The Jedi And The Warrior

The Opening And The Closing Of Doors

"And what of our foreign guests?" Chief Kai Caeen prompted, after a silence settled around the circle. "What songs from foreign lands do they bring?"

Qui-Gon, seated beside her on one of the gnarly tree stumps, allowed himself a smile. Across the fire, Flyra caught the terror in Obi-Wan's eyes and grinned.

"My Padawan and I are here to listen only," Qui-Gon said quickly. "But..." And at this he glanced wickedly at Flyra. "I hear our friend Flyra has a lovely voice."

She gaped at him, her face warming as Kai raised his brows at her. He was handsome, she couldn't help thinking, and she remembered Obi's speculation about his once having been a Jedi. Certainly, he wouldn't have looked out of place with a lightsaber in his hand.

"Let it never be said that I would refuse a lovely voice," he said, smiling. "Please, Flyra, be our guest!"

She stared at him. "I... I have no such voice, I assure you, Chief Caeen,"she said, the panic evident in her voice. "Please do not let Master Jinn deceive you."

Kai's smile widened. "A poem, then," he suggested. "We would not have you remain silent all night."

Flyra turned to glare at Qui-Gon — but caught Obi-Wan's eye. And the expression on his face had her steeling her spine. She closed her eyes, running through all the poems she had learned as a child. Most were stupid rhymes for children, not at all right for this fireside in this forsaken village.

It was then that the poem came into her head, as though pushed there by some benevolent god. She opened her eyes.

"Very well," she said. "My father used to say these lines every night before we went to bed when we were very young." A smile tugged at her lips. "It was the song of my village, of what we once were, what we could never be again. A song of the lost." She didn't break Obi-Wan's gaze, seeing the sorrow flood his brilliant blue gaze. "I haven't heard it in so many years," she finished softly.

A hush had fallen about her, but she drew a deep breath, letting Obi's eyes anchor her. With another steadying breath, she began.

"Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the sea returning?"

She had to choke back the tears as she finished — to shut down the images of her life as a child, of the years that were far, far away from her now. But Obi-Wan... in the firelight across from her, she could have sworn his eyes gleamed with tears.

She hadn't seen him cry since that day in the snow, and the sight of it... She couldn't tear her gaze from his, couldn't look away, couldn't push aside the urge to go to him, to sob into his shoulder like she had that day her figwit died.

She smiled, and he smiled back, and...

"That was beautiful," Kai said, and Obi-Wan broke their stare.

"Thank you," she managed to say, even as she felt Qui-Gon watching her.

Silence fell again, until...

"I'd like to sing something, if I may?"

Her head snapped up at Obi-Wan's voice. She hadn't heard him sing since his voice broke and he'd got fed up of her teasing. But he wasn't looking at her — instead his gaze was fixed on Kai, who nodded. His eyes flickered with disgust when they met Obi-Wan's.