House of Refuge by Independence1776

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House of Refuge

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The pine trees and bushes were thick enough in the copse to hide me. I brushed a leaf out of my hair and sat up. It was the wrong side of dawn, too light for me to sneak out of here. There weren’t enough people in the park that I could hide among them. Right now, I’d stand out. I couldn’t risk any clones on patrol noticing a lone human. In a few hours, there would be more people in the park—

And that meant more people who might recognize me from the wanted posters and notifications. No, I had to leave now.

I stood up, tugged a sleeve down, and took a deep breath, not reaching out with the Force. I placed a hand on the nearest pine tree trunk and peered through a gap in the needles. No one was visible or audible and I couldn’t risk not knowing what was beyond the limited visibility. I had to use the Force, as dangerous as it was. I opened myself to its whisperings. I just wanted to be safe.

I gently pushed my way through the branches as the Force sang an all-clear. I stepped out of the forest into bright sunlight in a trough valley. The cliffs were steep, almost vertical, and grassy fields— possibly farmland— spread between the rock walls. Numerous waterfalls were visible and undoubtedly drained into the river in the middle of the valley.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew the pine trees and pollen on Kaller were not hallucinogenic. But this made no sense. How had I gone from a city park on a plateau to a mountain valley? I stepped back into the pine forest and very quickly realized that the ground sloped upward and these were not quite Kalleran pines. Somehow, I had traveled to a place I had never seen before.

Teleportation was a myth. Mostly. I knew some of the older Temples acted in strange ways, sometimes separating people so they would experience their own trials alone, and those rumors persisted even for the lower levels of the Temple on Coruscant. But I had never heard of it happening outside of a Temple.

Yet the Force was happy and bright and it sang in a way I’d never heard before. I reached out— life, yes, but no one Force-sensitive. But it didn’t matter because the overwhelming sensation was of safety and welcome. This valley was infused with it.

I walked back to the tree-line and studied the valley. Clearly, I was going nowhere until the Force decided otherwise. A few scattered buildings stood next to a dirt road paralleling the river, but there was a larger, multi-story building with a red roof nearer the head of the valley. There would be my most likely place to find shelter and knowledge.

I reached the road but didn’t head toward the house. Someone on a belled white horse waited for me. Long blond hair pulled back in a tail revealed pointed ears. Near-human, then. It was the sword belted on their waist that drew my attention. Grey had carried a blade, and I knew some Mandalorians did, as well as other peoples for reasons of heritage or culture. What sort of culture was this? And how much danger was I in?

“Hello,” I said. “I seem to have gotten lost.”

The person said something in a language I’d never heard before. I shook my head and tried Twi’leki, as the person likewise tried other languages. My Huttese wasn’t good enough for lengthy conversations, but it was the only other language I knew. And it failed, too. I took a shaky breath. I didn’t know what else to do. Emotions and sensing of them could only go so far. But it was enough to let me know that the horse-person wasn’t a threat.

The person pointed at themself. “Glorfindel.”

I pointed at myself. “Caleb.”

They pointed at me, then themself, and then down the valley toward the main building. I nodded. They reached down a hand and after a moment of me side-eying the horse, I took it and climbed on behind them. It was a bouncy ride, but faster than walking. And if I needed to, I could connect with the horse and take control of our heading.

When we rode into the courtyard, the horse came to a stop. I slid off first and got out of Glorfindel’s way. A stablehand took the horse and I followed Glorfindel a few meters, but someone came out of the house. They likewise had pointed ears, but had brown hair and a beautiful and kind face, and unlike Glorfindel’s dull green tunic and trousers, wore bright blue robes that wouldn’t be out of place on Naboo. Glorfindel engaged them in a brief conversation. The new person nodded and turned to me. “Imelrond. Mae govannen, Caleb.”

“Hi.” I didn’t know what else to say. No one here was a threat, but I was a threat to them. If the clones found me here, if the Empire made its way here, everyone would die. All I needed was information and a way out of here.

But apart from the obvious difficulties in communicating, there had been no landing pads anywhere in the valley. Maybe the spaceport was elsewhere so as not to spoil the beauty. But there had been no sign of spacecraft in the atmosphere. Where was I?

Imelrond gestured at me, so I followed Imelrond inside, Glorfindel falling into step behind me. Clearly the lack of trust extended in both directions.

 

* * * * *

 

After showing Caleb to one of the few guest rooms with a private toilet and bathing room, Glorfindel followed Elrond to a small sitting room off the same hallway. Elrond paced before the windows for a minute before stepping back into the hall. Glorfindel sat down and stretched his legs out. It wasn’t much longer before Elrond returned; Glorfindel caught a glimpse through the open doorway of a passing servant with clothing draped over her arm and carrying a tray. Good; the kid looked like he needed a solid meal or twelve.

Elrond resumed pacing in front of the windows until the empty-handed servant passed by in the other direction. He finally sat down in the other chair near the unlit fireplace. “Do you think the boy’s a threat?”
Glorfindel shook his head. “He’s running from something. Maybe it’s as simple as getting separated from his family on the road. But I don’t think so. He didn’t know Adûnaic, Sindarin, or either language of Rhûn I tried. Maybe he’s from somewhere else.”

“Captured and brought here?” Elrond frowned. “What about ósanwe-kenta?”

“His mind was closed.”

“Yet he seemed to listen to something as we made our way here.” Elrond tapped his lip. “I have never seen clothing like his before, the sash with pouches and metal containers the strangest of all. I think you are right he comes from a far-distant land. He may not have been ready to hear you.”

“He was quite frankly terrified. I don’t think he realized I saw him leave and reenter the woods and then exit again. Something strange happened to him, Elrond. Whoever Caleb is, we need to know if someone pursues him. And yet…”

“He trusted you enough to come with you to an unknown place.” Elrond glanced out the window. “We’ll give him until mid afternoon. Bring him to my study. I don’t want to question him in his chambers; I want him to feel safe there. The communication difficulties will be an uphill battle, but it’s one we’ll win.”

“Taking a page from Finrod’s book and singing to him?”

Elrond laughed. “That would probably work better if Caleb was sleeping. No, I have a different idea in mind.”

Glorfindel sat upright. “Celebrían?”

“Her talent in ósanwe-kenta near rivals her mother’s. Unless something goes badly wrong in the next few hours, she’ll be fine stepping away from wrangling the last-minute details of the midsummer festival.” Glorfindel winced. That was a task he did not wish on anyone; it had proven more contentious than everyone had expected.

“Keep Caleb from wandering.”

“Of course.” Elrond left the room— he had to return to festival preparations— and Glorfindel sighed as his footsteps receded down the hallway. Caleb was a mystery and the sooner they unraveled it, the happier Glorfindel would be.

 

* * * * *

 

The tub had just filled when I heard the door to the bedroom open. I turned off the water and peered through the open doorway, lightsaber in hand. But a woman in a yellow dress smiled at me and gestured at the tray on the small, round table by the window and the pile of clothes on a chair. I smiled back and she left the room, closing the door behind her. I hung my hilt back on my belt, made sure the door was locked this time, and crossed the room to examine both. The food was some kind of sausage, a bread roll, and a bowl filled with greens and berries, along with a carafe of clear liquid and an empty stoneware mug. The clothing looked homespun, not automated factory. The texture was soft and the colors were in shades of brown. I bit my lip; whoever had asked for clean clothing to be brought to me had clearly wanted me to wear something at least slightly familiar, if only in color.

