finalbrktext

FINALS BRACKET

Match 1 - Mark Ailshie
Princess Leia vs. Agent Smith

When the light faded, Leia had to blink a few times to get her bearings. It was quite a contrast from the silent darkness of Moria to the loud thunder of explosions at Normandy. She ducked into a trench to take cover, and landed right on a Nazi machine-gunner. The soldier screamed something in German and tried to draw a knife. A knife is remarkable outmatched by a lightsaber. Leia took a minute to catch her breath, and then looked around her. It was pandemonium. The allied forces stormed the beach, as the Germans tried to hold them back. Of course, Leia didn't know who any of these people were. All she knew was that this "Agent Smith" wasn't far away.
Leia thought she was disoriented, but Smith was absolutely paralyzed with confusion. Nothing computed. He tried to connect with his mainframe to locate this princess he was supposed to terminate, but it wasn't responding. It was as if it had ceased to exist. Smith saw humans everywhere. The stink of them disgusted him. They ran around him or past him, too intent on their target to notice a solitary man in black. Where was this "Leia?" Where was the mainframe? Where was the Matrix? Smith saw the bullets screaming his way, and ordered his body to move to dodge them. But he had no real body. What he called a body only existed in the Matrix, and he had no idea how to make this body move like the one he was used to. A blast of machine-gun fire tore through his arm. Smith disregarded the pain. At least he could still do that. And then he spotted Leia. She was crouching alone in a trench, hiding. He attacked. He charged. He shot at her. Somehow he wasn't moving as fast as he intended.
Leia spotted Smith. Why was he just standing there? She shrugged her shoulders, took aim, and fired. Unfortunately for Smith, Leia has always been a great shot. The blaster bolt tore through his head, even as he still wondered why he couldn't leap into any of these charging soldiers. He never realized his dream had come true, he was human.

