Qui-Gon Jinn watched the sparring match with dismay. Obi-Wan was going to win. Again. What was the matter with these other padawans? Couldn’t they see the glaring opportunities Obi-Wan was continually presenting to them?
Whenever Obi-Wan allowed emotion to taint his fighting style he fought with nearly unbeatable aggression. *Nearly*. But he ignored all his lessons in defense, relying on the opponent to take the defensive stance.
When Qui-Gon sparred with his padawan, Obi-Wan was able to maintain excellent discipline -- remaining serene and detached, fighting with irreproachable Jedi calm. With his peers, however, Obi-Wan unconsciously let his feelings interfere -- competitiveness, ambition, pride. These were not always negative qualities, but they affected his style negatively, in Qui-Gon’s opinion. He had once told Obi-Wan he fought like a dangerous man. Obi-Wan had asked for Qui-Gon’s guidance then, and not being ready to accept another padawan, Qui-Gon had declined.
Well, he thought to himself, things had changed. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
The match ended as Qui-Gon expected, and as the other masters and padawans filed from the room Obi-Wan went to his master flushed with exertion and excitement. “That went well, Master, don’t you think?”
“Your offense is impressive, Padawan, and it works well against other apprentices, but it won’t do against an enemy.”
Obi-Wan’s enthusiasm dimmed a little. He wasn’t quite sure what Qui-Gon was getting at, but he knew it would be explained to him in due time. He nodded deeply in humble respect to his master, and together they left the room.
Obi-Wan was worried. He’d faced Kieran Knath before. And more often than not, he’d easily been victorious. But today Kieran was really sharp, quickly taking advantage of every opening Obi-Wan left him -- many of which Obi-Wan had been completely unaware of leaving. He tried to focus his mind on the battle, watching his opponent’s calm expression and trying to anticipate his moves.
In the stands, Qui-Gon watched the swordplay intently and nodded to himself in satisfaction. This was more like it. Padawan Knath was not being fooled by Obi-Wan’s flamboyant attack. It was gratifying to see Obi-Wan being challenged in this way, and Qui-Gon found himself in the unfamiliar position of actually rooting against his own padawan.
Obi-Wan hissed in pain. Another touch, this one a strong blow to his left forearm, leaving yet another deep burn to add to his collection. Obi-Wan ached all over. This match had been going on for some time -- much longer than his matches usually lasted -- and he’d suffered quite a few touches.
He dragged his attention back to where it belonged and fought to ignore the sweat burning his eyes and the pain of screaming muscles and saber burns. Obi-Wan stopped watching his opponent so intently and, with an effort, damped down his frustration. He gathered the Force to him and actually closed his eyes, requiring himself to focus on the flow of the Force around him, around Kieran. The battle became as clear to him as if his eyes were still open, and he ended the fight suddenly, much to Kieran’s surprise, scoring the killing blow with an odd but graceful movement from the peak of a flying somersault. Obi-Wan landed lightly, knowing he’d won and feeling a flare of pride, although it was tempered with a profound relief that the battle was finally over.
Qui-Gon watched the unexpected and rather spectacular end to the match and shook his head. That boy. He certainly didn’t lack for surprising moves. Obi-Wan had managed to wiggle his way out of this one. And, Qui-Gon thought with some satisfaction, he’d done it with an impressive command of Force, at the end. Too bad.
Qui-Gon shrugged philosophically. There were other matches coming up, and Obi-Wan would still have many opportunities to learn.
For the second time in as many days Obi-Wan was fighting desperately. He really should be having no trouble defeating Jael, who was a new padawan, a younger and fairly inexperienced fighter. Obi-Wan had sparred with him before, always beating him soundly. But today... the moves Obi-Wan relied upon to surprise his opponent weren’t working. It was as if Jael knew exactly what to expect from him. Obi-Wan cringed mentally. If he lost to a novice fighter, he’d never live it down. He accelerated his attack, his ferocity increasing along with his frustration and his fear of a humiliating defeat. Obi-Wan advanced, his saber a blur.
What the hell was going on? Jael was backing up under his onslaught, and yet Obi-Wan felt dangerously close to losing. Not only was Jael somehow managing to defend himself against Obi-Wan’s attack, but more than once he had even slipped inside Obi-Wan’s guard, each time on the verge of scoring a winning touch.
And suddenly it was over. In the midst of an elaborate move Obi-Wan thought might give him back the advantage, he suddenly found himself with the other boy’s saber at his throat. Obi-Wan froze, blinking in shock. He’d been beaten by a kid -- and worse, he hadn’t the faintest idea how it had happened.
