The Lesson

Dedicated to Ruth Baulding. I don't wish to incriminate the innocent with association with this meager effort, but I was inspired to attempt to commit fanfic in her honor. Also she let me borrow Qui-Gon's gym teacher routine.

Today would be the day Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi decided. The day that his very young student learned a valuable lesson.

The boy had nerve. Anakin had been goading him to return to the dojo, practically begging for a sparring session. Not, Obi-Wan mused, that he didn't wish quite unbecomingly for that eventuality himself. Of course he did not allow his eagerness and nervous energy to show, at least not much, not like when he was a padawan himself. Then an enforced hiatus from sparring would have had him practically jigging like a Wookie with an acute dura-lice* infection in an unmentionable location.

No, Qui-Gon had eventually curbed his displays of excessive youthful energy. In the Temple the master relied on assigning endless laps around the perimeter. Once in the close confines of a star cruiser's cabin Qui-Gon's considerable patience had been tried by Obi-Wan's pacing, and the master had in exasperation issued his standard command to hit the Temple trails. Obi-Wan had stared at his master wondering if he'd finally driven Qui-Gon to senility, but the master simply pointedly told him to use his imagination. The next hour had seen the padawan running in place. He'd even added a few leaps as though avoiding familiar obstacles on the well-known trail.

Those tactics were unhelpful when Obi-Wan was absent from the dojo due to physical injury and ego-maniacal healer-imposed restrictions. As now, he reflected testily. Again, in his youth, Qui-Gon had enforced such inactivity in his inimitable fashion. Master Qui-Gon's approach had been two-pronged: part distraction, part unapologetic intimidation.

Obi-Wan could admit that using the Force to move a drinking mug say from a table to the top of the cooler unit didn't seem like a sufficient challenge to distract a moody padawan. The jeopardy increased, though, when one was standing in the corridor sensing the mug inside the sealed quarters of Jedi Councilor Master Mace Windu and nervously surveying the surrounding area both visually and in the Force hoping to conceal one's activities. Obi-Wan still thought it unfair of Qui-Gon to use him to annoy the Korun master as retaliation for various Council edicts Qui-Gon found unpleasant. Wasn't revenge forbidden? Besides, it only back-fired when Master Windu showed up at their next Council briefing grumpy because he couldn't find his favorite "I'm too sexy for my hair" mug which he knew he had left on his table. Qui-Gon ignored both Obi-Wan's scandalized objections and his reasoned objections and insisted it was merely an excellent training exercise and kept Obi-Wan too busy in his outrage and brooding about propriety to worry about not sparring. Perhaps, Obi-Wan now mused, the old rogue wasn't entirely wrong on that last point.

On the occasions when the distraction techniques were not enough, Qui-Gon was remorseless about stooping to outright threats. Promising to further Obi-Wan's diplomatic education by committing him to attend a political fund-raising gala usually did the trick. At first Obi-Wan had been impressed that his master cared enough that he was willing to suffer together with the padawan in this attempt to instill some self-preservation in the student. When he learned it was to be a solo assignment he could have chosen to be touched over the show of Qui-Gon's faith in his abilities, but his innate cynicism won out. This was the occasion he learned his beloved master was capable of both cruelty and cowardice. For his own good, his arse.

Speaking of...he was tired of sitting around on it, sick of lectures from Bant about rest and recuperation. Bant, his "healer-friend"...wasn't that an oxymoron, like a Jedi koan he would never solve? She had seemed so sweet and gentle in his childhood, had inspired his protective instincts. Now when he was wiser, it was too late.

He'd been released from the wards and her clutches today which he had chosen to interpret as permission to resume his normal activities in the dojo. That may not have been precisely what Bant had expressed in her speech. He wouldn't know, he hadn't listened...not to her words anyway. No, any good negotiator knows that what is not said is far more important than what is said, knows how to uncover hidden meanings and intents. If this time he had misconstrued her meaning, well, who could blame him? He was after all recovering from a concussion (long gone, he was sure), a broken bone or two, a few bashes and bruises and such. He had also meditated on the matter the previous evening. If his meditations had centered only on the non-standard Jedi mantra, "only one more day 'til freedom," so what? Now, safe in his assurance that he was embarking on the right course and that his reasoning was unimpeachable, he arrived at the Honor of the Sabermaster Salle and prepared to enter.

He noted that the placard with his name engraved upon it still hung above the entryway to this particular salle. He could sense Anakin inside sensing Obi-Wan's presence outside the room sensing Anakin's presence inside...well, they both knew the time had come.

Anakin had become insufferable during Obi-Wan's confinement in the healer's ward. Anakin seemed not to notice Obi-Wan's envy at his freedom to engage in saber-play, and that was a good thing, Obi-Wan reminded himself. The padawan, had, however indulged in some taunting and teasing implying he might now thrash his older and infirm master. As evidence he delivered constant updates on his own sparring victories achieved in Obi-Wan's absence.

Anakin had even managed to best Master Windu once. Obi-Wan privately thought someone must have been rearranging Mace's crockery again for that upset to have occurred, but he hadn't said so to Anakin. After all, he remembered his own reaction the day he first won a match against the formidable Master Windu. Obi-Wan had been shocked, but he had also felt a small thrill of accomplishment. It was the day Obi-Wan's name had replaced Mace Windu's on the placard above the salle.

It was important for a young Jedi to develop a sense of confidence in his skills and his connection to the Force. Anakin, ever precocious, had achieved this assurance and was now displaying an extravagant cockiness. It was now Obi-Wan's solemn duty as a master to temper his student's outlook with a dose of humility. Yes, today would be a good day to begin. Anakin thought today would be the day his name replaced his master's on the placard. Obi-Wan thought today would be the day Anakin learned a lesson.

