Chapter Text
The waves shored quietly in the small bay Obi-Wan had chosen for his camp. The water was strikingly blue and bordered harshly with the dark hills that rose around him like castle walls, keeping the gazes away from whatever traveler that had found their way into nowhere in the middle of the night. Close by he heard Boga already on her hooves, stomping angrily in the small space she could move in. The sun had barely risen and she was already full of energy. That would be a ride.
“Calm, girl. Calm,” Obi-Wan spoke amused and safely put away the sharp sword he was polishing. He rushed over to let the auburn mare off her nightly stake that all of the sudden bothered her more than anything else in the world. Happy pony noises made the man chuckle who wrapped his sash closer around himself as the pony sprinted away. As beautiful as the scenery was, they had to keep going. It was not like there was any turning back now. He had traveled all the way from Dundee and he would not turn back empty handed.
Within minutes, Boga was settled and loaded and somewhat unnerving as they returned on their ride along the coastline of Connacht. They had left behind the borders to Ulster some days ago and, with some good luck, ran into no trouble. Ever since the influence of the British Parliament had spread throughout the country, Connacht had voiced their protest very clearly.
The calmness of the coast could make Obi-Wan forget all of that for a while. He enjoyed the breaks in peace while Boga grazed, the water breaking on the high shores somewhere below him. Clouds lured on the horizon and warned of the waiting night that would not wait for him to reach Sligo for shelter.
It was very far from home but it had to be worth it. British robbing sprees were bleeding Dundee dry and fighting back became more and more of an unsolvable catastrophe. He had always been good with the sword, his father being a masterful blacksmith sure had shaped his interest in the profession early. The constant danger had called him and other young men to the front so learning the arts of blacksmithing was out of reach. His technique with the sword had sharpened though. Protecting the people of his home down had become his life's fulfillment. That meant that Obi-Wan had to become better.
Rumors had spread throughout the lines that an Irishman called Qui-Gon Jinn was said to be the best swordsman of the British Isles. His skill had supposedly brought death to a thousand British soldiers without taking a single hit, moved within the shadows without noise and his glare shalt make you speak the truth only. Stories got more legendary the more often they were told but the core had to be true. Old people knew of him just like the youth though they told different, more believable tales of courage and generosity for the poorest of the poor. If he could be half as good as him, Obi-Wan would be strong enough to protect his people.
It was late fall for all he knew and the cold nights became more worrisome for both of them. To their luck, Boga’s energy rushed them through the lands and as the sun began to set and clouds quietly growled above them, lights began to appear in the distance. Obi-Wan wished that was his destination for now but somewhere between the village and Ben Bulben, he should find what he was looking for. He turned Boga away from the lights and towards the darkened hills.
Clouds rose from his mouth and hurried away into the night that seemed to have fallen over them within seconds. It was completely silent besides Bogas hoofbeat and a strange feeling crawled up Obi-Wan's spine. The back of his head was burning while he followed the path between hills that led down the road to a rather large cottage made of stone with lit windows. Cattle rumbled in their barn attached to it, most still rumbling through the darkness. Boga huffed and stood, nudging his shoulder in annoyance after he tied her leash to the front fence.
“I can barely take you with me, Boga,” Obi-Wan mumbled and patted her face to calm the mare, “You’d stomp into his house and eat his porridge. I need this man, do you understand me? Best behavior now, Boga. Best behavior.”
There here was. Obi-Wan of Dundee, survivor of massacres and talented swordsman who was willing to submit to someone else despite all the effort he put into independence before. He watched men and women alike being brutally murdered, children crying in terror. How often had he been covered in blood himself, he didn't know. After all these horrors, his heart raced at the thought that he would get the chance to meet a truly great swordsman; the best, many people said. Months of travel during changing seasons and weathers only to stand in front of a gate and not move.
As good as he already thought he was, as many enemies he had bested, he still felt nervous in front of a man followed by stories with no end, each singing more of his strength and cunning than the last. It was a momentary time of peace though and hopefully, the master had the time and patience to take him on. Otherwise, it would be a cold trip back. After taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan entered the light cones of lanterns hanging over a small stone gate.
Suddenly an ear deafening noise ripped through the air and made Obi-Wan step back. Geese had swarmed out into the night and blared a painful alarm in a maddening choir. As the door remained closed, the man breathed again. It was geese and they were fenced so Obi-Wan pulled himself through with the demonic screeching in his back and crossed the forecourt to a massive wooden door.
He heard rumbling behind it, lights shining out of the dirty windows that were covered from the inside to hinder the eye of the nosy at least a bit. Obi-Wan felt caught and silently huffed. The cattle grew more interested in him as he waited, his hand risen but unable to knock. What if he did send Obi-Wan straight back? Dundee felt about as far away as heaven was and he was basically in a foreign country with nobody he knew, nobody who would stand up for him if the swordmaster didn't help him.