Winner: Princess Leia Organa

Match 2 - Cindy (Ailshie) Witmer
Darth Anakin Vader Skywalker vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan knew the presence of his old apprentice; it had always been unmistakable to him. It was strange, because he had not felt that presence during the tournament at all, not until very recently. And even now that he felt it, it wasn't quite the same. It was - older, somehow. More weighed down and sorrowful. Anakin had always been prone to periods of gloominess, of course, but this was something more than that. Deeper, heavier. And there was a memory, a dark memory, that Obi-Wan could not understand. There was definitely regret.   He scanned the battlefields for a sign of Anakin. It would be difficult to pick him out visually; thousands of men seemed to intermingle into one enormous mass. He would have to rely on his feelings. The battle was distracting, of course. The air was filled with the cries of wounded men, the smell of blood, and the sound of flying ammunition. It was primitive but no less deadly. Obi-Wan had to get away from it, hoping he could spot Anakin from a farther vantage point.
He saw him, unexpectedly, watching him from a distance. He would not have recognized him. He was not the boy Obi-Wan had spent the past few years training. He was closer in age, perhaps, to Master Qui-Gon. The years had changed his appearance drastically. However, there was no mistaking the piercing stare of those blue eyes.
He started toward him eagerly, wanting to renew the old friendship and exchange stories. Anakin, however, looked dismayed as he saw him approach, and seemed to want to escape. Obi-Wan realized that he had been watching him with the hopes of not being noticed. He did not want to talk to him. Obi-Wan could not imagine why. It didn't matter. The rules of the tournament required them to have some sort of encounter and reach an outcome. They were drawn together.
Obi-Wan smiled in excitement and extended his arms to embrace his old friend, but Anakin fell to his knees. "Master, forgive me."
Baffled, Obi-Wan insisted that he rise. "I have nothing to forgive you of."
Anakin buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "You don't know it yet. But you will. And I couldn't blame you if you never forgave me."
Obi-Wan hated to see Anakin, once so proud and brave, now groveling like a slave. "You must stand up," he said firmly, though a part of him wondered what had happened to Anakin that made him so humbled now. "I don't know what you have done in the years that have passed beyond me, but it does not concern us now. We are here, in this tournament, and one of us must go on to fight the next warrior. One of us must not. How are we to decide this?"
Anakin stood up at last, looking miserable. "But master, I know who is next."
Obi-Wan leaned forward, interested. "You do? I have felt her presence, of course, but I cannot find an identity to match the presence."
"Leia Organa." Anakin shuddered.
"What is the matter?" Obi-Wan asked. "Who is that?"
"One of the many things I must regret now," Anakin began. "She was a woman who knew something I needed. I tried everything to get it from her - I think now of the cruelty she had to endure, at my hands...Master, I can't face her," he said desperately.
Obi-Wan's first impulse was to be indulgent and agree to find some way to insure that he would face her instead. However, he thought of all he had learned as a Jedi and realized something.
"If you have wronged her, Anakin, it may be better if you do face her now. You can't hide from your old wrongs, whatever they were."
Anakin suddenly laughed. "I've never gone into a fight like this, Master, that's for sure. There certainly wasn't as much talking. Mostly I just did my best to kill and not get killed myself." He turned sober all at once. "I did kill you once. I know I could do it again. But of course I don't want to."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he began to understand why Anakin was so troubled. He felt slightly sick. What would possess an apprentice to kill his own master? It sounded like a practice of some ancient evil - like the Sith.
He stared at Anakin. It couldn't be . . . not Anakin . . . All the warnings of the Jedi Council and all his own misgivings started to come together. Anakin smiled sickly.
"You see what I mean now, don't you? I don't want to have to face Leia, but more than that I just don't deserve to go on."
"It's not that easy, Anakin." Obi-Wan looked sorrowful. "We have to fight. At least, we have to find some way of deciding who goes on to the next fight, and I just don't feel right about going on so you don't have to face this Leia."
Anakin thought for a moment, and as he pondered his face seemed to droop less and look more like the bright-eyed, eager boy again. "Here's an idea..." he started slowly. "What if we fought - not to the death, but just to see who can disarm the other first? That person would go on to face Leia. Is that...legal?"
Obi-Wan grinned. "Sounds all right to me. Shall we begin, then?"
Both men retrieved their weapons and ignited the blades. They paused, looking at each other hesitantly. Anakin smiled nervously. Then, almost apologetically, he lunged at him. Obi-Wan was caught off his guard for a moment, but he quickly deflected the lunge with his own saber. He had to remember that, since the fight was not to the death, Anakin would not be aiming for vulnerable spots like the chest or throat. He would be aiming closer to his hands. With this in mind, he kept a firm grip on his handle and tried to direct Anakin's shots farther up the blade. Anakin looked rather surprised, and perhaps a little dismayed, at his old master's prowess. Obi-Wan reflected that Anakin must have faced an older, weaker version of him during that time he had spoken of - he was still trying to adjust to the disturbing fact - when he had killed him. He might be a little harder to defeat now. Particularly since they both had to take care not to hurt each other.
And Anakin wanted to win. Obi-Wan could sense that. In spite of his reluctance to face the next opponent, Anakin simply could not make himself lose. It was not in his nature. That side of Anakin Obi-Wan knew all too well. Anakin hated to lose.
Obi-Wan kept the upper hand for quite some time. He supposed it was his mindset. He had no desire to ever hurt Anakin, of course, but he had spent his time before the fight pondering the last fight and wondering how he would behave in the next one.
Anakin had probably spent his time suffering from shame and guilt. It was holding him back now. It could not last forever, though. Obi-Wan had always known, secretly, that Anakin had greater potential than he did. When he had sensed that at first, when Anakin was still a boy about to steal Master Qui-Gon from him, he had been envious. Now, as his old teacher, he was proud of him. Anakin had truly become great. It was growing increasingly difficult to keep up with him. One attack came dangerously close knocking his handle loose; it actually drew a little blood from his wrist.
Lightsaber wounds, even small ones, caused a painful burning, and Anakin graciously waited a moment for Obi-Wan to take care of it. He hastily ripped off a scrap of his tunic and wrapped it tightly round his wrist, barely aware of the pain with all the adrenaline pounding in his veins. He loved to face an opponent of worthy skills; it was exhilarating. It was also exhausting.
Gasping for breath, he prepared to face Anakin again after dressing his wound. However, Anakin had his weapon down, a look of dismay on his face. "I'm sorry, master!" he exclaimed. He was looking at Obi-Wan's wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's all right," Obi-Wan shrugged, wondering why Anakin was clutching his own wrist so anxiously. He must have been wounded there once. "Shall we begin again?"
Anakin closed his eyes. "If I win," he said slowly, "I promise to honor the name of Jedi as you have. I will represent you as well as myself. It's only right. It's only fair."
Obi-Wan shrugged. It sounded reasonable. "Let's go, then." Anakin took a deep breath, nodded, and raised his weapon.   Obi-Wan wasn't sure what it was - whether Anakin had decided he did, in fact, want to face Leia, or whether he wanted to prove something to himself or to Obi-Wan, or whether he was simply less tired than Obi-Wan, but from that point on Obi-Wan began to see he was going to lose. Every blow brought Anakin closer to disarming him. Obi-Wan's hand was beginning to throb with the pain of resisting the blows. His grip was loosening. He was breathing more and more heavily. Anakin was going to win. He was actually relieved when his weapon fell from his aching hand. He laughed wearily. "Well, I would say I've trained you well, but I don't think I could have taught you that well."
Anakin deactivated his weapon and let a small smile onto his face. "You probably wouldn't have taught me how to beat you, at any rate."
Obi-Wan picked up his own weapon, turned it off, and faced his old apprentice. "Well, you're going on to Leia, then. Good luck - with whatever happens."
Anakin swallowed. "Thank you. And Master -" He hesitated, then stepped forward and embraced Obi-Wan. "Thank you," he whispered.

