Sacrifice - A Star Wars Fanfic

Chapter 8

      Similar to the last time he and Master Luke had been to Dagobah, Artoo once again found himself waiting around in the damp environment of said swamp planet, not happy about his accommodations whatsoever. He beeped disconsolately to himself and turned to look at Yoda's cottage, now occupied by Master Anakin and the strange green Jedi Master. Warm yellow light escaped the oddly shaped windows, contrasting the gloominess of the swamp.

Anakin had had trouble making it into the cottage. After getting over his shock of seeing Master Yoda, he had carefully scooped Luke up and followed the Jedi Master into the cottage with his questions held back on the tip of his tongue.

Once the Jedi Knight had figured out how to duck down low enough to fit him and the slumbering boy inside, his head had been introduced to the wonderful hardness of the ceiling. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the raw spot and setting Luke down as carefully as he could. With no beds in sight-well, the right size beds-he settled for laying the boy on the floor, his legs on Anakin's lap.

Anakin again scanned the room, wincing at how little space there was. He himself was in a criss-crossed sitting position, Luke taking up most of the room with his sprawled out form. Thank goodness the boy hadn't inherited his father's height.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Master Yoda laid his gnarled hands over his gimer stick and stared Anakin in the eyes, observing him intensely.

"Soup, would you like, Skywalker?" Yoda asked, a small smile on his face.

Anakin blinked, almost forgetting his real last name because of the alias he had been going by. It came as a small relief to talk to someone he knew and could tell about his problems. However, he couldn't seem to form a proper sentence around the ancient Grand Master. He knew Master Yoda was old, but now he looked downright frail, and his voice, though cheerful, seemed weaker. If Anakin didn't know any better, he would say the old Jedi couldn't fight as deftly as he used to either.

"Um...of course Master. Thank you." Anakin said as politely as he could manage.

Luke's legs shifted in his lap and he looked down to see the boy muttering again, his face in a state of distress.

"Leave him. Alright, he will be." Yoda said suddenly, holding out a small bowl of broth to Anakin.

Anakin took it warily, not really wanting to ignore his son's distress, but also wanting desperately to plunge Master Yoda with a torrent of questions.

Yoda nodded at the boy to eat, plopping gently down onto his small cot.

Anakin sipped at the contents of the bowl, blinking in surprise at the warmth and salty flavor that assaulted his taste buds. It was quite good for a simple kettle-cooked meal. He finished it in silence, looking at Yoda every few seconds. When he was finished, he slowly lowered the bowl to the ground, fumbling with a loose strand on his robes.

"Master-"

Yoda held up a hand. "No. Questions you have, yes?"

Anakin nodded. Yoda sighed and looked back at Luke. "Know you do of your relationship with the boy?"

"I do. My son." Anakin said, smiling rather wistfully as he remembered that Yoda always spoke so riddle-like.

"Yes. And from the past, you are?" Yoda asked.

"Yes. I was in the Chancellor's office to assist Master Windu in arresting Palpatine--" Anakin hesitated, remembering how his lightsaber had flown into his hand almost instinctively, rearing up to strike Mace relentlessly. Only his sudden time-travel journey had stopped him from killing a fellow Jedi.