Something began to chew on his sash.
A massive horse of silver and white coat with gray speckles stood in the light of the lantern right next to the fences near the door, the mane falling down its neck in long and white strands. Light brown eyes glimmered in the oil lamps shine, slow nods and neighing sounded quietly when Obi-Wan let it sniff his hand. The sheer calmness the animal radiated was soothing for Obi-Wan's roughed up nerves. It bowed its head gently for him to pet its giant forehead.
“Yeah, you’re a good horse, ain't you?”
The horse stepped as close to him as the fence allowed it. That moment, the door next to Obi-Wan sprung open. The doorframe was filled by a man at least a whole head taller than the Scotsman with chest-long brown hair falling over broad shoulders. A full beard and mustache framed the distinctive face with striking blue eyes and a prominent nose. A green, blue and orange sash covered his shoulders and fitted his kilt, his blade resting in its leather scabbard to his left. His gaze rested not on Obi-Wan's face though but on the hands still petting the horse's head.
“Abstain from touching animals,” the huge man growled with a deep voice when he finally rested his eyes on Obi-Wan who jumped back to respectfully stand some feet away. Obi-Wan bowed his head without lifting it again. Something tightened in his chest. Even though he did not see it directly, he felt the eyes of the other man on him, burning into his fiery hair.
“I am sorry to interrupt you in the dark of night, Sir, but-”
“Be grateful I have not chased you away with my sword yet as I usually do with those unbeknownst to me,” the man took a step out of the doorframe and Obi-Wan felt like shrinking. The air between them crackled as the swordmaster stared down on Obi-Wan who could only gulp at the intensity with which these eyes drilled themselves into his head. Slowly, the young man stood up.
“And now hurry along Scotsman, we two have no business together.”
Once the glare left Obi-Wan and the swordsman turned away his massive frame, air rushed back into Obi-Wan's lungs, even reaching out to the man he only saw the back from but jerking them back once he noticed a large hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“Sire, please. I traveled here from Dundee after the British have robbed us over and over again and-”
The swift turn around and wandering of eyes felt strange, making Obi-Wan's skin crawl. For a second, he swore he saw a warm glimmer inside the blue but that had vanished before Obi-Wan could make sure. “Which part of ‘hurry along’ passed your understanding?” the tall Irishman hissed and the door closed between them.
Obi-Wan felt paralyzed. Nothing would move. His limbs did not obey his orders and instead shook uncontrollably. It happened.
It happened.
He didn't even have the time to explain himself. Was it the time? Was it his behavior? Did he smell worse than the others? What did he do wrong?
Tears burned in the corners of Obi-Wan's eyes that he desperately held back. He turned around to get back to Boga when the giant horse gently nudged his shoulder. Its eyes shimmered with a comforting warmth.
“Good horse,” he mumbled in defeat and left the place. Knocking again made no sense unless he wanted to experience the sharpness of said sword near his own throat. Maybe his hopes had been too fuelled by legendary stories. Maybe humans could not live up to their own legacy. Maybe, just maybe, people lied sometimes.
Boga trotted back the path through the hills, the cold air of the night strangely pleasant on his burning face whilst they headed towards Sligo in the hopes of shelter. Another night outside might be their last.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan felt numb. How could he explain that at home? People had gathered their last bits and pieces so he could go on that journey, some already down to their sparest of reserves. Obi-Wan could swear the shoes he was wearing, the ones his neighbour had given him, were the last he had owned himself. And now, Obi-Wan used their money for basically a vacation as he could show nothing in return. A knot grew in Obi-Wan's chest, his heart felt like bleeding the more he tried to breathe deeply. Sparks danced before his eyes and he lunged himself onto Bogas neck, desperately holding on. He had failed so badly, he should better die on his way back.
Boda brought him to Sligo safely though. It was still somewhat busy within the lit streets and quick questioning brought a tavern up that he could spend the night. Gallaghers Inn had small stables attached to a big cottage with a thick thatched roof. Boga had to wait outside but Obi-Wan covered her with his sash, “I’ll be right back, girl.”
Obi-Wan opened the door to a lively Inn. People sat and stood all around the room, drinking and chatting unbothered by others. Behind a large counter, a woman with graying blond hair braided into a thick strand that flowed over her shoulder chatted loudly. She smiled brightly whilst emotionally discussing with a patron at her desk, waving her hand in his face until she spotted Obi-Wan standing in the door, “I told you, Darragh, I told you a thousand times no. Drink up and- Oh! And who are you, looking like a wet dog?”
A tired laugh sneaked though but Obi-Wan brushed it off. Some people stared as he walked by but most took no notice of him as he walked to the counter.
