Rating: Pg-13
Summary: Not all Jedi are human.
Notes: This was written for a smut fest. Although the subject is sex, no graphic sex scenes are written all are implied.
Timeline: During TPM
I opened the door to find my friend holding his traveling bag in one hand and his pillow and blanket in the other. *Not again. It can not be that time of year again.*
"That kriffing sithspawn!" Tham muttered as he shouldered his way into my and my Master's quarters.
"You should not talk about your Master that way," I told him. "It is disrespectful."
"He's an ass!" Tham stated as he headed towards my room. "I can't stand being near him." I deftly maneuvered to block his passage. I was unsuccessful.
"You will be quiet, my Master is sleeping."
"Your Master is always sleeping!"
I hardened my face at his disparagement of my Master to show my disapproval of his comment, but said nothing to antagonize my friend further lest he make even more commotion. His assessment was not far from the truth and I was hoping my next statement would end our conversation post haste. "Tham, you can not stay here this year," I told him firmly. "My Master will not allow it."
"It's just for the night," my friend said dumping his belongings in my room. "I'll ask the Quartermaster in the morning for a room of my own." He turned to smile at me. "Who knows, maybe this year I'll need it!"
***
Two years ago . . .
Neither of us had mentioned it to each other. We both knew. There was no need to say it was our last mission off-planet. The trip had taxed my Master, he looked older and more tired than he had ever been. He had tried, mustering all the strength he could to don a brave face and calling on the Force to ease his pain.
It was all for my sake, I knew. I was to be his last Padawan, his grand finale and he was determined to see that I was given all the opportunities for growth and training his past apprentices had received. His devotion to the Order, to me and to the Force itself would not let him bypass his duty for his own physical comfort. But his corporal limits had been reached, perhaps surpassed.
Selfish thoughts of adventures missed and exotic worlds unvisited had washed across my mind, but I refused to let them anchor and take hold. It was not my Master's fault, it was the fate of all life. He did not choose to grow old and infirm, no one does. I also let anger at him for taking me as his apprentice so late in his life dissipate away. For he had been healthy and hale upon my Padawaning day and had no inkling of what the future held in store.
As his condition worsened, it became apparent to others of the Order. I was now a shared project of several Masters. While no one directly supervised my training, for that was my Master's obligation, they filled in where he could no longer. It was not as if they were covering for him, for everyone knew our situation. His lack of ability translated among the brethren as being opportunity to repay debts owed over the years of his prime abilities. His duty to me became the duty of all.
My training, as is the training of all Padawans, was the responsibility of all even though I was under the aegis of my Master solely. It was the extent that I was taken under the wings of other Masters where I differed for other apprentices. Had my Master been able, he would not have accepted this, taking the burden of leading me on my journey with the Force most squarely upon his shoulders. But then, that was the problem, he no longer could. I knew this bothered him, yet he resigned himself to the reality of the situation never failing to teach me when and what he still could.
I could have run wild. No, perhaps not. Someone would have reined me in. I would never know for I would never test the limits of my situation. It is not in my nature. I steeled myself with self-control, determined to be successful in the trials. I plotted my own course to my goal of Knight and yet I did so with trepidation. I knew it was my Master's goal, nay, his reason for living, to cut the braid of his third and final apprentice. It was this that concerned me, for once I was elevated to Knight, I feared he would not live much past that day. This paradox bothered me, but for now I could ignore it for I was as of yet still far from that day.
That was how I grew close to my friend Tham and his Master, Faadji. Therefore, upon seeing him at my door was no surprise for I knew he would want to hear all the details of my trip. What did take me aback was that he was toting his essential belongings as if he intended to spend the night with us. I was tired, having just seen to my Master's needs and having put him to bed. I was in no mood for conversation much less what he apparently intended for I hoped to be in bed myself soon. "Tham, what is this?" I had asked him, indicating with my hand his bag under one of his arms and his pillow and blanket under his other.
"Faadji!" I knew by his use of his Master's given name without the title that something was seriously wrong. For although Masters and Padawans are normally close and often the relationship could not be differentiated from that of a favorite uncle and nephew or still more often, father and son, one never addressed their mentor in such familiar terms. That privilege was reserved for equals.
"What is the matter?" I had questioned him while standing aside inviting him in. I knew that despite my weariness, my friend needed me at that moment and it could not wait for the morning. Tham had parked himself on our couch hugging his pillow to his body.
I had retreated to our kitchen and returned with two bottles of lomin-ale. Tham's face momentarily changed from misery to wide-eyed surprise at what I was offering him. I knew the only times he had tasted alcohol was on off-world functions when it was the local norm and refusing to drink would have insulted his Master's hosts.
Such would have been the case for myself as well, however, I had never been expressly forbidden by my Master, then again, I had never asked. The commissary Master did not ask either, the both of us silently acknowledging that they were for my Master's consumption. Which was partially the case for a few did reach my Master's lips.
