Tira,

I hope this letter finds you well. I had heard that the coast on Alderaan was inundated with torrential rains over the last few months. Popular opinion has it that most hate it, but knowing you, you are more than likely out splashing around like a child in the puddles.

You lower the letter and look down at your feet. The mud has caked there, creating almost an impervious mask. Your skirt is tied up on both sides in an effort to keep it clean, but the plan did not work.it is as covered with mud as your skin is at that moment. But you find that you don't care. Others from school are ahead of you, at the stream, at the bridge.and although they will not be as covered in dirt as you are, they will accept you as you are.

You look back down at the fine handwriting.

Master Yoda has told me that he feels my trials are close. He says that even with the minor set back two years ago when a certain padawan dallied on Alderaan, I have excelled. I know this means little to you, but it means everything to me, and knowing your kindness of heart, I know you would be happy for me. It means freedom is that much closer, Tira. I will have missions of my own to fulfill.

Freedom, indeed. You snort, tilting your head back. There is never freedom in the life of a Jedi; they are always at the disposal of a galaxy that needs them. You close your eyes momentarily as the sun breaks through the canopy overhead and dusts your face with its warmth. After a second, you continue to read the letter.

I have heard that you are close to your choosing time. I know how important a time that is for you as well, Tira, and I am delighted that you have reached that point. Never thought you would last that long did you? I know the feeling. But I think we both know that there is no other purpose for which we are suited except those that have already been chosen for us. You are a philosopher and a teacher on a molecular level. I am a Jedi and have been before birth; it is all I can do. We will excel at what we have chosen to do, Tira, of this I am completely sure.

When were you ever not sure, Qui-Gon, you think. Although you only knew the boy physically for little more than a week, he has written to you almost constantly for two years. You have returned the favor. In fact, you use your letters to him like you had used your diary previously. He knows your thoughts and fears as you know his and you know that he suffers from an acute affliction with over confidence at times, but what man do you know that doesn't?

How is your family? Your brothers? How is school treating you? I am well.busy, but well. And I know that this letter is much shorter than the others but I must stop here.duties. I will write again soon. Take care of yourself, Tira, and keep writing.your letters make me smile like nothing else.

Qui-Gon

"Tira!"

Startled, you lower the parchment paper and glance over its uneven edge at Kyn. Now seventeen, she is a vision of loveliness, reminding you of a sprite in the forest.a bride of the trees. Her dark hair mingles with the buttercream of her dress as she puts her hands on her hips. "What are you doing, Tira.rolling in mud?"

You sigh and shake your head, laughing. Her feet, you see as you draw nearer, are as muddy as yours. "Reading!" You hold up the letter and smile.

"Another letter from our elusive Padawan Jinn?" She smiles widely and then bends to tie up her skirt as well. As she straightens, the tree above you explodes into sound as a flock of Jublian birds launch out of the tree and flutter. Both of you laugh.it seems that every time you mention Qui-Gon's name, birds get agitated.

"Yes." you say quieter as you near her. "A short one this time."

She shakes her head and opens her mouth to answer, but is cut off by the shout of two of your other classmates. Johne and Petrof burst out of the underbrush and skid to a halt in front of Kyn. "There you are!"

You look sideways at Kyn and grin. Both boys are taken with her and you use every instance you can to never let her forget it. As they near you, you smell the fresh sap from snapped twigs on their clothes. "Yes, here we are," you state, sighing as though put out.

Petrof smiles at your sarcasm and lifts a thumb over his shoulder. His blond hair is thick and does not blow easily in the breeze. It remains like a helmet on his head. His dark eyes are squinted from the sun. "They are preparing for the practice session for the Choosing Time."

Kyn lowers her head and you nod. Both of you will have no time to change your clothes, or to clean; you will have to participate as you are: muddy, caked and smelling like spring. With a shake of your head and a sigh, you climb over the pile of twigs in your path, hearing them snap underfoot. You have to climb back into your 'teacher' persona.

**

You can see where Kyn is simply by looking down at everyone's feet. She has a habit of nervously crossing one foot over another, her toes curling over the top of her other foot. You bend to swipe at the dried dirt on yours and smile at her pair of crossed feet four sets away from yours. Righting, you look over your shoulder and at her. She meets your smile with one of her own.

"Dismissed!"

The collective sigh of the crowd is like a living groan, rising and hanging in the air over head like clouds in the sky.

"You will be required at the gala at the Grand House in two days. Don't forget! Pack your belongings, once you are chosen as an intern, you will not be returning."

A thought hits you suddenly, and you cease your movements. You can feel others brush against your arm and shoulder as they move about; you hear their murmurs and their low conversations, but it only serves as a buzz in your ears. You will not be returning to the school after this week.your time here is done. Finished.

You sigh and glance at the ivy covered side of the main building. It has been more your home than your own house. The floorboards have heard your feet more than the beaten wood on the porch at home; the pillows here have held more tears and muffled more giggles than the one on your bed at home. Where your family home is your house; this school has proven that HOME is where you make it.

"I know, Tira." Kyn lays her hand across your shoulder and looks at the school with you, her eyes glancing over the solid bricks and crumbling steps with the same look of longing that is in yours. You nod and smile sadly.

"Adulthood."

"Is overrated," she answers, putting pressure on your shoulder to lead you away.

Your feet fall in tandem and you both lean into each other as you try and walk towards the steps of the school among the throng of your classmates. A whirling of leaves and the crunch of a personal transport setting down to your left makes the two of you stop.

"Tira!!!"

"Oh Gods." You mutter, swinging around slowly to face Hag. You know his voice anywhere. Since his naming day earlier that year, and his subsequent ability to pilot a private transport, he has been coming to school often as an excuse to drive.and to pick up women. Sure enough, over the sudden glare of the windguard, you see his wide smile and bright eyes. The leaves that the transport has displaced drifts over to you with the smell of expelled fuel closely behind it. Smiling, you raise your hand to wave, but see the reason for your brother's extreme loudness sitting to the left of him in the transport.

Your hand falls quickly back to your side in shock.

You would know that bronze and cinnamon head of hair anywhere. It is much longer than it was, and falls in the path then it did, but it is the same hair. And the eyes, they are the same as well.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

The Jedi rises, standing and then leaning forward on the windguard with his arms crossed. He wears his tunic still, but now a robe covers it. The brown of the robe matches his hair and just for a second, you wonder if his hair serves as the covering. His mouth, his thin upper lip and the lower, poutier one, turns up in a smile. After a second, he tilts his head.

"Have I rendered you speechless, Tira?" he asks, loudly.

