1st place: Star Wars Fanfiction Awards
Luke Skywalker is turning 8 in just a few days on Empire Day. Unfortunately, the Empire has ordered a galaxy-wide census on Empire Day. Instead of heading to the pod races, like his Uncle Owen had promised him...
"Go strap yourself in, Luke," Anakin said, struggling with the yacht's controls as it plummeted through the wind and rain. "This is going to be a rough landing!"
"My scopes only show water, Ani." Padmé flicked a few switches on her console, preparing for a water landing.
"Just stay on course. I can feel him." His voice betrayed his intense concentration.
As the craft bounced up-and-down in the turbulence, with visibility at zero and lightning striking all around it, Anakin brought the ship down in the middle of a swamp. Trees intermingled with vines surrounded a small hut with a solitary light burning inside.
The trio waited for the turbo lift to descend. The lift doors slid aside, revealing the small, green figure of Grand Jedi Master Yoda, his gnarled gimer stick in his right hand. "Anakin. A surprise this is. A pleasant surprise. Welcome."
"Master Yoda." Anakin kneeled in reverence. "I need your help."
"My help you will have as long as you seek the light, Anakin. Hmm, what's this? Your son, I think?" Yoda pointed his cane at Luke, who stared in wonder at the small creature. "The Force is strong with you, Young Skywalker. Very strong. Maybe strong enough to save your father. Padmé, right you were to bring him to me."
She said, "Master Yoda, we need your help if we are to face Sidious."
"Oh, Sidious! Help you will need. Yes, yes, help you I will. But first, we must eat. Come with me. Hmm." Yoda hobbled down the ramp into the rain, trudging through the mud to his hut.
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The green Jedi Master ladled stew into bowls for each of his guests, crushing herbs on top as a garnish.
Anakin barely fit inside the small hut. If it had not been for the recent work on his legs at Polis Massa, he may have never fit inside. At least now his knees could bend while his hips rotated, allowing him to sit cross-legged and hunch-backed on the floor with his wife and son. He was not comfortable, but he always felt a certain peace in Master Yoda's presence.
As they ate, Luke slurped his meal quickly.
Padmé said, "Luke, slow down. You'll burn your tongue, and you're dribbling soup all down your tunic."
"Yes, Mother." He dabbed himself with a napkin.
"Hmm, alone leave him. My cooking he likes," Yoda said with a whimsical smile as he hurried to the pot to get Luke another bowl. "Always hungry Padawan are. Always hungry."
Anakin laughed a little. "I seem to recall you were always complaining that we were consuming more resources than the rest of the Jedi Order all together."
"Hmm, so wrong was I, Anakin?" Yoda sat in front of him with his own soup. "One does not invalidate the other." The wizened Jedi Master stood, gazing into the eye lenses of Anakin's mask. "Much have you still to learn, Young One. Much to learn."
