This FanFic is in part a celebration of my race change. I am now a human male, for those of you that don\'t know.
Enjoy
The Test of the Jedi
?The utter pointlessness of struggle is only accentuated by the lack of meaning in the cause. People will only fight for what they believe in.? ~ Jedi
Chapter 1
Jedi dodged as the whistling tip of the blade came slashing at him, it?s brutal slice carving the air where he had moments before stood. He whipped his staff around quickly, twirling it through his fingers, and aimed a blow into the opening left by his opponent?s reckless swing. The man turned his head and the end of the staff flew harmlessly by, brushing his hair.
The man stumbled back out of Jedi?s range, breathing heavily, and took up a defensive stance, left foot forward, arms straight, sword held at waist level. He shook his head to the side, clearing his long blonde bangs from his eyes. Sweat was pouring down the man?s face, leaving winding rivulets of smooth skin among the dirt. His cold, calculating blue eyes watched Jedi?s every move, searching for a weakness in his defence.
The man wore a tight white undershirt, having doffed his heavier dress shirt for the battle. The undershirt was cut off at the arms and the thin material was soaked through with his sweat, rendering it more brown than white. Underneath, the man?s muscles were clearly visible. The tails of his shirt were tucked neatly into a pair of baggy, white pants. The pants had no pockets, and, too, were stained from his physical exertion. They tapered down and were folded into smart-looking, black leather boots. His biceps bulged from years of practice with his heavy steel blade. His crop of bright blonde hair was parted down the middle and hung low on either side, emphasizing his keen face. All in all, he struck an imposing figure.
Jedi, on the other hand, was not so large. His thin, wiry frame belied his physical strength and acrobatic expertise. His hazel brown eyes squinted menacingly from under dark eyebrows. His short, spiked, black hair gleamed in the sun, greased by his sweat. He wore a tight black shirt and loose black pants. His polished black leather boots gleamed when they could be seen under his long, black trench coat. The overcoat was always left unbuttoned, often billowing out in little gusts of wind. This was not of arrogance, but more convenience. Summer was in full force and the days could often get very hot. When left open, not only did it provide him with even a minimal breeze, but it also allowed him easy access to the weapons on his belt. There were five darts, each in their own leather slip, a water flask, and an ornate dagger emblazoned with an extravagant gold worked ?J?. Though he was proficient with each weapon in his possession, he rarely used them, preferring to stick with his hardened wooden staff.
Tipped on both ends with solid steel caps, the staff had served him well for many years. He had a long history with staffs. He had lived most of his life in his small town of Ganemede and soldier patrols had frequently passed through on their rounds of the countryside. Sometimes they stayed the night, a very popular event back then. When they did, the soldiers would often gather in the town square when it was getting late and, much to the delight of everyone in town, tell stories of their adventures. Whenever these events took place there was rarely a person within five miles who didn?t show up. Sometimes, the soldiers would even pull out their weapons and, carefully, let the children see them. After that, they usually waved their weapons around in a little demonstration of how they were used and, on very rare occasions, would perform mock battles for the awestruck audience. This is what Jedi always looked forward to. Ever since he was young, he had always been fascinated by the grace, speed, and skill with which some of the soldiers could wield their wooden staffs. He would sit in thunderstruck silence as the men effortlessly twirled their weapons through intricate patterns. Usually they were moving so fast that all Jedi could see was a blur. He imagined that the damage they dealt must be devastating, especially at that speed. Unfortunately, staffs were not a very popular weapon among the soldiers at the time and so he was also taught a grudging respect for bladed and ranged weapons, most specifically the daggers, long swords, and longbows.
Along with his darts and dagger, Jedi also carried his long sword. It was a modest weapon; there was nothing overly fancy about it. At first, he had been somewhat unimpressed with it, but after years of use he had come to respect it for its subtle power. The blade, though unremarkable, was strong and true, always kept razor-sharp. He rarely let anyone see it. His opponent wielded it at the moment.