My Master these days retired with the setting of the sun and a few bottles of lum helped me get through the evening studying that stang of a language, Caamasi. They had more words for smells then should be legally allowed. Padawans were required to show fluency in at least five languages, I knew I would meet only the bare minimum. It seemed to me a monumental waste of time. With over a billion inhabited worlds in the galaxy and although most worlds had only one native language, what possible dent could knowing just five languages make? Besides, most sentient beings spoke Basic anyway.
"He is impossible to live with!" Tham answered my question once I had seated myself next to him. From his taking comfort in hugging his pillow tightly to his body, I knew that his allegations had merit, however I could not fathom his Master suddenly changing his kindly demeanor. I likewise could not imagine that my friend had somehow provoked his Master into ill-tempered behavior but somehow this seemed the most logical conclusion.
"Tham," I inquired of my friend as I sniffed the air carefully. I politely didn't mention it to my friend, but he smelled ripe. I wondered if this was a cause or effect of his troubles with his Master. Thoughts of whether the Caamasi had a word for his rich aroma humorously entered my mind. "What did you do?" "Nothing. Absolutely nothing," he expressed before taking a deep swig of his brew.
I sighed and took a sip myself, I knew this was going to be a long night. "Then, what did you fail to do that you were supposed to do?"
"I'm not the one causing problems, he is. Nothing I do is right. I've polished his boots more times than I care to count and he still isn't satisfied. If he yells at me one more time, I swear, I'll . . . I'll deck him!"
I shook my head, I could not believe what I was hearing. Quiet, self-assured Master Faadji never raised his voice, in fact one had to strain their ears to hear his soft-spoken words. Tham's threat of hitting his Master was an idle oath, but an amusing one. I pictured in my mind my friend attempting to punch his Master and Master Faadji either evading Tham's fist or blocking it. In both scenarios, Tham ended up in my mind sprawled on the floor. I did not bother to address his promise of retribution. "What then is the problem?" I asked while picking at the label on my bottle.
"I don't know," my friend stated shrugging his shoulders. "But he scares me, I'm afraid of him." I had the feeling that his not knowing was not entirely true, but I let it pass and concentrated on his last revelation for this concerned me. I had never known a Padawan to be concerned for their well-being at the hands of their Master. If there was one constant in the universe, it was a Jedi Master's devotion to their charge to the point of forfeiture of their very lives. Many a Master had become one with the Force protecting the life of their Padawan.
"What does he do that frightens you?" I asked thinking perhaps his Master's intentions had been misinterpreted. "He hasn't done anything, yet," Tham stated. "It's just the way he acts."
That cleared matters up, I had thought sarcastically to myself. I determined that we were not going to solve his problem tonight. "In the morning I shall ask my Master to talk with yours. Maybe then they can solve your difficulties."
"I don't think anyone can talk sense into him, he's . . . being unreasonable," Tham said. I had the feeling that was not how he had intended to end his statement, but I let it be, we would deal with it in the morning with the help of my Master.
"Would you like to hit the refresher station before bed?" I offered solicitously not mentioning his rank odor. "Take a shower?"
"No, thanks, I grabbed one before I came over," Tham declined finishing his bottle. "And that's another thing, he stinks like a wet bantha!" I nearly choked on my mouthful of lum.
That night, I had almost drifted off to sleep when I heard the noises Tham was making from the other room on our couch. It took me awhile to fully comprehend what he was doing for it was so blatantly loud. I knew what he was doing, not being a stranger to the act myself, yet I was shocked at his lack of tact. I laid there hoping he would finish soon, so I could go back to sleep. Thankfully, his groaned cry announced his completion and I did not have to confront him. I wondered about Tham who normally seemed the least driven of all my friends and his sudden lack of remembering that he was not in the privacy of his own quarters.
I had purposefully neglected to set the alarm on my chronometer, thinking perhaps my Master would sleep in this morning, after all our journey had taken its toll on his waning stamina. Alas, it was not to be so and I was awakened by the sounds of him making preparations for the morning meal.
Aghast at the thought of him undertaking my chore, I quickly rose out of bed and hurried towards our kitchen. The wonderful aroma of brewing caf wafted in the air competing with the musky scent my still sleeping friend had saturated our quarters with. I hurried past his sprawled form not caring whether or not I awoke him.
"Good Morning, Master," I greeted him and then ordered more than offered, "Here, let me finish."
As I expected, my Master had found my cache of foods once relished by the both of us and now forbidden to him by the orders of the Temple healers. He found himself in the curious predicament of explaining his actions to his scowling Padawan. "I thought we would have a decent breakfast for a change after those tasteless dishes we had aboard the ship. Besides, I *see* we have company."
I laughed, I knew my Master's sense of humor and I knew that he meant he found Tham's odor as offensive as I did, if not more. Although his hearing and sight where no longer as sharp as they once were, it seemed as if his sense of smell had become more acute with age. "And Padawan, I am not helpless. Making breakfast is not beyond my capabilities."
