Circle of healing

XII.

Down to the earth I fell
With dripping wings
Heavy things won’t fly.
(Nina Gordon)

***

"But . . ."
"That was my final word in this matter!"
The door slammed with a loud bang and was being locked from the outside. The young girl stood in the middle of the room in a rebellious posture for a while, breathing quickly, then her shoulders slumped and she went back a few steps and dropped on the small bed.
Well, this had been a clear technical K.O.. And this time there was no chance for her to get out of this situation. But did she have to be punished for days?
She would be allowed to be with the others during the time when she had lessons and duties, but aside from that, she would be confined to her room. To meditate about the meaning of bans, the high priestess had said.
Naara shivered inside when she thought of the cool and appraising look of the influential woman. As was true of many of the young girls in the temple, Naara was scared of Aethra. Naara never was quite sure if the priestess actually tried to look threatening, or if it was just the way she was - but no matter what, it didn’t help her situation right now.
Aethra had known exactly where to get Naara, she had known which punishment would be the hardest for the girl.
Detention . . . Naara huffed indignantly. Wasn’t she a little too old for this by now? Detention was given to small children, and she wasn’t a small child anymore, she was a novice of the healer temple!
Besides she was hungry. In addition Aethra had ordered that she should go to her chamber without dinner this night.
If she had not been so agitated about how her little trip to the Garden of silence had been blown up, she surely would have laughed about the whole situation. Nevertheless right now she missed the late-evening talks to her friends in the temple and her stomach rumbled loudly.
Startled, she glanced around in the room - she was nearly afraid the rumbling could be heard in the next room. But then she remembered how thick the walls of the temple were. She could have screamed and the only one to hear her would have been the small bird with the multicoloured feathers who had alighted on the window ledge.
A broad, pleased smile crossed Naara’s freckled features. For nearly half a circle the bird came to her every evening and waited for her to feed him some bread crumbs and other stolen treats from the dinner table. Instantly some of the happy glowing disappeared from the young girl‘s face.
"I’m sorry, my little friend. There is nothing I can share with you tonight."
The bird bent his head slightly and looked at her questioningly with his shining black eyes. Naara inched a little closer to the open window - just near enough to not scare the bird, but to watch him more closely.
The last rays of the sun that was setting in a deep dark red behind the horizon cast reflexes on the small bird and shimmered on his colourful feathers. As if the small animal were sensing the mood of its little benefactress, it came a little closer and pecked its bill on the window ledge.
Naara’s heart beat faster and she forgot about all of the trials and tribulations of the world in front of the door of her chamber - the bird had never come quite so close to her before. Carefully placing one arm over the other, she rested her head on the makeshift pillow, so that her face was merely inches away from the animal. The shining black eyes of the bird were at the same height as her bright blue ones.
Again her stomach rumbled and the bird jumped away with a startled little sound - but it didn’t fly away. The warm smile returned to Naara’s face.
"Looks like we will both have to stay hungry tonight, little friend," she whispered.
A warm breeze from the plains whispered through her open window and caressed her still flushed cheeks soothingly. From her window she could see the plains stretching out, saw how the river, uniting after its way through the many waterfalls, meandered through the vast forests and she saw how the lowlands slowly rose into the mountain regions - softly curved mountain ranges which shimmered unsubstantially in the dusky light of the evening, causing wanderlust to swell her heart with painful joy.
Naara sighed softly. The following days wouldn’t be easy. But it could have been worse. The window could have . . .
Her sudden wave of self-pity was forgotten, when the bird unexpectedly started to sing. The wistful twittering filled the little room and was then carried away by the wind, taking it with him on his wings, spreading the tiny song over the plains. But this song was meant only for Naara. She was absolutely certain of it.
With a happy sigh she closed her eyes and allowed the wind to tousle her jet black hair, while she listened to the song of the bird, using it to dream herself into another world.