“Good evening. I was told you might have a bed for me and room for my horse? It's getting cold outside.”
The woman inspected him with her eyes before leaning on the countertop. “Yeah, I can fit another horse in my stable. Sleeping for you might be tight though if you don't mind something improvised?”
“Anything that's not outside,” Obi-Wan silently groaned before picking up his leather pouch. As little as he had left in coin, he had to use it now and it was enough. Barely.
“Poor guy, I pity you. You seem harmless, too. Drinks on me, lad,” the barmaid exclaimed and throttled around the counter. She was about his height but a little broader than him.
“Let's bring in your horse first, then we’ll find you something. My name is Maeve.”
Boga happily joined a warm shelter and laid down in the straw to instantly doze away. Obi-Wan's sleeping place ended up being a straw bedding with a woolen blanket on top with another resting folded in the middle in a storage room next to the kitchen. That was more privacy than he had expected and Maeve also seemed satisfied. She hurried back as patrons already called for her and Obi-Wan followed after putting his few belongings away, keeping his weapon close though. Just as promised, he got a mug of beer and a free seat close to the counter.
It was wholesome to watch the cheerful people chatting on, telling stories and memories that filled the room with laughter. The white wall had pictures and verses written on them and plants sitting in crates and bottles. The wooden chairs and tables were heavy and sturdy, years of usage having carved curves of arms and mugs into the top. It just all felt familiar.
Happy that nobody invited him though, Obi-Wan drank his beer in peace and watched the people. The patron Darragh had settled at a table with friends that obviously made fun of him before joining them in their drinking. Something about him unsettled the Scotsman. It was the way the man behaved, how he looked around. There was anger bubbling underneath, the constant swirl of his mug becoming more unsettling the longer it lasted.
The time had passed peacefully though and Obi-Wan was at his second beer. The room had emptied somewhat and only patrons for the night remained with a handful of locals. Maeve called last round and began cleaning the tables. The last big table remained with a couple people spread into sort of sitting booths, most hidden in shadow but all drunken from the night.
Maeve carried a tray with empty mugs before suddenly yelled out, dropping her tray. Darragh had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, his friends cheering amused at the sight of the struggling woman.
“Darragh, let me go, you bastard!” Maeve yelled and tried to hit the man with her elbows but his grip was too tight.
“Come on, Maeve! You know what they say about single Pub Keepers,” Darragh grunted amused, trying to turn her around to kiss her.
Instantly, Obi-Wan was onto his feet with a hand on his sword. With flying steps he was over and pulled his weapon out enough for the sharp noise to cause a pause. Maeve broke free the second Darragh startled, fleeing behind the Scotsman who tried to make himself look taller than he was.
Darragh, finally understanding what was happening, rose and pulled a large knife from his waist, “What do we have here? A stranger with no business looking for some? Brave and stupid, my boy. Should have stayed home.”
The other three men rose too, raising either knives or their fists to fight. A sudden shock of realization shot through Obi-Wan, the escalation so close he could smell blood already.
“Is this how you treat your women here? I thought better of you, feels like the English settled here already. It needs a stranger to protect them from your drunken hand. Do you feel no shame?” Obi-Wan's voice was more steady than he had hoped for, the hold on his hilt tight.
“Urges happen but others should not suffer from that. I have no wish to harm you; I want you to stop harassing this woman.” If it had to happen, he would fight.
The silence grew between them before Darragh broke out in alcohol fuelled laughter, “You think a boy with a sword scares me! Watch me!”
She knife shot forward and time slowed down for Obi-Wan when he pushed Maeve further back. The blade struck his sword and was repelled, another strike slid off and made Darragh tumble. At that moment, Obi-Wan knocked him between the shoulderblades with his elbow. The drunken man fell to the ground and groaned, dropping his weapon. Drunken people fought badly.
The remaining crowd paused upon realization of how quickly everything went down that they held back. Obi-Wan felt his heart race in his ears when he pulled his weapon out more towards them.
“As I said, I wish you no harm. Gather your friend and leave and everything is solved for now.”
The group instantly sobered up enough to carry their friend out the door and into the night, the last patrons leaving right behind them if they had not fled the scene meanwhile. Maeve leaned on one of the huge tables and rubbed her dress in disgust.
“Drunken bastard can't keep it to himself. Thank you, lad. Though I think you overdid it,” she huffed and opened her braid to redo it whilst quickly looking at the drool spot on the wood floor. Strands had fallen out and into her face.
“I politely disagree. He was disgusting. There was no excuse for his behaviour.”
Maeve gave him a gentle smile before she rose. Before she spoke another word, a hooded figure approached them. The tall figure rose over both of them along with the smell of beer. It took the woman a second before she waved her hand in the stranger's face.
