Fear No Darkness by Independence1776

Chapter 6

I16, Color Burst Green, balanced

N39, Late Great Mary Oliver, "…makes me take measure of myself, one iota pondering heaven."

Maglor knelt down on the cushioned pad he’d laid out on the catwalk overlooking the full cargo hold. He’d be in hyperspace another six hours; it was the perfect time to meditate. He set his lightsaber hilt in front of him and closed his eyes, sinking into the song of the Force.

…“Mama, what’s the Singing?”

“It is the background to life itself; everything is connected. And those of us who are fortunate enough to hear it can use it for great feats.”

“Like those in the songs you sing to me at bedtime?”

“Exactly like, Makalaurë.”

…“What do you think the Valar are?”

Maglor wasn’t sure what the right answer was. “They are the founding myth of the Quendi. Many still worship them as gods. Many of those who do say they created the Singing, what the Jedi call the Force. Others say the Valar are the Singing, but each Vala is different aspect of it. Others don’t even make that distinction, viewing the Valar and the Singing as one.”

Father raised an eyebrow. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Maglor tilted his head. “I think the Valar are myths, a way that our ancestors tried to make sense of the world around them and the Force. But that doesn’t mean they’re worthless.”

…Father unlocked the door to the cabinet where he kept the lightsaber-quality crystals he created. “Choose one, Makalaurë. It is time for you to construct your own lightsaber.”

Maglor inhaled, listening to the quiet singing before unhesitatingly reaching for an electric green crystal. “This one.”

…Maglor took a deep breath, shifted his bag’s strap, and walked off the transport into the hanger of the Jedi Temple. Mother and Father had trained here, as had Maedhros. Now it was his turn to learn how the main Force tradition in the galaxy heard the Singing.

“Welcome to the Temple, Singer Maglor. I am Jedi Master Renela.”

A tall Human woman bowed to him and he bowed in return. “It is my honor,” Maglor said and not as a mere pleasantry. 

They exchanged small talk as Master Renela led him through the Temple, giving him a brief tour as they walked to his quarters, but Maglor could hardly hear a word she said. The Force was singing him a welcome home.

…He still wasn’t used to the never-ending cityscape of Coruscant. The lack of greenery outside of the Temple made him itch, made him wonder how the Jedi could stand living here. But there were gardens inside, a full sense of life, and the knowledge and tradition of nearly a thousand generations of Jedi who made their home here. The Jedi could no more move from Coruscant than a star could choose to independently wander.

If it wasn’t for his family and duties on Arda and the Temple’s placement in the middle of a planet made entirely of city, he would be content to live here. As it was, people hadn’t called him Singer for more than a dozen years. He was a Jedi Knight and he was home.

…“What do you mean, the Sindar quit talking to you? I wasn’t gone that long.”

Maedhros huffed. “Blame Father. Something he did-- and I don’t know what-- made Thingol withdraw all the diplomats from Tirion. Grandfather is going to have to make Father grovel to have them return.”

“And we all know Father will never do that,” Maglor said, raising his mug of beer. “Cheers.”

Maedhros snorted at Maglor’s sarcasm and bumped his mug against Maglor’s.

…“I need you to go on an undercover mission for me,” Grandfather Finwë said. “I’ll have a false ID created, including family history in case someone decides to run a background check.”

“How long will I be gone?”

“I don’t know,” Grandfather said. “But I need a Quend who can blend into the background of the galaxy… and you’re more Jedi than Singer. You know the galaxy better than anyone else I can trust with this job.”

…Maglor eyed the Hobbit’s door and said, “It might be better for me to sleep in my tent.”

Bilbo Baggins frowned. “You are here as my guest for the 1400th anniversary of the Shire’s founding. I couldn’t possibly--”

“I do not take it as an insult to your hospitality if I sleep outdoors. The weather is perfectly lovely… and I will have far less of a chance of forgetting where I am and hitting my head on the ceiling when I roll out of bed in the morning.”

The Hobbit laughed. “Fair enough. But you had better show up for first breakfast!”

“I will, Master Hobbit.”

…“No. The Arda system has no protection apart from the Singers. We cannot allow you to leave.” Grandfather Finwë’s voice softened. “I know you all want to help the Republic, but the Republic has an army, for better or worse. Arda does not. We need you here far more than the Republic needs you.”

Maglor bit his tongue, knowing that Grandfather had his mind settled. He bowed shallowly and left the room before his father and brothers began to argue. Could none of them hear the Force? It counseled patience, that their time to fight had not yet come.

…Maglor sank onto the overstuffed cushion of the chair by the holotable where the HoloNet News played, his legs no longer able to support him as he watched Emperor Palpatine declare the Jedi enemies of the Empire.

…The blue streaks of hyperspace soothed when he couldn’t sleep. It had been four years to the day that he’d fled Arda. Four long years of hiding who and what he was.

…His lightsaber gleamed, brilliant silver reflecting off the hold walls. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and turned on the remote to practice for the day when he’d need to defend himself against blaster bolts.

Maglor opened his eyes. Meditating usually didn’t bring memories with it, but today, the Force had seen fit to do so. But he felt more at peace and balanced now: he knew himself.