The Rhythm of the Heat
Rating: PG
Archive: m_a, author's homepage
(http://members.aol.com/amyaallen/sidewinder.html)
Category: erm...Point-of-view (Obi-Wan) And songfic.
Sorry 'bout that, I know some people hate 'em...just
can't help myself sometimes.
Notes: See sidewinder listen to Peter Gabriel all day.
See sidewinder get drunk. See sidewider finally break
through her writer's block. I have no idea if this
makes sense or not, I just ran through it in one burst
and figured it was one of those 'post it as is or lose
the mood' fics. More than anything I'm just damn happy
to have finished anything I've started for the first
time in months.
Feedback: Did you get it? Let me know. I'm not sure I
did.
Disclaimer: Song lyrics (c) Peter Gabriel. Nothing
belongs to me except the hangover I'll have tomorrow.
// Looking out the window
// I see the red dust clear
// High up on the red rock
// Stands the shadow with the spear
We've been walking for two days. This world is dry,
and hot, and I don't know why we're here. My master
tells me nothing except "You will understand in time."
/In time./ How much time? Another two days? Two weeks?
Just how long will we keep walking like this? The sun
is hot and the red earth crumbles under my feet. We
walk and walk and I see nothing but more scorched
earth ahead of us. I would argue with my master,
question our need to be here and where we are going,
but I am too tired and too hot to speak. My world
has drawn to focus on nothing but following Qui-Gon,
the sound of his boots crunching into the dry soil as
we walk on into this desert.
// The land here is strong
// Strong beneath my feet
// It feeds on the blood
// It feeds on the heat
The silence between us is not uncomfortable; it is
simply there. I wonder what Qui-Gon is thinking. I
wonder about a great many things as we cross the
great desert of Bel'alle.
I wonder when we will next stop for a drink of water.
I wonder about the prickling along the back of
my neck, the vague sense of urgency in the Force, and
if that is what propels my master along this path.
But it is not my place to question him. It is only my
place to follow.
// The rhythm is below me
// The rhythm of the heat
// The rhythm is around me
// The rhythm has control
// The rhythm is inside me
// The rhythm has my soul
Our third day on Bel'alle. Qui-Gon is already awake
when I lift my head from the makeshift pillow of my
robe. He is dressed in only his leggings, silhouetted
in the morning sun. I watch as he goes through the
movements of The Seeker--a complex series of katas
he has not yet taught me. I watch and I feel the Force
gathering around us, within him, as he opens his arms
wide to the skies, to the rising sun.
A bird cries out nearby. As the echo fades, I realize
I hear another sound off in the distance.
A pounding rhythm. Machinery? Somehow I do not think
so. The records for this planet mention only pre-
technology species dwelling here.
Qui-Gon lowers his arms and then turns to me. "We must
be moving soon," he says. "It is almost time."
/Time for what?/ The question is on my lips but I do
not speak it. Instead I shake the dirt and sand from
my hair and rise, resigning myself to another day of
mystery and sore feet.
// The rhythm of the heat
// The rhythm of the heat
// The rhythm of the heat
// The rhythm of the heat
The pulsing sound grows louder. By midday I can no
longer contain my curiosity. "Master, what is that
sound? Is that where we are heading?"
"Yes, Padawan. And you will discover its origin soon
enough."
At nightfall we have still not reached our
destination, although the beat now sounds closer. It
pounds and echoes across the land. All day I have
heard it, felt it stronger and stronger, scared and
drawn to it at the same time. /What is it?/ I wonder.
Qui-Gon will not tell me. We sit at our campsite and
eat our rations, then meditate. The rhythm will not
leave me even as I try to clear my mind. It does not
leave me even when I lay down for sleep. The rhythm
has become as familiar as my heartbeat.
I dream of the rhythm. I dream of many strange things-
-of songs I've never heard, of places I've never seen,
all in time with the beat of distant drums.
I dream of my master as I have often dreamt of him of
late. His heartbeat matches the rhythm of Bel'alle as
we make love on a bed of dried earth and mud.
// Drawn across the plainland
// To the place that is higher
// Drawn into the circle
// That dances round the fire
// We spit into out hands
// And breathe across the palms
// Raising them up high
// Held open to the sun
More walking. More unspoken questions. Sweat trickles
down the back of my neck, under my robes and tunic.