"I know Master, I know. It is just that it makes me uncomfortable. I should be the one serving you," I stated as I tried to alter the menu slightly to more closely conform to his diet without disappointing him by denying him the foods he preferred.
By the time I had placed the meal upon the table, Tham had roused and joined us. He sat down without a word. His disrespect towards his Master despite their problems would not be extended towards mine. "Good Morning, Master ThreeMoons," I reminded him.
"Morning," Tham managed. Sensing I was about to explode in an uproar, my Master contained me, waving me down with a dismissing hand. I fumed as I started into my meal, glaring at Tham.
Tham ate a bite and curled up his lip in distaste. "What is this slop?" he inquired with distain. My Master barely contained his laughter, nearly spewing his food out. He found Tham's assessment of my cooking humorous.
"Listen, son," my Master told Tham while staring at him hard. "You will control yourself, regardless." I had the distinct feeling that my Master knew more of what was going on then I did.
"Yes, Master ThreeMoons," Tham answered grudgingly.
"It seems that Tham and Master Faadji are having difficulties," I offered. My Master gave me an amused look as if I had just needlessly stated the obvious. I continued anyway, hoping my Master would at least explain to me what was going on. "Perhaps, you could talk to Master Faadji today?" I asked even though I was beginning to come to the conclusion that if there was to be any talk it should be a stern lecture to my friend. "Padawan," my Master said looking even more amused. "I don't think there is going to be much talking to Master Faadji, not at least for the next few weeks." He then turned to Tham. "Has he challenged you, yet?" My thoughts were confirmed, my Master did know, but now I wondered what he meant by his question.
"No," Tham said surly.
"Well, young man," my Master then stated. "If you are going to be spending some time with us, I suggest you spend a few hours in the gym. Work off some of your excess energy." My Master waved his hand in front of his nose. "Just as soon as you finish eating. Go stink up the gym."
Regardless of how rank Tham smelled, I was nonetheless shocked by my Master's mention of it and that Tham had no adverse reaction. Emboldened, I added almost under my breath, "Take a shower first."
As soon as Tham left for the gym, I bombarded my Master with questions as I opened the windows to air out our quarters. My Master looked at me curiously and answered, "Your friend and Master Faadji are in rut."
"Rut?" I asked dazed by his answer.
"Rut, as in mating season," my Master explained as he shrugged on his hooded cloak. "Oh, I forget what they call it, but they're in rut nevertheless." He then made a statement to me in Caamasi which I didn't fully comprehend. "I said, 'I'm going to the high tower to meditate.' I suggest after you clean up the kitchen, you spend a some time studying your Caamasi. I haven't had a Padawan fail his trials yet and I'm not going to start with you."
I rolled this over in my mind as I cleaned up after the morning meal. I knew that my friend Tham and his Master were not human, but that had never made much of an impact on me. But for canine teeth a trifle long and overly elongated earlobes, they were in all respects just as human as I was, excepting for the fact that they walked solely upon the balls of their feet. This gave them an awkward grace to their strides reminiscent of the strut of a bird and that necessitated specialized footwear.
He had told me once that they were Asharim, close relatives of humans, a subspecies in fact more than a separate one. This information I filed away with other trivia, little needing it for my friend seemed to have the same needs and requirements as I did. We ate the same food, breathed the same air and he didn't periodically need submersion in water, enter hibernation or other such seemingly strange habits.
I would have done a data search on the computer concerning the Asharim's interesting sex life once my clean-up had finished as I was curious. But I knew my Master would return from his meditation intending to converse with me in Caamasi and I didn't want to sound foolish. I immersed myself in my studies, hoping that perhaps later I could delve into the computer. I certainly wasn't going to ask Tham.
It was as I expected, my Master returned and engaged me in conversation in Caamasi concerning the mission we had just returned from yesterday. I was still struggling, but I had made great progress and my Master was pleased with my efforts. Tham returned from the gym, more agitated and belligerent than before.
We broke for lunch and as I prepared the meal, my Master set the table. He placed three bottles of lomin-ale beside each plate. I looked at him cautiously and he gave me a look back that indicated he knew all along and then he chortled. "You aren't my first Padawan and I was once one myself."
Tham wolfed downed his midday meal with disgusting rapidity. "Shower, then get in some lightsaber practice. You'll need it," my Master ordered him. There was always a class or someone looking for a sparring partner day and night in the Temple. Even though we learn many styles of fighting with or without weapons, our signature weapon was most difficult to master. Killing someone with it was not the hard part, keeping yourself clear of your own cauterizing blade was.
My Master, it seemed, was determined to keep Tham actively busy and out of our quarters as much as possible during the duration of his stay with us however long that was going to be. I mused that he mentioned that Tham would need the saber practice and I started to glean that it had something to do with his previous question about whether Tham had been challenged yet.
"I've already showered today, and what's the point if I'm going to practice?" Tham said with his voice thick with sarcasm.
"Because I said so," my Master had said.