Winner: Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight

Match 3 - Mark Ailshie
Rand al'Thor vs. Darth Maul

"Where in the light am I?" Rand shouted. Lews Therin had plenty of answers, mostly given in screams and panic, a few in rage and anger. But Rand didn't have time to listen to the mad man in his head. He had appeared on some sort of ship, and suddenly there were fifty men shooting fire at him. He couldn't see anybody using the power, but how else could these weapons exist?
He wove a shield of fire and air, and pushed people out of his way, frying the bullets that were aimed at him. His T'averen abilities protected him from any strays. Were was this "Darth" person?
Suddenly, he saw someone do something. It seemed like the power, and yet unlike. Men went flying through the air of their own accord, or dropped to the dirt, choking and dying. Fifty yards away stood a man cloaked in black, with a long sword in his hand.
"Al'Thor! Come and face me!" challenged the man. He was terrifying--clearly a heron-mark swordsman, and skilled in the use of the power. But what power? Rand saw no threads. "What do you know about this?" he asked Lews-Therin. The mad man whimpered in terror, something about the "power of the Dark one", and retreated into his brain.
Darth Maul saw the power in Rand. But he did not care. He was the Sith. No one stood before the Sith. He drew the woman's paltry weapon and smiled a fearsome challenge. He used the force to leap fifty feet to attack the boy.
Rand sought the void, and melted into his sword forms. The Crashing Waterfall met Possum's Feint, and the Boar Crashes through the Trees met The Bear Stabs in anger. And over and over, but Maul was the better swordsman, and Rand knew his body was beginning to tire.
Then Maul reached out with the force and tripped his opponent, moving in with a deadly strike. Rand barely parried the strike, and his sword snapped in half. Rand cursed, and sent a cone of air at the dark Asha'man to give him some space, and then called a sword of flame to light in his hand.
Maul stood for a moment in awe. A lightsaber. That was exactly what he needed. He attacked again, but this time, the boy sent the force at him again. Yet it was not the force. Both warriors were perplexed at where the other's power came from. But Maul knew what the true use of the force was. He reached out and tried to crush the boy's windpipe. The boy was strong!
He not only resisted, but pushed back! A light was in the boy�s eyes--a light Maul had never seen before in his victims. And suddenly the boy's hand exploded in white light.
Rand shielded his eyes. He had done it again! He had used Balefire on his enemies! He had been warned by Moiraine never to use that spell. Maul was gone, his thread erased from the Wheel of Time. He had no idea how far back he had blasted him. But the sword was also nowhere to be seen.

Winner: Rand al'Thor, The Dragon Reborn.

