Fear No Darkness by Independence1776

Chapter 2

Prompts: O72: Color Burst Red, target and Deep Thoughts, we

The Star Wars character cameoing in this chapter is Kanan Jarrus, the adult male lead from Rebels. He survived Order 66 when he was fourteen and spent the next eight years hopping from short-term job to short-term job, drinking, and pretending he was never a Jedi. He won't show up in my fic again, but I love him too much not to have him cameo.

Maglor looked across the holotable at Maedhros. “Do we know yet how many survived?”

Maedhros shook his head. “The Empire completely destroyed Gondolin. The only survivors I know of are Idril, Tuor, and Maeglin, as well as Glorfindel and the two Elves and handful of Hobbit tourists he saved on the Asfaloth. Beyond that…” He stared at the map of Beleriand hovering between them. “After Lúthien and Beren’s success, the Empire will target Doriath next. Vader won’t tolerate the insult.”

They’d saved one Silmaril. Out of everything Vader had stolen, one Silmaril. Maglor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was tempted to do both, given that Lúthien had then refused to return it to the Fëanorians, citing their lack of ability to keep it safe given Himring’s position on top of a hill and that Vader was targeting them for being Jedi.

Lúthien was a Singer of the native Quendi tradition of Force wielders. It had made a difference for the Empire, like the Guardians of the Whills on Jedha: closely watched, but not yet active targets. Maglor thought that would change now, given that Lúthien had easily proven just how dangerous a Singer could be. Not that the House of Fëanor hadn’t been Singers… but their Jedi training had made the difference in determining threat levels and classification.

“We need to leave,” Caranthir said, running into the room. “There are TIE bombers approaching.” He paused, looked at the map, and said, “Imperial shuttles are heading to Doriath.”

Maedhros sighed. “Let’s go. Maybe we can save ourselves, save them, and retrieve the Silmaril.”

Maglor followed his brothers from the war room, with a last glance at the map. Aman and Gondolin had fallen; Doriath was about to. The major settlement left in Beleriand was the spaceport at the Havens, a so far neutral port. He had a feeling it would not remain such for long.

____________________________________

Maglor walked to the locked dock door to type in the key. He stopped, hand raised, when a Human male with his brown hair in a ponytail and brilliant green eyes approached him with a bag over his shoulder and a flimsi in hand. “May I help you?”

“I’m Kanan Jarrus, the guard IndaCorp hired to watch their cargo.”

Maglor took the flimsi from Kanan and studied it. The holograph matched the company’s logo and it looked precisely like the paperwork IndaCorp’s representative had said their guard would bring. “I’m Malda Coinon, the pilot. The cargo won’t be here for another hour or so; you may as well come on board.”

Maglor typed in the number code and the door hissed open. Kanan whistled when he saw the Calanár. “Not exactly what I thought your cargo ship would look like.”

Maglor gave him a crooked smile. “I live on it. I wanted something I wouldn’t wince to see.”

He hit the button on the side of the ship-- keyed to his handprint-- to lower the ramp. It was a bit of a difficult climb up the ladder with his shoulder bag full of groceries, but he couldn’t exactly use the Force in front of Kanan. Even though the Force was humming rather louder and happier than it had in a while.

The door to the living area slid open as they approached it. Maglor pointed to the first door on their left. “That’s the refresher. The doors on your right are passenger cabins; both are empty so you have your choice. The other door on the left is my cabin.” Maglor put his bag on the galley counter when they reached the lounge. “And this is the rest of it.”

Kanan looked around and shrugged. “It’s comfortable enough. It’s what, a six hour hyperspace jump?”

“About that, yes. Part of your pay includes a meal. I was thinking wheat noodles in a red sauce with roasted vegetables. Do you want nerf meat in it?”

Kanan shrugged. “I’m not picky.” He turned around. “I’ll wait outside for the cargo.”

“All right.” Maglor heard one of the cabin doors open and then shut, just long enough for a bag to be tossed in, and then the door to the cargo hold slid open and shut. Maglor busied himself putting away his groceries and then walked down the hall to join Kanan outside. But by the passenger cabin door nearest the hold, he paused at the sound of something singing quietly to itself in the Force.

He’d only heard the like in the Jedi Temple holocron archives on Coruscant.

Maglor swallowed. No wonder the Force was humming happier today: there was another Jedi around. And for their safety, Maglor could never, ever let on that he guessed Kanan’s secret.

He took several deep breaths to compose himself and went down to the hold just in time to see the IndaCorp cargo truck arrive.

*

Kanan had spent the entire trip in the cargo hold until Maglor told him the midday meal was ready. He ate steadily in silence until near the end of the meal when he said, “I thought Quendi were isolationist. I didn’t expect to--”

“See one flying a cargo ship?” Maglor half-smiled. “Insular might be a better word for us. When the average Quend lives six hundred years, there’s a desire to want to be among your own people. I guess, yes, there’s a tendency toward isolationism in general. I never really bought into it.” He shook his head. “There’s never been that many of us out in the wider galaxy. Since the Empire took over…” Maglor didn’t know how to finish that thought.

“You left Arda because of them, didn’t you?”

He met Kanan’s eyes. “The Empire killed my family. I didn’t want to see what they’d do to my planet. That’s why I left.”

“You’re an exile by choice.”

Maglor shrugged a shoulder. “You could say that.” It wasn’t the truth, and as much as he wanted to tell Kanan neither one of them were alone, he knew better. Chances were, the Jedi hunters-- the Inquisitors, he’d heard rumors they were called-- would catch up to one or both of them. What someone didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of them.

Kanan’s mouth twisted bitterly and he said, “I can’t go home, either, for much the same reason.”

He put his plate in the sink and returned to the cargo hold without saying another word.

Four hours later, when the cargo had been offloaded and Kanan signed off his guard duty to the IndaCorp guard, Kanan returned to the ship long enough to grab his bag. “Thanks for the meal; it’s the best I’ve had in a while. Good luck to you.”

“To you as well, Kanan.” Maglor waited until the spaceport door had slid shut behind him to add, “And may the Force be with you.”