Tham acquiesced, showered and then left to find a class. I hoped whatever partner he found would thrash his sour attitude out of him. We continued with our conversation in Caamasi until my Master grew weary. "Missions are fine," he segued into his afternoon retirement. "But there is nothing like your own bed."
With those words, my Master had acknowledged the fact that in all likelihood, he would never know another strange bed. I wished him pleasant sleep, knowing that if he was not to leave the Temple ever again, neither was I, at least not until my Knighting.
As I had prepared for some exercise myself, I was part of an informal group that met at this time of day for laps in the pool, I contemplated about this. Even after my Knighting, I would most likely stay by Master ThreeMoon's side. He had no one else in his life, having never married or fathered children.
I reasoned that he had taken lovers and suspected Mistress Essella had been one of these, they frequently spent time together and shared a certain close familiarity. I had upon occasion tried to picture the two of them as young lovers, my Master sweating over her as he thrust and groaned. These were merely fleeting images for they disconcerted me, I deemed them disrespectful. More to the point, I was far more interested in picturing myself in a similar scene, rather than someone else. Picture? Stang, I wanted to do.
Before I left our quarters, I had checked on my Master and found him peacefully asleep. I gazed lovingly at the old man who had been my mentor for so many a year. No, I would not leave his side and leave him in the care of others.
His other two Padawans, Knights now, had gone on with their lives, establishing families. They would without hesitation, if I opted not to, take care of their old Master. I would not let it be thus for our relationship was the most recent and therefore I knew his current physical and mental limitations. No one knew him or could tend to him better than I did. More so, it made logical sense to delay the tenuous plans I had laid for my life rather than disrupt one that was ensconced.
This plan was not a rare one in the Order. Many a new Knight remained with their old Master for the very same reasons I had, others had different causes. Partnerships were often formed and the former pair of Master and Padawan now ventured forth as equals. Long comfortable with each other's presence, they made formidable and highly successful teams.
Others found that they were not only more than comfortable with each other's presence, they preferred it over all others. They took their relationship one step farther, finding all their needs met by the other. I imagined that in their cases, the Padawan's bed had seen little use.
When I was younger, many a night my bed went empty. Happily embedded within the massive arms of my Master, I, as a small boy had my nocturnal fears assuaged by the warm comfort of his body. Even to this day, when accommodations necessitated the sharing of a bed I was not uncomfortable with his slumbering company, nay, the reverse. Such had been the case upon this last mission and although I never verbalized the contentment I found sleeping back to back with him, I sensed he shared these feelings. Perhaps it brought back recollections of days past when he was healthier, happier and I needed his protective presence.
This was the apex of our physical contact which I viewed as normal. For the body I desired writhing under mine was smaller, softer, had far more curves and far less hair than his. The voice that cried out my name definitely had to be higher pitched as well.
That evening after a practice session on the use of the Force, I returned home to find Tham pacing our quarters furiously even though he had spent the day in exhaustive exercise. After checking on my Master who had retreated to his room with some reading material, I sat down and watched my friend wear a path into the carpet. "My Master challenged me today," he stated. He made another circuit of the room.
"Oh?" I safely asked. I started to count how many steps he took to cross the room. Five, a turn and then five back.
"Yes, we battle in three days," he said. I counted his steps - one, two, three, four, five and turn.
"Battle? Where?"
"Yes, here in the Temple." Turn, one, two, three, four and five.
"In the Temple?" I inquired for I had lived here all my life and I had never heard of such an occurrence. I was sure that it would have drawn a large crowd, if it was not a private affair.
"Must you repeat every kriffing thing I say?" he testily spat out as he halted his pacing.
"Sorry!" I apologized with exaggeration.
He momentarily looked chastened and then resumed his frenzied laps. "Sorry, it's just that I'm so worked up."
"So, I see," I agreed. I rose and walked to the kitchen avoiding his path. "Lum?" I called from the other room.
"Sure," he answered. I held out the bottle and he grabbed it while on route.
"Could you please start from the beginning?" I pleaded with him. "I am confused."
One, two, three, four, five and turn. "My Master normally enters the *nollen*, the battle, at the Asharim enclave nearly halfway across the planet. This year, since I'm in *umeran*, in, as you would say, rut, for the first time, he has decided to hold a battle here, just between the two of us."
I stopped counting and concentrated on his words. "The enclave battles are with the traditional Asharim weapons and he was concerned for my safety. Deaths are not uncommon, especially among the younger contestants. If we battle here, we can use practice lightsabers and he doesn't risk killing me. But then again, my chances against him are slim in winning any women to accept me."
I chanced his ire and repeated his use of the plural word, "Women?"
"He has secured the promise of five to attend the *nollen*!" It seemed to me that there were plenty to go around with a few extra. "All I need is one. He can have the other four." Well, I guess not, I had thought to myself.
He stopped his track of the carpet and nearly drained his bottle. He then looked lost in thought as he said, "Just one. If I could only persuade just one." He then stared hard at me and questioned, "Do you think I can do it?"