***

Obi-Wan limply dropped to his knees as the queen turned her back on him. His body, his mind, everything hurt, but for the first time in a long line of events he felt alive enough to actually realise the pain. This time it didn’t sink down to the dull pounding that threatened to make him go insane. The pain was glaring and nearly unbearable and his body screamed for a release - no matter of what kind.
Obi-Wan fell to the side and simply lay there without moving anymore. His eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged and he desperately tried to remember how he could escape the pain without calling the force for help. But his memory failed him, and tears of shame and humiliation burned in his eyes at this failure.
He didn’t pick up on the light steps of the small feet until a sponge, soaked with warm, slightly scented water was being smoothed over his face and chest. Small, circling movements on his cool, hurting skin. He had known about her gentleness, but not about the soft touches of her hands and the miracles they could do. He didn’t fight the gentle, caring movements and allowed her to wash his abused body and to apply a slightly stinging ointment to the many small wounds. All this time he kept his eyes closed - too deeply rooted was the shame that she had to treat him like a small child because he didn’t have any power at all left in his body. He was grateful that she didn’t ask why he had taken up this torture, even though he clearly felt that the question was burning on her tongue.
Strangely enough he only felt her hands during all this time, and there and then her warm breath when she bent over him. Nothing else. Time ceased to exist.
Carefully her small hands helped him to sit up, pulled a clean tunic over his head and placed a bowl of hot, spiced tea in his hands which he gratefully drank.
He didn’t dare open his eyes. An unreal fear arose in him, whispered to him that she would turn him down and hurt him deeply.
Padmé sensed the doubts in him and she carefully ran one hand over his short-cropped hair.
"Look at me, Jedi Kenobi," she asked softly.
It took him a long time to acknowledge her plea.

***

Obi-Wan had the feeling of falling into those gentle brown eyes in front of him from an incredible height. But even though a part of him felt a gnawing fear, he knew with a great certainty that there was no pain waiting for him here. No, no pain.
But what frightened him so much, then?
The queen’s lower lip trembled slightly as she tried to read the emotions she saw in his eyes, the emotions he didn’t hide enough.
His soul yearned for her soft eyes, yearned for the understanding they offered.
Carefully she raised her slim hand and placed it on his cool cheek.
A short impulse coursed through his body and his eyes flickered in surprise. As if an electric shock had . . . but no – no. There was no pain.
Her hand was warm while it slowly found a resting place on his cheek and tenderly ran her thumb over the deep dark circles under his eyes.
"You should rest, Jedi Kenobi."
A weak but honest smile curled Obi-Wan’s lips. How many times had he heard that sentence in the past weeks? It seemed absurd to him to hear it coming from her as well.
"I know," he answered tiredly.
His smile was mirrored on her face and gave it more warmth and vulnerability. The cool moonlight shone on her dark hair and made Padmé glow strangely.
Obi-Wan shivered. This silver-blue glowing brought back memories he had thought buried. Her hand on his cheek suddenly made him feel sick and he hastily moved away from her touch.
He saw a hot wave of shame and disappointment flushing her cheeks, only to be replaced by fierce defiance. He appreciated that she suppressed any snide comment that might have been on the tip of her tongue.
She rose quickly and left for the temple with even strides, hard pressed to not make it look like the escape it actually was.

