darththalia (darththalia) wrote in tpm_flashback, @ 2005-03-08 22:30:00 |
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Original poster: bant
Title: Nature Boy
Author:Briony
Rating:NC-17
Pairing:Q/O
e-mail hippediva@aol.com
http://www.ravenswing.com/crowscrof
hippediva
Link to story:http://www.masterapprentice.org/a
Of all Briony's stories, it is this one that I find "Nature Boy" the most unique and intriguing. It's short but the imagery and atmosphere is memorable a long with the unusual storyline.
"A lovely day, is it not, young stranger?"
Qui-Gon whirled around to stare at the old man leaning on the fencepost behind him. He had not even sensed another's presence and furrowed his brow at his own negligence. His Master would have called it woolgathering.
Bright eyes beamed at him under a tattered, floppy hat and the old man smiled toothlessly.
"I say, nice day, don't you think?"
"Yes. It's very beautiful. Where does that path lead?"
The old man smiled again, empty gums glistening with saliva. "Down into the Greenwood, boy. Don't you know?"
Qui-Gon shook his dark head. "I'm a stranger here, sir."
"Ah." He was mesmerised by the light gleaming off the threads of spittle in that ruined, aged maw. The bright eyes reflected the green of the man's worn cloak.
"A nice enough day for it, lad. But don't go in there, you know. Don't go to the Greenwood. Not at Year-End."
The young Jedi stared down the leaf-strewn path with sudden longing. The Living Force's voice rose a little, prodding him forward with an almost physical push.
"But why? It's a worn path, others have gone there."
"Aye, young sir. Others have gone." The old man turned abruptly and began to walk away up the cart-track.
"Why?!" Qui-Gon called after him.
"Others have gone, but have they come back?" He heard the old man's laughter fading up the road, the quavering voice fading with it. "Beware the Greenwood, boy."
For a long moment, Qui-Gon stared after the stooped figure until it disappeared around the bend. Then he turned back to the little path, where the sunlight danced on brown patches of leaves and the late-fall insects whirred a tune to the wind.
The smell of loam and softly rotting bracken, rich and full of promise for spring, was stronger as he brushed past branches wound with twisting vines and ducked beneath fragrant pineboughs, startlingly dark green in a world of red and gold and russet browns. The sunlight slanted through the high trees, dappling the soft ground with shifting leopard-spots of brilliance. He moved slowly now, winding his way along the tiny track until it suddenly turned out to a small, wooden bridge that spanned a slow-moving brook whose waters danced and rippled in the light.
Qui-Gon paused on the bridge and looked up through the tangle of branches at the sky, patches of soft blue blinking through the rustling leaves. Further down, the stream gurgled and giggled and the sounds of the underbrush in its dark recesses made him whirl around and stare into the waters, eyes searching the shadowy bracken. He lifted his young face to a patch of sunlight and let it warm his cheeks, gilding his lashes and touching him like a caress. He smiled into the warmth of it and let the murmuring, living world around him speak, his heart reaching out to embrace it like a lover.
The brook laughed softly and, through the waving boughs, the eyes that watched him smiled.