Before I was able to respond to his inquiry, for I wanted to know what exactly he had to do, he started his pacing again. One, two, three, four, five and turn. As he paced he related to me what he intended to do with his said female prize. I sat in mortified shock, mesmerized by his obscene language. Never had I heard such pornography verbalized, much less by Tham.
Never speaking about sex to me before, it always seemed as if he was either too reserved or the thoughts had never crossed his mind. They were crossing it now. I had even considered that girls did not hold his interest They held his interest now.
Pacing, he spouted the crudest, lewdest thoughts I ever imagined. He was better than certain holotapes I had seen. I nearly took out the holocamera to preserve it for the future. I wondered how I could get a girl to say the same things to me. I urged him on, making suggestions. It was great, I enjoyed every minute of it.
The following day was much the same. I was active in a mixture of pursuits. My Master kept Tham just active. That evening Tham's Master came to call. I opened the door and hesitated to let him in. I was unsure what to do. Tham came and stood behind me. I could feel the Force swirling around the both of them, yet it was not disturbed or dark, it could only be described as concentrated.
Master Faadji sensed my unease. "That's fine. What I have to say to my Padawan can be said from here." Master Faadji himself was a maelstrom of emotions. As a Asharim, he was riled at the sight of his male rival, anticipating the contest between them and breaking through this was the Jedi concerned for his Padawan.
It was the Jedi Master that spoke as he handed me a datapad. "For one of the females, it will be her first time attending the *nollen*. Your best chances are with her." Master Faadji then snorted in derision as if he could not bring himself to believe either what he was saying or that Tham stood any chance whatsoever. I couldn't tell. "Her name and address is on here. As well as the only shop that sells the *vich nolla* fruit."
I turned to find my friend wide-eyed in gratitude. "Thank you, Master," he said deeply feeling the sentiment.
Master Faadji steeled himself, shutting his eyes tightly and balling his fists. "May the Force be with you Padawan." Opening his eyes, he addressed me, "How is Master ThreeMoons this evening?"
"He is resting," I answered. "And as well as can be expected."
"Tell your Master, I am thankful for his kindness extended to us during this difficult and stressful time." He then glared at his apprentice. "I'm sure it is a great inconvenience." He then walked away without another word.
Once the door shut, Tham grabbed the datapad from my hands and literally danced around the room in elation. I thought I had been filled in on all the important details about their mating season, apparently not. I did not ask about the fruit. I surmised that I would soon be taken food shopping. I was correct.
We stood in the exotic fruit vendor's shop as Tham counted his dataries it seemed for the hundredth time. "Um, could you lend me some credits?" he asked. I had not offered, amused at his distress over his lack of coinage. I knew he was going to ask anyway. I gave him all that I had. Stang, if my friend had only one chance to get laid a year, I was going to help him out all that I could. It would mean that I would not be dating anytime soon, but then I had the luxury, it seemed in comparison, of the entire calendar year.
He joyfully selected his purchase and the grocer agreed that the amount and quality of the red fruit was impressive. I had imagined in my mind that this *vich nolla* fruit was going to be revulsive in appearance. I had to admit, it looked wonderfully delicious and, for a change, it smelled good.
We boarded the public shuttle, he was going to deliver the basket of fruit to the girl personally. As we took our seats, as fate would have it, two Caamasi were aboard. They wrinkled up their noses and as politely and quietly as they could remarked to each other the remarkable rank odor my friend emanated. I extended my range of hearing with the Force, wanting to overhear their comments. I listened with amusement at their description of Tham's scent. I learned the exact word to describe his musk. Well, I had thought to myself, perhaps the Order is not amiss in its language requirements.
The girl's roommate answered the door. She called back, "It's another basket of *vich nolla*!"
Tham shifted uneasily on his feet as we heard a voice in the background call, "From Master Faadji?"
"No," the roommate answered. "Padawan . . ."
"Tham," my friend supplied. I looked into the tiny apartment and noticed a basket of the very same fruit, smaller than the one presented by Tham. I nudged him and he spied it as well. The size of Master Faadji's gift heartened him and he squared his shoulders more certain of himself.
"Padawan Tham!" the roommate completed her announcement.
The girl walked into the front room with the same bird-like stride Tham and his Master possessed. Without a smile, she looked Tham over inspecting him before examining his offering of food. She smiled at the sight of the larger basket. Tham's face now beamed. "Thank you," she said. "I will consider your offer. May you do well at the *nollen*."
Then, without another word to us, she depressed the door control. As the door slid shut, we heard her roommate state, "That's the fifth basket this week! How are you going to eat all that?" Tham's face fell.
The day of Tham's battle with his Master arrived and I walked into my room to find that Tham had dyed himself bright green. Tham had commandeered my room in his preparations for his fight and sat in front of my reflection lamina attempting to copy the patterns he had drawn on a piece of plastifilm onto his body. "I need your help," he solicited from me as he held a container of white paint in his shaking hand.