The sun is hotter than the day before and the horizon
shows more of the same--dry earth, far away mountains.
And still the rhythm continues, calling us ahead. My
fingers tap against my side in echo of the complex
beat. My mind wanders, and the Force tells me there is
something ahead worth all of this--the heat, the
endless, monotonous hours.
I wish Qui-Gon would tell me what it was. Or maybe he
does not even know.
// Self-conscious, uncertain
// I'm showered with the dust
// The spirit enters into me
// And I submit to trust
Sunset. It is beautiful, the sky a reddish-pink,
purple and gray clouds overhead suggesting we might
have a rare rainfall tonight. And up ahead, I see
something--something different from the sand and rock
and earth.
Smoke.
And as we continue onward, as the pink fades into
purple and blue and then black, the smoke leads us to
a fire. And voices. Cries and chants that echo the
rhythm which has been calling to us. A band of people
circling around a bonfire. Perhaps forty, fifty of
them--it is difficult to see exactly how many in the
darkness. Each one carries a drum and beats out the
rhythm that has not stopped for days. Their bodies are
slender, humanoid, covered with glowing paint,
ornaments which rattle and ring as they dance around
the fire. One lone figure beats upon a massive rock to
the right of the fire; each strike of his large stick
against the rock sings with a sound that seems to
reverberate through the Force.
I turn to Qui-Gon in surprise. His eyes focused on the
fire, he finally explains. "The rock sings only once
every seven hundred years. It speaks to those who
gather here to celebrate the rhythm of the planet."
"The Force..."
"Yes. It is strong here. This is the pulse of the
Force. Come, Padawan."
// Smash the radio
// No outside voices here
// Smash the watch
// Cannot tear the day to shreds
// Smash the camera
// Cannot steal away the spirits
I follow my master toward the fire. The others do not
seem to notice us; they are too deep into their
singing, their dance, their celebration. I watch as
they circle around, my body swaying to the beat that
screams of life and joy, of everything that makes up
this universe. I inhale the bitter smoke and dimly am
aware that my sense of the world around me is
shifting--the beat grows louder, the words of the
chanting more insistent. It is unbearably hot; I
notice the others wear nothing beyond their
decorations; why should I?
I lose my robe, my tunic. I join the circle of life
and celebration, clapping my hands to the beat of the
Force. I start to join the chant, even though I do not
know the words I am speaking. It doesn't seem to
matter. I understand enough that it is a celebration
of the rhythm, the rock that sings to us for this
moment alone.
The moment. From somewhere in the back of my mind, I
remember my master's teachings, his urgings to live in
the moment, not the future, not the past. In this
place, I think I finally understand. There is no past,
no future here. Only the rhythm. Only this moment of
celebration, of song and dance, of the Force swirling
around us.
I know Qui-Gon is near; I can hear his rich voice
joining in the chorus. I can feel his signature in the
Force, the beat of his heart in time with the beat of
the rock, of the planet. I swirl and dance, and when I
find myself in Qui-Gon's arms, dizzy and wet with
sweat, I lean my head against his chest and listen to
his heart.
// The rhythm is around me
// The rhythm has control
// The rhythm is inside me
// The rhythm has my soul
I wake up and immediately know something is wrong. I
can't place it at first, but then I understand.
Silence.
Complete silence.
The rhythm that has been with us for days is gone. I
sit up in alarm and look all around. All I can see is
the smoldering ash of the bonfire. The others are long
gone. The rock stands alone and silent.
Qui-Gon lies naked only a few inches from me, asleep
on his robe.
Did we...? Could we have...? I can't remember. I can't
even remember the exact beat of the drums which has
been with us for days, let alone what happened last
night. My mouth is dry and tastes like dirt and sweat,
blood and smoke; my limbs ache in ways that could be
explained by any number of activities.
And oddly enough, none of that matters. I stand and
stretch, letting the hot sun fall upon my bare skin
head to toe. The prickling sensation along my neck is
gone; all I sense in the Force is peace.
The moment calls to me. I run through the katas of
Tranquility and wait for my master to awaken.
End