I carried both into the bathing room using the Force; I set the tray on the tub’s ledge. I stripped, climbed into the tub, ate, and then scrubbed myself clean in the still-hot water. The water was filthy by the time I was done. I didn’t know how much time I had before someone would want to talk to me again, so I rinsed and dressed. Both the shirt sleeves and the trousers were too long for me, but sleeves and legs were easy to roll up. My belt I wore under the tunic; the tunic was long enough to hide my lightsaber when I separated its halves. The socks were wonderfully warm and not in desperate need of darning. I didn’t know what to do with my old clothes, so I left them on the tile floor. I carried the tray back into the bedchamber, along with my Holocron that was normally hidden in my clothes, and sat down at the small table. I poured myself another mug of water and set it down on the tabletop.

I hadn’t expected the view from the window to be spectacular, but it looked out over the river to the cliffs and a waterfall beyond. There was a road snaking away toward one of the valley sides, but I couldn’t see where it led. The sun shone brightly and there were no clouds in the sky. And still no starships.

I tore myself away from the view and looked around the room. It was furnished expensively; everything looked hand-carved out of wood. The bed was covered by a blanket in blues and greens. A trunk stood at its foot. A chest of drawers stood on the far wall opposite the window; a mirror hung above it. More to my interest was the handful of books on top of the chest— actual physical books. I crossed the room and pulled a book out. I flipped it open. Not to my surprise, the letters weren’t Aurebesh. They looked like no script I was familiar with. I had no hope of reading it and a quick perusal of the rest of the books proved that I wouldn’t be reading any of them.

I looked around the room. Wandering the building would likely be taken poorly. There was nothing else for me to do except stare out the window, nap, or meditate. I wasn’t tired; I’d had enough of the view. Meditation it was. I knelt down on the braided rug that matched the bedspread’s colors and closed my eyes.

The Force still sung.

 

A knock on my door an indeterminate amount of time later pulled me out of my meditation. I wasn’t any more sure of what had happened to me, but I was sure answers would soon be forthcoming. I rose to my feet and pulled the door open. Glorfindel stood on the other side. They smiled and gestured down the hallway.

I nodded and walked with them through a jumble of corridors to a room lined with books. Imelrond sat next to someone with long silver hair. Glorfindel sat next to the silver-haired person, leaving the seat facing the three to me.

Just like talking to the Council, but I’d be sitting instead of standing. That felt weird.

“Hi.” I glanced at the two people I didn’t know. “I’m Caleb.”

“Mae govannen. Imcelebrían,” said the person with the silver hair.

Im might be a part of everyone’s name, though Glorfindel didn’t include it, or it might be a grammar thing. I didn’t have enough information to know. So I tilted my head and said, gesturing at each person, “Glorfindel. Imelrond. Imcelebrían.”

Imelrond shook their head. “Elrond. Celebrían. Im…” and he trailed off.

Grammar, then. I nodded. “I don’t know where I am. I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me so far, but I don’t want to take more than necessary. Can you direct me to the nearest spaceport?”

All of them looked and felt perplexed. So none of them knew Basic and probably hadn’t even heard it, not just Glorfindel. This was going to be difficult. Maybe I could draw on something?

A chill went down my spine. Or had the Force dropped me on a planet that had been lost to records and space travel?

I swallowed and glanced at Glorfindel. Celebrían cleared their throat and raised the book in their hand slightly. They said something in the unknown language and then pointed at their head. I blinked. They gestured at their head and then opened the book, pointing at the words like they were reading a line of text. They pointed to me and then closed the book.

I stared at them. Were they saying my mind was a closed book?

Oh!

I reached out carefully. No one here was Force-sensitive, but telepathic species did exist.

Her mind reached back. I got a sudden sensation of happiness and then she said something to the other two. All of them— I could feel all of their minds like I hadn’t been able to when I’d been too afraid and closed myself off. We still didn’t have a common language, but we could communicate.

I swiftly learned four things: Elrond was in charge of the valley; they thought I was from this world; that they thought they could get me home; and that I’d been involuntarily separated from my family. Only one assumption was right.

I took a deep breath, let it out as I’d been trained to do, and showed them the memory of my morning on Kaller.

«Where is this?» Glorfindel asked.

«The planet Kaller.»

Elrond responded, «There is no such—»

«For you,» I said, looking at Elrond. «My homeworld is a planet covered in a city, the seat of government made of thousands of planets across the galaxy and just as many species of sentients. I don’t know how I ended up here. But… you don’t travel in space, do you?»

The Eldar glanced at each other. «It is not possible for us,» Celebrían said. «We know that other worlds exist, but we have always believed that our Arda is the central site of the drama between Morgoth and the Children of Eru.»

«I have heard of neither before, so you may be right. But I— this isn’t where I belong.»

«We understand that now,» Elrond said. «The question must now be asked why Eru allowed you to come here.»

The short answer would lead to a much longer explanation, even ignoring the cosmological and theological questions about Eru. I didn’t want to tell them, but… They were guaranteed to not turn me in to the Empire; they literally couldn’t. «I wished for safety. My people are being hunted down and killed for the crime of existing.»

“Ah,” Elrond said. He glanced at Celebrían, who nodded. «You may stay here for as long as you desire, Caleb. Is there anything further you wish to tell us?»

There were plenty of things, but… «My family is dead, killed by those we trusted the dearest. If people dressed in white armor appear on Arda, I will need to leave.»

«We understand,» Glorfindel said. «We will keep watch and warn other settlements. But I do not think it will happen. Your prayer was heard and your galaxy is not ours.»

I nodded and kept my disagreement to myself. This could very easily be a long-forgotten or undiscovered world. I could not believe otherwise; to be teleported to any entirely different galaxy was, well, unfathomable. But if the Force had indeed done so to protect me… I’d really only know if Arda was a forgotten planet or not if I had access to the Archives. That would never happen again. And I’d only be able to look in a public database or information node if I ever left Arda.

I said, «I know you have other things to do. I do not want to take any more of your time.»

Elrond said, «If you’ve been hunted, have you been living on the streets?» I nodded. «Then perhaps you need medical care?»

I shook my head. «I’m not hurt. But thank you.»

Glorfindel said, «I have nothing to do with the preparations for the midsummer feast, so my goal is to stay out of the way as much as I can so I don’t get dragged into them. I can start to teach you Sindarin so we needn’t rely as much on ósanwe-kenta.»

«I would appreciate that.»

A feast, having to use telepathy to communicate, learning a new language, and I stood on an entirely different planet that was possibly in a different galaxy. My head spun.

Elrond said, «We would like to talk with your further, Caleb. But detailed conversations may have to wait until after the celebration. If you are asked, say that you are from the far reaches of Rhûn.»

«Yes, Master Elrond.»

«I will show you around a little,» Glorfindel said, «unless you’d rather return to your chambers?»

«I would; thank you.»

I bowed to the three and followed Glorfindel back to my room. He pointed out various rooms to me along the way and mentioned supper would be served at dusk. «You may take it here or in the hall with the rest of the household.»

«Here, please.» I’d had enough for one day.

He made his excuses and left, closing the door with a solid thump behind him. I no longer had the feeling that I was expected to stay in the room, but I didn’t even want to go out to the garden I could see through my window. I sat down on the rug and leaned against the bed. What was I going to do now?

 

* * * * *

 

“He wasn’t telling the full truth.”

Celebrían sighed. “The shadow of the past lies heavily on him. I’m not sure how much bleed-through you caught—“

“Violence of weapons shooting light bolts.”

She frowned. She gotten more than just that glimpse. “His Master— teacher, mentor, but not mother— and he were talking after a battle, along with some of their command structure. Their soldiers turned on them with no warning.” She glanced up at her husband, who stood at the window looking outside, but clearly paying attention. “They fought. Their swords are made of light and cut through armor as easily as a hot knife through butter. She died while making sure he was able to escape.”

Glorfindel cursed. “And the soldiers have been hunting him since? Of course they have. He said as much. It’s why he wanted a safe place to hide. I’m surprised he trusted us.”

