This was prompted by a discussion on the M_A list today about
the provenance of Obi-Wan's hairstyle. In this fic, I explore
its possible beginnings, and Obi-Wan passes on the tradition to
Anakin.
Obi-Wan stood in the doorway and watched as Qui-Gon pulled his
hair back smoothly and wrapped it with the leather thong he
always wore. Obi-Wan reached up and ran his hand across the top
of his own head, and felt the spiky shortness there. Qui-Gon
cut his hair about once a month, and, although he didn't think
he needed a haircut, he was pretty sure that the time was
getting close.
"I wish I could wear my hair like yours, Master." he said.
Qui-Gon turned from the mirror, his hands still busy behind his
head, wrapping the thong around the tail of hair.
"Well, Obi-Wan, as a Padawan, you must keep your hair short,
except for the braid. It's traditional."
"When can I wear it long, like yours?" he asked.
Qui-Gon finished tying his hair and came into the outer room,
and put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "When you become a
knight, you may wear it any way you like," he said.
Obi-Wan sighed. "That seems so far away."
Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "What would you think if we just
pulled a bit back and put a thong on it, like mine? Would you
like that?"
So Qui-Gon sat down with Obi-Wan between his legs and pulled
back a section of hair at the back of Obi-Wan's head. It was
hardly long enough to do anything with, but he found a soft
piece of leather among his things and tied it back in a tail
that stuck straight out from Obi-Wan's head.
He bent over and touched the top of the boy's head with his
lips. "There you are," he said, and Obi-Wan scrambled up and
ran to the mirror, turning this way and that, trying to see the
back of his head and failing. "What does it look like?" he
asked.
"Quite nice," Qui-Gon said. "It could start a new fashion among
the Padawans," he continued, as he smiled at his young charge.
And thus was born Obi-Wan's knight's tail, as he insisted on
calling it.
Many years later, the day after Qui-Gon's funeral, Obi-Wan had
the privilege of fashioning Anakin's Padawan braid, following
the traditional ritual, the same way that Qui-Gon had braided
Obi's hair so long ago, when he became his Apprentice. It was
traditionally a private ceremony between Master and Apprentice,
and this particular ritual was held in the room that they had
been given in Queen Amidala's palace.
Earlier that day, Obi-Wan had cut the Padawan braid from his
own hair in an even more private ceremony. Normally the braid
would be cut by the Padawan's Master in a brief ceremony
marking the Padawan's passage into Knighthood. There were
public ceremonies as well, but this particular ceremony was
between Master and Apprentice only, not to be shared with the
rest of the world.
In fact, the Padawan braid was not normally referred to at all
outside of the relationship between the Master and his
apprentice. It was an outward sign of that relationship, and
when the relationship was particularly close, as was that of
Qui-Gon and Obi- Wan, it became something of a touchstone for
them, even a talisman.
It was deemed inappropriate for anyone other than a Padawan's
Master to even acknowledge the existence of the braid, so it
seemed to take on a mystical significance of its own.
When he woke up that morning, struggling to shake off the night
full of dreams about Qui-Gon, he had looked at himself in the
mirror and imagined what Qui-Gon would say. He would have said,
"Obi- Wan, you are no longer a Padawan. You are a Knight, with
an Apprentice of your own." He would have cut the braid off
with his knife, and presented it to Obi-Wan on the palm of his
hand.
Obi-Wan had always imagined that when the day came, he would
give the brain to Qui-Gon, if he would accept it. Obi-Wan had
no idea what most Padawans did with their braids, since they
were not spoken of, so he didn't know if that was an acceptable
thing to do or not, but it had felt right to him.
He was alone now, and he didn't have anyone to ask. He had to
make his own ritual this time.
Obi-Wan had picked up the knife and, with one swift movement,
sliced off the braid. He held it in his hand and, without any
conscious thought at all, slipped to the floor and cried as if
his heart was broken, because, of course, it was. He cried for
Qui- Gon, that he had not been able to save him, for the years
that they had lost, for the years that he would now spend
alone, bereft.
He sat there on the floor with the braid in his hand for a long
time, but eventually forced himself to rise. He laid the braid
on the shelf in the bathroom as he washed his face, looking
into the mirror at his own haunted eyes. He laid it on the
table next to the bed as he dressed, keeping it within his
sight. By the time he pulled on his cloak, he had decided what
to do.
He had a small pouch of semi-precious stones and beads that
Qui- Gon had given him over the years which he carried with him
at all times, and which he used to decorate his braid for
special occasions. Some of his fondest memories were of Qui-Gon
braiding his hair for him, selecting a bead and threading it
on, all the while reminiscing about the occasion--a birthday or
a training milestone reached--which the bead marked.
He took the pouch of stones from his bag and shook them
carefully out on the bed. There was the red one that Qui-Gon
gave him for his eighteenth birthday. The yellow one marked the
first time that he defeated Qui-Gon in a training fight-the
first time that it was apparent that Qui-Gon really hadn't let
him win.
