EXILE by THE STORY TELLER

Exile (or How I Learned to Speak Beyond Death)

by Ben Kenobi, as told to Vynn Cavira

I can manipulate the very fibers that bind the galaxy together with my bare hands.

I can run like the wind.

Many are the beings that have fallen by my hand.

But now the tables have turned.

Hunted by a man I loved as a brother, I have chosen exile, ere I meet my end at his blade, the colour of the setting suns of Tatooine.

Tatooine is an interesting place. The winds and sands of time ensure that radical change finds no home here. In fact, it hasn’t changed a bit since the day I landed there with my…with an old friend…so many years ago. I was so young and so naïve.

So naïve.

These days I have no visitors. Nobody wants to see crazy old Kenobi. They’re afraid that I’m going to use magic to brainwash them or something like that. If they knew me, and if they had the merest idea of why I’m in hiding, they would know that I want no such thing. Owning land to farm means responsibility. Right now I have but one responsibility, and that is to prepare myself for the future.

The local farmers are alright. Well, most of them, anyway. An old farmer by the name of Waris Venn decided to start calling me “Ben,” saying that it was easier on the memory than “Obi-Wan.” This suited me fine, as his suggestion is more innocuous than my own name. And I know I’m not the only Kenobi in the Galaxy.

I see the farmers every now and then, when I decide to travel in to town for a drink and to keep up on local gossip. But the majority of my life is spent in solitude. So I spend my waking hours preparing. For what?

For the day the Boy becomes a Man and starts down the path of destiny. I must pass on to him everything I know. I know right now he would not understand. He is young, and his uncle won’t allow me near him. I can’t say I blame Owen, after all, he is all too aware of who the Boy’s father has become. I have great faith in young Luke. I had great faith in his father as well. I wish I’d told him as much.

Oh, I know it’s fruitless and futile, but I can’t help thinking about my time as Anakin’s master and wishing beyond hope that I could go back and do things differently. I was so focused on training him the way Qui-Gon would have done it that I was blind to what my young Padawan needed. He needed gentle guidance, encouragement, trust. All he got was criticism and unnecessary comments from an immature teacher. I loved him, and I know he saw me as a father. He even told me as much. But I, like the rest of the Jedi Council, became so forward-looking that I forgot to pay attention to what was going on right in front of me.

I will not repeat that failure. By all that is the Force, I swear it.