Elrond said, “What other choice did he have? Celebrían, were you able to learn more about his people?”
She shook her head. Caleb’s mind was very well controlled for someone his age, but his unfamiliarity with ósanwe-kenta had caused the leakage. Even that hadn’t been much beyond what she’d told them, only glimpses of the city-planet and a peaceful building’s corridors and the streets he’d lived on. “Glorfindel, be gentle with him. Everything is going to confuse him. And maybe spend some time in the practice ring.”

Elrond turned around. “That will either prove enlightening or a bad idea. But encouraging him to keep up his training will help in the end.”

“I do want to see his light-sword,” Glorfindel said thoughtfully.

Elrond rolled his eyes. “We all do. But Celebrían and I have to meet with Erestor.”

“I’ll see myself out.”

Glorfindel hurried out of the room, the door swinging closed and then swung almost immediately back open when Erestor stepped into the room. “Will the boy cause trouble?”

“His name is Caleb, and no. It’s a complicated situation I’ll discuss with the household in the Hall of Fire tonight. But if he agrees, we may suggest he move to a room with a large window on the ground floor.”

That would give him an escape route. Celebrían smiled and began the meeting.

 

* * * * *

 

I didn't know what to do. I'd learned to survive on Kaller's streets. It hadn't been easy and certainly wasn't safe. I had to avoid everyone, even the people who proved food and supplies to others living on the streets. Me being human on a planet where we were in the minority didn't help, either. But I at least knew the environment, shifted though it had with the Empire's rise. Here I knew nothing.

I didn't know the language, though I could communicate mind-to-mind in a way that felt both strange and normal. I didn't know the culture or customs and definitely nothing about what would prove offensive. We had so much training about diplomacy growing up in the Order, even during the war in hopes once it was over we could return to being peacekeepers. Though Master Billaba had focused more on the necessary fighting and tactical skills after I became her Padawan because we were exclusively on the front lines. Diplomacy wouldn’t help me much on the battlefield; no one could negotiate with battle droids.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I was safe. I was fed. I could bathe and relieve myself without risk. I had clothing. I had my lightsaber, comm, and Holocron.

I could see if my comm could connect to the comm network.

No.

That would jeopardize my safety. I couldn't risk the signal being tracked here. If this was a forgotten world, I would not lead the Empire here to destroy it.

My Holocron, though… I could use that without being detected by random technology.

The message from Master Kenobi should be transferred there. Comms were far more fragile than holocrons. If that was the last thing any Jedi said to me, it needed to be preserved.

Hooking my comm up to my Holocron and transferring the message meant listening to it again. I didn’t want to but there wasn’t another way.

"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret... but be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you always."

I couldn't help it; I started crying. Transported to an unknown world by the Force, barely able to communicate, and utterly alone: it hit me all at once. It didn't matter that I was told I had a place here. I really didn't. There were no Jedi. My people were murdered in our home and in the field by our best friends. Everyone I knew was dead. Master Kenobi had lived through the initial assault but I doubted he'd made it off Coruscant. My friends had died without ever having become padawans. Master Billaba had died to protect me.

I'd failed her. I'd done nothing with my life since then except to hide. I hadn't fought; I hadn't tried to gather intelligence. I'd simply... hidden. And followed the one person who had shown me the slightest bit of kindness in the immediate aftermath of that night.

Janus Kasmir hadn't always been on-world. He seemed to be some sort of conman. That's what my life had been reduced to. Master Billaba would be horrified.

I wiped my eyes and pulled the comm out of the Holocron. I put the comm back in its pouch and held the Holocron up. She'd given this to me minutes before she died. She'd said that there was material about peaceful dissent in the Order that I should study. There hadn't been a point. Why bother studying when none of it mattered anymore? And it had been too risky to open it.

But now… What harm could it do by opening it here when I knew I wasn’t at risk?

I shifted so I was more comfortable against the side of the bed and opened the Holocron. The first thing was the holomessage I'd just transferred, but I dived into the rest of it. There was the dissent material she’d told me to study and lightsaber tutorials from numerous Jedi and case studies from the Padawan ethics curriculum and star charts.

I didn't need the Archives to see if Arda was listed anywhere. I could do it now.

It was the only way to know how safe I actually was.

I opened them and searched. So many planets and systems, so many abandoned Temples that I’d never heard of even in our myths and legends: but Arda wasn't there. I knew the maps weren't complete; the galaxy was enormous and not all of it was explored. But there was no Temple on Arda—a bonus when the Empire was ruthlessly eliminating everything about us and offering astronomical bounties for survivors, well over the million credits the Separatists had offered for Jedi generals— and Arda wasn't on the comprehensive Jedi star charts. I was safer here than I'd originally assumed. I still didn't think I was in a different galaxy, but it didn't much matter now.

I closed the Holocron, floated it over to the dresser, and put it down in front of the unreadable books. I stood and sat down at the table instead. The sun was lowering behind the mountains and the shadows were growing long. I opened the window and peered out. The lawn was at least a dozen meters below me. I could jump down without problem. Or I could jump into one of the deciduous trees lining the lawn if I needed to. There was a stone path that seemed to lead to the river from its direction, though I wouldn't know where it actually led until I explored. And the river itself wasn't wide enough I'd be unable to leap it. Getting out of the valley would prove more of a problem, but I hadn't seen enough of it to know how problematic.

A knock on the door interrupted my inspection. I said, "Come in!"

And then sighed when the knock sounded again. Even that wasn't intelligible without mind-speech. I walked over to the door and opened rather than use the Force. The Eldar didn't know what I'd be able to do and I wasn't in the mood to explain. I didn't know how they'd react: if they'd be fine with it, think it strange, or ostracize me. Or even kill me. Glorfindel stood on the other side, carrying a basket. I stepped aside and said while gesturing, "Come in."

He smiled and reached out. «Do you want company? I can take supper elsewhere.»

«Company's welcome.» I wouldn't be able to ask any of my multitude of questions otherwise.

He settled the basket on a chair and unpacked it. Two plates, bowls, and accompanying utensils; more smoked sausage of a different variety than earlier; and a soup tureen that turned out to be filled with vegetable soup. Two bread rolls and some sort of fruit pastry finished out the meal.

Glorfindel and I spent the meal exchanging basic vocabulary. After everything had been eaten and put back in the basket, dusk had fallen and the sounds of night (and oddly some singing) had begun. I closed the window as Glorfindel lit a candelabra on the wall by taking one of the candle into the hallway and returning with it lit.

«You have questions.»

I laughed. «I always have questions. But... I don't know anything about this place. I don't know what's offensive and what isn't. And I don't know the history.»

«People will be forgiving, given your situation. As for the history…» Glorfindel paused. «A true summary is of course impossible. But first you need to know that Eldar are more or less immortal; we can be killed but we do not die of natural causes.»

I stared at him. Now I was starting to believe I was in a different galaxy. There were no species like that in mine.

«There were multiple wars fought over the past few thousand years. This place was founded during one of them. The last war was just over a hundred years ago. We were victorious but took heavy losses. Elrond became the de-facto leader of the largest group of Eldar, though he refused the crown. The Dark Lord Sauron was defeated but not permanently; we know he will return but it will not be soon.»

Dark Lord? Like Sith Lord?

«There were people of every kind who fought alongside the Eldar: Men, Dwarves, even some Orcs.»

So this wasn't a single-species planet. «Will they all be attending the feast?»

«Representatives of all except the Orcs. Those who fought with us died of old age several decades ago. As a general rule, Orcs do not get along with anyone else and we have no current allies among them.» He paused. «You are used to many species, aren't you?»

I nodded. «Thousands of them. Some are like me, others are quadrupedal or they slither. Not everyone breathes oxygen. Some are aquatic. The Jedi Order— my people— was one of the most diverse in the galaxy.»