Match 4 - Brian Ailshie
Gandalf vs Paul Atreides

Gandalf didn't have to search hard for his opponent. Unnatural blasts shattered the earth spraying humans every which way. A careful glance showed the source: a dark haired human in a close fitting brown outfit with some sort of magic-wand that shot out blasts of energy. Finding a comfortable seat, Gandalf studied his opponent. The wand seemed to show no sign of running down on power. And the boy showed no sign of fatigue either. Scratch any ideas of wearing him down like those stupid trolls on his first adventure with Bilbo.
The man seemed to have no problem toasting any number of the charging humans despite the rain of miniscule arrowheads they rained down on him from their loud crossbows. So a frontal attack would likely be suicide. In fact the fast moving little arrowheads seemed to melt off of some sort of magic shield that surrounded the man.
Then Gandalf saw the weakness. A dead human's crossbow broke and sent part of the weapon, rolling toward the man. There, that spike attached to the front of the bow. It proved his plan would succeed.
Suddenly a gargantuan flaming lizard hurtled into the air over the next wave of attacking humans. They retreated amidst shouts of "Dragon!!" and other such nonsense. They're retreat saved their lives. Any that might have considered a second charg were dissuaded of the idea by a continuing barrage of the colorful fire display. Paul watched the fireworks cautiously swinging his sound-blaster this way and that, as burst after burst filled the sky. "Something isn't right," he thought, but too late.
Gandalf eased Glamdring softly through the shield and jabbed it into Paul's kidney's. The bayonet on the rifle at Paul's foot had slipped through just as softly, though laying against Paul's boot did much less damage. Gandalf retrieved his blade from the dying human and went in search of his next opponent.

Winner: Gandalf the White

Match 5 - Mark Ailshie
Paksennarion Dorthansdotter vs. Emperor Palpatine

Paks looked wildly around her. She was in a battle! The soldiers around her were using an unfamiliar weaponry that whizzed like a crossbow bolt, and exploded like thunder. It seemed like a peculiar kind of magic. Paks' armor deflected any bullets that came too close, but she knew she had to get out of this battle quick. She ducked into a trench and tried to get her bearings. She was slated to battle Emperor Palpatine. She was somewhat familiar with the strange black cloaked man who ruled the Sith. She had run into him briefly in the 1999 Royal Rumble. He was an evil man, but his main power seemed to be in the control he exerted over other people. In two of the rumble's endings, Darth Maul had killed her. However, in a third ending, she had defeated another woman who had been twisted into the Emperor's servant. She knew this was the true threat of the Sith Master: she must keep her soul pure.
Palpatine grinned horribly at the carnage around him. So many useless deaths. He sensed a few nearby whose weak wills could be readily used by a power mad leader such as himself. Unfortunately, they seemed to be losing. No matter. It was Paksennarrion he wanted. He hadn't actually met her before, but he had sensed her presence. Powerful. Very Powerful, and disgustingly good. But he would turn her. She would be turned, or else destroyed. Oh, let's face it, he thought. She'll be destroyed in any case.
For one of his abilities, finding a paladin was easy. Getting to her would be a bit more difficult. Luckily, He could just let her come to him. The Emperor of the Known Galaxy reached out with the force and crushed the skull of a nearby soldier. With a pop, he fell over dead. Too quick. The next one he choked slowly until he passed out and died from asphyxiation. Soon.
Paks heard a cry of pain. She focused her senses, and immediately recognized the black evil of the Emperor, his aura like that of a high priest of Liart. He was killing Nazi soldiers. Paks had to admit that they probably deserved death. But not like this. Not from him. She was a paladin of Gird. She had to stop it.
Paks drew her sword and started walking toward him. The Emperor turned and watched her come, a peculiar half-grin on her face. Paks called light, and the smoke from the cannons lit up with a clear white brightness. Soldiers fled in fear or confusion.
Palpatine only stood there, still smiling. "I have been waiting for you, Paksennarrion. Soon you will call ME master."
Paks shook her head. "I bow to only Gird. You are a great evil, and I cannot allow it."
"Then strike me down. I am defenseless. Strike me down with all of your hatred."
Paks sighed. It really was quite sad. "No, your highness. Not hatred. I do not hate you. I only recognize you. It is not evil to resist evil. To fight in defense of the helpless is no crime."
Palpatine only smiled. Paks lifted her sword and let it fall. A foot before landing, it struck a barrier of dark power. Paks felt the electricity shimmer through her body. Felt it, but it did not hurt her. It was concentrated evil, and she was a paladin in full control of her power. Palpatine's smile wavered. He reached out with the force and snatched away her sword, sending it flying across the field. Paks cried out in dismay.
�She fears!� thought Palpatine in triumph, and he struck with force lightning. Now the bolts struck her, and sent her quivering to the ground. The Emperor laughed.
"Foolish girl! There is no Good or Evil--there is only the Force. Your battle skills are no match for the power of the Dark Side!" So saying, he launched more lightning into the battered paladin. The air stank of ozone. Paks heard his taunts through her agony, and knew them for truth. Her own skills were nothing. But it was not her skills that supported her.
"You will join me, or you will die!" shrieked the Emperor, blasting her with more pain. But Paks forced her self to her knees and faced him.
"I am Gird's." Paks slowly regained her feet. Palpatine scowled and blasted her back down to the ground. She tried to stand again. The Emperor shot his fearful lightning from his hands. Only to have it scatter without effect as it touched the circle of light that was emanating from Paksennarion Dorthansdotter. She rose to her feet, and faced the livid Sith Master. A white circle shone like the moon on her forehead. The symbol of the High Lord.
The Emperor didn't recognize the symbol, but right away he didn't like it. He reached out with the force, but his attack was batted aside as though unworthy of consideration. The light flared like a star that had gone supernova. The wizened old Emperor was dwarfed by it. Paks bent and retrieved her sword. She raised it over the cowering Sith Emperor.
"May the Gods forgive you," she prayed, and let the sword drop.
It swept through Palpatine's body, and the dark power with in him exploded in blue fire. When the lights faded, there stood Paksennarrion Dorthansdotter, paladin of Gird, gleaming in her silver armor.
The rest of the battle had paused. Nazis and Allies stood transfixed at this display of power and light. For a moment, each soldier wondered whether their cause was just. Some threw down their weapons, and some took them up again. But Paks only stood, looking at the black robe of an old bitter man who had wasted his life in hatred and deception, only to come to this end. A tear slipped onto her cheek.