You shake your head, both in shock and in answer to his question. "What, by the Gods, Qui-Gon Jinn.how."

Hag smiles, joining Qui-Gon in leaning on the windscreen. "Yes, Padawan Jinn, you have rendered her silent."

The Jedi turns and nods to your brother and reaches behind the seat to remove a small pack. It fits over his shoulder to lay against his back. The transport tips slightly as he climbs out to step onto the ground. Hag smiles at you, enjoying your shock. Qui-Gon wastes no time walking across the distance.

The crunch of the tattered stones under his feet is loud. As he nears the crunching grows louder and blots out all other sound. Kyn sighs at your side and you try and see what she is seeing. Qui-Gon is indeed taller than he had been two years previously. His shoulders, always broad, now are properly proportioned for his height. The wonderful hair now reaches past his shoulders to lay against his back. His chest seems more powerful, his arms larger, his waist is thicker, but still thin for his build, and his legs.longer. But it is still Qui-Gon. Still the Jedi Padawan who sat on a tree limb with starfruit smeared across his brow. But you can see where Kyn would sigh upon seeing him.

He stops mere feet from you and bends at his waist to look you in the eye. "I knew it, Tira. I knew you would be out in the puddles. Did you even wait for it to stop raining?" His eyebrow lifts and he glances down at your feet.

"And the fun in that?" you ask, waiting until he looks at your eyes again to speak.

The emergence of his smile is like the sudden presence of the sun through the clouds. "None whatsoever. Hello, Tira."

"Hello, Qui-Gon," you shake your head. "What in the name of the Morning Bird are you doing here?"

"It is your Choosing Day in two days, isn't it? I didn't miss it, did I?" He asks, as he slides his pack over his shoulder. His hands fall into the familiar meditation folded pose in front of his chest, but the stance now looks like second nature to him. "I had to fight for the time away from training.and I had hoped." His eyes widen and you are assaulted with their blue depths once again. "You had said that I was welcome at your home or at your school."

"And you are," you state, rubbing your hands against your skirt. For some reason, your palms are moist. "You just startled me."

"I couldn't very well let my friend have one of the most important days of her life without being there," he answers almost gruffly. "Besides, I missed Alderaan. That week here."

With a laugh, you nod. "It was never the same in the orchard after that day, Qui-Gon.I think Alderaan missed you as well."

You are drawn by the want to welcome him as a friend would. The years of writing back and forth have made you close with this boy.this man, but there is a shyness about the both of you. Throwing caution to the wind, you walk forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

His hands fall to his side and then raise to wrap around your torso. The embrace is awkward, but warm. You feel the muscles in his arms tighten and they pull you close. After a minute, you lean back and smile, although you can feel the heat of embarrassment staining your cheeks. "Welcome, Qui-Gon."

"Thank you," he says quietly, and you feel the rumble inside his chest that accompanies his low tones. "I was beginning to worry that I would be sleeping out under the stars."

"You still might." you joke, stepping back from him. "Men are not allowed within the female housings."

"I could." he smiles. You smile in return, recalling with vivid clarity one of his letters depicting his use of the 'old Jedi Mind trick'. He knows what you think of and chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

Silence around you lets you know that all have left, including Kyn. The transport is empty, its engine now quiet. The dust has settled again and the leaves are again lying against the ground as if resting. You don't know when they left and you feel sorry that your attention was redirected toward Qui-Gon to that extent. He nods. "They just left while you were.embracing me."

"Welcoming you properly," you correct him, your cheeks explode with heat and you feel slightly lightheaded. You turn, feeling your skirt slide between your legs, driven there by the breeze. Your feet, still bare, curl into the sand and shells underfoot. "You might be able to stay with a few friends in the male dormitory."

He nods, turning to walk with you toward the school. The sun is setting behind the building. Pink and orange peaks out around the great gray stone structure. A lone frog, humming his mating song merrily, can be heard from the lake just beyond the forest line. Mist has started to settle for the night, lying on the meadow and yard like a blanket. The aroma of grass wet with evening dew rises to your nostrils. The steps are cold as you jog up their surface, slightly slimy in their own stone way. As you reach the top step, you glance at him. "Thank you for coming, Qui-Gon, it does mean a great deal to me."

"I know Choosing Day means as much to you as my eventual Knighting Day does to me."

"You are one of the few outside of school that knows that."

"You don't write to others like you do me. How would anyone else know?"

Turning completely, you squint at him. His eyes are dusk blue and deep in the evening. An aroma of spice, like a heavy musk seems to permeate the air around him. "True."

Qui-Gon nods and turns as he ascends to the last step. "I thought your town was beautiful, Tira.I didn't know that your school was even more."

"It seems enchanted sometimes.the mist.it rolls in here every night. And the sunsets here are spectacular," you offer by way of explanation.

He inhales, nodding. A gentle breeze sweeps across his skin, ruffling his hair. After a moment of staring at him, you say: "You are tired.come on, let me find you a place to stay."

You turn and walk to the door. It swings open; its great painted panes extending like an embrace. There is a space of several breaths before you feel.sense Qui-Gon turning and following you.

**

Kyn ambles into your dormitory room later that night to find you seated on the window sill. You had to fight to get the window up, but now you sit with your legs stretching the length of the peeling wood. Outside, the moon is bright, almost like the noon sun. The moon, unlike the sun, however, paints the landscape below in a mixture of ice and silver and gray and.crystal. You love watching the mist at night. A cool breeze sweeps across your body and you press your head back into the sill to keep from shivering. Gods know that you don't want to be forced to shut the pane against the chill.

"Here."

Kyn hands you a warm earthen mug. You can smell the herbal mixture before you even bring it close enough to your nose to sniff. She leans against the other side of the window and looks out at the ground below.

"Do you remember when we had that ball game on the field?"

"Which one?"

"The last one," she answers, smiling at you for a minute.

"I remember being so covered in grass, leaves and mud that you couldn't see where our bodies began and where the earth ended," you answer. "And I remember Professor Johnson being the same way."

She laughs and nods, tipping back the cup to drink at the contents. You sip your concoction as well. "You couldn't sleep either?"

With a firm shake of her head, she answers you. "No.for half the night, I laid awake wondering how I am going to pack all of my belongings, and the other half."

"The other half," you sigh, leaning your head back against the pane. "You wonder if you will ever be allowed to act the way you do now again. We are going to miss this place not because of the rotting steps and the crumbling stones, or the ivy, or the mist..we are going to miss this place because here.we have learned to be who were are, and have been allowed to be who we are. When we leave.we will be teachers, instructors.and have to act accordingly."