«How did that work?»

I shrugged a shoulder. «We're a religious order. Our parents willingly gave us to the Order as very young children and the Order is our family. As younglings, we're raised in small communal clans in the creche. Once we're older, we're chosen or assigned to be someone's padawan apprentice and we have individual instruction until we're ready to be Knighted. There really isn't a time frame for that; some people are ready in only a few years and some take a decade or more.»

«What's the purpose of the apprenticeship? What does the Jedi Order do?»

«Before the war, we worked for the Republic Senate as peacekeepers, diplomats, and ambassadors. We were respected throughout the galaxy. We’d been doing that for a thousand years. But we weren’t able to prevent the Clone Wars from starting. A lot of people blamed us for it; some even thought we started it. But because we were the closest thing the Republic had to soldiers, the Senate drafted us to become generals and commanders.» I took a breath to center myself and continued. «By the time I became Master Depa Billaba’s padawan, the war had been fought for nearly two and a half years. I was with her and her battalion for a little over half a year. You already know what happened at the war’s end.»

Glorfindel said, «Why did people blame you?»

«Because diplomacy failed. Also, a captured Republic Senator and two Jedi were nearly executed by the leaders of the Separatist movement; it was the start of the war. We’d had enough notice that some Jedi were able to prevent the execution but it was the first battle. A lot of people didn’t realize that executing a senator is itself an act of war; the Separatist media mostly portrayed us the aggressors. As the war continued, the Republic media started blaming us for dragging it out instead of being peacekeepers and using diplomacy to end it. But the Senate had made diplomatic efforts illegal, so we literally couldn’t. The public slowly turned against the Jedi. When our troops turned on us, people celebrated.»

«If the Republic didn’t have soldiers, how could you fight a war?»

Glorfindel sounded absolutely bewildered. No wonder. I was doing a fantastic job of explaining.

«Our troops… Do the Eldar have identical twins?» Glorfindel nodded. «A clone is an artificial twin, and our army was made up entirely of clones: millions of them. The Separatists fielded an army of battle droids— aggressive metal constructs with limited capabilities. They invaded planets, targeted civilians, and had to be stopped. It’s why we had to fight: innocent people were suffering and dying and we couldn’t stand by when we could help. And the best way to help—»

«—was by fighting.» Glorfindel leaned back in his chair. «Is it normal for people your age to become padawans?»

I shook my head. «I was a little young for it, but… In general, the age of majority for humans is between fourteen to sixteen, depending on the planet. It was sixteen on Coruscant, my homeworld; fourteen on the homeworld of the nearly-executed senator. I turned fourteen a week before the end of the war.»

Glorfindel didn’t say anything for a time. «What did the Jedi teach you?»

«Control, mindfulness. A lot of ethics and moral instruction. Law. Philosophy. Diplomacy. Mechanics. How to use our lightsabers. The Force. I mean, we were respected and well-learned enough even as padawans that we could teach classes to various academies, both on and off Coruscant.»

He stared at me. «How long has the Order existed?»

I hid a smile at how flabbergasted he was. «People my age don’t have that kind of responsibilities here, do they?»

«Not outside of war, they don’t. But you didn’t answer my question.»

«A thousand generations. Twenty-five thousand years.» My amusement fled. «And as far as I know, I’m the last Jedi alive.»

«Caleb…»

I stared down at the table, not that it prevented me from feeling his shock, horror, and sorrow. «We had enemies called Sith, Dark Lords of the Sith. We thought we’d defeated them once and for all in the last war a thousand years ago that resulted in the founding of the Galactic Republic. But one survived in secret to pass his teachings on to an apprentice and that Sith to their apprentice and so forth. They spent a thousand years working to destroy the Republic and especially the Jedi Order. The leader of the Separatists was the Sith apprentice, but we didn’t learn who the Master was until, well. We never learned. We died first. I think, given he took complete control and made the democratic Republic into an Empire, that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was in fact the Sith Master. It’s the only thing that makes sense.» I looked up at Glorfindel. «Ask. I can feel you’re curious.»

«What’s democratic?»

I stared at him and started giggling. Here I was, assuming I hadn’t needed to explain that. Of course there wouldn’t be a democracy here. I got control of myself and said, «Democracy is when people vote on their leaders and representatives in assemblies that make the laws.»

«Ah. Our Dark Lords— who are not Sith— also were not democratics. Elven government is monarchical, but I don’t think we need to focus on political systems this evening.» He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. «Caleb, do you really believe that you are the last Jedi?»

I looked out the window, not that there was anything to see in the darkness. «I didn’t feel anyone else. I know there are bounties for survivors, so there may be more Jedi. I don’t know how many. But I don’t for sure that anyone else survived. Everyone in the Temple died, even the youngest of us. And the rest of us in the field were generally with our troops. And every single one of them turned on us.» I took a hitching breath. I didn’t want to think about that evening. It was a similar time of night to now, sitting around the campfire. Depa had just given me the Holocron and—

«Caleb?»

I jerked my head around when Glorfindel touched my shoulder. When had he risen from his seat?

He said, «Deep breaths. I apologize for pushing.»

I took several deep breaths, but the memory lurked. I didn’t know if I’d be able to fall asleep or not.

«Would a room on the ground floor be preferable? The window could be another escape route.»

I shook my head. «This room is fine.»

«If you’re sure.»

«I am.»

«Do you want to know the way to the kitchens in case you become hungry later?»

I jumped on the change of subject. «I would love to.»

 

 

* * * * *

 

Glorfindel paced Elrond’s private dining room. Celebrían studiously ignored him in favor of her oatmeal; Elrond hadn’t even managed to finish eating his before being pulled away for some sort of minor crisis. Once she finished, she said, “Either sit down or I’ll join you.”

He was very clearly tempted to give her a stink-eye but he took Elrond’s seat instead. “Last evening, I learned far more about Caleb than we expected. His people are a monastic religious group whose mission was diplomacy and peacekeeping and his education was geared to that end. What shocked me the most was the people in his galaxy begin treating humans his age or just a little older as full adults. We cannot treat him as we would a mortal child his age.” She nodded and gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath. “Celebrían, his people the Jedi Order had enemies who plotted for a thousand years to annihilate them. He is almost certainly one of the last Jedi.”

“What else?”

“He mentioned a couple of times about being able to feel others and others’ emotions. I’m not sure he realized he was doing it as he tried talking around why the Jedi Order was so respected until the war.”

“You think the Jedi have different abilities than ordinary people of their galaxy?”

Glorfindel nodded.

That made sense with the memory she’d seen: ordinary mortals would not have been able to deflect light bolts with that speed or accuracy. Nor would they have been able to run at speed up such a steep slope and deflect bolts without looking at them. Nor could they use a hand gesture to push others away without touching them. “He’s afraid to tell us what he can do in case we turn on him as well.”

“Celebrían, what did you see in his memory?”

“Unnaturally fast reflexes, physical conditioning, and moving things without being near them.” She quirked a smile. “I think he’s able to jump out of that window and land safely.”

“Oh Valar,” Glorfindel muttered. “And we’re supposed to pretend we don’t know?”
“Let me talk to him first.”

“On your head be it.”

She nodded and left the dining room. Caleb should be finished with breakfast by now and he’d probably want a tour of the house and grounds he could see from his window.

Celebrían knocked on Caleb's door. He pulled it open and said, "Mae govannen!"

She smiled. "Mae govannen." She switched to ósanwe-kenta as she stepped into the room. The only thing of note was a gold and blue cube on the dresser. «Good morning. Are you finished eating?»

«I am. Do you need to talk to me?»

«I thought you might like a tour of the house and grounds.»

He brightened. «I would love that. How many people live here? I know it's a pretty big place.»

«Not as large as your home, I think.»