There was an amethyst from some far-off world that Qui-Gon had
visited once, alone, having brought back the stone as a peace
offering to his Apprentice who had to stay behind.
So many memories.
He threaded each bead and stone onto the braid, letting himself
relive the memory attached to each one. Too soon, he reached
the last bead, the one he had unconsciously saved for last. It
was a piece of rough-cut crystal, pinkish in hue, that Qui-Gon
had bought the morning after they had first slept together as
lovers. Holding it in his hand, he briefly relived that heady
moment when he knew that Qui-Gon returned his love.
With a sigh, he pushed the end of the braid through the stone's
hole, then hefted the braid, now heavy with stones and
memories, and looked at it one last time. He carefully formed
it into a coil and slipped it into the pouch that had held the
beads, and pulled the tie closed.
He had been too distraught over Qui-Gon's death to think of the
symbolism of his braid, and of the plans he had formed long
ago, but he thought now that it would have been appropriate for
him to have placed the braid on the pyre. Too late for that
now. He'd have to think of something else to do with it.
He placed the pouch in his pocket where he could touch it
throughout the long day ahead, stood up, took a deep breath,
and went out to face the world.
Obi-Wan felt emotion welling up inside him as he touched
Anakin's hair. If he had analyzed it, he would have said it was
a mixture of unbearable sorrow at Qui-Gon's death and
overwhelming memories of his life spent with the older knight,
who was all he had ever wanted in a life partner. He couldn't
imagine what he was going to do now with the rest of his life.
He shook himself. Well, one thing he was going to do with his
life was train this boy.
He was still in shock after the events of the past few days,
but he knew that his grieving would have to be in private from
now on; he knew that he must begin to train Anakin as a Jedi
and put Anakin's needs above his own, as Qui-Gon had done for
so many years for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath to steady himself, and forced
himself to concentrate on Anakin rather than on the thoughts of
Qui-Gon that were tearing him apart.
As Anakin stood before him, facing away, Obi-Wan took a section
of hair from behind Anakin's ear, separated it into three
strands, and braided it carefully. He picked up a piece of
leather that he had prepared earlier by taking the thong that
tied his own hair and dividing it in two, and he tied it around
the short braid in Anakin's hair.
He opened his mouth to speak and found he could not. He tried
again.
His voice broke as he spoke, remembering Qui-Gon saying similar
words to him the first time he braided his hair: "Anakin," he
said, "this braid symbolizes the bond between Master and
Apprentice. Everyone who sees it will know that you are
training to become a Jedi, and so you must live your life in
such a way that you never bring dishonor to the Order. It is
not an easy life, but it has many rewards. We'll talk more
about it later."
He took his knife from the table beside him, and began to cut
the rest of Anakin's hair.
"Master Obi-Wan?" The small voice interrupted his private
reverie, and he brought himself back to the present with a
start.
"Yes, Anakin?" he asked.
"Can I have a tail in the back like yours, too?"
Obi-Wan paused before answering. "Well, if you like. It isn't
traditional; it's something that Qui-Gon and I came up with
when I was small and wanted to wear my hair the way he wore
his. He suggested it to pacify me at the time, I think, but I
liked it very much and have worn it ever since. It never really
caught on among the other Padawans, I'm sad to say."
Obi-Wan smiled at the memories. Bant had teased him gently
about the tail, but he was firm in his resolve to be like his
Master in that one way, at least, and his unique hair style was
eventually regarded as one of the things that defined who he
was.
"Why do you want the tail, Anakin?" he asked.
"Well, Obi-Wan, Sir," he began, his diffidence making Obi-Wan
smile again, to remember his own hesitance in speaking to Qui-
Gon, that most intimidating of men, when he was a young boy.
Anakin continued, "I think it would help me to remember Master
Qui-Gon, and also, I would like it because it would be like
yours."
Obi-Wan felt the beginnings of tears behind his eyes, but
forced them down. He would grieve Qui-Gon later, properly, when
he was alone. "Well, in that case, of course you can have one,"
he said, and pulled a hank of hair together at the back of
Anakin's head, and tied it off with another length of leather
thong.
He picked up the knife again and cut Anakin's hair, trimming it
into an approximation of his own, although blond rather than
russet. When he was finished, he ran his hand across the
feathery spikes, then rested his hand for a moment on Anakin's
shoulder.
"There you go," he said, and smiled, remembering Qui-Gon. Then
and there he decided that he would keep the knight's tail in
his own hair. Not that he needed anything at all to remember
Qui-Gon by; he knew he would never forgot a moment that they
had spent together.
But it felt right, like the time he had spent that morning with
his beads and his memories, and if he had learned anything at
all from Qui-Gon, it was to trust his instincts.
He rose and held out his hand to Anakin. The little boy took
it, and together they walked out to meet the Queen.
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