“Well fought,” he murmured automatically, and with a face red with the heat of battle and embarrassment, he headed for the changing room. Although he never looked up, to Obi-Wan the audience of masters and padawans seemed to have tripled in size.
It was an unfamiliar feeling, to be this nervous before a match. Usually Obi-Wan was confident and relaxed, and always a little excited -- he loved sparring, and he knew he was good at it. But today he was nervous. His previous two matches had been tough for him. Of course he’d lost matches before, although with less frequency as he grew older, but this was different. Something was wrong lately, and he was having trouble figuring out what. His master, uncharacteristically, had been less than helpful, shrugging away his questions and telling Obi-Wan to meditate on the matches and examine his feelings. Well, that was hardly groundbreaking advice from any Jedi Master, and although Obi-Wan had tried it out of respect, he still felt no clarity. He was as confused as ever. ...And nervous.
Obi-Wan drew in several deep breaths to calm himself and faced his opponent. Evan was fourteen, a year younger than Obi-Wan. They had had a pleasant enough acquaintance in the past, but for the past two years, ever since Obi-Wan’s brief time away from the Jedi, Evan had been cold. Obi-Wan knew that many padawans who were older initiates at that time resented and lost respect for him. Being chosen as a padawan was a goal held in such reverence. Many of them still considered Obi-Wan’s abandonment of his position unforgivable.
Obi-Wan nodded to Evan, who acknowledged him in the same manner, then grinned. “You’re gonna *lose*, Kenobi,” he whispered. Obi-Wan chose not to respond. He ignited his lightsaber and pictured his uneasy feelings being replaced with confidence and strength, fortified by the brilliant blue blade.
The battle commenced and the two seemed evenly matched. They countered each other’s moves with textbook precision, advancing and retreating across the length of the training room.
Obi-Wan’s stomach had grown tight. They had been fighting for some time, and Obi-Wan felt he should have gained the upper hand by now. He was desperate to win this match after yesterday’s humiliating defeat. He swung his saber with renewed ferocity, slashing it down in an aggressive move.
Evan just grinned at the show of force, and parried; their lightsabers locked. The two padawans were face to face. “I see you, Kenobi,” Evan whispered over the sizzling sabers. “You’re scared. Now it’s easy.” Obi-Wan shoved him away and the boys circled each other, catching their breaths. Obi-Wan was gritting his teeth in an attempt to control himself. Petty taunts he could handle. He would win this fight. He would. He just needed to be more aggressive, come up with something to surprise Evan.
Evan was watching him closely, carefully, as they circled. "Do it, Kenobi," he hissed. "Make your move."
Obi-Wan racked his brain and thought of something he could try. Something he'd worked on with Qui-Gon a few weeks back when they were sparring for recreation. Obi-Wan had gotten creative and come up with an unusual offensive. Qui-Gon, laughing, had countered it easily, but then helped him polish the move. It was one of the few times Qui-Gon had ever taught him something flashy just for fun.
Obi-Wan launched into the move, leaping and spinning to come at Evan from behind. But Evan was waiting for him -- not fooled for an instant. Before Obi-Wan could bring up his saber to complete the move as he and Qui-Gon had practiced, Evan lashed out with a vicious kick, sweeping Obi-Wan's feet out from under him. Obi-Wan found himself flat on his back; Evan was standing over him with a victorious smirk, the tip of his lightsaber at Obi-Wan's throat. "Hmmm. That was even easier than I expected. You *are* predictable."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. He reactivated his saber and tapped Evan's blade away. Climbing to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster, he bowed to Evan and walked away, shoulders straight and head held high. He would *not*, he swore to himself, let anyone sense how this defeat was affecting him. Obi-Wan left the training room without changing or showering and headed back to his quarters. As soon as he was alone in his room he shut the door, sliding down it and dropping his head to his knees. Two losses. Two in a row.
Five losses. Five in a row. Obi-Wan was in a position familiar to him lately -- knees drawn up to his chest, his back against the closed door. He ran shaking hands through his sweaty hair, then lifted his chin. His head hit the door with an oddly satisfying sound. “*What*. Is *wrong*. With *me*,” he said aloud, thumping his head against the door to punctuate each phrase. Maybe he could pound some sense into his thick skull. What was he doing wrong? He was doing *something* wrong. Losing badly in front of *everyone*. In front of his *mas-
His stomach lurched as he fell backward, his head hitting the floor. Obi-Wan blinked and stared up into the bemused face of his master. Qui-Gon still had his hand on the door and was looking quizzically down at his apprentice. “Is everything all right, Padawan?” he asked dryly.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sighed. “No,” he groaned as he took Qui-Gon’s offered hand and climbed wearily to his feet. “*Nothing* is right. You saw me today. What’s *wrong* with me?” He dropped his eyes and his voice. “...Something’s wrong with me.”