«Probably not,» he said with a shrug. «But we've lived there for thousands of years. There’s— there was— ten thousand Knights in the Order.»

«Glorfindel told us what you told him. How did ten thousand people manage—»

«During times of peace, it was enough. But the Senate and...» He shook his head. «It doesn't matter now. We failed.»

Celebrían gestured at the door. «Shall we? Do you have any place you want to see first?»

«Glorfindel showed me the way to the kitchens and I remember the way to the front entrance. I don't really know what's here, so it's up to you.»

His phrasing was strange, but she understood what he meant. «Then we'll start with the Hall of Fire.»

She led Caleb back to the main part of the house, away from the residential wing for important mortal guests. The room Caleb was typically used by one of the royal house of Arnor when they chose to visit. But there were none here for the midsummer festival this year, though a few Men from the court were visiting. A Dwarven caravan was expected later in the day. It would be a small celebration, which was a relief after the hubbub and hassle of her wedding the summer before. That had people camping in the fields.

She opened the door to the dining hall. «This is where the household primarily takes their meals. The table on the dais is for Elrond, myself, the highest in rank in our household, and our honored guests.» She didn't need to hear his thoughts to see the panic in his eyes. «You are one, but you do not need to sit there. You can eat where you like but—» she gestured at a small table in the back corner of the hall «—people will leave you alone if you choose this table.»

«Yeah. But I don't want to be stared at. How much do people know about me?»

«They know you are a refugee, far from your home, and that your family is dead. They know you will stay with us until you are able to leave. The specifics of you being from another world... Those are being quietly told to the Eldar. Our mortal guests do not need to know.»

«Mortal guests?»

«Men. I'll introduce you later, if they don't find you first. We're long allies with them.»

Caleb nodded. «How many are there?»

«A dozen or so. They're stopping here for the festival and then continuing home. You need not worry about them. Imladris is often called the Last Homely House east of the Sea. Or First Homely House, depending on which direction you're traveling in.»

He laughed. Good. He needed it.

«This isn't the Hall of Fire?»

«No, that's over here.» She led him across a wide passage, through other doors, and into the Hall. A crackling fire in a great hearth between carven pillars lit the room. «This is the Hall of Fire. There is always one burning here. Some evenings we come together in fellowship to sing, recite poetry, and tell tales. We’ll use it for the festival. Most of the time, people use this as a room for contemplation. You will not be disturbed here if you choose to use it.»

Caleb's face was thoughtful as he peered around the room. The fire was the only light and the rest of the room was dim. Apart from a few benches and seats, there was nothing else here. «Thank you,» he finally said. «Places for meditation and contemplation are normal for me, but they're usually not this large.»

«What's meditation?»

He glanced at her, startled. «Meditation... Well, it's a way to learn more about yourself, to learn to accept your emotions without judgement, and then let them go. The basic technique is pretty simple, but it takes a lifetime to master. And it's a way to connect with the Force. But you don't need to be Force-sensitive to practice meditation; almost every planet has its own version.»

She nodded. He hadn’t entirely explained what meditation is, but she understood the purpose. «Do you wish to remain here?»

Caleb shook his head. «I'd like to see more of the House.»

She showed him to the library, the healing wing, one of the rooms the musicians practiced in, her study tucked away under a staircase, and then outside. The first place she led him was an eastward-facing porch overlooking the river. There were benches there and plants in planters. The river rushed by below them, down a steep bank.

Caleb slowly revolved, looking at everything. «This is wonderful. Can I come out here?»

«You aren't a prisoner, Caleb. You may go anywhere in Imladris you wish.»

«Where is my room in relation to here?»

«This way,» she said. She led him off the porch and down a winding path. She turned off it onto the green lawn lined in part by several large oaks. «Here.» She pointed up to a window on the fourth floor above the ground level. «That window is yours.»

He looked up at it and then down at the ground, clearly measuring the distance to see if he could jump it.

«Caleb, what can the Jedi do ordinary humans cannot?»

His eyes widened and he took a step back, breathing in sharply before he breathed out sharply and seemingly deliberately. «I don't know what you mean.»

She sat down on the grass so she wouldn't loom over him. «Those gifted with ósanwe-kenta can glean more information than sometimes expected, especially those who are inexperienced senders. You've already adapted to the technique; I'm only receiving what you want me to. But in our first conversation, I saw glimpses of memory— especially the memory of the night you were betrayed. I saw fast reflexes, difficult physical feats— and I saw people being shoved away without being touched.» Caleb's eyes darted from side to side, his breathing shallow. «You don't need to discuss it. I didn't mean to frighten you.»

He closed his eyes and took several deep, even breaths. He reopened them and sat crosslegged on the grass, almost but not quite facing her. «Force-sensitives can use the Force to do things non-sensitives can't. You saw some of it.» He ran a hand through his hair. «Yeah, I can jump out of my window and land safely. I can move things without touching them. I can sense emotions of people and when things go badly, badly wrong in locations both near and far. I can briefly survive in locations that non-Jedi humans cannot. I can tell if a location has good or bad memories and sometimes how dangerous it is.» He met her eyes. «It's how I knew I was safe here. Imladris feels safe.»

He dropped her gaze. She kept her silence for a moment, listening to the birds and the water. She finally said, «This is why the Empire is hunting you, isn’t it?» He nodded without looking up. «It doesn’t really matter the good you did for the Republic. There are many people in your galaxy who do not understand the Jedi, aren't there? And not just because of wartime propaganda painting the Order in a bad light. The galaxy was primed to turn against you.»

«We're different,» he said. «We come to the Order as very young children. Our parents give us to the Jedi; they always have the option not to. I don't know how many take it, but we're not the only order of Force-sensitives in the galaxy, and we have— had— allied orders like the Guardians of the Whills. But sometimes, children are given to us not because it's an honor to have a child be Jedi, but because their parents don't want a Force-sensitive child. It's... Even before the war, we're raised knowing some people consider us valuable slaves; there have even been people who capture and experiment on us for varying reasons. There's a species called the Trandoshans— they hunt us. Literally hunt us for sport!» He stopped, breathing hard.

«That's why you wanted this kept private. You have good reason to, but we will not treat you differently simply because you are able to do things that ordinary humans cannot.» She paused. «Do you know why your family gave you to the Jedi?»

He shook his head. «I don't remember them at all and it's tradition that we don't learn about our birth families until we're Knighted. Sometimes that's altered— there are families where Force-sensitivity runs— but mostly, we don't care about our birth families. I know I was born on Coruscant. I was raised as a Jedi with the Order as my family. That was enough.» Quieter, almost as though he was whispering, «It's a good thing. They're probably being watched by the Empire just in case I tried to flee to them.»

«Oh, Caleb…» She knew what it was like to wander. But she'd never done it without knowing there was a place for her at the end of the journey. But Caleb was exiled, persecuted, young, and profoundly alone. «Is there anywhere safe you can go?»

He shook his head. «Our allies will be— are being— watched. The Empire has the Coruscant Temple's records of all the other Jedi Temples in the galaxy, even the long-abandoned ones. I'm not even sure I can get off the planet I was on; Imperial troops are everywhere. I've picked up how to live on the streets. I can't say I'm doing it well, but well enough to live.»

«Do you know how to hunt?»

Caleb stared at her. «With what? I don't have a blaster, and most of the ones I could steal aren't for hunting. I could call an animal to me with the Force if I truly needed to and I think I could break its neck, but I don't have anything to prepare one to eat. I can’t even risk a fire to heat anything, much less cook.»

She stared back at him. That was far below the abilities and resources she’d expected him to have. «Caleb, how did you live?»

