"We Don't Bite"
Rating: G
The first meeting of Bail and Obi-Wan
Not that this was any different from what he was used too. He started his internship at 16, just like every good Alderaani, in the field chosen for him by the Goddess. So, unlike others his age, he went into civil service. He came from a long line of politicians, leaders, and counselors. They were born diplomats, or at least that's what his mother told him. Not exactly the path he'd wanted; he'd rather be a pilot. But then princes rarely get what they want. At least not ones from Alderaan.
His stomach growled softly and his uncle cast a disapproving glance back at him. Like I can control my stomach, he thought, shrugging slightly. Uncle Bail's stomach bellows in the middle of negotiations and no one says a word. The last thing I had was that horrid tea and stale biscuits with that stubby Jedi Master. He sighed softly, and feigned attention to the conversation again.
Chancellor Valorum and Uncle Bail were talking casually with some of the other Jedi. Good, maybe we can get something to eat soon. He glanced around the room. He'd never seen a Jedi training area, though it wasn't exactly off limits. But no one ever came to the Temple unless they needed something. Jedi had those weird mind powers, lived like priests, and took everything so damn seriously. He sighed again when the group in the corner caught his eye. He turned and slowly moved towards them.
There were five of them in a circle, practicing with their swords, which under normal circumstances would be no big deal. They were also reciting something in a gutteral language he'd heard very rarely and didn't understand. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. It was the stifled chuckles that surprised him. One of them was dead serious as he moved through the pattern. The rest were smiling, biting lips, and half choking, eyes watering. He watched them a moment longer and smiled when the group fell out of rhythm and onto the floor in unrestrained laughter.
"Reeft, te-Chlah! Not te-Malln," the Calamarian laughed.
"I said te-Chlah!" the young man apparently named Reeft answered.
"You said Malln," another young woman giggled.
"No I didn't!"
"Obi-Wan, what did he say?" another young man demanded between chuckles.
A young blond man rolled over on his back. "The 17th verse of Serenity, according to Reeft, Jedi Padawan, translated by Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi." He cleared his throat. "'A Jedi is leggy and wild, he seeks not anesthetic, he seeks not vegetation. A Jedi seeks large trees with busty tentacles. A Jedi seeks banthas with large asteroids. A Jedi is flaccid..."
The group dissolved into hysterics again, and even the Jedi practicing near by had to smile. Reeft shook his head. "I told you guys, I'm horrible with Huttese. Felian, that I can do."
"Of course you are," replied the young woman. "Reeft's always been good with 'tcks' and 'ya-yas.' Or so we've been told."
"Shut up Ishara."
"All guys are good with ya-yas," added the Calmarian with a wink.
"You shut up too, Bant!"
They all sat up slowly, still laughing, some wiping tears from their cheeks. "Ok, 17th verse, then lunch," the one they called Obi-Wan said. The others hopped to their feet and moved into ready position. "Language?"
Reeft shrugged. "No more Huttese."
"Zaurian?"
"Telaft?"
"Jemba?"
Obi-Wan suddenly turned to Bail. "Alderaani?"
Bail blinked and stammered, "Huh?"
"I noticed your interest, highness. Not many people, especially royalty, would attempt a visit to a Jedi training salle."
"Uh, I'm not really... I mean, watching you all has been quite fascinating. I apologize for intruding."
"No intrusion at all, highness," Obi-Wan answered quickly, flashing another disarming smile. "We're all honored by your interest, but back to the question. Would you like us to speak Alderaani this time through?"
He then noticed the other padawans looking at him with interest. "Oh, um... ok..."
Obi-Wan bowed slightly, turned back to the group, then made ready.
And as one, they all moved through the same forms, speaking courtly, proper Alderaani. And though he understood every word, he still looked on in wonder.
"A Jedi is patient and deliberate. He is not impulsive; he seeks not adventure. A Jedi seeks knowledge and wisdom. A Jedi seeks peace and serenity. A Jedi is placid..."
The words flowed smoothly, gracefully from their tongues, as their sabers flashed and flared in distinct patterns. Bail exhaled the breath he realized he was holding and smiled in appreciation as they finished the pattern.
"Obi-Wan," the older Jedi called. "You're free until 3rd chime. Councillor Windu is sending us out again."
Obi-Wan bowed. "Yes master." After waiting a respectful few moments, he turned to the others, "Food." They all agreed heartily and headed out to t he hall. Bail watched them go and slowly walked back to his uncle's side. Obi-Wan paused and turned back to Bail. "Highness, would you like to join us? Cafeteria food isn't exactly a royal banquet, but it does the trick."
Bail colored slightly. "Excuse me?"
Obi-Wan bowed low. "I beg your pardon, your highness, but your stomach was hardly discreet."
The other padawans looked on encouragingly. "Highness," the Calmarian called Bant added, "None of us ever turns down a chance for food. We never know when the next meal will be."
"It's the first thing you learn as a padawan."
"Never turn down free food."
"Even if it tries to escape your plate..." They all laughed then.
"Prince, we don't bite." Obi-Wan smiled widely then and Bail caught a glimmer of wicked humor in his eyes.
Bail turned back to his uncle. Senator Bail Antilles nodded then turned his attention back to the Chancellor. Turning back to Obi-Wan, he started with them out of the hall.
"Escape the plate?" he asked, half horrified.
The young Jedi turned to the crown prince. "You don't want to know...." and their laughter echoed through the salle.
~ fin ~