Pairings: none
Category: Black humour.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, and definitely George Lucas
wouldn't recognise them.
Summary: A Jedi Padawan in need seeks some advice from her
contemporaries.
Acknowledgement: Thanks to the bic crew who encouraged me to
write this.
Archive: DPS, master_apprentice, all others please ask.
Warning: This is a Dead Padwan Story.
Puberty is not kind to Eldorkians.
Particularly if you're Padawan to a Master famed throughout the
galaxy for her stunning good looks, her grace and her wisdom.
Particularly when Eldorkian adolescence involves serious puppy
fat, virulent acne, desperate shyness, buck teeth and a general
lack of co-ordination.
None of these are good things in a Jedi apprentice, but after
millennia of Padawans, the Temple thought it could cope with
anything. Even the embarrassing body odour. Problems were met
with grace, dignity and support.
Nobody had mentioned Siri Al Cillah's clan's traditions though.
She mooched disconsolately through the Temple corridor,
wondering what to do. Her name day was approaching and disgrace
with it.
Siri Al Cillah was approaching 16 orbits old and was still a
virgin.
Her mother had written at least once a week, delicately
enquiring as to whether the deed had been done. Her father had
been more direct, pointing out that remaining a virgin at the
age of 16 meant that Siri's name would be stricken from the
family books. To her clan, Siri would never have existed.
It would be better if she were dead.
Her mother couldn't understand it. Siri was at the height of
her beauty by Eldorkian standards. Why, the last
holotransmission they had shared had only proved it. Her
pustules were oozing gently, her teeth protruded gently, her
cellulite was enticingly lumpy, she blushed at the slightest
attention paid to her and if only those holos had smell, she
knew that her daughter was emitting the scent of a
desirable Eldorkian maiden seeking fulfillment.
But Siri was the sole Eldorkian at the Jedi Temple and what
drove the males of her homeland into a sexual frenzy was merely
repellant to the humans in the Temple. Even Bu Baleejons, who
was infamous for preferring Hutts and Wookiees as his sexual
partners, not to mention the rumour about the semi-sentient,
underage hole in a log, had been heard making cruel jokes about
Siri.
She tried to take it in her stride - a Jedi minds not these
things, after all, and if that failed, well, sticks and stones
- but it still hurt. It stang, and every snigger, every laugh,
every sudden change of conversation as she approached, and the
sudden loss of appetite in her contemporaries hit her raw
sensibilities like a whip.
Even Obi-Wan Kenobi, as noted for his kind heart as his
legendary lack of taste, was unable to help her.
"I'm sorry, Siri," he said with that enchanting grin that made
both genders at the Temple swoon. "I'm in a loving and
committed relationship with the junior Senator from Alderaan
and my beloved Bail just wouldn't understand."
Siri nodded disconsolately. But perhaps there was one more
chance.
"My Master?" laughed Obi-Wan. "That's really scraping the
barrel. I mean, he's ancient." The male Padawan paused. "I'd
rather hump my lightsaber. Sith, I'd rather turn to the Dark
Side. I'd even rather be a farmer than that. Besides,
he's seeing Mace Windu who gets jealous..." He paused and
shuddered. "I mean, Qui-Gon? Ewwww!"
It was a very depressed Siri who returned to her quarters with
Obi-Wan's words ringing in her ears. There seemed to be nothing
she could do. As she passed a group of her contemporaries, she
heard a giggle from one of them.
"What's wrong, Siri," sneered one. "Still desperate to find a
lover? the way you're going, you're going to have to use your
lightsaber to find a lover. I suppose in your case a lightsaber
is a girl's best friend. As long as he doesn't decide that some
fates really are worse than death."
Malicious laughter followed Siri down the corridor as she fled
the sniggering group. On reaching the safety of her quarters,
she was relieved to discover that she was alone. The last thing
she needed was understanding and sympathy from her
devastatingly gorgeous Master. But Adi was out, and had left a
message that she wouldn't be back for a while.
Siri decided to take a shower and moved through to her bedroom
and started undressing. As she tossed her lightsaber on her
bed, her tormentor's words came back.
"A lightsaber is a girl's best friend."
Suddenly Siri realised what she could do. There was precedent
in her clan's records for this - a distant ancestor had been
stranded alone in a remote spot and saved her honour and that
of the family with the help of a specially carved tree branch.
Siri, too, was in the same boat. Without a native Eldorkian,
she was as isolated as her legendary ancestress. She
could save her honour.
She looked again at her lightsaber. It was perfect. Unlike most
Padawans, Siri came from a planet with a long tradition of
mechanical craftsmanship and her lightsaber casing reflected
that. Under her master's tutelage, she had crafted a perfect,
watertight weapon with a smooth retractable casing that
protected the crystals when not in use. Adi had praised her
work highly and other masters had commented on her skill,
congratulating her on the workmanship.
Siri began her preparations carefully, fetching the ceremonial
blanket that her parents had embroidered for her first time.
She spread it carefully on her bed, smoothing all wrinkles from
the covering. She undressed deliberately, folding her clothes
with care and preciseness, then lay down on the bed and spread
her legs.
Using the Force, Siri picked up her lightsaber. She manoeuvred
it delicately and positioned it between her legs. She paused,
inhaled, cleared her mind. As she exhaled, she serenely used
the Force to slowly push the lightsaber handle inside her.
It was cold. It shouldn't have surprised her, but the metal
casing felt strange inside her. She pushed further and
encountered some resistance.
The lightsaber casing was still cold and Siri knew from her
mother's accounts that achieving her full penetration could
take a certain amount of time. She decided to make things more
comfortable.
Unfortunately her grasp of the Force was not perfect, and her
juggling of molecules to create heat was one nudge too many.
The last thing Siri Al Cillah, Jedi apprentice and proud
daughter of Eldork, heard was a click and a whoosh as her
lightsaber, which had served her so faithfully in so many ways,
served her one final time and saved her family honour as it
ignited inside her.
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