He settled himself, straightening his back. «I live in a city with very little access to nature. There’s rodents— there are always rodents— but nothing else I could hunt. I get most of my food from scraps people and restaurants toss out, even grocery stores. A lot of those dumpsters have locks but I can use the Force to pick them.» He paused for a second as though he regretted saying that. «The city revolves around the planetary government and spaceport. There’s outlying farms and I can only rarely get to them; Imperial patrols are a problem. So I hide in nooks and crannies, down alleys and on rooftops. I have a few places I can go when the weather’s bad.»

Celebrían let the images that came with his words wash over her. He likely did regret telling her that he was able to pick locks, but she could reassure him on that matter. Her mother had taught her when she was no older than him. She said as much and then continued, «We can remedy some of that. We can teach you to hunt so if you’re in a situation where you need to, you’re able to. We can give you a knife and other small supplies.»

«Thank you.»

But that was pure politeness. «You don’t have to decide immediately. You’ve had a lot to adjust to.»

He flashed a smile. «Yeah.» He looked around at the trees. «Is there anywhere else you’d like to show me?»

«I don’t know if you’d be interested in the horse stables, but the weapons practice areas aren’t too far away.»

«I’d like to see those, please.»

Celebrían brought him to them. To Caleb’s visible disappointment, no one was using them. The archery field he didn’t appear interested in— no wonder, not when his galaxy’s ranged weapons used bolts of light— but the indoor and outdoor sword-fighting arenas were of rather more interest. She showed him the various items  available: both types of bows, wooden and metal practice swords, and various forms of armor. She answered what she could of his questions before briefly showing him the stables— the horses seemed to uniformly like him— before leading him back to the house through another entrance. It was quieter than the main entrance, leading into a hallway lined with rooms.

«Thank you for the tour, Celebrían.»

«It was my pleasure, Caleb. Feel free to wander now that you know where things are.»

«I will,» he said with a smile. He bowed slightly and excused himself.

Celebrían watched him go into the stairway and heard him start up the stone staircase. He had a good sense of how the building was laid out despite not having been shown all of it; he’d be able to find his room from here. She sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and went to find her husband and Glorfindel.

Once Elrond and Glorfindel arrived at her study from wherever they’d been fetched from, Celebrían said, “Caleb and the rest of the Jedi Order are not ordinary mortals. It’s why the Empire is hunting the Jedi.” She explained what she learned and said, “How much should we tell our people?”

“I don’t want him hiding it,” Elrond said. “He should feel safe here, not that one wrong step will have people turning on him if they learn his secret.”

“Though he will also be afraid of what will happen if the Empire arrives and many of us know what he is.” Glorfindel tapped his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair. “He needs to continue training with his sword. If it’s his main weapon, we cannot let his skills atrophy.”

“Nor can he rely on his light-sword if he needs to hide,” Celebrían said. “We will teach him survival skills. After the festival, if he wants, we can make a schedule.”

“I agree,” Elrond said. “I think we need to bring in our own experiences into conversations with him, including the betrayals we’ve suffered, not just listen. We can give him more than merely physical refuge. We’ll show him there is a path through the pain and despair. I hope Imladris will allow him to rest and heal before he returns home.”

“Do you have foresight of when that will be?”
“No, I don’t, Celebrían,” Elrond said, shaking his head. “But I do not think he will be here longer than a few months.”

 

* * * * *

 

I returned to my chamber, used the 'fresher, and sat down at the table. Studying the window proved it would easily open and now I knew the way across the river: I could jump from the porch Celebrían had shown me. I still needed more escape routes and to see how I could get out of the valley, but this was a start.

A needed start: despite what she'd told me, I doubted that people wouldn't care. I didn't know the Eldar. I didn't know how much I could trust them. The Force said I was safe here.

The Force had said we were safe on Kaller.

I dashed a hand across my watering eyes and stood. I wasn't going to act like a prisoner here and I really didn't want to remain inside. So I went back out the way I'd come in. Now to see how easily climbable the oaks were.

Fairly, as it turned out. I'd only needed to use the Force to jump into one. I settled myself against the trunk, hidden from sight by the branches and leaves. I didn't sink into the Force; I simply listened to the birdsong, the song of people singing as they weeded the kitchen garden, and faintly the sound of clashing metal. Were there people in the weapons' ring now?

I didn't want to be around anyone, though. I wasn't used to it anymore, despite having grown up in the creche and then spending months on end with Master Billaba and the couple hundred men of our battalion. I sighed. Master Billaba would want me to talk to them. No, she'd be worried I was avoiding them and not asking any questions. But she wasn't here. She hadn't lived through— She hadn't lived. And now I had only myself to look to for guidance. Well, and the Force. But the Force hadn't changed its tune since I'd arrived.

Fine.

I'd be a proper Jedi and go talk to the people I was afraid of.

I leapt out of the tree just because I could and landed on the lawn, rolling to absorb some force of the impact. I stood up, brushed myself off, and headed to the training ring. I had heard correctly. A couple of Eldar looked startled at my appearance but I recognized Glorfindel in the ring, though not his two opponents. I leaned against the fence next to a woman in leather armor. She smiled at me and turned her attention back to the fight. It lasted only moments longer with Glorfindel the clear victor, one opponent flat on her back on the ground and the other with a blunt sword pointing at his throat. Glorfindel lowered his sword and grinned when he saw me.

«Do you want to fight? Your sword—»

«Nope. At least not with my lightsaber. You wouldn't have a chance.»

His eyebrows rose as he walked over to me. «I'm several thousand years old and have spent a good many of those years in training.»

With a shrug, I said, «Yeah, experience matters... but not when my sword cuts through metal.»

«I forgot about that,» he said with a rueful expression that swiftly brightened. «Could we see?»

I laughed. «If you have anything you wouldn't mind being ruined.»

Glorfindel said something in Sindarin and one of the watching Eldar ran into the armory. I entered the ring and did a few warm-up exercises while we waited. They returned shortly, carrying a bent sword and two wooden swords. Glorfindel took the bent one and held it at an upright angle in front of him. The Elda returned to the side of the ring with the practice swords.

I pulled my lightsaber off my belt and ignited it. A few watchers gasped and there was a definite surge of interest and curiosity. I glanced to make sure everyone could see what I was doing and swung my blade. There was the slightest bit of resistance, far less than what would occur had I cut through a bulkhead or door. And the piece of the sword thumped to the ground. I extinguished my blade. «That's what a lightsaber does.»

«Do you always fight against lightsabers?»

«Only for practice and for fun. There are only a handful of people in the galaxy who aren't Jedi who have lightsabers.»

«The Sith.»

«Primarily, but not always. Some people leave the Order; they generally take their sabers with.» I wasn't going to mention Ventress or Ahsoka. Both were too complicated to get into. «Most of the time we use our lightsabers to deflect blaster bolts— energy bolts— and cut through things.»

«What powers them?» someone I didn't recognize said. I stiffened and turned around. The person who had gotten the swords waved. «Sorry. That was me.»

«Kyber crystals. They're sacred and linked to the Jedi whose saber they power.»

«So we can't build them?» Glorfindel said.

«No,» I said. I looked at Glorfindel. «Are the wooden swords for us?»

«Yes. Shall we?»

I spent a very fun time being trounced in the ring. Blasters I could handle. Sparring against someone who had as much experience as Glorfindel did was training. I'd sparred against Mace once, in the three weeks between becoming Master Billaba's Padawan and our deployment. That was a lesson I'd wished I'd had the opportunity to repeat. But Glorfindel? My reflexes helped— I wasn't holding back, though I'd intended to at the start from giving away just how odd Jedi were— but I ended up the loser every time.

I loved it.

«All right, that's enough,» one of the watchers said with a bit of a laugh. «Give the mortal a break.»

I nodded when Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at me. He took the practice sword from me and went over to the fence. Someone handed me a canteen and I sipped it, savoring the water on my parched throat.

«Is this something you want to do regularly?» Glorfindel asked.

