Like a moth to a light, Luke had been drawn to the controlled burn of the Force. He could recognize it anywhere, the pure light that lit Obi-Wan Kenobi; and, still wanting to learn from his old mentor even after all these years, he had come. But he hung back once he had arrived, watching the fluidity of the Master's movements, the precision of his form, the way the Force flowed through him like water around a rock. It really was a joy to watch.
This was the level Luke had aspired to, this kind of attunement to the living Force.
The other man's voice jolted Luke out of his thoughts on the whole matter, and he looked over. "No," he said quietly. "I was just watching your practice. Though if you wouldn't mind giving me a few tips, I wouldn't object." He smiled.
(the best part is how he constantly downplays his own mastery)jedimacguyverSeptember 6 2009, 14:07:45 UTC
"Lightsaber technique has always been something of a specialty of mine, and it's always a pleasure to share what I've learned," Obi-Wan smiled, a little gratuitously; ah, now this was his favorite topic, "I generally follow Form Three, a very classic defensive mode. It isn't the most popular, but we can't all charge headlong into duels like- well. He prefers the direct approach, and if that isn't the understatement of the century, then I don't know what is."
After a moment of thought, he stepped back a few paces and motioned for Luke to come more onto the roof proper, "What do you find is most effective for you?"
and he calls Luke master a;dlfskfdsrestoresbalanceSeptember 6 2009, 19:33:59 UTC
Luke hopped lightly onto the roof, a flutter of excitement in his chest. After years, he was training again with Obi-Wan Kenobi, hero of the Clone Wars, friend of his father. It felt like he'd come full circle, and even better, when they were returned home, he could teach his students the things he learned here.
"I didn't have formal training in any of the forms that you'd be familiar with," Luke said. His lightsaber training had been picked up from various places--what little he had from an older Obi-Wan and then from his journal, from Yoda, from holocrons scattered from the Core to the Outer Rim. "I guess you could call it a mix of forms three, four, and five, with more than a bit of improvisation thrown in." He smiled ruefully. "When I was first learning the ways of the Force, there were very few Jedi left."
That little tidbit furrowed his brow and brought Obi-Wan sorrowful and open-mouthed to the brink of asking...but no, he shook his head. That was not his place, not his path to take, except in time. He knew what he must do.
"What do you say we have a practice bout," he tried, shedding the mood as a bird molts it's feathers, "Just to see what we can do, hm?"
Luke brightened. A chance to spar Obi-Wan at his prime? Boy, he'd sure jump at that!
"Sure, I'd love to," he said, and pulled his lightsaber off his belt, igniting the green blade. Glad for the freedom of movement the plantsuit brought him, Luke stepped to a point across from Obi-Wan, and dropped into a guard stance. "I've always wanted to spar you, Ben."
"Well, that's encouraging," he quipped, teasingly sarcastic as he manipulated the power setting on his own saber-hilt to it's lowest and ignited it. It hummed and shone in much the same way as usual, but was essentially castrated, much like a youngling's practice blade it could bruise or with some effort burn bare skin, but was more or less harmless, "Always good to know who wants to try and take off my head. Although, if you'd really rather not do that I'd suggest turning down the power on that lightsaber of yours."
Flushing, Luke dialed down the power on his lightsaber to a more appropriate level, and set himself again, weight balanced between both feet with one in front of the other, blade held out at an angle in front of him with the tip pointing toward Obi-Wan. Cutting off his mentor's head wasn't something Luke was very keen on doing.
"I never got the chance to learn this from you when we knew each other," he said, vaguely. "Not gonna waste it now."
"Now I must warn you Luke, I'm very good at this form," he replied with a smile, and Obi-Wan took up his own stance, the traditional form three opening with blade held angled above his head, near the temple with the point towards his foe and one arm held forward in challenge, "Whenever you're ready."
Luke smiled. It felt good to have the silver hilt in his hands again, the blade humming away in anticipation. Knowing it wouldn't be used to cut someone down, after a year of war, was a good feeling of itself.
He took a breath to steady himself, let half of it out, and lunged forward, bringing his blade up and then slashing in a downward diagonal, right to left. It was an aggressive move, and one he'd used to start off many duels. Those memories came now, acknowledged and let go--Bespin, the Death Star, any number of Dark Jedi from Endor to Coruscant itself.