***

A loud bang woke Naara from her light slumber.
"Oh, by the seven hells of . . ."
The curse was continued quietly, making it impossible for Naara to identify which seven hells were being referred to here. Meanwhile it was inky black in her chamber and she couldn’t make out who had sneaked into her chamber even though she wasn’t allowed to have any visitors.
Carefully Naara slid off her spot at the open window and much to her dismay she realised that her legs didn’t obey her the way they usually did. She landed a little roughly on her behind on the hard stone floor. In the cool, silvery moonlight that filtered into the room in broad rays, Naara looked into the tired face of the healer priestess Reaja, who was kneeling on the floor as well.
"You are awake?" the priestess whispered surprised. "You ought to be asleep!"
Naara stared into the older woman’s kind face for a while, then the words burst out of her: "Actually I was supposed to stay alone and not have any visitors, too."
Reaja smiled and got to the task of retrieving everything she had dropped. The girl glimpsed fruit and a closed bowl that had taken no damage.
"She really sent you to your chamber without dinner?" Reaja dug deeper. Without waiting for an answer, she shook her head in disbelief
"Uh-hu," Naara agreed. "Even though I only . . ."
"Don’t go there, Naara. I don’t even want to know what you only did."
The girl shut her mouth, offended, and frowned.
"But I don’t think it’s just that you have to stay hungry while the kitchen is positively overflowing. That’s not right."
Reaja asked herself why of all things she was trying to justify her actions in front of this child. The curious bright eyes of the slim girl hung on her like two twinkling stars in the night and next to the gratefulness she saw slight indignation shimmering there. Indignation about the fact that she - Reaja - hadn’t spoken up for her. But Reaja was too old to let herself be wrapped around this child’s fingers by those expressive eyes. She had seen many generations of novices, and there had been a few of Naara’s mischievous calibre.
No, she had heard what had happened and the confinement to her room had been justified. But not allowing her to have dinner was not. That was the reason she had sneaked down here as soon as night had fallen.
Reaja placed the fruits and a little silver spoon on the bed after she had cleaned them on the hem of her dress. Naara’s eyes grew from second to second, and the true affection and the joy she saw in this child’s big eyes, warmed the priestess’s heart. What was it about this girl that made her become so soft?
"Eat quickly," she instructed the girl. While Naara devoured what Reaja had brought for her ravenously, the priestess went on talking: "I’ll take the bowl and the leftovers with me, to make sure no one finds out I was here."
Naara chewed and smiled at her happily, little dimples forming on her cheeks.
The priestess rose and closed half of the window to keep out most of the now cool night air and out of habit folded a carelessly thrown aside tunic. She was hard pressed to hide the upcoming laughter when she heard Naara audibly licking her fingers clean. Reaja turned around and gave the girl a damp cloth to clean hands and mouth.
"Don’t forget to look really hungry in the morning, you hear?", the priestess reminded her jokingly. "No one must know about my little visit here, you promise me?"
Naara hid a yawn behind her slim hand. It wasn’t unusually late, but the eventful day had left his traces on her, and she was drop-dead tired. "I will keep quiet as if I had pledged . . ."
Reaja shook her head and gently steered the girl towards the bed. "No, no stories. Just make sure this stays between the two of us." She smiled conspirationally and pulled back the comforter. "Off to bed with you now, little one."
Willingly Naara crawled into the narrow bed under the window and snuggled into the pillow. Her eyes had already closed when she remembered something and sat up again.
"Healer Reaja?"
The priestess who had already walked a few steps towards the door, turned around again. "Yes?"
Slim arms reached out and closed tightly around Reaja.
"Thank you," the girl murmured into the folds of her robe.
For a moment Reaja was speechless. Then she quickly hugged the dishevelled curly head against her shoulder. She waited a few blinks of an eye until Naara had snuggled back into her pillow and then spread the comforter over her.
Reaja drew a protective rune over the fragile novice before she turned to go. The cool moonlight played on the child’s face when she tiptoed out of the room.

***

Obi-Wan stared after her and immediately felt the sharp sting of regret under his heart.
She couldn’t understand what had led to this dismissive reaction of his. She didn’t deserve to be pushed away like this. Everything he had seen in her eyes had been honest worry and gentleness.
Why? Why did she treat him like this when everything he did had to be interpreted as dismissive and nearly rude?
The Jedi raised his face to the night sky and felt the cool air on his closed eyes. The evening couldn’t end like this. Not with a misunderstanding like this.