"You mean.we'll have to stay clean and act our age." Kyn laughs and lowers her mug to nod. "Is this what you want to do?"

"Yes." It is the only answer that you have to give. You do want this; you want to be an advisor.

She leans her head against the pane of the window as well, wrapping her robe tighter around her frame. "Then I guess we have to realize that the only thing that is going to be constant in our lives is change."

Agreeing, you curl your legs around so that you can rub at their cool surface. Your hands feel like infernos as they fly over your skin, raising flesh as they run over your calves. A breeze comes in and ruffles your hair, like a fond aunt would, and you have to lift a hand to tame it. Kyn remains quiet for some time, but then turns to you with a gleam in her eye.

"I think you can't sleep for another reason.a certain young man that has arrived."

"Kyn."

She moves your knees aside and sinks to the sill across from you. Her hand falls to the outside edge of the window and she balances her weight on it. "You have been writing to him for two years, and suddenly, he just appears again."

"He is a Jedi, Kyn. They have a habit of doing that; their lives will allow nothing else." "But I think it speaks of how much he values your friendship that he made that effort to be here for Choosing Day." Kyn nods, leaning her head back against the sill as well.

"He told me when he was here on Alderaan before that it is hard making friends as a Jedi and even harder holding on to them.he values any friendships that he makes." You answer, but smile nonetheless. "But I WAS surprised to see him, and I AM glad that he is here. It just seems right that he is here."

She agrees. Another stiff breeze floats in through the window, bringing dew laden tendrils of mist with it. Both of you shiver but neither moves. The fog swirls below and you wonder if this is what birds see when they soar above the earth. There is slight movement next to you as Kyn rises, pushing off the sill.

"I'm going back to bed. We have to pack tomorrow, Tira.don't stay up all night."

You sigh and let your eyes caress the silver tipped trees nearby. She turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her gently.

So many emotions are swirling through you: sadness at leaving, agitation at growing up and surprise and happiness of seeing your old friend once again.that it is hard to even consider sleeping. Still, with a heave, you rise and lean into the pane of the window trying to close its wide opening with your weight. It creaks closed slowly and you turn to your bed, just behind you. Its sheets and blankets are cool from the kiss of the night, but once you climb inside, you are enveloped in a cocoon of warmth. As you turn to face the window, and try and close your eyes, you see your mug sitting there, lonely, on the sill. It is the last thing that you remember before drifting into slumber.

**

The knock on your door the next day startles you. No one knocks on this floor. "Come."

The door swings inward to reveal the tall frame of your friend. His shoulders are broad enough that they fill the doorway. For a bare second, however, you do not know it is him. He does not wear the Jedi tunic or robe today. He wears a simple pair of brown pants and a white shirt. His black boots that you have never seen off of his feet are gone, replaced by a pair of lace up brown boots that cover his calves. Shades of browns split by startling white, he appears like a figment of nature's imagination. "Good morning, Tira."

His voice is low and smooth, like melted cocoa and you lower your head. You were staring at him. "Good morning, Qui-Gon."

He passes through the doorframe and glances around. You can hear the material of his pants, their soft almost felt-like surface sliding against the other like a gentle wind caressing a tree. As he nears, you can see that his padawan braid still adorns his head, but his longer hair helps to hide it. He stops about ten paces from you and puts his hands on his hips. "So.what are you about today? Packing?"

You nod, lowering the folded dress that you have been holding in your hands to the trunk at the foot of your bed. Behind you, your closet is almost empty. It makes the room seem.lonely, that empty closet. "I'm almost done, actually."

"And then?"

"You are the guest here, Qui-Gon. You choose our next step," you reach for your emerald dress and feel it crumple into your hands off the hanger. After a moment, it is folded and placed on top of the other clothes in the warm, aroma rich cedar trunk. When you finish filling this trunk, you will seal it and once you have received your intern position, it will be sent to you.

"You will travel with your friends to the Grand House?" He asks, leaning against the wall. His arms cross over his chest easily. You can feel the thump as his shoulder collides with the structure and you feel sympathy for the wall.

"Just Kyn. Neither of our families are able to abandon the harvest time to be at our Choosing Day."

He nods, "I know. It was one of the reasons that I went to your home, to see if they would or could attend. It makes me doubly content that I was able to make it here: knowing that they are unable."

"And it makes me doubly glad to see you here," you answer back smiling. "Thank you."

"You thanked me last night, Tira." His blue eyes laugh although his mouth remains a straight line.

"There is no law that says one can only thank once," you joke back, standing back from the trunk and glancing at it. With a hesitant hand, you push the button to close it and its large wood top sinks slowly to meet the bottom and you hear the vacuum start to seal it.

"Then the both of you are free to do as you will for two days," he states rather than asks. "Have you ever been to the coast, the beach by the Grand House? Or even the capital city itself?"

You glance at him surprised. The Grand House lies only fifteen or so miles from you home town, the capital city is ten miles beyond that. You have traveled to neither; there was no call in your life to do so. Up until this point in your life, the yew thicket around your hometown, the town, the stream, your house and the school defined the boundaries of your world. To travel to the ocean near your town was a once a year occurrence to celebrate the harvest bonfire. You had never been to the ocean on the other side of the Grand House, where it was said that few people ever go, where the trees grow almost to the ocean, where the sand is virgin white. "No on both accounts, Jedi. But I do not see how the beach will be different from the one by my town."

He smiles. "Never assume anything, young teacher. You should know that lesson by now."

You walk to the window and glance down at the field below. The dew has not completely left the grass and it looks as though crystal shards are imbedded in the emerald blades. With a sigh, you reach to draw the curtains, only to feel a pair of arms above your head, pulling the material together. Turning, you see that Qui-Gon stands almost on top of you. "You will not miss this place, Tira. It's part of you now, you are going to take it with you wherever you go."

You want to answer him, but find your lips paralyzed. There is really nothing to say, nothing to add. Nodding almost dumbly, you let him close the curtains. "Do you have anything else that you need to do?" he asks.

"No."

"Then let's collect your friend. We have a capital city to explore. And you and Kyn can reserve your room at the Inn for the choosing day."

**

The bustle of the Capital City is incredible. The fresh air of the beautiful day is stolen by the sheer number of people around you: the heat, the closeness of so many.it almost makes the air stale. Material and leather, sound and feeling press all around you, until they wall you into a living, breathing mass of confusion. The only thing that is certain in your mind.that is solid in the throng of people. is Qui-Gon's hand in yours.