Qui-Gon led his muttering padawan to the sofa and they sat down beside each other. “Before we address *that* issue, Padawan, I thought you would like to know that Initiate Zev will be fine. He was hit pretty hard when your saber flew into the stands, but he’ll be okay. He’s actually rather proud of his black eye, I hear.” Obi-Wan blushed and lifted miserable eyes to his master. “That was the most spectacular disarming I’ve seen in a very long time,” chuckled Qui-Gon as he unclipped Obi-Wan’s lightsaber from where it hung next to his own. “Flew quite a ways, didn’t it?” he said, handing it over. “You’re lucky most everyone ducked out of the way in time.”
Obi-Wan swallowed and reached for his weapon as if afraid it would suddenly rear up and bite him. “I’m glad Zev’s all right,” he mumbled as he attached the lightsaber to his belt.Qui-Gon lightly shoved Obi-Wan’s shoulder with his own. “It’s a good thing five-year-olds have such hard heads, eh, Padawan?”
Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands. He shook his head and groaned. “Oh.... Master, what’s wrong with me? I can’t win a match to save my life. And now I’m even a danger to the spectators.”
Qui-Gon massaged the back of Obi-Wan’s neck with one hand, working at the knotted muscles there. “What do *you* think is wrong, Padawan? Have you taken the time to meditate on the matches?”
“Master, I have,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice muffled. “I’m still a good fighter; I know I am. I haven’t changed my style. I’m using the same methods that used to work!”
“Then perhaps it is time to *reexamine* your style, Padawan. I want you to think about the ways in which you’ve been defeated. I suspect that is where you will find your answers.”
Obi-Wan sat up straight, rolling his neck and shoulders, which felt almost magically better. He sighed, a mixture of relief and resignation. He could do this. He turned toward Qui-Gon with a self-deprecating smile. “Do you think the training room is empty by now, Master?”
Obi-Wan rose gracefully from his knees, a lone, small figure in the deserted training room. For the last few hours he had been following his master’s advice and meditating on the matches he had lost. A sizable portion of the time had been spent resolving his feelings about the losses rather than examining the battles themselves. This string of defeats had hit him hard. Obi-Wan was used to success in this discipline. It was one of his true strengths. ...At least it once had been.
He ignited his lightsaber and began a basic warm-up exercise, moving through the familiar routine without conscious thought. Obi-Wan let his mind drift over his matches, seeing each with a vivid clarity provided by his meditation. As he moved fluidly through the forms, which were gradually increasing in speed and difficulty, Obi-Wan began to speak, quietly reciting and repeating the age-old lessons he knew so well. “Master yourself, if you would master the Force.” “Be quick to seize upon an opponent’s opening, and quicker still to defend your own.” “In all the world there is only the fighter, and the Force.”
Qui-Gon stood in the shadows near the doorway, observing in silence. Obi-Wan’s desire to meditate, to figure out what he was doing wrong and to fix it, was so earnest, so pure. The master’s heart twisted at the thought.
This had been a tough lesson for his apprentice. ...But an important one; a necessary one. Obi-Wan hadn’t said anything, had not complained or been disrespectful in any way, but Qui-Gon knew his padawan felt he had been distant and unhelpful this past week. That he had been taking Obi-Wan’s losses lightly. In reality, Qui-Gon had been watching his apprentice more closely than ever. Obi-Wan’s dilemma had been his all-consuming focus.
Qui-Gon kept watch from the shadows, listening to the soft voice chanting in the empty hall. Chanting lessons learned long before becoming Qui-Gon’s apprentice. Ancient lessons of self-awareness, self-control, and self-defense. There was a change in his padawan. Qui-Gon could sense a new openness in him, a new fluidity not only of body, but of mind. The difference was reflected in the boy’s movements as he traveled across the training room floor, gliding smoothly through the patches of light that fell from the high windows above him. Obi-Wan’s gaze was alert, but directed inward; his face serene yet intent. Qui-Gon moved away from the wall and approached him. It was time.
“Padawan.”
Obi-Wan’s movements came to a smooth stop and he faced Qui-Gon. “Master.”
“Spar with me, Padawan.”
Obi-Wan nodded with formality, his features calm. He brought his saber smoothly to the ready position. Qui-Gon smiled fondly to himself. Obi-Wan was always like this following deep meditation -- quiet, serious, focused. ‘Well,’ he thought grimly to himself, ‘we will see how long this lasts.’ It would be another part of the test. He brought his own lightsaber to position, and master and padawan bowed to each other.
