#meysun

Art by agarthanguide and final part of ‘Sparks of Hope’.

***

The stars had adorned the evening sky once more, and the desert was painted in inks of azure and violet. The suns had set, and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting alone on a rock, watching the jewelled sky.

But he was not alone.

He had never been alone, not even as a tiny infant. Not in all these years where he had breathed in, and breathed out, the Force bathing each of his atoms with light, and love.

The Force was infinite, the Force was everything, and Obi-Wan was just a small, breakable vessel who would return to its currents once more.

Soon, my Padawan.

Qui-Gon’s voice echoed in his mind, reverberating deep within his chest where strength and steadfastness lay, and Obi-Wan breathed out.

“I know, Master.”

There had been such holes in him. Such cracks, and scars, and wounds, and fissures. There had been times where Obi-Wan had felt so lonely, so cold under the unforgiving heat, alone with the ghosts of people he had loved, and lost.

But he had not.

And the Force had filled those holes, one by one. Cradling him, first, curling around him, kissing his tears away. Embracing his infinite sadness until all was left was silence. Then wonder. And finally peace.

Obi-Wan had longed for peace, more than anything – almost ever since he could remember. Even as a tiny-limbed boy, he had sought for it – in the Temple’s Gardens, in Master Yoda’s eyes and silvery Force-signature. In the Archives, bathed in azure light, where knowledge used to sing. In Qui-Gon’s silence, whenever his Master closed his eyes, basking in the moment.

And later as a Jedi, through his very crystal, immersing himself into Soresu, finding a rare form of elation as he practised the katas, travelling unknown ways along with Luminara.

You are my twin moon, Obi.

“And you my twin moon, Nara”, he whispered, like so long ago, feeling the cool, serene Force-brush on his very brow, shuddering slightly, even though it did not hurt anymore.

It did not hurt anymore, because Nara was right there, within him and around him. As was Kit. And Quinlan. And Mace. And Plo. And Shaak. Adi. Aayla. Vokara. Ki-Adi. Jocasta. And Ahsoka.

Do not weep, Obi-Wan. Do not be sad.

“I am not”, he whispered, but even now, after all these years, tears still sprang to his eyes, because Obi-Wan was human, and frail, and mortal. “I am not sad. I cry because I love you. Because you are still there.”

Sweetest pea of Coruscant...

Obi-Wan smiled through his tears, and reached out for Shaak in the Force, feeling the ghost on fingertips run through his hair, like so long ago, when his hair had not been white, but fiery and baby-soft.

We will never leave you.

This was Mace, steadfast Mace who had stood like the pillar he was against the raising darkness. But it was also Plo, who had fallen under the fire of Men he loved. As had Ki-Adi. And Aayla. And so many more.

At the beginning of his stay here, Obi-Wan had whispered all their names, like an endless litany, like pearls of an ancient rosary, every night, on and on, until his voice was hoarse and his eyes burning with exhaustion instead of tears.

He had shed so many tears for the children, for the small Initiates and the young Padawans, during the night and even under the searing suns, until his body felt like nothing more than a dry well.

Until he planted the seeds Beru had given him, and watched the Funnel flowers blossom, green and tender as they all had been.

Master Obi-Wan…

The voices rose like silver bells, and Obi-Wan wiped his cheeks, facing the stars once more, because this – this still hurt, deep within.

Master Obi-Wan, what is the lesson we tried to teach you?

“Oh, dear ones…”, Obi-Wan breathed out. “I… I know. I am… I am so sorry.”

Can you say it aloud, Master Obi-Wan?

The tiny voices were playful, and Obi-Wan straightened, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, immersing himself deep within the Force.

“What happened to you is… it is not my fault.”

Force, how the words felt wrong in his mouth still.

It does not count if you do not believe it, Master Obi.

“I… I still struggle. Forgive me.”

We know… We forgive you…

It still made him cry. Because he had struggled so much to forgive himself, was not even sure to have achieved it entirely yet.

You forgave me.

The voice was fierce in the Force, and Obi-Wan exhaled, opening his eyes once more, reaching out through the Cosmic Force once more.

“Yes. Of course I did.”, he said, very softly, remembering yellow eyes in a gaunt, dark and red face.

Eyes that had turned to gold, as the Force had finally welcomed him back.

“I broke you. And you broke me back. It was an unending circle, Maul. And you were not the one spinning it.”

The Force was silent for a while, and Obi-Wan thought back of this moment, a year ago, when he had drawn his lightsaber for the last time. For Luke. For the Light.

His crystal had stayed silent and hidden ever since.

He had tried to bring balance once more. Tried to mend what had been broken.

The Sand people, first, who were still making offerings to their secret shrines, fearful of the desert demon Anakin had become in their minds. Obi-Wan had meditated close to these shrines, countless times, diffusing the Force with calming, peaceful currents.

You are safe. He will not harm you again.

There had been no more raids towards moisture farmers either, Obi-Wan had made sure of that. No more fighting for dominion in the desert – but protection towards everyone.

I told you so, Obi’ka.