He walks in front of you. Kyn is in front of him, somewhere that you cannot quite see. He wears a black vest now over his white shirt.

Kyn reaches back to tap his chest and he leans forward and then nods as she speaks to him. With a tug, he brings you closer to him. The three of you change direction and cut through the crowd at a different angle. Your slippered feet almost stumble with the sudden switch in momentum. After a minute, Qui-Gon pulls to bring you up against him, almost twirling you around in front of him. You are pressed against his chest and he walks with you between his arms and your feet interspersed with his. At least now, you think, you are protected.

"It shouldn't be that much further," Kyn states, now glancing at the two of you over her shoulder.

"I'll trust your judgment," Qui-Gon rumbles, his athletic body pressing against yours as you are sandwiched between your friends.

"My family was just here last harvesttime," Kyn mutters, shaking her head. "And if I remember correctly, the Grand House inn was just off the main courtyard and two short alleys."

A man moving his wares from his kiosk bumps Qui-Gon from behind, but the Jedi's body barely moves from the onslaught. He swings his head to the side and his hair whips out about his head. His arm falls to protect you as the man turns to grumble at the young Padawan for being in his way. "My apologies," Jinn mutters, in an effort to stem a confrontation. The peddler nods in acceptance and you feel Qui-Gon's arm tense to bring you harder against his frame. "Kyn."

Your friend's head whips around as she spies the building for which she has been looking. "There it is! Over there!"

You mutter 'thank the Gods' as you are pressed through the throng off the side. Ahead of you there is a gentle arch of pink sandstone and old black iron. Plants grace its surface to lend a feeling of green life. In the midst of the arch is a large heartshaped red flower that hangs down eye height for Qui-Gon. He reaches and sweeps it out of the way so that he can enter the quiet of the private courtyard.

A lone wooden door is at the end of the small courtyard and you see, in gentle wonderful script, 'Inn'. Two short, iron benches line the entrance to the door. Kyn lowers herself to the surface of one, her yellow dress sweeping around her. You move away from Qui-Gon to pace the small area.you have been longing for the ability to pace like this. And to pace in an area where the air is permeated with such heavenly smells of home: fresh dough, luxurious flowers and fresh, clean, blessedly free, air, is wonderful. Qui-Gon only stands for a moment before he approaches the door. After two rapid raps on the door, it swings inward to reveal a small, old woman.

You glance around Qui-Gon's bulk to see the woman. Her face is a patchwork of old, worn lines testament to years of hard work; the lines serve as a roadmap leading to a pair of starling green eyes set back in the face. The emerald dress that the woman wears helps to make her eyes appear large and like two set, cut jewels of the finest order. "Yes?"

"I am escorting two students of."

The woman looks around Qui-Gon to stare at you and then to glance at Kyn. "Teachers for the Choosing Day celebration." Her face splits into a wide grin and she reaches for her apron to dry her hands. You can hear the crinkle of starched material as her hands rub together. "You must be tired and harried.what with all the hustle and bustle around here for the celebration. Come in, come in." She steps back and holds her hand out to welcome your small group into the warmth of her abode.

But the warmth is glorious cool in the heat of the midday. And you sigh with contentment as the moist, chilly air bathes your features. You are welcomed into a central cooking area, complete with low stone stove and hanging pots..it reminds you of your mother's kitchen. "Thank you," you bow slightly and smile.

"It is my pleasure to house you, my dear," the woman grins in return. She walks through the room to a hall on the far side of the kitchen. "I am Lanna Turkin.but you can all me Lanna. Which ones are you?"

Kyn is looking around herself at a room that must be familiar to her. You answer as best you can, as your eyes adjust to the dim interior of the room. "I am Tira Kimdral."

"Oh.I understood that you and your friend would be traveling alone." Lanna glances at Qui-Gon with a slight squint. "I didn't know."

Qui-Gon steps forward with a bowed head and folded arms. Although he is not dressed as a Jedi Knight, you are sure that everyone can tell that he is of that order, simply by his stance. "I was not expected, Ms. Turkin."

"He is a friend that arrived unexpectedly, but with welcome, at the last minute," you supply to Lanna, who is studying Qui-Gon intently. "He offered to escort us here and remain for the celebration."

Lanna nods, her gray hair swaying with the movement. You can see her thoughts by the way that her hands slowly lower and rub together with the white of her apron pressed between them.

Qui-Gon sighs quietly and nods suddenly. "I can venture out and find housing...so long as the ladies are."

Lanna seems to start at that comment. "It would be impossible, young man, for you to find housing anywhere at a time like this. It is almost as bad as harvest time out there right now. No, no.you will have to stay here."

Qui-Gon glances at you and Kyn, as if he knows the direction of the conversation. Lanna drops her apron and shakes her head. "Their parents will have my head, but I have no other rooms than the ones already allotted to the two girls." With a sigh, she turns. "You will have to stay in the suite of rooms with them, Mr.."

"Jinn. Qui-Gon Jinn. And I am their trusted escort."

"I understand that, Jinn.but I do not condone relations under my roof.." Lanna raises a hand to shake a finger at him. Qui-Gon leans back on his heels, like a great tree listing after being cut. You stifle a giggle at the comical look on his face. "You will stay in the suite of rooms with them, but you will behave.or I will have my husband remove you. It is two rooms with a bathroom and a small courtyard.."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Lanna." you speak, smiling widely.

"And I'm sure it will be fine if he stays out of your room." Lanna returns before she lowers her head to cluck her tongue. "Come along.let me show you where you will be staying. Dinner will be served right after.."

Kyn walks wearily after Lanna as the woman disappears down the hallway. You follow behind after swallowing your giggles. Qui-Gon steps behind you, his hand falling to press you ahead of him. "Be quiet, Tira."

"The look on your face, Qui-Gon.it was as if her hand was a laser gun.."

"She is concerned for your virtue," he answers, struggling and maintaining a stern visage at the last minute. "I understand that after all, I am eighteen and you are."

"Younger than you, but not a child any longer..I know." You answer nodding as you sweep down the corridor. It is so close that you can feel the moisture as it permeates off of the stone and your dress touches the wall.

His bootfalls do not immediately follow yours down the hall.it is as if he hesitates before following you. You can hear him sigh gently, as if he had a passing thought and it flew past his mind at a rate that even he could not catch. But you spend little time dwelling on the situation as you hear Lanna far ahead pointing out the room amenities to Kyn. You jog up the steps after your friend.