He entered the dojo and noted his student standing expectantly in the center of the sparring space. Obi-Wan thought he should shrug out of his cloak and throw it to a bystander with a dramatic flair, but, blast it, he must have forgotten it somewhere. Oh, well, the cloak wouldn't have fit well over the bulky cast on his left arm anyhow. Instead, Obi-Wan settled for drawing his saber and twirling it in a showy maneuver that never failed to mesmerize his very young padawan.

At the sight of his master sporting both a live saber and a supportive cast, Anakin appeared to suffer momentary qualms. Sure, he wanted to prove to Master Obi-Wan that he was skilled and powerful and should be treated as a real Jedi not just as a mere padawan, but, well, was it quite right to slaughter his master while the man was fresh from the healing halls and encumbered by a crafts project gone wrong dangling off his left arm? Then again perhaps it was best to follow his master's lead. The man was always infuriating Anakin by insisting he was "just fine" irregardless of what his actual state of physical health or lack thereof might be. Obi-Wan was a grown Jedi and surely he knew his limits. If he presented himself as ready to engage in a sparring match, then he must be ready. Besides, it hardly mattered since Anakin knew he could now whip Obi-Wan even if he didn't have that minor inconvenience of a handicapped left arm. So what did it matter if Obi-Wan did or didn't? Thus decided, Anakin ignited his own saber and shook off the spell woven by Obi-Wan's theatrical saber spinning. Obi-Wan was ready, and now so was he.

Without further hesitation, the two leapt into battle with a resounding crash of sabers as they met. They struck and parried, feinted and blocked. Round and round they went. The onlookers ooh'ed. They ahh'ed. (Well, they would have if they weren't Jedi.) Still the combatants continued their dance with frenetic energy. Finally a moment came when it looked as though Anakin would triumph. The sabers locked in a bind, and Anakin bore down with the strength of both arms from his superior height on Obi-Wan's one-armed block. Obi-Wan's saber bore downward and downward until surely he must give way. Suddenly the audience gasped. (Well, they would have gasped, but you remember...Jedi.)

It was Anakin who unexpectedly broke the bind and stumbled backwards with a grunt. Anakin clutched his stomach and stared at his wily master who was grinning and brandishing his plastered left arm like a club. The padawan's eyes narrowed. He should have known to expect that some people would unfairly take advantage of a thing like a left arm encased in plaster in a fight. Anakin started to feel beleaguered since he was now fighting against an opponent who was shamefully dishonorable, unfairly advantaged, and was now wearing an intolerably smug expression complete with smirk and dancing eyes. Still, Anakin would overcome these formidable odds. Such cockiness was unseemly in a Jedi master. Besides, wasn't he endangering his health, returning to the dojo so soon after his release from the healers? Anakin would have to teach him a lesson...for his own good. He was done taking it easy on the old man.

The battle resumed. The Jedi struck and parried, feinted and blocked. Round and round they went. Again and again. Until eventually Obi-Wan seemed to flag. He had been fighting all this time with only one arm while his padawan had free use of both arms. Finally Anakin forced his master's saber out to the side of his body, and Obi-Wan lost his grip on the saber. It flew into the midst of the bystanders with such speed and accuracy it was almost as though it had been deliberately thrown, the spectators later gossiped. (Or they would have gossiped if they weren't Jedi.)

But in the immediate aftermath of this spectacular disarming, a profound and shocked silence overtook the dojo. Master Kenobi had lost to his very young, very cocky padawan for the very first time. The witnesses were shocked, befuddled, dismayed, and in some cases outraged. Some speculated that the victory shouldn't, shouldn't count since Master Kenobi was obviously still recovering from injuries. (Yes, even Jedi gossip sometimes.)

Even Anakin was flabbergasted. Now that he'd done it, he could admit that he had not been entirely sure of success until this moment. This sweet, sweet moment.

Only Obi-Wan seemed unbothered. He took his defeat like a Jedi master. No trace of chagrin or resentment marred his brow. "This is a proud moment for you, Anakin. One I'm sure you will remember. I'll see to it that your name hangs over the salle's entrance by nightfall," he declared. He bowed graciously and went to retrieve his saber. He was waylaid for a time receiving condolences and statements of support from his fellow Jedi.

Anakin was packing up his training gear when Obi-Wan found him again. "Congratulations again on your acclaim. Now that you will be recognized by the dedication of this salle, you will wish it to look its best. It is expected that the honoree will scrub and wax the floor once a week. As a point of pride, you understand."

"On hands and knees, Anakin. No Force use, of course. Pride in one's work is so important," Obi-Wan shot over his shoulder as he returned to the center of the sparring space.

Yes, Obi-Wan remembered well the day Master Windu had instructed him on the honor of the salle's dedication and what duties pride would dictate. Mace had also intimated that he was pleased to see Obi-Wan be honored in this manner since the young master was so skilled in the swordsmaster's arts and the ways of the Force...and crockery.

But today was Anakin's day. And so the lessons of the Jedi were passed down to another generation. Obi-Wan smiled to himself and looked about for another to teach. He was good for a few more bouts, and Bant's lectures were but a memory.

The end.

Author's note:

To Anakin's fans, my apologies, I feel I may have mistreated Anakin a bit. He does have redeeming qualities, but I'm afraid he doesn't get a chance to showcase them much here. But he agreed to go along for the sake of Obi-Wan's story, and that shows admirable loyalty. They *do* love each other deep down underneath all the rivalry.

*"Dura-lice" is part laziness and incompetence at naming things and part homage to awful GFFA equivalency names. Just slap dura- or -plast on your generic Earth term and voila. Sometimes it works well, but here, well, obviously not.