Help him? I had thought, I didn't want to go near him. In addition to his lurid coloration, my friend wore little else. He had a huge erection and it threatened to burst forth from the small loincloth he wore. Not only did thoughts of not getting any closer to him run through my mind, running away screaming seemed like a viable option.
I stood and stared. I guess my face had given away my thoughts. "Say it," he said angrily. "Go ahead and say it. I know what you're thinking."
I took a chance on the strength of our friendship and said, "I think this is stupid."
"Well, I guess that makes two of us," he retorted. "I think your pathetic attempts at sex are stupid. More than stupid, cruel."
You could have pushed me over with one finger. How someone who was about to fight for the sexual rights to five women could call me - pathetic, stupid and cruel - I couldn't fathom.
He shook his head and looked to the floor. "Arrogant humans. Always thinking what you do is fine, what everybody else does is subject to your approval." He raised his head and appraised me. "You and those dumb double dates you hauled me out on. Pretending to be their friend, when in fact all you wanted to do was get them in bed."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I defended myself. "And what exactly is running through your mind right now?"
"At least I'm not in rut *all year long* like someone I know. I don't know how you get anything done, thinking about sex all the time."
"No, no," I said explaining myself. "I mean those women you and your Master are going to fight over. All you want to do is kriff them and you are complaining about me?"
"You just don't get it do you? Those women are going to be there, knowing exactly why they are there. You, my friend, play games. The girls you date never know where they stand. When I make a friend, male or female, it's because I like them, not because I want to bed them."
I started to think of the rebuttals I could make to his statements, mainly that there was a difference between girlfriends and friends that were girls, but his observations had hit home. There was some truth to what he was saying. I wanted to say that sex was better when you loved that person or at least liked them, but it was clear that his people separated the two. My opinions were not going to change his biology.
I decided that we could debate this a later time. "I see your point," I allowed while not confirming that I agreed with it. His way seemed demeaning to not only the women but the men as well. He was after all, dyed green, nearly naked and asking me to paint designs on his body.
He handed me the sheet and I scanned the image he had drawn, admiring his work, I had no idea my friend had artistic talent. "Can you paint these on me?" he asked. "I'm too nervous." I sighed deeply and took the brush and paint from his hands. I already had many dataries invested in my friend's mating ritual and for Tham's sake I wanted to see it pay off.
Placing the sheet down where I could view it, I stepped back analyzing where to begin on his body. When finished, he would be completely covered with the swirling designs. I deemed that this enterprise would take a considerable amount of time. I sat down at his feet, I would work my way up. I dipped the brush in the paint and began.
I soon lost myself in the task, finding it enjoyable. I mused to myself that perhaps I would take advantage of art classes in addition to my music lessons, round out my education. I wondered if it felt good, and if I could get a girl to do this to me or the other way around would not be so bad either.
Tham fidgeted. "Stay still," I cautioned him. "Or I'll smear this." The warning seemed to work, he stilled himself. I worked up his legs and found myself facing his erection that was pulsing slightly. Had Tham been naked and wanted that painted, it would have gone undecorated or he would have had to do it himself. There were bounds to our friendship. As miniscule as the covering was, I was grateful for it.
I worked up his stomach and began on his chest. My Master checked on our progress. "It looks good," he praised.
"Thank you," we both said in unison. Tham for the design concept, I for the application.
Tham started to fidget again, I looked down to find him rubbing himself. I stood back and he was so preoccupied it took him a moment to comprehend I had stopped. He faced me without a trace of embarrassment, inhaled deeply and grabbed a hold of the chair. I proceeded to finish his chest and now needed to see his back. I motioned with my finger for him to turn around. Tham stood and straddled the chair.
As I painted the white designs on his bright green tinted skin, his Padawan's braid kept getting in the way. Tham had an accident with it and it was much shorter than mine and it would not stay draped over his shoulder. "Here," I instructed him as I held the thin braid in my hand. "Hold this." But Tham was preoccupied once again and did not hear me. He was busy humping the back of the chair. Had it not been me in the room, it would have been hilariously funny.
This time he did not stop but increased his rhythm. I began to get worried that he would soon decorate himself where I had not. "Tham," I said. He continued trying to gratify the chair. "Tham! Stop!" I called. "You are going to smear the paint." This worked and he halted. "Save that for later." I then added one of the more choice phrases he had used the other night. One that I would not mind trying out myself. The ploy worked and Tham was soon a fountain of profanity, much to my delight.
I soon finished with his torso and then painted up his left arm while checking the limned sheet he had given me to accurately reproduce the details while wondering if they were symbolic. I then noticed there was empty space on the right arm from the elbow to the shoulder. "Tham," I asked him. "Did you mean for it to be like this?" I showed him the plastifilm sheet.
"Yes," he answered. "That's where the tattoos are."
I looked at Tham's right arm to confirm what I knew. "Tham, you do not have tattoos."
"I know," he stated with remorse. I did not inquire.