**

The night brings little relief from the crowds. There is a small balcony in your room that faces out onto the main courtyard of the city and you lean forward over the curving iron bar to watch people below mill and collide. They look like sands in an hourglass fighting to pass through the opening only to be captured in the next compartment. But up where you are, the stars are clear, the moon is bright and the air contains just the hint of moonflower and citrus.

Kyn joins you at the railing. Her small hands wrap around the metal bar. "It looks almost.insane down there.are you sure that we want to go out tonight?"

Turning you shake your head. "I want to.Kyn, you don't have to go with me."

The door to the other room opens after a quick knock and Qui-Gon enters, wearing his brown cloak about his shoulders. Underneath, he still wears the white shirt and brown pants. He still seems strange not being clad in his tunic, but you are growing accustomed to seeing him in these new clothes. The door is shut gently and he approaches both you with a smile. "Are you ready?"

"Where are we going?" you ask, turning completely from the railing to address the Jedi.

"I could keep it a surprise," he comments, leaning over to retrieve Kyn's cloak. Your friend turns and allows Qui-Gon to drape the material about her shoulders. "But somehow I think the two of you could get the information from even a Jedi if you set your minds to it." He smiles at Kyn and walks across the space to stand in front of you. "Where is your cloak, Tira?"

You shake your head, but it is Kyn that answers: "She lost it two months ago."

"Lost an entire cloak?" Qui-Gon seems surprised. "That does take talent. Very well.." He reaches to remove his own cloak, but you stop him. Pointing over the railing to the throngs below, you smile.

"With crowds such as those, Qui-Gon, I will be quite warm.thank you anyway." You wait until he lowers his hands from the hems of his cloak to continue. "Where are we going?"

"Tenacious. We are going to the main park by the Grand House.there is a citrus orchard there and fireworks tonight. I thought the two of you would."

"Fireworks." Kyn has always been enraptured with fireworks. You love the explosions of colored crystal in the air that seem to hang forever and drift slowly to the ground. It makes you think of small fairies spreading their beloved dust to the crowds. She whirls and walks to the door. You follow along behind her, shaking your head.

"I take that as a sign that the two of you want to leave immediately." Qui-Gon states seriously. He walks up behind you and holds the door open to the corridor. As the three of you march down the small hallway past your private courtyard and into the main hold of the house, Qui-Gon reaches out to slow you. "Tira?"

"Yes?" You slow, keeping one eye trained on Kyn and the other on Qui-Gon.

"If you get cold.tell me."

You squint at him, tilting your head. It is at that time that you realize what is different about him that has been bothering you all day: his eyes are serious. Two years previous, his eyes had been just twin sapphires twinkling in his face like two perfect mirrors of his soul. Now, his eyes are still blue, but paler, more like the sky just after sunrise, and oh so serious. But the humor, the laughter that used to flare in them.is gone. The thought makes you sad, and you set your mouth in a frown. "I will. But I will be fine, Qui-Gon."

His half-smile lets you know that he does not believe you. The warm pressure at your back alerts you to him pressing you to walk ahead of him. For a moment, you realize that the center of warmth caused by his hand is like the feeling of lying in a sole patch of sun with the rest of your body in the shade. But the thought passes and you hurry to catch Kyn up as she waits at the door.

**

It is a miracle, you decide as you reach a small hill next to the citrus orchard, that the three of you survived the onslaught of the crowd to make it this far. For the better part of an hour, your small crowd of friends has pressed through the throng. The startling change from the fresh air of the balcony to the stale air of close bodies, and rumpled clothes makes you feel tired. But once you had passed into the surrounding country, out of the buildings and into wide open spaces, the people had fallen away from each other as if repelled.

Qui-Gon walks forward, his head tilted back to gaze at the skies as if hunting, sensing. After a few minutes, he grabs both your hands and Kyn's and jogs up a low hill. At the pinnacle, you see several other people seated, but plenty of room remaining. The Jedi moves to the far side of the hill and gestures to the ground. "Here should do quite nicely."

"Are you anticipating the angle and wind direction?" you ask. "Trajectory?"

He frowns at you and shakes his head. "Yes, but not for the reasons you think. We will get a wonderful view here."

With a shrug, you let Kyn settle her cloak and sit before finding a place for yourself. As you fold your legs and collapse to the ground, Qui-Gon reaches out his hand. You are restrained until he sits, spreading his cloak out on the ground below him. He spreads his legs wide and pats the material on the ground between them. You are released, but you continue to stand, staring at him. "Was that completely necessary?"

"Yes. You would have sat on the ground as you are . And you would have gotten dirty and I would have an icicle to escort home." He smiles innocently, but the gleam in his smile does not ignite his eyes. Kyn laughs as she sits next to him. "He has a point, Tira."

Almost chastised, you approach him and sit in the offered space. He bends his legs so that you are surrounded by material and body. His arms fall to his legs and he leans forward to comment near your ear. "Never try to argue with a Jedi."

"They don't win by logic.do they," you answer, testily, quite upset by the turn of events. "Only by force.I will have to remember that lesson."

"There was no logic in you sitting on the bare ground, Tira," he says, leaning forward further.

"It would be less embarrassing than sitting like this," you answer. You are embarrassed by his actions. More by the actual physical closeness, which surprises you, than by the almost heavy-handed way that he went about making the offer. "That was my logic."

"But this is infinitely warmer." His voice is all you hear in your right ear as he speaks directly into it. His breath is warm, like a solar wind, on your skin. "A logical progression from you sitting on the ground could have been that you would have gotten dirty and a potential employer would have seen you and overlooked you. You could have caught a cold and been relegated to bed over the next two days and miss the ceremony all together."

"Point taken." you answer, turning slightly to look at him. He glances at you out of the side of his eyes, keeping his face in silhouette against the moonlight. Physically, you are affected, and it is not a feeling that you have had before and therefore you are unable to classify it. Your heart has quickened, your hands are cold and you feel slightly lightheaded. All you can feel against your back now, through the material of your woolen dress is his warmth. Your head comes to his shoulder and with his arms extended on both sides of you, it feels like a cocoon. His chest supports you and his legs protect you.even his cloak below you is warm. "But my sitting like this could also have repercussions.of a similar caliber.with employers."

"And I would explain the situation."

Kyn leans into Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Would you two please tie up this argument before the fireworks begin?"

You smile at your friend and Qui-Gon answers, "What argument?"

You agree with him with a sigh. "This is how our letters are written most of the time, Kyn. It is only a difference in opinion."

"And two minds that are too stubborn to let any situation lie," he finishes, laughing.

Kyn groans and shakes her head. "The Gods save me from this for the rest of the celebration."