Winner: Paksennarrion Dorthansdotter of Three Firs, Paladin of Gird

Match 6 - Robert Newell
Storm vs. Luke Skywalker

Luke felt at peace, he had not wanted to kill Aslan, but he somehow knew it would be for the best. He meditated and waited for his next opponent. Storm was in trouble. There were so many cannons and other tall metal objects, that her lightning bolts were not going where she intended them to. She had tried to fry some Nazis who leered at her, and the bolt hit their howitzer instead of them. She had fled quickly. She came across a man seated on the ground. He stood as she approached and called out to her.
�Did you know that you are a latent force adept?� he asked. This was her opponent, she was sure of it. She called down a bolt of lightning, hoping that nothing would interfere. Nothing did, but her bolt was deflected harmlessly off of the man's glowing blade that he had ignited a split-second before she struck.
"The Dark Side rages through you", Luke observed. "It will consume you eventually."
Storm did not like this man at all. She struck out with a hurricane force wind from one side and a tornado from the other. Luke adroitly dodged using the Force to enhance his reflexes and speed. In a few seconds, Luke had dispatched his opponent, she had no hand to hand fighting skills worth mentioning. He felt sad inside. She had clearly been driven insane by the Dark Side. He kneeled and awaited his next opponent in a Force trance.

Winner: Luke Skywalker

Match 7
The Witch King of Angmar, Leader of the Nazgul, takes a BYE from the Final Match of �M� Bracket.

Match 8 - Brian Ailshie
Shelob vs Padan Fain

The noise was almost too much for her. From the peaceful heat and quiet of the last place to this battle ground in one arachnid heart beat. Shelob didn't know exactly what the battle was about, but battle it was without a doubt. Moving quickly, Shelob slaughtered some Nazis in a bunker and silenced their noise maker. Periodically, others would come in, but she dispatched them easily and her food pile was growing.
Fain wasn't too sure what kind of person this "Shelob" was, but none of the flunkies that seemed to flock to him without effort on his part could tell him, or bring her out when he was able to locate her. In ever increasing numbers he had sent them into the pit to get her attention. They never returned, and hardly a sound was ever made, not even screams. He would have to check it out for himself. 'If you want something killed right. . . ' Fain thought to himself and chuckled his evil laugh.
Opening the door to the little building, his thoughts were confirmed, his flunkies weren't coming back. A large pile of corpses littered the center of the room. The edges were all caked with massive spider webs. But where was the spider? Looking upward he saw the massive arachnid dropping on him.
Too late he whipped out his dagger. But the thing crushed him beneath it's monstrous bulk flinging the dagger aside. The last thing Fain felt was the pain of the creatures fangs tearing into his scrawny neck and draining his life fluids.