The two men duelled on an open patch of grass atop a short cliff overlooking Ganemede. The area was part of a winding trail that followed the cliff edge and was walled off ten feet in by fledgling foliage. The sun was high and warm, shedding golden light over the small battle arena. The grass had been trampled down in a rough circle where countless steps had written out the flow of the fight.
It had been going on for hours, an endless dance of energy backed by buckets of salty sweat. It was a drill, a practice session, but both sides knew that if they did not give their full attention to the task, they could easily end up dead.
Jedi twirled his staff back around, bringing it to a ready position. He had been trained well; He rarely went on the offensive. Better, he thought, to let your adversary tire himself out with the exertion of the attack. That way he could bide his time, waiting for the end, and calmly deliver the final blow to the weakened foe.
The man, Jarred by name, took a quick, deep breath and lunged again into a full force flurry of stabs and slashes.
Jedi danced backed, parrying where he could, dodging when the blade would have cleaved his staff in two. He patiently waited throughout the tirade for the right moment. At last it came.
Jarred lunged, sword thrust far forward, in a last ditch effort to stick Jedi on the tip of his blade. Jedi sidestepped and leaned far out, sliding his hands down the shaft of the staff. With all his might he brought it down hard on the flat of the blade.
Jarred cried out in pain and fell to his knees, dropping the sword, its blade still ringing. Jedi, too, stumbled back, the violent vibration of his wooden staff chaffing his hands. He was determined not to let his pain show. Now was his chance. His enemy was disarmed. Quickly regaining his footing, Jedi brought the end of the staff whistling around aiming it squarely at the back of Jarred?s neck. At the last second, the steel tip stopped, hovering mere centimetres behind the base of Jarred?s skull.
Jarred froze and slowly turned. His eyes widened when he saw how close it had been to taking his head off. He looked back into Jedi?s eyes, a ghost of fear etched on his face.
?You?re dead.? Jedi said in a low, commanding voice.
The moment dragged on for several moments then a broad smile split Jarred?s face and he broke out laughing, ?That was good.?
?I killed you. How do you figure that?s good?? but Jedi couldn?t help grinning. He lowered the staff and with a fancy twirl, shoved it into its sheath on his back. ?That was good, though. I almost thought you were going to skewer me with that crazy lunge of yours.?
Jarred chuckled. He picked up the fallen long sword and got to his feet. He went to retrieve its scabbard at the edge of the clearing, giving Jedi?s shoulder a hearty clap, ?Yes, sir. You?ve definitely improved since you came back from your journey.?
Jedi followed the big man and took the scabbard, sword inserted, when Jarred offered it. He reattached it to his belt while his friend pulled his dress shirt over his head, covering his sweat-drenched undershirt.
Jedi looked up at the sky, ?It?s kind of early to call it a day. I?d say there?s still four hours left, at least. Want to go again??
Jarred paused with his arm half poking into of his sleeve. He thought about it for a moment then declined with a shake of his head and pulled his shirt all the way on, ?No, there will be plenty of time tomorrow. Besides, I?m too tired to fight again.?
Jedi nodded and picked up his pack, swinging it over his shoulder, ?Come on, then. We might as well go home. Besides, Tomas wanted to see me today. I probably shouldn?t have left it this late; He?s going to chew my head off.?
Jarred smirked his agreement as he shouldered his own pack and followed Jedi down the path along the cliff edge, ?If he doesn?t overburden you with some ridiculous errand, why not come to the pub tonight??
Jedi frowned over at his friend, ?Don?t be silly, Jarred. You know I don?t drink.?
Jarred lifted his hands in defence, ?No, no. I didn?t mean you had to actually drink anything. Just come and, you know, chum around with the guys. Come on, you just got back last week after how many years abroad? Ten? All your old pals are dying to hear about it. Please??
Jedi considered this as he made his way through the light foliage that covered the ground. Finally, he agreed. Not that it really mattered. If memory served, he doubted he?d get off easy. Especially where Tomas was concerned. People always seemed to be piling their problems on him, wanting him to do their work for them. He didn?t mind. It helped him keep his mind off the past, helped him forget. And anything that made him forget was more than welcome.
Comments are welcome, of course.
Criticism? That\'s good too.
Chapter 2 in progress.