In the main room of our quarters, my Master slowly circled Tham admiring his decorations. Tham stood proudly. "Impressive," my Master stated. "Master Faadji has quite the competition this year." Thank the Force, Tham donned his hooded cloak before the three of us walked through the Temple towards the gym that was to be the site of Tham's first *nollen*.
Insisting that Tham follow behind us, my Master set the pace with his slow, shuffling gate. Walking beside my Master, I listened to his words as Tham tried to hurry the pace by closing the distance between us, breathing down our necks. "I want you to watch Master Faadji closely, Padawan. This won't be like practice sessions or tournaments. He will be out for blood."
"Tham," my Master inquired tiring of being followed so closely. "What's next? Are you going to push me?" Tham restrained his eagerness and slowed.
Stopping at the door to the gymnasium, my Master and I pulled our lightsabers out and ignited them. Their emerald green blades shafted outward and we paused in our entrance, calling on the Force in preparation. I could feel the living Force concentrated inside the room where any manner of obstacle courses could be recreated. The door slid open as we proceeded forward.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, Master Faadji propelled himself forward intending to attack his interloping rival. I had been warned that this would likely occur, nevertheless his ferociousness surprized me. My Master and I pulled our lightsabers up closer, defending Tham lest Master Faadji somehow broke through the twin sabers of Knight Shannor and her Padawan RaKeque.
Held back by their blades, Master Faadji, decorated much as Tham was but in an undercoat of blue, started hurling insults at Tham. As we proceeded towards our appointed place in the gym as indicated by the *Dara Nollen*, the judge of the contest. Tham did not respond even though his antagonist derided him in everyway possible, from his lack of fighting skills to the size of his genitalia. I mentally kept note of a few of the more vulgar ones, hoping someday to employ them myself. The *Dara Nollen*, an old Asharim, waited until Master Faadji wound down until he joined the five women waiting on the lowered viewing platform. Taking his place among them, he nodded toward Master Faadji who started dancing towards Tham. Highly suggestive and aggressive, he challenged Tham wordlessly, as the five women watched intently and vocalized appreciation and encouragement.
I pointed to one of the women wearing a multi-colored sheer veil covering her entirely from her head to touch the floor and gave my Master a query with my expression. "She is announcing her intent to choose Master Faadji regardless, it is great honor to him." he stated.
Tham watched from behind us and I could feel his sky-high rage ascend beyond the atmosphere. At last, it was Tham's turn for his response. As he danced in reply to his challenger, the five women politely called out, but it was clear by their lack of enthusiasim, the contest was over before it even began. I could not see the difference the women saw, but then I was not looking through their eyes.
The prologue finished, the viewing platform with the five women and the old Asharim rose to gain an unobstructed view of the obstactle gym. Retreating to each of our clear zones, we watched boulders, stones and other rock formations appear as engines whined and machinery groaned.
"*Geme*!" shouted the *Dara Nollen* and Tham and Master Faadji took their places from their opposite sides, each a bundle of raw nerves holding a lightsaber haft. With his shout of "*Nollen*!", they burst towards each other as their lightsabers entended. It was over with Master Faadji's first blow, but he continued to hammer at poor Tham relentlessly as he fell to the ground under the onslaught. I knew the blows were not harmfull, at least not physically, but I winced in sympathy having felt the sting of the abated practice sabers myself many a time.
In the second of the three rounds Tham was going to have to endure, Master Faadji toyed with his apprentice much to the delight of his female audience. They applauded with each high leap or complicated series of strokes. Tham bravely withstood the humiliation, doing his utmost to staunch his debaucle.
My Master shook his grey head and groaned. I don't think this was what he had expected, I feared he had thought Tham would have made a more imposing combantant. His absence from lightsaber practice sessions must have been much longer than I had imagined. His advice to observe closely, now took on a cruel frame of reference.
I had noticed that Master Faadji's right arm was decorated with tattoos were Tham's arm was bare. I had seen this very same markings previously, but I had never given them much significance. I asked my Master about them now.
"The complete bands indicate ten and the dashes, one," he explained.
"Of what," I inquired. "*Nollens* won?"
My Master chuckled warmly. "No, children, how many children he's sired."
When Master Faadji backed Tham into our direction again, I carefully observed his arm. "Thirty-two?" I gasped, incredulous.
"He's been at this a long time, over two decades."
The third round, Master Faadji returned to his original method of besting his Padawan and hacked at Tham without mercy, mercifully ending the *Nollen*. The *Dar Nollen* called for a halt and the viewing platform lowered, flush with the floor. It appeared there was to be an epilogue to Tham's disaster, prolonging his torment.
Still breathing hard from his pummeling of his Padawan, Master Faadji strutted in front of the small group of women, putting himself on display for them. Tham joined in circling around them surrepitously glancing his Master and copying mannerisms and movements, unsure of the finer details that he should be exhibiting. Halting each at their respective sides of the room, they waited.