They started slowly, following standard training routines of advance and retreat, offense and defense. “Tell me what you’ve learned, Padawan.”
As he countered his mentor’s moves with confidence and efficiency, Obi-Wan began. “I’m leaving openings for my opponents, Master. I’m giving them the opportunities to defeat me.”
Said without shame or evasion, Qui-Gon noticed. Good. He stepped up the pace of the exercise, working his apprentice back across the floor as they spoke. “Tell me. When do you do this, Padawan?”
“I do this when I allow emotion to rule me, Master.” Obi-Wan paused to block a series of swift blows with lightning reflexes. “I do this when I fear defeat. When I desire victory for self-gratification. When I am proud. Or arrogant.”
Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction and increased the tempo yet again. As usual when they battled, his padawan’s technique was above reproach. Would Obi-Wan remember what he had discovered about himself in competition with his peers? He reached out with his mind to touch their training bond and sense Obi-Wan’s emotions. Despite the increasing intensity of their duel Obi-Wan remained calm. Open. Willing to learn. But there was more there....
“Something is troubling you, Padawan.” As he spoke Qui-Gon abruptly switched from practiced training exercises to an improvised assault. Obi-Wan adjusted with ease and countered his moves well. Very good.
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan began as he pressed forward, turning the battle in a new direction. “There is something I still do not understand. I’ve replayed the matches in my mind and I know what I was doing wrong. But, Master. I have been fighting this way for a long while with success.” Obi-Wan’s eyes sought Qui-Gon’s with an honest and questioning gaze, even as he continued his advance. “Why did I suddenly begin to lose? And so badly?”
“Because, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said evenly, “I told them how to beat you.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he stumbled. Recovering quickly, he blocked Qui-Gon’s powerful blow just millimeters from his leg. He was breathing hard. “You *taught* them?”
Qui-Gon, who had been monitoring his padawan through their bond, suddenly found himself on the wrong side of some mightily impressive shielding. His lightsaber flashed through defensive moves as Obi-Wan stepped up his attack.
“You taught *them*,” Obi-Wan continued, “but you would not teach me?” Obi-Wan slashed his lightsaber upward in a move which left his right side exposed. Qui-Gon’s blade was there in an instant, scoring a searing touch across his padawan’s ribs even as he slid gracefully out of Obi-Wan’s range. Obi-Wan hissed in pain and frustration.
“You *were* being taught, Padawan.” Qui-Gon deftly blocked a series of blows directed at his right side, then twisted his body and his blade to slash across his padawan’s unprotected leg, just above the knee. “Failure is a teacher.”
“I was *humiliated*,” Obi-Wan spat out. He was limping as he stepped back, seemingly to regroup. Instead he launched himself into a spiraling vault, intending to come at Qui-Gon from behind. His master’s green blade seemed to come from nowhere, and he gasped as he felt it cut into his shoulder. He landed badly and felt another deep burn along his waist as he scrambled to regain his balance.
“Humiliation is a teacher,” was his master’s patient response. Qui-Gon appeared completely unruffled. As calm as if he’d just been meditating.
Obi-Wan stopped fighting and closed his eyes. He was acutely aware of his own agitation. He fought to control his rapid breathing, his racing heart, his raging emotions. He set his jaw tightly, and met his master’s impassive gaze. Then he ceremonially raised his lightsaber before his face and went to his knees in surrender.
Qui-Gon stepped forward and went down on one knee before his apprentice. “Padawan,” he said softly, “you concede, but do you understand?”
Eyes cast down, and struggling for each shaky breath, Obi-Wan shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “I do not understand how you-”
“No, Padawan. I am asking if you understand the lesson, not if you understand the teaching of it.” Qui-Gon reached out to his apprentice, who automatically flinched away from the touch. Obi-Wan seemed to recognize his rudeness, then coolly accepted the hand on his shoulder. A long moment passed, then Obi-Wan looked up and met his master’s eyes.
“Yes, Master. I understand the lesson.” Formal. Emotionless. Again the irreproachable Jedi Padawan. “Master, may I please be excused?”
Through Obi-Wan’s singed and tattered tunic Qui-Gon caught sight of the burn on his padawan’s shoulder. He eased aside the ripped fabric to give it a healing touch, but Obi-Wan shrugged away, out of reach.
“It’s nothing. I can take care of it. May I please be excused, Master?”
Qui-Gon hesitated, looking into his padawan’s calm, cold gaze, then nodded his assent. Obi-Wan rose gracefully to his feet and left the training hall as quickly as his slight limp would allow, leaving Qui-Gon kneeling in the room alone.