“And you-YOU just sit there and watch this. If the young lad wouldn't have been there, who would have stepped in? You’re unbeliev-Argh!” Maeve's face instantly blew up in red whilst the man remained unmoved. A gentle smile peaked out from under the hood.
“I did not because he was here. You should know me by now, Maeve. Besides, he should not be a problem for you to handle if you wanted to. And you,” the man turned to Obi-Wan who straightened up upon being addressed, “who would have thought. You’re different.”
The figure lowered his hood and revealed the swordmaster who inspected Obi-Wan thoroughly. Maeve looked back and forth between them, confusion growing in her face before she groaned annoyed, “Is there anything to tell me? Do you know Jinn or-”
“I shooed him from my cottage,” Jinn admitted and crossed his arms. “I didn't feel like meeting people but something called me here. Maybe it was for the better. Though it does not surprise me it’s Darragh again.”
That already didn't sound good for Darragh as a person if it sounded like a habit. Poor Maeve. Obi-Wan finally put his sword away before Jinn addressed him again.
“News from Scotland has reached me lately. Dundee is in a very bad place. Tell me, why did you leave your family behind to come here?”
Obi-Wan swallowed. A chance, so close he could burn himself on it. The knot in his throat eased once he had breathed a little deeper for a steady voice, “My family supports my journey. The news is correct; English Lords plundering have left deep marks in our cities and lands. I have desperately tried to defend my people and did so successfully quite often but it's not enough. I can do better and I have to do better. I just cannot achieve that alone.”
The expression of Jinn didn't change but the shimmer of his eyes did. The tall man lowered his arms and turned towards Maeve who had calmed enough to look with a smirk at what seemed to be a friend. Jinn huffed at the sight.
“Maeve, let him sleep here and bring him to me tomorrow. You wanted to pick up eggs anyway.”
“Which you could have just brought in yourself, I might add,” she interrupted and gained a sigh from the master.
“Maeve, please-”
She pretended to think about it and nodded anyway, leaving with Jinn to the entrance to close the door for the night. The sudden silence made Obi-Wan finally realize what had just happened. The beer did not help to contain the joy and relief that flooded him until he jumped on the spot with his sword rattling on his belt. Maeve, struck by amusement at the sight, came over and pulled him back to the counter.
“You should have come here first, I could have told you he’d say no to a stranger at his door,” Maeve’s voice rang amused and poured another couple of mugs for them. “He grew to dislike it after we settled here years ago. He found his little place of peace. Don’t take it to heart, lad.”
Obi-Wan thankfully took the mug and sipped. It was difficult not to, regarding how harshly everything went. “The stories I have heard about him were so different," he added slowly, meanwhile thinking how to not talk badly to her about her friend.
“I was told about a kind and generous man fighting for the weak and he, just-”
“He did not behave like that, I know,” Maeve interrupted him and sat down next to him on a chair. “But believe me, you have heard right. Most of his years he spent fighting the good fight, you don't know how many just here in the village are grateful for him. He never shies away from hard work, whether it's to help rebuild a barn or fight off robbers.”
That sounded more like the stories he knew. Still, a bitter taste remained that not even the beer could wash away. They would meet again soon so another chance was waiting but could Obi-Wan take it with the knowledge that his master would not even want to have him around? The constant feeling of undeservingness would crush him indefinitely.
“You have impressed him.”
Maeve was looking at him with a warm smile, almost motherly. “He feels distant but try again. It's just that he knows a lot about his skill and well educated people with bad intentions are dangerous. He needs to know who you are. Today was a good evening for that.”
“Good evening?” The words poured out of Obi-Wan's mouth in surprise. “You just got assaulted, how is that a good evening?”
Maeve shook her head with a puckered smile before she rose with her already empty mug and patted his back. “Oh, lad. If you’d know my life you’d understand that Darragh is about as annoying as any rat crawling into my Inn. Don’t you worry about me. As foul as this drunken ass is, he gave you a chance and you proved that you step in when you see injustice. Now take that chance and hold it tight, don't let it go. Let go of your mug though, I wanna wash it before I head to bed.”
Obi-Wan emptied his mug with big gulps before Maeve sent him to his temporary room. When the door closed, he breathed deeply and smiled. It really didn't feel bad. The window allowed the little moon light inside, drawing soft lines over barrels and crates, shelves full of plates and mugs with towels hanging from the sides. The woolen bedding was warmand thick, his own heat gathering quickly underneath. In no time he felt comfortable enough to nod off. The roof crackled in the wind and the wooden coverings creaked over the window. Still, Obi-Wan was safe, dry and warm which had been sparse during the last months.
And tomorrow, he finally got the chance to properly meet the man he did all this effort for. With a strange feeling in his chest, Obi-Wan fell for well deserved sleep.