Seemingly without effort, Obi-Wan's blade licked out, a lightning-fast parry that expertly transferred Luke's momentum to the side, almost as if his strike had been a blaster bolt. The retaliating blow was light, more a feint than a strike, probing for attention. Along Luke's exposed right side, in the lee of his sweeping double-handed attack.
"The philosophy of the Jedi order," Obi-Wan mused, conversationally as he fell into the rhythm of blow and parry with his fellow master and future padawan. He wasn't even out of breath, although to be fair, he was hardly moving more than what was necessary, "Is to defend, rather than attack. You sacrifice the ability to attack for the benefits of a perfect defense. Eventually your opponent will tire, or make a mistake, providing you can remain calm and patient enough. Ideally, the fight doesn't continue to that point. You can guess how many times that has happened."
"None at all," Luke replied, probing Obi-Wan's defenses with a series of short strikes. Master though he might be, the Skywalker knew that there was always, always a place for improvement and betterment of his skills, filling in the gaps that until now had been filled with improvisation of techniques.
"Many young Jedi in my time are frustrated with that idea," he said, blue eyes intense with concentration, letting the Force flow through him without resistance. "As are those in government who would see the Jedi as an army into and of itself, and want to use us as such. Our galaxy has seen much conflict lately." Jacen's face swam to him in the flow, and Luke let it go. Thinking on the past would only distract him and earn him a sharp sting from Obi-Wan's lightsaber.
"Actually, there was once," Obi-Wan conceded with good humor, moving in arching ricochets to match Luke's strikes in syncopated rhythm, "A practice bout with Master Yoda when I was very young. Although, at that time, it was myself backing down."
A good teacher never stopped learning, and Obi-Wan was no different. Impressed by Luke's patchwork improvisation, he shifted a foot and struck back, a confusing alteration from his current form, the sudden double-handed strike from above. It had served him well, if only momentarily, to switch things up when he'd dueled Dooku, and no doubt it would prove interesting to see how this strange future master's skills would hole up against the tactic.
"A properly trained Jedi will never make anything but the poorest of soldiers," he asserted, "A soldier is required to obey orders he does not understand, without question, at any cost. A Jedi is expected to listen to orders, but to use his own judgment and disobey if the situation warrants. It is not only tactics that guides us, but the living Force
Luke brought his saber up double-handed, blocking the strike inches from his face. The combined heat of the sabers warmed his skin for a moment before he brought his blade around, the tip describing an arc through the air as he made an attempt to knock Obi-Wan's saber wide and expose his front.
"But how often do career military beings or government leaders listen to that?" Luke asked. "Jedi aren't an army, no matter where our allegiances lie--with the government or with ourselves, and yet we keep being asked to be such."
"I'm really not the one to be asking, I volunteered for this position," Obi-Wan returned, moving his blade with Luke's rather than against it, they circled round and with an expert flick twitched the weapon so that the momentum was carried through the blade to the hilt and neatly out of Luke's hands.
Still active, the blue blade inscribed a bright arc, scored a line of charred black in the rooftop and stuck there, suspending the hilt an an awkward angle in the easily melted tar of the roof. Slowly it drooped, dripping down until the it clattered to the floor, striking some switch there and deactivating the blade. Obi-Wan stepped back to allow his sparring partner to retrieve his weapon, "I'm not distracting you, am I? Anakin hates it when I lecture him during these lessons. I'll admit, that's the main reason I do it."
"It's nothing unwelcome," Luke said, calling his lightsaber back to his hand and flicking bits of tar off it. Looks like that kid who wanted to see me do maintenance on my lightsaber will get his chance after all, Luke thought with a bit of a smile. The weapon was due for a cleaning and a once-over anyway. Luke liked to take care of it.
The mention of his father, though, made him pause, blue eyes dropping a bit. Meeting Anakin as he was before his fall hadn't been anything like what Luke may have anticipated. Of course, he had little enough reference for it, but he could still imagine it going much better.
"Anakin doesn't like me," he said. "He doesn't seem to like much of anything."
"He's...Anakin never did react well to unexpected stress," Obi-Wan conceded with a sigh, rubbing one hand down his face, "Don't think too much of it. We've both been on the rim for far too long. Coming off the front lines- the adjustment isn't easy for anyone. He's usually much more polite, if it's any consolation."
He knew it wasn't, but it wouldn't help Luke to be told so to his face. Either Anakin would be patient, or Luke would capitulate. Sooner or later, everything would even out. Why was it so difficult between them, "He's quite stubborn that you're hiding something important from him."