Any further argument is cut off as above you the heavens explode in brilliant fireworks. True to your memory, they are indeed clouds of crystal, sparkling brighter than the moon in the night. Tendrils of green and red and blue and yellow, white and purple infiltrate the night, extending like a great hand down from the sky to the earth. If the heavens rained fire, it would be like this, you think. Smoke from fireworks floats over the other side of the hill and you understand why Qui-Gon chose this place. It is truly the perfect seat.

Another explosion occurs and the colors mingle like a paint palette left in the rain. "Oh my," you whisper. The stars twinkling above only make you wonder if they too are part of the crystal shower.

After several minutes, Qui-Gon lowers his hands to loop in front of your torso. His arms tighten and draw you up against him completely, letting your head rest against his shoulder. "Lean back a little, Tira, you will get a better view."

"And what about you," you whisper, continuing to look aloft, "it will affect your view."

"I see all I want to see," he answers earnestly. After a minute, and another explosion of color, you glance sideways at him to see his gaze centered on you. Your world suddenly shrinks to you and him and with a sigh you lean your head back on his shoulder. Spice surrounds the air around him, joining with citrus to make the air sing.

"It is beautiful," you comment.

"Quite," he agrees. After a moment, his cheek lays against the side of your temple. "Are you warm enough?"

You nod, continuing to stare overhead. The fireworks are truly wonderful from here. The acrid smell of smoke wafts over to you and you take a deep inhale.somehow, the aroma is as necessary as breathing to this experience. "Thank you for bringing us here."

"You are most welcome, Tira." His voice is lower, deeper than it was. "You told me once that you always wanted to see fireworks again. I had to make the effort."

Your hands fall to hold his for a moment. He has made a sweet gesture. The two of you lapse into silence as the world continues to expand, explode, and shower above your heads.

**

You groan as you roll over in the bed. The sheets roll over your skin like a waves and you realize that you slept with the window open. Cool, ocean kissed air washes over you as you sit up and push down the cotton. It is almost too cold, the air this morning. With a sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and approach the low balcony. The doors leading to it stand open, almost as the gates to paradise. The wood floorboards are cold against your feet almost as if you are walking on ice.

But the sunlight, the apparent warmth that lies on the other side of the doors attracts you like a magnet.

The cool of the air seems alive as you inhale and it ignites your lungs from the inside. The world seems still to you, after the total mileu of the last evening. The crowds and the noise that accompanied them have died, gone still, and all you hear are the birds as they wake in their nests. The rest of the world is still.quiet.at peace. All except for a lone body that dances on the patio, sandstone floor below.

The legs of the body are long and are encased in brown, tight leggings. They are the only concession to clothing that appears on the man. His chest is bare and you can see the tawny, athletic muscles that grace his form. His hair is loose and you see that it is truly long, past his shoulders and lying against his back. A patch of similar colored hair on his chest matches its shiny chestnut strands. The patch narrows to a trail of hair that extends down over his abdomen. Although his pants are loose, they still hide what is not considered chaste to view.

It is Qui-Gon. You lean forward until your arms lay prone against the cold iron railing. Words from one of his many letters return to your mind with vivid, startling clarity:

I love the mornings here on Coruscant. The air never seems cleaner, crisper.the sky more blue.and the silence. Silence is like the balm for my soul, Tira. When it seems that nothing around me ever.stops..the silence in the mornings is welcomed. But have you ever noticed that morning silence is never just.quiet absence of sound?

You watch as he swings the hilt of his saber around so that it is held in front of his face. You can see that his feet are bare.although you are quite sure that they must be cold. His body seems perfect in itself, practiced and honed. He is wonderful.all power.all drive.all male. The thought makes your hands tighten on the bar in front of you. Your friend is so very male.

The wind has a sound about it that says.mornings. The birds literally hum in their nests.just waiting until the sun peeks over the horizon. Grass and leaves flutter and ruffle. No, I know you have heard.felt.this too, Tira. Morning silence is nothing but a symphony of sound.so finely tuned that it sings. But it is that total synchronicity that makes the sound seem like silence.it is so attuned to your soul that it is non-existent. Yes, oh yes, Tira.I love mornings.

In the years that you have written to each other, you spent your time knowing his mind.his personality. But seeing him this morning, you can only see the poetry in motion.the pure man that he is.that he has become. The absolute physical, corporeal body that he has, that he IS.

You hear the slap of his feet against the sandstone tiles below, you almost feel the jar of his bones as they land. You see his legs moving, a blur and then he stops. Holding a pose that is nearly impossible to envision, let alone execute. But he stands as a statue in it, nonetheless.

And then.

Then he is looking up, and directly at you. Slowly he raises the hilt of his lightsaber and performs a salutes you. Startled, you push back from the rail and walk backward into the dim interior of the house. The man is beautiful, almost as beautiful as the mind that you have come to know, but his knowledge of you seeing him throws you off balance. You feel as though you are a voyeur.

You have to dress. You have to find your shoes and find your way to the Grand House. You have to forget that when he had stretched his arms overhead, you felt your hands begin to sweat. You have to forget that when the muscles in his chest bulged, looking like aged gold in the early sun, you had felt a clenching in your gut.

**

You laugh and then laugh harder as you feel his chest shake and rumble with his own laugh. "Consider that a promise kept, Jinn."

After storms, Tira.have you ever noticed the air after a storm? In the Living Force I can feel the renewal of life, the cry of midicholorians at the new energy that they feel. But the male part of me, above and beyond the Jedi I am, feels the ozone, the way that the atoms excite and collide. It makes me feel alive, glad, warm.do you feel it also? It is almost as if your body, your lungs, your very soul is energized.

You touch at the twist that you have tied your hair in and allow your hands to fall slowly back down to your side. Your image in the mirror is unknown to you. There stands a young woman: brown hair in a twist, her eyes wide, her body small and lithe in the emerald green gown that adorns it. It is someone else that stares back at you.

You can hear Kyn talking loudly with Qui-Gon in the hallway. Both of them wait for you, and you are sure that Kyn is telling Qui-Gon that he was remiss in allowing you to remain out in the storm. No amount of your explaining to her that you wished to remain in the storm has removed him from blame in her eyes. They wait on you.but as much as you look forward to going to the gala this evening, you wish to remain just here, just as you are.

Thinking on the paragraph of his letter to you from months ago, you nod minutely. You do feel more alive for having been out in the storm. It is almost as if you have been blessed by nature.kissed by the Gods, you feel so alive you could cry.

Turning, you scoop up your scarf for your shoulders and drape it over yourself. It is time to go.