Qui-Gon saw little of Obi-Wan for the next few days. When his apprentice wasn’t in class he was in his room alone. In their time together for training and meals Obi-Wan was impeccably well-behaved, very respectful, and extremely remote. Qui-Gon was living with a polite stranger. He missed Obi-Wan. But he was willing to wait.
They did no more sparring together. The lesson was made, and his padawan would do with it what he would do.
Obi-Wan knelt in his room, meditating. Perhaps meditating was a generous term, he thought ruefully. *Stewing* would be more appropriate -- and much less becoming of a Jedi. But he had to be honest with himself. He had been stewing. And moping. And behaving childishly. He abruptly stood and began to pace, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders to loosen up.
For the past days he had been intentionally distant toward his master but had been smart enough to stop short of outright rudeness. One did not behave rudely to Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan knew enough to remember that, even in his anger. For he *was* angry with his master, and it was an uncomfortable experience. He had been confused by Qui-Gon before. Hurt. Frustrated. But he had rarely been truly angry, and it upset him.
Sighing, Obi-Wan returned to his meditation mat and knelt down. He would need a clear head for his sparring match this afternoon, and meditation was his only hope. He had much to think about.
His spectacular losses had begun to draw quite a crowd, Obi-Wan noticed as he limbered up before the match. He knew Qui-Gon was out there somewhere, but he refused himself his urge to look. He wondered resignedly if his master had counseled his opponent in this match. Not that Qui-Gon would necessarily have needed to. Li-Am was a gifted fighter, and matches against him were always tough.
Before he could descend farther into self-doubt Obi-Wan cleared his mind of distractions and focused on what his recent meditations had made clear to him -- that he had a way of sparring with Qui-Gon which was completely different, and much more effective, than the way he fought with others. His master was such an excellent swordsman and teacher that Obi-Wan was forced to fulfill his own potential without even realizing it. Every principle of technique he’d ever been taught seemed clearer when dueling with Qui-Gon. Of course his master could still beat him blindfolded and one-handed if he chose, but that was not his intent, and Obi-Wan knew it. His master’s intent was to work for Obi-Wan’s betterment, his safety, his training. And like it or not, that had been Qui-Gon’s intent all along.
Obi-Wan bent to grip his ankles in one last stretch, then straightened. He was ready. He found he was anxious to test himself, and to put to use what he had learned over this last painful week and a half.
He was his own partner.
His saber a whirling blaze of light, he observed himself as if from a distance, instantly spotting and covering his own weaknesses. His opponent was almost secondary in this match. Li-Am was challenging, and it required all Obi-Wan’s skill to battle him, but the difference here was in Obi-Wan’s heightened awareness. His duel with Qui-Gon and his meditations since had provided invaluable insights into his own technique, and Obi-Wan could tell he was fighting as never before.
During the battle he could see where tiny mistakes would have been made previously. Mistakes he would never have noticed. Mistakes he was now avoiding with relative ease, giving his opponent no opportunity to get inside his defenses. Obi-Wan’s mind was on fire, consumed with awareness of himself, his opponent, and his weapon. At the same time he felt a serenity within himself which had been sadly lacking during the past week. No matter the outcome of this battle, he had won.
Obi-Wan noticed, as he fought, that his new awareness of himself was giving him insight into his opponent, as well. He began to see a pattern. An opening, for a fraction of a second, following each parry. He gathered the Force, waiting for the correct moment....
Qui-Gon could read Obi-Wan’s intent an instant before the winning touch landed. Oh, excellent. Well-placed. And then the match was over. Qui-Gon closed his eyes for just a moment and released the breath he’d been holding.
By all outward appearances, he was the very picture of calm. The essence of serenity. But he could admit, if only to himself, that this had been a very difficult time for him, as well as for his apprentice. He felt a wave of satisfaction, mixed with not a little relief. It had been worth it. His padawan had accepted the lesson, and learned. To Qui-Gon, who knew him well, Obi-Wan’s improvement was obvious. Each subtle change in the boy’s style added up to a new, and powerful, defense.
Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan retracted his blade, giving his opponent the traditional bow. The padawans murmured a few words to each other, then Obi-Wan turned and looked up, searching the crowd until he found his master.
Their gazes locked, and Qui-Gon was unable to read the expression in his apprentice’s serious, gray eyes. After a long moment, the master nodded in acknowledgement of a battle well-fought. Then Obi-Wan very deliberately raised the hilt of his lightsaber before his face, and tipped it in salute to his master.
Feedback - Marie dmbennet@hotmail.com