Winner: Shelob

ROUND 2

Match 1 - RJ Harris
Princess Leia Organa vs. Anakin Skywalker

Leia felt an ODD presence; it was somewhat familiar, yet more loving than she had ever felt before. She sat in a trench and pondered the meaning--she was still searching, feeling for a name to add to all of this confusion.   She opened her eyes instantly, and a tear began to form. It was a name that stuck so many feelings at once, only one word could adequately describe it all--"Father?"
Anakin looked down at his only daughter from a small hill. It was green and most likely the only place on the entire beach that wasn't covered with dying or fighting soldiers. These scenes brought a flood of memories to him--so much pain and hurt; but Master Obi-Wan was right, he had to face her.
Anakin quietly slipped down the other side of the trench. He heard Leia weeping. It was then that he knew that she knew. Anakin's words could hardly form on his dry lips: "Leia Skywalker," those words made the Princess turn around quick.
HOW DARE HE CALL HER THAT!, especially after all he had done, to her, to Luke, to everything important. "Leia," he continued, "I am Anakin, your father."
Leia could hardly contain her emotion; the small bit of evil that always seemed to be part of her family burst out.
"Father, I don't feel that it is right for you to address me so. Not when we have to fight."
"I know," he said calmly as he moved to her, "It's just--" His words no longer had meaning. He finally looked on his daughter with his own eyes. He began to cry. "You are as beautiful as your mother, Leia. I've come to talk with you about everything."
"Well, what if I'm not ready to talk."
"That is your decision alone to make, but I too, must follow the path that is laid before me. I acknowledge the false ideals I once held so tightly are wrong. Luckily, I didn't allow the Emperor to squeeze all the good from me.
I am glad that I finally get to tell you that your brother was right. He was right!"
Leia looked at the man she had fought against for so many years. The words of her twin brother Luke came to her. "There is good in him." Now she saw it for herself. "I forgive you father!" She rushed too him and was held as only a daughter could be embraced by a father--a loving father.
"Master Obi-Wan was also right. It is good that I have come. But, my daughter, now we must decide who..."
Leia cut it, "You defeated Ben to get here? If he believes you should continue, so do I? I don't understand everything about the Force, but I sense great danger ahead. You must go father. But how?" They discussed the ways that the last Jedi battle took place. Then Leia, always a strategist, like her mother, said, "Father, there have been other forfeits in this tournament. That is what I must do. Take my lightsaber as a token of your victory."
Anakin took the weapon from her and wept again.
"And what will you do?"
Leia took out her blaster and said in a voice that demanded respect. "Well, there is evil out there now, father, and I will fight it; for I am to be a Jedi..." her voice quavered, "a Jedi, like my father before me."
They smiled at each other. Leia blew him a kiss. And they separated. Leia went off to "fight evil", and Anakin began to prepare for his next match; for he knew that he would face a foe, the likes of which he ever before had seen. He had to be in tune with the Force now more than ever.

Winner: Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight (now with two lightsabers)
Votes: (Anakin-5, Leia-1)

That's officially how the match went, however Cindy also wrote one that I'd like to include, just because it's interesting.