«Yes, please!»

«We'd hoped you'd say that. There will be multiple people who want to volunteer, so we'll probably have you spar against all of them but find a main teacher for you.»

«Thank you.»

Glorfindel put a hand on my shoulder. «We want to help you as much as we can, Caleb. Many of us here have fought in wars or been hunted by the Enemy. We'll pass on what we've learned.»

I bowed to the watching Eldar. «Thank you.» I looked up at Glorfindel. «Are we done?»

«Yes. You're dismissed.»

I bowed again and went back to my chamber to clean up and soak in a hot bath.

 

* * * * *

 

"What's the verdict?" Elrond said, looking up from some sheet music when Glorfindel knocked and pulled the door open to Elrond's study.

"He's well trained, but his style is odd. He doesn't spend much time fighting against bladed weapons, but instead deflecting energy bolts."

"Could we replicate that by throwing stones at him?"

"I don't see why not, but I don't know if he'll want to."

"I think he will.” He leaned back in his chair. “Will you tell him about Gondolin?”

“Eventually. I don’t think he’s ready to hear about it yet.”

Elrond nodded.

 

* * * * *

 

The next two days passed similarly: sometimes I hung out in the training grounds, sometimes I spent time meditating in the Hall of Fire, sometimes I explored the house and nearby grounds of the valley. The Eldar generally left me alone unless I approached them, though they didn’t seem to mind if I watched them at their tasks. The first time I walked into the kitchen to grab a snack I was roped into a cooking lesson and that was added to my not-quite-set daily schedule.

I’d spent the day of the midsummer fest wandering the grounds and staying out of everyone’s way. They knew what they were doing and they didn’t need an ignorant newcomer mucking it up, even though I’d been told the celebration wouldn’t be as intense as the mid year festivities at Enderi in autumn. When I returned to my room in late afternoon to clean up, I found an entirely new outfit on my bed. I brushed the soft fabric with my knuckles— everything the Eldar had made for me was both high quality and usually dyed in shades of brown, though I’d explicitly requested no wrap-tunics or tabards; I couldn’t risk the Empire even though I was more or less convinced I was no longer in my own galaxy. I quickly washed and changed into my new outfit before meeting Glorfindel to review the order of the meal.

The meal was delicious and I recognized absolutely none of the dishes. Afterward, we decamped to the Hall of Fire. I settled down in my usual spot in the shadow of one of the pillars.

The music started quietly as people found places. Dwarves huddled near the door as though they were unsure of this Eldarin spectacle. They were the species who stood out the most in the homogeneity of Imladris; all of them were short and bearded. Celebrían had informed me that there was no sexual dimorphism in Dwarves, but all of them used male pronouns when among other species. They also did not teach their language to outsiders.

There were plenty of cultures who did the same in my galaxy. Some things were closed. Much of Jedi life was like that. Our culture and thousands of years of customs and rituals were for ourselves; our theology and philosophies depended on being Force-sensitive. There were other Force-based religions and cultures, such as the Guardians of the Whills, that didn’t depend on Force-sensitivity, though there were also ones like the Nightsisters of Dathomir that did. We’d never claimed to have a monopoly on the Force. But the Jedi…we were— had been— were— a people.

And the Empire had killed us for it, had murdered us for standing for democracy, light, and life.

I leaned back against the pillar, closed my eyes, and let the growing celebratory music wash over me rather than brood. Eldarin songs had a peculiar effect of letting me understand them even though I didn’t know Sindarin well enough to do more than greet people and ask directions when I got lost.

“Mae govannen.”

I opened my eyes to see four Men standing before me. They wore nicer tunics, all in muted colors. Their eyes were gray; their dark hair brushed their shoulders.

“Well met,” I said in carefully memorized Sindarin. “My name is Caleb and I’m from the far reaches of Rhûn. The Eldar are working on the best way to return me home. I unfortunately don’t have a common language with you.”

“Ah.” He said something in Sindarin I thought might be an apology and the four of them walked away, a couple of them glancing over their shoulders at me as they did. An Elda I recognized from the training ring came over to them. She gestured at me and I relaxed back into the music. She’d handle this.

After a while, I returned to my room to sleep, though I cracked my window open a little so I could hear the rushing water, the night noises, and the Eldar singing.

 

* * * * *

 

I sat on the roof of one of the extensions of the Last Homely House, leaning against a taller part of the structure. The summer day was wonderfully warm in the sunshine with just enough of a breeze to keep me comfortable. The sounds of the waters had become a soothing background. From my perch, I could see the trail up and out of the valley. A pack train was coming down it. Probably Eldar; I was the only non-Elda still in Imladris after the midsummer festival had ended three days ago.

“Caleb?”

I smiled when I heard Glorfindel calling me. How long would it take him to figure out I was on the roof?

«I know you’re out—» He paused. «Up there, rather. Come down; you’ll be late for training.»

Had it really been that long after lunch? Apparently.

I stood and waved at him now that I could see him. And then I jumped off the roof and landed in front of him. His mouth dropped open. «You weren’t joking.»

«Nope.»

«…We may need to alter a few things.»

I grinned. This was going to be fun.

 

* * * * *

 

When a knock sounded, I closed the Holocron and reached out with the Force: Glorfindel. I put the Holocron back on its usual place on the dresser, stood up from where I'd knelt on the rug, and opened the door with the Force. Glorfindel stepped into my room and gently shut the door behind him. His mien was serious; his emotions even graver. I swallowed. «Has the Empire shown up?»

He blinked in startlement. «No. Nothing so threatening. I need to talk to you about something that happened to me in the First Age.»

«Ah.» I’d been here long enough to have heard some of the histories in songs. Gondolin had occasionally been mentioned, but I didn’t know the full story. I suspected I was about to learn. «Gondolin?»

He nodded. «It is a difficult tale and brings up some subjects that, well, are uncomfortable. But they’re important.»

I gestured at the table and we sat down. «Start from the beginning.»

Glorfindel sighed heavily. «It’s a very, very long story, Caleb. You know of the Silmarils?»

«I’ve heard the relevant verses of the Noldolantë.»

«Good enough. And you know of Gondolin?»

«I know that it was the last refuge of the Eldar in Beleriand to fall to Morgoth and Elrond is descended from some of the survivors. You— or your namesake— has been mentioned a few times. But I don’t know much else.»

«I was there,» Glorfindel said. He explained who Turgon, Tuor, and Idril were, that the latter two had a son named Eärendil who was Elrond’s father, and how Gondolin was founded in secrecy. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. «Maeglin was Turgon’s nephew, Idril’s cousin. He did not have a happy childhood and his father murdered his mother when she sought safety for Maeglin and herself in Gondolin. Turgon executed his father and treated Maeglin as his respected kin and advisor.» He met my eyes. «Some of what I am about to tell you I learned years later. If we had known earlier, Gondolin’s end may have been different.»

I nodded. I was putting together the pieces I’d heard and not liking the result.

«Maeglin was a miner and smith of some renown. But he went too far from Gondolin and he was captured by Morgoth’s forces. He was tortured and broke; some say he broke in fear before being put to the iron, but I do not believe it. He revealed Gondolin’s location to Morgoth. In reward, Morgoth promised him lordship over Gondolin and the hand of Idril in marriage. Maeglin was returned to Gondolin and said nothing of what happened to him.»

I didn’t want to be right. I clenched my fists, trying not to think about the night the Order died. «How many people died because of him?»

«Most of the city. Tuor executed Maeglin and some few of us managed to escape, though not without further casualties. The survivors eventually made their way to Sirion. I believe you know enough of the story from there?»

«I do.» But ósanwe-kenta had given me a hint that there was a twist to this story. «You didn’t make it to Sirion, did you?»

