’s not a choice for Jedi, either, is it? I mean, supposedly they allow you to leave, make your own decisions, blah blah blah, but they steal you when you’re babies and train your minds thereafter. What kind of freedom is that?”
“The ancient Sith used lightsabers,” Obi-Wan said. “But they’ve been extinct for a millennium. So, no. A Jedi just wouldn’t be involved in a lightsaber duel to the death. It couldn’t happen.”
Although Obi-Wan had looked the creatures up beforehand, he was still taken aback by his first glimpse of a varactyl. Its scarlet feathers glimmered iridescently in the torchlight, and it pawed at the ground, eager to begin. They were huge—and when he thought about trying to get atop one, they seemed even huger—
The varactyl leapt forward at the moment Obi-Wan wished him to; he didn’t think he’d made a move. Already the Force had tied them together, and now he knew that for the varactyl, running was the greatest joy imaginable. So he leaned in, letting his ride choose their speed, but keeping them close to Princess Fanry.
Despite his fear, Qui-Gon felt a flush of pride. That was the apprentice he knew Obi-Wan could be—and the shadow of the great Jedi Knight he would yet become.
Obi-Wan wasn’t even winded. “So, Master,” he said, putting away his lightsaber. “Are any more of the upcoming coronation events this exciting?” “I doubt it.” Qui-Gon didn’t approve of his Padawan’s cockiness, but let him enjoy the moment while he could.
But it was becoming clear to him that he should’ve made more friends in the palace. If he had, maybe he’d have a better idea who their enemies were.
“I’d like your opinion,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan looked up from the Meryx’s scanners. “Well, that’s a first.”
“All right, put it down,” Qui-Gon commanded. As Rahara obeyed, Pax Maripher rolled his eyes, something he did often. (Obi-Wan wondered whether maybe it was a medical condition.)
When Obi-Wan saw him, his blue eyes widened. “Master!” he called. “No! Save yourself!” This is the boy who believed I found him unworthy as an apprentice. The one I failed to tell about the most significant change in my life, and maybe his. I don’t deserve him. I never have.
Obi-Wan had a finer mind for such legal details than Qui-Gon ever had.
“If the Republic can’t do something as decent and basic as attack slavery, why do we have a Republic to begin with?” Qui-Gon repeated, “I have no good answer.”
“Sorry to stick you with yet more library duty.” He was answered with a broad smile. “Compared with clinging to a log for dear life, research isn’t half bad.”
“If we don’t stand for the right, what do we do? Why do we exist?” “Many ways there are of serving the right,” Yoda replied. “We work within our mandates, and there do as much good as we can. To do otherwise, to substitute our judgment for that of the Republic, is to repeat the mistakes of the past.” So instead we make different mistakes in the present? Qui-Gon kept this to himself.
Brilliant light flashed again, and again. Qui-Gon still couldn’t see it directly, though he could feel his skin prickling and his hair standing on end. The air tasted of ozone.
Force lightning?
“Because many Padawans—and full Jedi Knights, for that matter—forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come,” Qui-Gon said. “Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most Masters let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But I wanted you to be grounded in your technique. I wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost
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“Well put, Padawan.” Qui-Gon meant the praise sincerely. Why did it make Obi-Wan flinch?
If she would’ve confided in more of us, she might have realized how much support there was for standing up to the company. But of course, Czerka wasn’t the point. Only the excuse that let her feel righteous about seizing absolute power.”
After Pijal, Qui-Gon’s devotion to the prophecies had never faltered. Still, Obi-Wan would never have guessed that Qui-Gon would confidently identify the Chosen One as a small enslaved boy. Less would he have expected to be abruptly cast aside in favor of that same boy—a wound in his relationship with Qui-Gon that had only just begun to heal before his Master had died.
Qui-Gon had faith that Anakin Skywalker was the Chosen One. Obi-Wan would have to find faith in it, too. Looking at Qui-Gon’s face for the last time, Obi-Wan whispered, “I choose to believe.”