The heavy door of your room swings inward, allowing you entry into the dim world beyond it. Outside, Qui-Gon stands, his arms folded over his broad chest. Kyn stands next to him, dressed prettily in her red ruby dress. Smiling, you think, the both of you are a study in gems this evening. And Qui-Gon.

He is dressed in his formal Jedi tunic.black over white. Although you are sad to see the demise of his non-Jedi clothes, you are warmed to see him in the tunic. Its presence is as reassuring as air to breathe and just as necessary to him as his being a Jedi. The black stretched over white is a contrast and as such emphasizes the broad body contained within. He, too, looks alive.made new by the cleansing of the rain.less stressed. And the ease of his smile as it graces his face only reinforces that thought.

"I'm ready."

Qui-Gon turns to face you, opening his mouth to issue a comment that you are sure will be at the very least, sarcastic, only to stop and close his mouth. His eyes center on your hair and then fall, like the rain in which you have stood this afternoon, tracing your body very like water would. Easy, calm and infinitely slow, as if his eyes have to memorize every inch of you. And the glance makes you want to twist and shake. It is different somehow. Even the cool evening air, heavy with storm, cannot make you feel less heated. Again, your hands become clammy, and your heart stutters in your chest. It is strange. So very strange.

Kyn smiles, apparently seeing something in Qui-Gon's face that she expected. "I can see that.and we are late, as usual. Let's go."

Pulling the wrap tighter about your shoulders, you nod. "Fashionably late."

"Just plain late." Kyn adds, shaking her head. "Are you ready, Padawan Jinn?"

"Perfectly," he answers, avoiding her eyes. He unfolds his arms and holds out his hand to you.

**

"The storms have changed the world," you breathe as Qui-Gon twirls you by the open door of the patio.

"Do you mean as in the cleansing of its sins?" he asks, smiling. The reel to which you are dancing is fast and your head spins almost as quickly as your body. Both of his hands are on your waist, holding, steadying you, as both of yours are on his shoulders. Your back passes in front of the yawning view of the outside and just as quickly, you are twirled so that you see it again.

"That would be impossible.there is not enough water in the world," you answer, jesting. Your eyes catch the glint of a shiny branch of leaves in the moonlight before you are spun away again. Your feet skip in time with his. "No, it just seems born anew."

"As it is after every rain," he comments, tightening his grip on your hips. "But I do know what you speak of, Tira.and I agree."

He releases your hips and you dance, twirling away, around him. As you come to his front again, you are faced with his eyes.they are light. Clear. And. His hands land on your hips and twirl again. As the world whirls, you center on his eyes. They are smiling.

The music ends in a loud crescendo, and you gasp and laugh. He stops spinning and you notice that the couples around you seem lost, unsteady.but your partner's uncanny sense of balance keeps you upright and secure.

He nods and motions with his hand to the open door you had danced past. Avoiding the bodies of others as they leave the floor, you and he press into the night beyond the door. Where the air inside was warm with laughter and physical movement, the breeze that touches you is cool. He grabs your hand and leads you to the railing. Below you a formal garden stretches as far as you can see.the perfectly kept hedges, trees and flowerbeds are beautiful, but seem unreal. Nature is not something to be constructed.

Qui-Gon releases your hand as you lean into the stone railing. He leans as well, facing out into the night. Silence is strong as the two of you simply enjoy.BE. "Your eyes." you state, breaking the silence, "they smile tonight, Qui-Gon."

"I'm young tonight."

Citrus touches your senses and you inhale. "You should never be old."

"Life as a Jedi does not lend itself to being young, Tira. In fact, acting young can get you killed."

"There is a time for everything and for everything a time," you quote, leaning into the firm stone. It is gritty, wet and their pressure dimples your palms. "If it affects you so.this life you have chosen."

"The life I have chosen is the only one available to me. I am meant to be where I am and who I am and that presence of destiny, that existence of purpose, is heavenly. I know who I am. I am glad for what I have chosen to do. There is nothing else.I. Am. A. Jedi." he answers, letting the cool breeze bathe his features. It caresses him, almost as if it can't be apart from him.

"Even if it takes happiness from you?"

He turns and glances at you before turning his head, his eyes back out at the garden. "It doesn't take happiness from me. It is hard to explain."

"It does something to you. Even your letters have grown increasingly.melancholy, Qui-Gon. I know you have matured, but often maturity does not mean a loss of reasons to smile," you answer, turning your back to lean against the railing.

"I am strong in the Living Force, Tira. There are two facets to the Force.the Living and the Uniting. Most Jedi are equally blessed with both, or more in the uniting than in the living. The Living Force however, almost wholly influences me. I can feel life. I can see it, touch it with the Force. And I can sense feelings more than others. It leaves me open.leaves me available for onslaught from others through emotions, and my emotions award me more drive than other Jedi. It is basal. I have to control them, control what I feel and sense, or lose myself in the backwash. The older I get, the more important it becomes. Meditation, meditation and."

"Let me guess.more meditation." you supply, tilting your head back to look at the stars.

"So you see, I am still happy. I just have to be calm. There is no other way to explain it. Own and release to the Force. It is the only way that I am able to remain myself. So there is not the absence of emotion, rather the total acceptance of it."

You nod. "But it would still behoove you to smile, Jedi."

"I'm sure it would, but I find few things to smile about, Tira." Qui-Gon answers, glancing at you out of the side of his eyes. "That is until I get one of those letters from you."

"About those letters," you begin, folding your arms over your chest. The air is heavenly but cool. "Can you explain why we are writing and not comlinking?"

"Because writing is like exercise for my mind. I have to feel what I write. And your handwriting is a pleasure to look at as well as read. Comlinking is more technology based and less personal, private in my opinion." He looks at you fully and swings his body around so his buttocks are against the railing as well. In this position, you both face the house and the moon that has risen behind it.

"Agreed," you answer.

Silence.

"You don't ask me about traveling?"

"What person would not want to?" you answer question for question. "There is nothing to ask. I would ask you of home."

"This.Alderaan.is the closest I have ever felt to a home, Tira. The Temple is my base, my center.but here.it embodies home.warmth and acceptance." He answers, crossing his arms over his chest as well. "But you know that."

"Yes." you answers again. And again, silence enters into the conversation like a third party, forcing the both of you to listen to it. A lone leaf dances across the patio, passing you and flying off into the grass beyond the edge. You watch it go and it reminds you of something else. "You leave tomorrow."