No one had to tell Tham he lost, it was painfully evident. Yet he held his head up high, not in expectation, rather in pride that he had done his best however lacking he came in comparision to his opponent. The five women filed out of the circular viewing platform and without a glance in Tham's direction walked over to Master Faadji who victoriously led them away. Tham finally allowed his head to lower in acknowledgement of his defeat once we were in the hall returning to our quarters. That night all three of us got very drunk.
Master Faadji, cloaked and hooded, returned wordlessly for his Padawan one week later. Tham scurried to pack his few belongings and followed behind his Master.
***
One year ago . . .
Tham stood panting as he waited for the viewing platform to lower. Blue hued as was his Master, he had, in my estimation, made a far better showing this year against his opponent. He had honed his skills and had added more kilograms of strength.
My Master and I, had to endure his exuberant expectation of procreation once again. As well as his prolific pungency.
Tham had worked hard practicing, perfecting his fighting technics. He had become a miser, hoarding his dataries, then showered the girl he had given the single basket of *vich nolla* to the year previous, in a flood of fruit this season.
Thirty-six offspring, the tattoos on Master Faadji's arm proclaimed after last year's additions were tallied. Master Faadji had not impregnated her. Tham and I, half-jokingly came to the conclusion that he had exceeded his capabilities and Tham should relieve his Master of some of the onerous burden he shouldered. After a few bottles of lum, we did not crouch it in such polite phrasings.
I stood in the clear zone with my Master and a mutual friend of Tham's and I. My Master's health had slowly declined, he could not fill the position of guarding Tham in the *nollen*.
In the past year, I had taken up rudimentary classes in drawing. I had found I had a liking for sketching if not a talent. My instructors lauded my meteoric improvement. I knew this was not empty praise, for as Tham pointedly, and needlessly, reminded me, I had no where else to go but up. The sedate activity nudged others from my crowded calendar, regrets were few, it allowed me to remain close to my often ailing or slumbering mentor. A Jedi needs a full palette of talents from which to draw from, mine were ever changing as my self image altered with time.
If I found that losing myself in the pleasant activity ironic, then the thought of me taking up a fourth language would have once had me making a trip to the healers. Either for a mental examination or to put bandages on my bruised sides from laughing. But, I had. My Master's pride in me, his protege, nearly sent a shock wave through the Force when I told him of my intent to acquire more than the minimum language requirements. That I would voluntarily submit to the discipline required to study a subject I deemed difficult he told me was a sure sign of maturity.
Nagging guilt tugged at my conscious, for I found its study to be far less taxing than the others I previously tackled. I harbored the odd impression that this ease was due to a form of fraud on my part in that Tham was fluent and avidly held the position of ad hoc tutor. At other times, I mentally chastised myself for not learning it first, therefore I could have done away with one of the others such as Caamasi.
As I tell my mentor, Master ThreeMoons, nearly all the random thoughts that enter my mind, I had shared these musings with him. "Your focus determines your reality," he reminded me of Jedi wisdom.
My language choice pleased my friend, Tham, as it was the native tongue of his people the Asharim. I had not so much opted to learn another language as more to the point felt led by the Force to learn Asharimish. Tham eagerly anticipated its usefulness in our shared future as knights, imagining us working as a team on missions. As his Master would most certainly take on another Padawan, the Force willing, it was only logical and provident that we continue with our camaraderie and watch each other's back. Only once had I tempered his enthusiasm to remind him that I held a stronger obligation than that of our friendship and my Master's needs would outweigh any other plans I held for my life.
Someone else might have praised me, stating that I was self-sacrificing in doing so, not Tham, he knew what Master ThreeMoons meant to me. His own Master held the same place in his own heart and life - most of the year.
The viewing platform eased down flush with the floor and Master Faadji initiated the concluding dance as he had done last year. But this year, Tham stayed himself, waiting and watching.
The five women turned from the parading Master Faadji to regard Tham with curiosity as to why he had not joined the performance. Now, that he had their attention, he began his dance, but not the anticipated one of enticement for his attributes. No, Tham theatrically satired his Master's prancing, ridiculing him. Every movement and step of Master Faadji's choreography became Tham's exaggerated farce.
Tham's female audience watched unbelieving at his audacious mockery, then exploded into appreciative laughter at the surprise. The five then glanced at the object of derision caught unprepared at the turn of events at his expense.
Master Faadji ended his dance prematurely, returning to his place, fuming, awaiting the women's decisions. Four women exited the viewing platform in Master Faadji's direction. The girl Tham had set his sights on hesitated. Master Faadji beaconed her with two fingers. The girl cast a glance at Tham, lowered her eyes and stepped off the platform.
My Master retired early that night leaving Tham and I to get drunk by ourselves.
***
I thought my obligation to my friend for this season was over with, but I was mistaken. Exiting the crowded public transport, he held the datapad with the address in the Asharim enclave his Master had given him. He had prepared himself well for the *nollen* this year, but had not planned for this contingency. "Um, Tham, could you lend me some credits?" he asked as we entered the tattooist's shop.
The End