***

Padmé breathed deeply and heavily against her anger and her hurt pride. Being pushed away by him like that, all of a sudden, had hurt her more than she could and wanted to admit. With her hands balled into fists she paced restlessly around the small room that accomodated their beds.
What had she done? Why had he given her the feeling that she was poking around in something that was entirely not her business? Why had he pushed her away? Padmé didn’t understand.
She remembered the pained look of the Jedi that she had glimpsed before everything had started going wrong. She was far from condemning him, but slowly she didn’t know how to act around him any longer. When she left him alone, she felt his lonely gazes resting on her, when she tried to act casually, he didn’t participate, when she tried to get closer to him, he pushed her away.
What else could she do?
The whispering noise of fine leather boots on the hard stone floor indicated her that she was no longer alone.
She didn’t turn to face him. No, not this time. She had reached out for him far too often. This time she would wait for him to explain his actions.
"I am sorry, your highness."
Involuntarily her stomach contracted upon the down cast tone of his voice. When she had found her composure again, she turned around.
He stood in front of her with the expression of a beaten puppy - so unintentionally piteously that Padmé’s heart jumped painfully at the sight. But they weren’t ready. Not yet.
"Will you explain it to me?"
Obi-Wan stared intently at his boots, just as though there was something extremely interesting to see.
"I don’t know if I can."
"You could at least try." Her voice had lost a lot of its sharp edge and now only sounded tired.
"I’m sorry, but I don’t think that I . . ."
She raised her right hand in a sharp commanding gesture and effectively silenced him with that. "No. No further. You will try. Here and now. Even if it takes all night."
Upon hearing her sudden hard tone of voice, Obi-Wan looked up from his boots in surprise. He could see why she had been elected queen. The gentle facade hid a sharply thinking mind and a boiling temper, tamed but there nevertheless, coupled with intelligence and sensitivity.
‘She would have been a good Jedi’, the sentence shot through his head at light speed. But it didn’t stay for very long.
Her gaze still rested on him and he started feeling more than uncomfortable in his own skin. Surely an explanation was needed, just as an apology, but did it have to lead to this? Did she really have to get an answer to every single one of her questions? Now?
Meanwhile Padmé had folded the arms in front of her chest and cocked her head slightly - offering the picture of impatient waiting. Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. There was no way around this. The ointment she had applied to his wounds had healed the fine lacerations incredibly fast - so he couldn’t even say he wasn’t feeling well. Just why was she so obsessed with talking all the time? Didn’t she have a need for silence?
‘Diplomacy, Obi-Wan’, he reminded himself. ‘Where are your manners?’

***

He spoke for a long while, so that neither of them realised the time passing.
Padmé had settled on the bed, lying on her stomach, chin resting in her hands. She listened to the pleasantly warm sound of his voice, which sometimes barely rose over the soft rustling of the wind in the trees, when he spoke of particularly painful events
When finally--midnight had passed long ago--a longer pause arose, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and raked both hands through his hair.
Questions had been answered and misunderstandings had been settled, but now, after so many things had been said, he felt empty and worn out. Fatigue rolled over him and he didn’t have to look at the queen to know that she wasn’t any better off.
She had listened to him all night long, not for the tiniest of moments had her attention been distracted, not a single time had she given him the feeling of bothering her with the things he said. They had talked about him and about her, had made concessions and confessed weaknesses, had shared memories and pain.
Obi-Wan hadn’t known that the queen had been so deeply affected when learning of Qui-Gon’s death. The empty space in his heart that had taken Qui-Gon’s place stung again when he thought of his mentor and he willed the thought to leave his consciousness. During the last days he had become a master of self-deception and even though he knew that this was the wrong way, it was the less painful way, and he just couldn’t go the other one right now.
He had had enough pain. Enough pain to last a lifetime.
And yet there were so many things he hadn’t talked about. Things he would have liked to confide to the queen, but didn’t know how. In her warm brown eyes he found absolution where he hadn’t expected any, they were like whispering caresses on his troubled soul.
But when Qui-Gon had died, more had happened.
More than she saw and understood. More than even the council knew.
But before he confided it to anyone, he had to admit what had happened to himself. But it was so hard, so incredibly hard . . .
After a few moments he opened his eyes again - surprised that she wasn’t replying anything. What he saw caused a wistful smile to flicker across his features.
The queen had placed both hands under her head and was fast asleep. Her breathing was quiet and deep. Single strands of the long hair fell into her face. Gently he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, tenderly smoothed the hair out of the beautiful face, and gazed at the scene in front of him. He envied her for this peace he couldn't seem to find anymore.

***

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