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Star Wars – Fan Fiction FTW!

I was on vacation a while back and had some time to kill, so I decided to write out the begining to an idea I had for a new Star Wars saga… Call me a nerd all you want, but I had some fun!  The time frame on this is A long long time ago, like way before that.. haha. Enjoy!

Prologue

The flickering stars floated above the red horizon, signaling the onset of night. What remained of the setting sun rested fully on the shining edge of two drawn blades, seemingly splitting them into two halves like the contrasting horizon before them. Clashes and sparks filled the brisk air, as two men took turns moving the other across the green landscape.

Impassable mountains filled the northern horizon, glissading as though sets of blades themselves, and to the east rose magnificent towers of a distant city.  The eyes of the youngest was filled with determination and focus, reacting quickly to the ever changing position of his opponent.  His blade was forged of metal seemingly as ancient as the landscape before them, signed with aged scars. He gripped with such ferocity that it seemed he had no intention of ever letting go.

“You’re more focused than usual tonight,” spoke the oldest of the two, sidestepping what appeared to be a battle ending blow. “tell me, what’s on your mind?”

The younger man calmly realigned to the defensive posture now held by his opponent. His focus did not break or waver in any way. His intentions were clear, he would not be distracted by an attempt at conversation. The only thing that mattered was the milliseconds ahead, each one he seemingly counted in conjuncture with his blades rhythmic dance.

The fight raged on like a storm that managed to control its power in two separate bolts of concentrated energy.  Neither of the two men we’re of extraordinary stature, their strength seemed more mental than physical. They were clothed in robe’s that differed by degree’s of white, the older man’s having a methodically manicured brightness, and the younger’s closer to a tan. Their skirmish continued as the older again spoke;

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen such determination for victory in a trainer, but victory isn’t always the lesson.”

The boy heard the words of the man across his blade, but they flew past his ears as if a breeze. It now seemed as though everything was slowing down, particles of light and the waves of sound joining with the milky essence of time. Nothing had a distinct form, his hands no longer held the blade but it was now joined as an augmentation of his body. The ground below him was no longer a barrier for his feet to intersect with, but was moving in any direction he seemed fit. To him it seemed that the sky was starting to boil over with blue lines of energy, all now converging to a single point at the steel tip of his blade. He could now feel everything around him, the life growing, the air lifting, all felt as though he was running his hand over the texture of a stone.  Was it all in his mind? Or was reality itself adjusting to his view.

It was now clear to the white robed trainer that something strange was occurring. They had been training in a single match since almost mid-day, nothing itself out of the ordinary, but he had never seen someone this inexperienced keep such focus. Most by now would give into the need for rest, and that indeed was the point of the exercise. To learn your limits, to learn how to conserve. But no sign of tiredness filled his opponents eyes. Only what seemed as pure determination itself emanated from the young man’s expression.

The determination he observed on his face soon morphed into what looked as one searching his mind for answers. The boy’s eyes were now sealed shut, and there was something more he could now see. His skin seemed to glow, his blade moving against his in a pure blend of concentrated motion. He took a step back at this, drawing his sword high the customary sign the fight was to be ended. But what he then saw his eyes could not understand.

Blue light poured from the boy’s arms, down through the fingertips and magnifying at his palms. As though he were a torch the area around him lit up white. The blue energy from his hands now shot up the length of his blade, with a blinding radiance that encompassed the whole. Metal gleamed white as if it were just formed in a furnace. It swayed back and forth, splitting the atoms in the air, hissing and cracking. Nothing of this sort had ever been seen by the white robed man, yes nothing he had ever heard of fit this moment.

All was now quite, save the hiss of the blade. The troubled past of the young man, the unknown future, nothing that had at one time seemed important mattered now. He was whole and one with the blade, and he knew now what had to be done. The blue radiant blade he now held seemed as normal to him as the stars and the now set sun.

“Eli,” the old man shouted “put down your blade!” Again the words just seemed as wind, emotionless to his ears. A darkness, a controlled madness brewed deep in him now, born from understanding. He knew what had to be done. Still without words for his trainer and without warning, the young man plunged the blue light into the exposed chest of his trainer. Shimmering white light erupted out his back, ingesting the nights cool brisk darkness. The cry of pain, and the shock of the man’s face before him did not seem as a death. He understood now. He was giving him life, giving him freedom. This is what it all meant. Pulling out the sword, the man dropped to his knees, eyes tired and waning. His breath was harsh, but his tone still strong as he spoke his last.

“What,” he gasped, “will become of you?” The dying man now slumped to the ground, a dark gash replaced the white of his back, and his robe moved to match the scarlet last of the horizon.