Role Models
Qui-Gon stared stonily at the lightsaber in his hand.
“You may keep it, if you like. I certainly will have no use for it anymore.” His master moved smoothly around the room, organizing his clothing and personal belongings into two medium sized travel crates. “There will be little opportunity for sparring with other Jedi, and no one uses them but the Order any more.”
“Master, I don’t understand. You’ve told me from the day you chose me as Padawan about the dedication, the drive, the need to be a Jedi Knight. I worked hard to become what you wanted of me, and what I saw in you. I wanted to be just like you - swift in justice, sure in compassion, wise in the ways of the Force. What has happened to your dedication and drive? Your deep, inner, need to be a Jedi! The one you were always talking to me about?” Qui-Gon spit the last phrase out like poison sucked from a wound.
“Padawan! You are…” The tall, thin man took a deep breath. “No, pardon me, I mis-spoke. Knight Jinn, you have no right to question me. I was your Master - and it pleases me that you have grown strong and intelligent, a valuable member of the Jedi. I am now leaving the Order. My planet has need of me - if I do not go home and assume the title, there will be civil war. A war we would no doubt be called to try and prevent, or to clean up the aftermath. I can prevent it - and I would not have the blood of thousands, if not millions, on my hands.”
“But what title can give you more honor and chance for service than that of Jedi Master?”
“The hereditary title of the family that has ruled my home for millennia, young Jedi - the title of Count.”
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon used the Force to waft the lightsaber in his hands over to one of the crates. “You should keep this, Count Dooku.” He turned and walked from the room, his back stiff.
“I will not need it to remember you.”
Muse: Qui-Gon Jinn
Fandom: Star Wars TPM
Word Count: 354
“You may keep it, if you like. I certainly will have no use for it anymore.” His master moved smoothly around the room, organizing his clothing and personal belongings into two medium sized travel crates. “There will be little opportunity for sparring with other Jedi, and no one uses them but the Order any more.”
“Master, I don’t understand. You’ve told me from the day you chose me as Padawan about the dedication, the drive, the need to be a Jedi Knight. I worked hard to become what you wanted of me, and what I saw in you. I wanted to be just like you - swift in justice, sure in compassion, wise in the ways of the Force. What has happened to your dedication and drive? Your deep, inner, need to be a Jedi! The one you were always talking to me about?” Qui-Gon spit the last phrase out like poison sucked from a wound.
“Padawan! You are…” The tall, thin man took a deep breath. “No, pardon me, I mis-spoke. Knight Jinn, you have no right to question me. I was your Master - and it pleases me that you have grown strong and intelligent, a valuable member of the Jedi. I am now leaving the Order. My planet has need of me - if I do not go home and assume the title, there will be civil war. A war we would no doubt be called to try and prevent, or to clean up the aftermath. I can prevent it - and I would not have the blood of thousands, if not millions, on my hands.”
“But what title can give you more honor and chance for service than that of Jedi Master?”
“The hereditary title of the family that has ruled my home for millennia, young Jedi - the title of Count.”
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon used the Force to waft the lightsaber in his hands over to one of the crates. “You should keep this, Count Dooku.” He turned and walked from the room, his back stiff.
“I will not need it to remember you.”
Muse: Qui-Gon Jinn
Fandom: Star Wars TPM
Word Count: 354