This was the level Luke had aspired to, this kind of attunement to the living Force.
The other man's voice jolted Luke out of his thoughts on the whole matter, and he looked over. "No," he said quietly. "I was just watching your practice. Though if you wouldn't mind giving me a few tips, I wouldn't object." He smiled.
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After a moment of thought, he stepped back a few paces and motioned for Luke to come more onto the roof proper, "What do you find is most effective for you?"
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"I didn't have formal training in any of the forms that you'd be familiar with," Luke said. His lightsaber training had been picked up from various places--what little he had from an older Obi-Wan and then from his journal, from Yoda, from holocrons scattered from the Core to the Outer Rim. "I guess you could call it a mix of forms three, four, and five, with more than a bit of improvisation thrown in." He smiled ruefully. "When I was first learning the ways of the Force, there were very few Jedi left."
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"What do you say we have a practice bout," he tried, shedding the mood as a bird molts it's feathers, "Just to see what we can do, hm?"
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"Sure, I'd love to," he said, and pulled his lightsaber off his belt, igniting the green blade. Glad for the freedom of movement the plantsuit brought him, Luke stepped to a point across from Obi-Wan, and dropped into a guard stance. "I've always wanted to spar you, Ben."
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"I never got the chance to learn this from you when we knew each other," he said, vaguely. "Not gonna waste it now."
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He took a breath to steady himself, let half of it out, and lunged forward, bringing his blade up and then slashing in a downward diagonal, right to left. It was an aggressive move, and one he'd used to start off many duels. Those memories came now, acknowledged and let go--Bespin, the Death Star, any number of Dark Jedi from Endor to Coruscant itself.
Reply
"The philosophy of the Jedi order," Obi-Wan mused, conversationally as he fell into the rhythm of blow and parry with his fellow master and future padawan. He wasn't even out of breath, although to be fair, he was hardly moving more than what was necessary, "Is to defend, rather than attack. You sacrifice the ability to attack for the benefits of a perfect defense. Eventually your opponent will tire, or make a mistake, providing you can remain calm and patient enough. Ideally, the fight doesn't continue to that point. You can guess how many times that has happened."
Reply
"Many young Jedi in my time are frustrated with that idea," he said, blue eyes intense with concentration, letting the Force flow through him without resistance. "As are those in government who would see the Jedi as an army into and of itself, and want to use us as such. Our galaxy has seen much conflict lately." Jacen's face swam to him in the flow, and Luke let it go. Thinking on the past would only distract him and earn him a sharp sting from Obi-Wan's lightsaber.
Reply
A good teacher never stopped learning, and Obi-Wan was no different. Impressed by Luke's patchwork improvisation, he shifted a foot and struck back, a confusing alteration from his current form, the sudden double-handed strike from above. It had served him well, if only momentarily, to switch things up when he'd dueled Dooku, and no doubt it would prove interesting to see how this strange future master's skills would hole up against the tactic.
"A properly trained Jedi will never make anything but the poorest of soldiers," he asserted, "A soldier is required to obey orders he does not understand, without question, at any cost. A Jedi is expected to listen to orders, but to use his own judgment and disobey if the situation warrants. It is not only tactics that guides us, but the living Force
Reply
"But how often do career military beings or government leaders listen to that?" Luke asked. "Jedi aren't an army, no matter where our allegiances lie--with the government or with ourselves, and yet we keep being asked to be such."
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Still active, the blue blade inscribed a bright arc, scored a line of charred black in the rooftop and stuck there, suspending the hilt an an awkward angle in the easily melted tar of the roof. Slowly it drooped, dripping down until the it clattered to the floor, striking some switch there and deactivating the blade. Obi-Wan stepped back to allow his sparring partner to retrieve his weapon, "I'm not distracting you, am I? Anakin hates it when I lecture him during these lessons. I'll admit, that's the main reason I do it."
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The mention of his father, though, made him pause, blue eyes dropping a bit. Meeting Anakin as he was before his fall hadn't been anything like what Luke may have anticipated. Of course, he had little enough reference for it, but he could still imagine it going much better.
"Anakin doesn't like me," he said. "He doesn't seem to like much of anything."
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He knew it wasn't, but it wouldn't help Luke to be told so to his face. Either Anakin would be patient, or Luke would capitulate. Sooner or later, everything would even out. Why was it so difficult between them, "He's quite stubborn that you're hiding something important from him."
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