“Yes, dearest”, he whispered. “I know you abhorred violence, and preferred neutral solutions. I suppose using Force currents isn’t entirely neutral, though…”

Well, it depends…

He loved the playfulness the Force always conveyed through Satine’s presence. It felt like a gentle warmth, against his spine. Something to lean on.

Padawan. One day, you will have to face him.

Qui-Gon’s voice was a grave reminder, and brought Obi-Wan back to the night and the desert once more.

Him.

His Padawan, who had committed atrocities Obi-Wan still struggled to believe, even after decades. Who was still alive, in a black, terrifying armour, circling the Galaxy and coming nearer and nearer in the Force, forcing Obi-Wan to shield, fiercely, and mute both his and Luke’s presences.

There is still goodness in him.

“I know, Padmé.”

Anakin had burned like the fiercest light in the Force. His Padawan had harboured the raw, explosive strength that came with true power – but there had been wounds and cracks in his soul Obi-Wan had failed to see and mend.

No, Padawan.

Obi.

Master Obi-Wan.

“He was… too attached”, Obi-Wan whispered. “To those he loved. To you, Shmi. To you, Padmé. To you, dearest Ahsoka. And… to me.”

The night cradled Obi-Wan, the stars kissed his hair like every eve, on the high peaks of the Western Dune Sea. He was cloaked in his brown robe, the one marking him as a Jedi, but could as well be a farmer’s or a traveller’s.

“It sprang from love. I know it sprang from love. But he was misled. Darkness surrounded him from the very first day.”

Sidious.

Once more, Maul’s fierce whisper echoed through the Force, the name resonating like a curse.

“Sidious. And fear. And loneliness. And pride. And a sense of exception that turned into expectations so crushing and contradictory it breached his very soul.”

Do you pity him?

Ah. This was the stern voice of his Grandmaster, who spoke very rarely to him, but whose words Obi-Wan had learned to mark.

“I do. I do feel nothing but compassion and love for Anakin. But, if I have to strike down Vader to free him, I will.”

Are you willing to lay down your life, for him?

It was a test – one more test. Obi-Wan knew it, had been used to the Force’s teachings, who often chose to spoke through voices he loved. So Obi-Wan searched his heart, thoroughly, and let the Force flow through him before he answered.

“Not for him. But for balance, for peace… I am.”

The voices were silent, for a while, becoming one with the Force once more. They were all so close. So close to Obi-Wan now. Sometimes his very atoms seemed to resonate with theirs, separated only by a tiny veil from their very essence… Parts and sums alike.

Soon, my Padawan.

Qui-Gon’s voice echoed once more – a prophecy, a warning, perhaps. But to Obi-Wan, it sounded like a promise.

Like small sparks of hope, shining like a beacon in the infinite darkness of the sky, flooding the Force with light.

Dwalin's farewell to Thorin after Ravenhill, as he guards his body on that last, dark night before he is laid down in his tomb. Words that speak of loss, of anger and loneliness, but above all of friendship and love, of an oath so strong that it does not end with death.

This is a pendant to my other fic ‘The King of Carven Stone’.

It tells about Dwalin’s friendship for Thorin, about all the feelings he had for him - and yes there was love, but no they are not shipped.

They are ‘mamarrakhûn’, which is Khuzdûl for ‘shield-brother’, and this does not end with Thorin’s death. There is grief, there is mourning, there is anger and there is loss. But there is also friendship, and love, and the will to preserve Thorin in everyone’s memories.

You can find it here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11330972/1/Ashur-nurtu-kuylê-la-murudmi-Every-day-of-my-life-until-I-die

and here:

“ He has reclaimed Erebor and defended it, but Thorin will never enjoy the rewards of his struggles. As he lies dying on Ravenhill, he remembers... they say life flashes in front of your eyes in your final moments, but for Thorin it is more of an epic tale. A tale of family and fire, of love and loss, of madness and mourning, of exile and war, and of the great courage that carried him through it all. ”

This is my little baby. My first and longest fic, that is retracing Thorin’s whole life, from Erebor to Ravenhill, from his point of view.

Yes, you will get it all, the Dragon, Exile, his friendship with Dwalin, his relationships with his siblings, his father, his grandfather and you can find it here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11115010/1/The-King-of-Carven-Stone

or here:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3314102/chapters/7241048

Hey there, I’m new on tumblr but I thought I might as well introduce myself a bit. I’m a fanfiction writer, and my author name is actually Meysun.

Unfortunately the name was taken here so I chose ‘Mahizli’ instead, which is Khuzdûl for “Remember”, because I love memories and the way they shape lives.

I’m currently roaming the Hobbit fandom and you can find me on fanfiction.net under this link : https://www.fanfiction.net/~meysun

and on A03 as well here : http://archiveofourown.org/users/Meysun/works

I’m writing about Thorin, about Thrain, about Dwalin, about Dis and sometimes even about Thror, and currently there are three stories going on. More about them later :). Much love and let’s give this post a try (Mahal, no idea how this works...).

Author: Meysun

Warnings: Character death, graphic injury, emotional h/c

Summary: Dwalin's farewell to Thorin after Ravenhill, as he guards his body on that last, dark night before he is laid down in his tomb. Words that speak of loss, of anger and loneliness, but above all of friendship and love, of an oath so strong that it does not end with death.