darththalia (darththalia) wrote in tpm_flashback, @ 2004-07-21 22:41:00 |
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Original poster: glasshouseslive
Hello campers! Your "Gloom, Despair, and Agony on Me" recommendation will, err, climax on Friday. This is my make-up post.
Title: Swansong
Author: saraid
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Summary: Obi-Wan has only 2 days to complete his final step if he is to be a Jedi.
saraid listed: angst, au, borderline noncon. I know, I know, borderline noncon is like being a little bit pregnant. But if you usually avoid such things, don't worry about this one. I can't tell you why without spoiling the story.
Author's e-mail: saraid@wf.net
Website: http://www.wf.net/~gofboats/saraidindex.h
LJ id: saraid.
Link to the story: http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/s/s
Reasons for recommending: This story must be read twice. The first time, read it as you would any great story. Let yourself relax into it, let the angst build, admire the characterization and lovely turns of phrase. Then, afterward, after suitable "sink in" time (which may vary by reader from 10 minutes to two years), read it again, knowing now what you didn't know then.
Sometimes, out of the blue, I feel a NEED to re-read this story. You'll know why soon.
"And you didn't trip over your feet?" Another Master inquired slyly. "I seem to recall seeing that happen whenever you tried a move in any direction beside forward!"
"Hey!" Qui-Gon rumbled in good-natured protest; it was late, he'd been gossiping and carousing with old friends for several hours and he couldn't remember having been this relaxed in months - possibly years. Yes, Obi-Wan would have to take the final step, but he was going to let his Master help him through it and then they could get to the real work of getting him knighted. "For a few months when I was fifteen, but never since!"
"I've sat the oars in boats smaller than those boots!" Someone hollered, having heard the comment from across the room.
"I've seen roast Bantha served on a smaller platter!"
"If you think his shoes are big, you should have to wash the socks."
All heads in the room turned at the new voice. It was quiet, and low, and practically devoid of warmth or humor.
"Force, Qui-Gon. You should have warned us." All laughter fled, the Jedi closest to him backed away as everyone stared.
"I would have..." Too shocked to elucidate, Qui-Gon held, as if frozen, suddenly acutely, absurdly aware of the dark wine that dripped slowly from his tipped goblet and ran down his wrist to abandon his arm at the elbow and leap for the cushioned floor below. "Padawan." He meant it to be firm, to be critical, but it came out half-frightened, unsure, and showed the depth of his worry.