Size Matters Not
The Gatekeeper's face bore deep lines of age, marks of wisdom, though the amount of lines showed that he had not come by that wisdom easily. He wore white hair clipped short. A simple brown robe obscured the rest of his figure, including his hands, which were folded inside his sleeves. The Gatekeeper, a sliver of a long dead Jedi's consciousness, looked down upon the young padawan who sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the holocron.
"You wish to learn," the Gatekeeper uttered solemnly. His voice the warm, knowing tone of a grandfather who said very little but knew far too much.
The padawan nodded. He bore stern features for one not yet past his twentieth year.
"First you must remember."
"Remember?"
"The one who you lost."
"I-"
"Child," the Gatekeeper chided gently, "You know. Speak. Tell me."
The padawan licked cracked lips and swallowed to clear his suddenly tight throat. "I... that Ryan Korr was different. Back then I ran around dreaming of fighting in great battles and getting a statue erected in my honor. Foolish thoughts now. She helped ground me. Her name was Eri. I thought I knew everything. I remember trying to impress her by outflying her. She returned the favor by beating me senseless in the sparring room. We were only fifteen, still in a Padawan class and waiting for masters to claim us. They told us in our training that emotional bonds were dangerous. That we should give up all attachments for the Force so that we would not be blinded by passion. But Eri and I knew better. Relationships make people stronger. We told ourselves that we could take on the galaxy. Just us, we didn't need anyone else. We were happy. I don't remember what made us think that we were so wise."
Bitterness dropped from Ryan's words like the patter of heavy rain.
"She fell in love and I wouldn't have no for an answer. She gave everything to a silly boy who didn't know what to do with her love, much less a child. How were we supposed to know better? We were just kids!" Ryan looked away from the gatekeeper, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. "How could we know?... She ended it."
The memory flashed in Ryan's head. Confusion drew his thoughts in, waves retreating from shore before the typhoon of grief struck. He remembered retreating from everyone, denying responsibility. How could he be held responsible? She was the one who'd fallen in love! He told himself he would forget her, but every moment he could feel what it was like to lay beside her. He missed the brush of her hair against his face, the taste of her lips.
Jedi did not feel the way he felt, nor think what he thought, or miss what he missed, but he refused to believe that they would be held accountable for those sins. They were just fifteen.
A lump prevented him from swallowing. Hot tears stood in his eyes, though his face remained immovable. Could stones cry? Ryan did. Surely theirs was enough to make even the hardest of rocks weep.
"She died a month later, saving me from the Sith."
"You wish to learn," the Gatekeeper uttered solemnly. His voice the warm, knowing tone of a grandfather who said very little but knew far too much.
The padawan nodded. He bore stern features for one not yet past his twentieth year.
"First you must remember."
"Remember?"
"The one who you lost."
"I-"
"Child," the Gatekeeper chided gently, "You know. Speak. Tell me."
The padawan licked cracked lips and swallowed to clear his suddenly tight throat. "I... that Ryan Korr was different. Back then I ran around dreaming of fighting in great battles and getting a statue erected in my honor. Foolish thoughts now. She helped ground me. Her name was Eri. I thought I knew everything. I remember trying to impress her by outflying her. She returned the favor by beating me senseless in the sparring room. We were only fifteen, still in a Padawan class and waiting for masters to claim us. They told us in our training that emotional bonds were dangerous. That we should give up all attachments for the Force so that we would not be blinded by passion. But Eri and I knew better. Relationships make people stronger. We told ourselves that we could take on the galaxy. Just us, we didn't need anyone else. We were happy. I don't remember what made us think that we were so wise."
Bitterness dropped from Ryan's words like the patter of heavy rain.
"She fell in love and I wouldn't have no for an answer. She gave everything to a silly boy who didn't know what to do with her love, much less a child. How were we supposed to know better? We were just kids!" Ryan looked away from the gatekeeper, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. "How could we know?... She ended it."
The memory flashed in Ryan's head. Confusion drew his thoughts in, waves retreating from shore before the typhoon of grief struck. He remembered retreating from everyone, denying responsibility. How could he be held responsible? She was the one who'd fallen in love! He told himself he would forget her, but every moment he could feel what it was like to lay beside her. He missed the brush of her hair against his face, the taste of her lips.
Jedi did not feel the way he felt, nor think what he thought, or miss what he missed, but he refused to believe that they would be held accountable for those sins. They were just fifteen.
A lump prevented him from swallowing. Hot tears stood in his eyes, though his face remained immovable. Could stones cry? Ryan did. Surely theirs was enough to make even the hardest of rocks weep.
"She died a month later, saving me from the Sith."