Glorfindel snorted. «I should have guessed you’d pick up on that. I hadn’t expected you to. It’s difficult to explain to mortals.»

«Try.»

«I died. Eldar are immortal for the lifespan of this world. When we die, we go to the Halls of Mandos and from there, we can be re-embodied. But I am the only one to return to Middle-earth; none other has.»

«So you talked to Maeglin in these Halls? Is that how you learned of his betrayal?»

«I learned from Mandos.» He leaned back his chair, an odd expression on his face. «Why?»

I ran a hand through my hair. Re-embodiment was… odd… but I knew that the Force worked in mysterious ways. Just look at me being here instead of on Kaller! If that was how death worked for the Eldar, that was how death worked. Instead, though it would absolutely run into a culture clash between Jedi and Eldarin cultures, I was more interested in something else. «Would you give him a second chance?»

«Maeglin? I don’t know. The Halls are a place to heal. Maybe, if he’s ever able to leave them, I could extend conditional trust. But to place him in a position of authority and respect? No. He would have to earn that.»

«Could he not earn that by doing it?»

Glorfindel stared at me. «You would, wouldn’t you?»

«My people believe in second chances, reparation instead of punishment. During the war, a Jedi tried to kill the head of the Order. His sentence was to spend his time in the Archives helping people in hopes it would help him return to his true self. I know it's not the same magnitude, but a Jedi on the verge of falling needs community around more than anything else. Pushing people away, reacting out of fear of what they could do— I don’t think it works.»

«Would you give a second chance to the clones?»

I flinched. «I don’t know. I’m supposed to. I don’t hate them. But I’m afraid of them. If I knew why they’d turned on us so I could at least understand… No. Not right now. No.» I met his eyes and then looked down at the wooden tabletop. «I can’t.»

«Then you do understand.» It was said kindly and without judgement, but while I could understand his position, I knew I was wrong. It wasn’t the Jedi way. But I couldn’t be the Jedi I was supposed to be.

«I guess,» I said quietly. I looked up and met his eyes. «Thank you for telling me this.»

«We wanted you to know we’ve been through our own betrayals and worked through them. There are others the Eldar have experienced in our many long years in Arda, but mine was the closest to your experience.»

I nodded. «I’d like some time to think.»

He smiled, stood, briefly rested a hand on my shoulder, and left my room, closing the door behind him. I used the Force to lock it and buried my face in my hands. As much as I was curious about the Halls of Mandos and re-embodiment, my curiosity was a distraction from what Glorfindel had dug up. He’d meant well, but it had hurt more than anything.

I looked at the Holocron. How could I—? The clones… We’d been laughing together seconds before they were shooting at us. I wiped my eyes. How could I be a Jedi if I couldn’t even follow one of the basic tenets of my Order?

Master Billaba would say that the Jedi did not require perfection, only an effort to be better. Fine. I’d put in the effort. Later. Much later.

 

* * * * *

 

Glorfindel leaned against the wooden fence. Caleb was mingling with the herd of sheep in the near distance, seemingly content despite the smell. “How is he?”

The shepherd scratched their forehead. “He’s quiet until he starts asking questions. And then there’s no shutting him up. The sheep like him, too. It was a good suggestion of Elrond’s that Caleb spend a week up here.”

The boy had needed it. Everything had been going as decently as they could be with a deeply hurt teenager— and then they started falling apart a few days after he’d talked with Caleb about Gondolin. Caleb had tried to control his outbursts and then he’d locked himself in his room, emerging only to eat. He’d claimed he was spending his time meditating in order to recenter himself, but Elrond had accepted that line for only two days. He’d then suggested Caleb come out here where the only person around was the shepherd. Everyone else was the sheepdogs and the sheep. It was far less pressure than living in the main house with a schedule of lessons and expectations but still gave him something to do.

“Any nightmares?”

“None that wake me or keep me up. If he wants to go back the main house, I think he’s in a better place to.”

“Good.”

Glorfindel turned his attention back to Caleb.

 

* * * * *

 

Celebrían settled on the floor next to Caleb, who smiled at her. “Good morning, Celebrían,” he said in heavily accented Sindarin.

She smiled back. “Good morning, Caleb,” she said in what was undoubtably as accented Galactic Basic. She switched to ósanwe-kenta. «What did you want to speak about?»

He raised an eyebrow at her. «Here in the Hall of Fire? I thought this was a place for contemplation.»

He was absolutely teasing her. «Most of the time. But since you’re here and I’m here and we talk silently, well, people can still contemplate if they want.»

Caleb’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter. «All right, all right.» He straightened up. «I’ve been talking with Glorfindel and Elrond, but I wanted your opinion on what I should do when I return home.»

«Survive,» she promptly said. «Keep your morals and ethics as much as you feasibly can, but your goal should be to outlive the Empire. Don’t worry about fighting it right now. Let people older and more experienced do that. Learn its weaknesses and then decide if it’s safe enough for you if you want to act. Your role is the preservation of the Jedi. Don’t be a martyr.»

«But how am I supposed to do that?»

«What was it that person… Janus Kasmir said? ‘You lie. You cheat. You steal. You survive.’  Your survival means the Empire has lost and they don’t even know it.»

He stared at her, hope in his eyes.

 

* * * * *

 

I lightly ran a finger across the top edge of the nearest face of my holocron. I glanced out the window at the brilliant yellow leaves of the trees. I knew in my heart it was time to leave. The first day of Enderi had begun at sundown the prior evening and I’d enjoyed the celebration of the harvest, but… This wasn’t my home.

I looked around my room. Apart from the holocron, there was nothing left to put in my pack that held all the clothing and tools the Eldar had given me. I visited the ‘fresher and went back to the table. The holocron shown in the autumn light streaming through the window. I put it in the pouch made out of the same fabric as my new robe and stuck it in my pack, fabric that Celebrían had told me was Elvish magic that would hide me from unfriendly eyes. I didn’t know how it would fare against the technology in my galaxy, but any advantage while being hunted was good. My lightsaber I hung in its halves from my belt. After, I pulled on the robe.

It had been made to resemble a Jedi robe— and it was designed for me to grow into it. The hems on the sleeves and bottom were large and I could let them down as I grew. There was extra fabric somehow worked into the width of the robe as well. It was soft, comfortable, warm or cool as I needed. I put my pack on over it and left my room, leaving the door open behind me.

I’d said my farewells after breakfast, so I took the back way out of the house so I wouldn’t run into anyone. I treasured my months here in Imladris, but it was time to move on and let it go. I didn’t glance back as I made my way through the trees and gardens near the house.

Not to my surprise, Glorfindel and his horse met me when I reached the road. I climbed up behind him and we rode to the copse of trees where I’d entered the valley. “Safe travels, Caleb,” Glorfindel said in Basic.

“Fare well, Glorfindel.” I bowed to him and entered the trees. For a moment, it was the forest of Imladris. And then it was Kaller’s park. I brushed pine needles off my shoulder and pulled my hood up. The park was not crowded in late morning, but would become so at lunchtime.

I carefully reached out with the Force. Yes.

I swallowed a little nervously and set out on the path to the spaceport. Kasmir was alone in the hanger, so I lowered my hood as I walked up to him. “Can you give me a ride off Kaller? I’ll work in exchange.”

He looked me up and down. “Found a new benefactor?”

“Temporarily.” I wasn’t about to tell him the full truth. “But it was time to move on.”

“Move on. Yeah. Fine. I could use a partner for this con.” After he stepped onto the ship’s ramp, he peered over his shoulder with a sardonic look on his face. “If your morals allow you to, that is.”

“If it means surviving, I’ll do it.”

His eyes widened. “You’ve grown up, kid. Got a name I can call you?”

“Kanan Jarrus.”

“Come on… Kanan.”

I followed Janus onto the Kasmiri.