"At first light." His voice is deep in the night. From inside you hear the mill of people as they approach the shiny dance floor visible through the open patio doors. "I wish I could stay just a day longer, but my Master needs me. We have a negotiation mission."

"And so you go," you answer, unfolding your arms to press your palms flat against the railing. Extending your hand to him, you smile. "Dance with me again?"

"As if you have to ask," he smiles and accepts your hand. As you turn to lead him back to the doors, he stops you and pulls you back. His arms surround you easily, warmly. They loop about your waist, glancing about your hips. Soft swishes from the material of your dress fill the air as you raise your hands to loop around his torso. The embrace is very different from the one you gave him when he arrived. This one is second nature, as if its existence was predestined. You find your cheek pressed against the solidity of his chest and the sounds of nature fall away as the steady beat of his heart fills your ears.

"Thank you for coming," you say, quietly, your lips brushing the edge of his tunic. "Somehow it seems natural for you to be here."

"You are welcome," he answers, tightening his arms. "It feels natural to be here now. I'm glad I was here to see you receive your internship. You will have to return the favor and see my knighting."

You nod. The breeze gathers your hair and throws a few strands up into the night. He sighs and lowers the side of his cheek to the top of your head. After a few minutes, he releases you and you step back. His face is painted in hues of gray and black, but it still is beautiful. Your hand presses into the space between his outer tunic hems and against his heart. You smile, almost sadly and lower your hand to grasp his. And turning, you lead him back into the now seemingly harsh light of the ballroom.

**

I have found it, Qui-Gon.the perfect house. I am unable, by law, to own it before my eighteenth birthday, but nevertheless, I have found it. It is near that beach we stood on to face the storm. Its back faces the dunes, and the dearest porch covers its front door and itself faces a citrus orchard. It needs work.but it is perfect.

Now that I have gotten that out of my system.life is well. The internship is involved, but rewarding. I enjoy it immensely. I thought that only you could argue so convincingly, but the people that I interact with are as equally blessed with a sharp tongue and mind to match as you are. I can be of use in this position; I can make a difference. And I do profoundly feel that my destiny is here. My purpose is to help teach peace to those that use it. The only regret that I feel is that Kyn is so far away, several cities away in fact, and you are on another planet.

I have heard of your exploits. It is amazing what one can find out at the Grand House when engaged in small talk. Your master, Yoda, is a favorite of the current Baron and you are mentioned often along side his name. I am proud to hear of how much you have accomplished. I hear that you are considered quite the rebel. If they only knew. More storms as of late.and more rain to bless the world..

You put down your pen and glance out your window. The sun is shining for the first time in almost a week. The summer rains are here and it traps you indoors. Not by your choice, however.

Qui-Gon has been gone for two months. It surprised you-the sadness that you felt at his leaving. He had hugged you as you stood on the stoop of the inn, his bag laying at your feet. The embrace was so strong, that your feet left the ground and your knees had bent. Your arms had been around his neck feeling the defined muscles there. He had pressed his face into the soft skin at the side of your neck and let his arms hold you with the power that he often keeps hidden. He had put you down silently, gently with little jarring to your body. And then, after saying a sweet goodbye with promises of letters, he turned. His bag was gathered and he stepped down into the main square. Within seconds, he was across the open, then empty space. Before he had disappeared completely, he had turned and smiled, holding out his hand in the traditional goodbye of your people. You returned the gesture.

But it was when he had turned and moved off between the buildings that you felt the touch of tears on your cheek, pricking at the sides of your eyes. He was truly a friend now, then, and his leaving was felt at the very core of your soul.

As his absence still touches you now.

You pick up his last letter to you and sit back against the wood of the chair.

I am pretty sure that I have found paradise, Tira. Aside from that day on that beach, that is. Yes, even in the downpour, the time, the place was perfect. No.this time.paradise is a small spring on Yavin 4. It is surrounded by plants and is blessed.yes, blessed.with a small waterfall. The sound there reminds me of you. Don't ask me why falling water reminds me of you, it just does. And so, I brought my pen and paper here to write you.

Before I tell of recent events.that is what I can tell you of recent events, I have to tell you, Tira.I miss you. I guess there is nothing else to say beyond that. I miss you. I miss carrying your shoes up the beach when you had forgotten that you even owned a pair. I miss hearing you tell me to laugh, to smile. And I miss the way that you just stood there, that day, on the beach, and watched the storm approach us.

So you see, where you think happiness has left my life, sentimentality as entered. Make a friend as a Jedi and miss them forever. Stop smiling, Tira. You know what I mean.

Yes, this place is perfect to write to you. I just laid down my paper and pen to listen to the waterfall for a few minutes. Have you ever wondered: is water the music for the soul? And if it is.who in the names of the Gods wrote the symphony? Do the beads of the falling water fall in a predestined time and place to make that heavenly sound? Or is it the complete randomness of chance of their striking the ground, the rock, the surface of the pond.that creates the chorus? Is this how a universe so ordered by structure exerts its talent?

Find a waterfall, Tira and sit. Tell me what you think. Tell me what crosses your soul when you hear the sound. Tell me what you hear. Tell me that I am crazy to hear your laughter imbedded in the sound of the falling water.

You lay the letter back down and glance out the window. You did find a waterfall, a small one, created only by a trickling creek here near the Grand House. And you had sat. And listened. And found that you could not write him and tell him he was crazy. No, you heard the call of nature in the water, the balm of its constant sweet melody warming your soul. Picking up your pen, you find your letter and interrupt the last train of thought.

I found a waterfall. Just a sprite of one, right here by the grounds. It was so small that I almost overlooked it, Qui-Gon. But it served its purpose. I sat, in a clump of clover, and listened to the fall of the water. It is a symphony, a chorus. It mingles, teases your soul until it eases all of your pain, your aches, you thoughts.until there is nothing. How and why.I can't say. I just know that it does, that it is. That it is a gift to us to hear nature flexing its talent.

And no, you are not crazy for what you hear, but I did not hear what you did. I heard the water fairies playing their harps. However, in the sparkle of the drops as they splash and fly, I saw your eyes. I saw the twinkle in them that was there on the balcony in the moonlight. I saw you, my friend. I saw pure nature, pristine in the day as it glistened over the rocks. I will be returning there when the rains end. Because, my dear dear friend.

I miss you too.

You lay the pen down and stand, putting your hands down on the desk. You can see the blue sky peeking out of the clouds. With a smile, you pack up the pen, the paper, the ink and turn. As an afterthought, and only as a concession to propriety, you grab a blanket. Maybe you can sit at the waterfall and finish your letter.

And feel infinitely closer to the man that is your friend.