Anakin had not expected her to be wielding a lightsaber. Suddenly anxious, he approached her slowly, his own weapon un-ignited. A certain tenseness appeared in her face as she watched him come nearer. He sensed a multitude of barely controlled emotions roiling within her. He had expected her to be angry; she deserved to be. But he had not expected this confusion. He was merely her old enemy; it should be simple enough to want to kill him. Shouldn't it?
Leia breathed in sharp, heavy gasps. She had known this moment would come; she had been bracing herself for it. Now that it was here, all her resolve seemed ready to crumble. She was not prepared to face her father, not yet. And she had not expected him to be Anakin.
"You changed," she said quietly, as he came within a few feet of her and stopped. "I had expected Vader."
"Maybe it would have been simpler that way," Anakin replied uneasily. "I'm not sorry for changing; I only wish I had done it sooner." He bowed his head. "I know we're supposed to fight, but I haven't come to hurt you. I've come to apologize. There's much I need to apologize for."
"You have no idea." Leia wondered how she could be sarcastic at a time like this. She struggled to draw on her Jedi meditation skills, but they were not coming. Her heart pounded sickeningly. How could she tell him? She wasn't supposed to be the one to tell him. This was out of place, another world, another story. Anakin sensed the Jedi techniques in her thoughts.
"I have to say I'm surprised to see you with a lightsaber," he ventured.
"When did you discover an ability with the Force?"
"It runs in the family," Leia replied shortly, with no further explanation. Anakin was left to his own curiosity.
She lifted her weapon abruptly. "We could keep standing here talking, but that won't answer the question of who goes on to face the next opponent. I say we begin the fight."
"It doesn't have to be a fight," Anakin protested, balking at the thought of attacking Leia. He had already hurt her enough.
"There are other ways."
"I used to be more the diplomatic type," Leia mused. "I don't know if it really suits me anymore."
"The Jedi are not fighters," he pointed out. "Theirs is a way of peace."
"They fight when necessary," she countered. "And when they do fight, they are the best."
"Such arrogance," Anakin murmured, almost smiling. "I wonder where you got it? Certainly not your father - Bail was always such an unassuming man."
Leia drew in a breath sharply, but said nothing. "And what about the Force running in families?" Anakin wondered, frowning now. "Who was your mother?"
Leia did not answer. "Ignite your saber," she said quietly.
"Let's get this over with." Anakin shook his head, but reluctantly obeyed. They began to fight. It was a strange duel. Anakin tried at all costs to keep from hurting Leia, and she did seem not particularly bent on physically harming him. Instead, she seemed to let out a surge of anger with every blow. Her eyes were shining with wetness, and in spite of all her composure, every now and then she betrayed a shaking hand. Anakin, meanwhile, felt guilty every time he blocked a blow and watched Leia shudder from the strength of his block. He realized, after a time, that even while trying not to hurt her, he could still defeat her. He was better. But she was still good, extraordinarily good.
He began to have doubts. Surely this could not be Bail's child; mild-mannered, quiet Bail. Yes, the man had a backbone and an iron will, but he was no fighter. And he was certainly no Jedi.
She reminded him, he suddenly knew, of himself. The same fierceness, the same fire in her eyes...it was a pity they had been enemies, he mused.
He was not paying attention, and in that moment she attacked and disarmed him. More astonished than angry, Anakin stared at her, his mouth wide open, his empty hand still extended. "You are great," he breathed, and felt a strange pride. Her eyes were wide, and she mouthed something silently. It almost looked like - could it be - father? Anakin shook his head to clear it. He must be imagining things. She could not seem to move. Her own weapon fell to the ground from her frozen hand; she continued to stare.
Slowly, Anakin reached down to pick up her saber. She did not respond. He looked into her eyes, and, swallowing, ventured into her mind. It was more emotion than thought; he could not piece together anything logical. Swept up in a whirling of fear, anger, anxiety, excitement, passion, daring, jubilation, joy and love, Anakin came all at once upon the solid, unwavering truth. He stumbled, trembled, and drew back to reality.
She knew that he knew, and her lip started shaking. "It wasn't supposed to be this way."
"Of course not," he said softly. "And I wasn't supposed to become the nightmare that I was, and things were supposed to be much sweeter, and gentler and kinder. But Leia," he pressed on, "how can this be? I thought that Luke -"
"My twin brother," she said with a small smile.
"Funny, but I always knew it."
"And me?"
She shook her head. "I never sensed it. It was better that way, anyway."
"Of course."
"In my time -" she said falteringly, "In my time, you came back too. You saved Luke's life. But you died." She looked away.
"I never knew you."
Anakin came closer. "I wish -" His eyes filled with wonder. "My daughter." And then anguish entered his voice. "After what I have done to you..."
"You won." Leia spoke with a strange serenity.
"You won, you know."
"What?" Anakin tried to piece together her words.
"No, I didn't. You disarmed me; you won."
"I was out of control. Besides, you have my weapon." Leia frowned. "If I had faced someone who wanted to kill me, I would have been defeated in a matter of moments."
"Are you saying I wasn't a worthy opponent?" Anakin asked with a sideways grin. His sense of humor came out in the most peculiar circumstances.
"More than worthy," Leia declared. "We just weren't enemies. Not anymore." She picked up Anakin's weapon and handed it to him. "You stand more of a chance against any opponent, believe me. You've overcome your dark side. I haven't."
Anakin was taken aback. "You - a dark side?"
"Perhaps not as overt as yours," Leia explained, "but it's taking just as much of a struggle to defeat." She paused. "I'm glad I was able to face you. I think it helped - both of us."
"Both of us," Anakin repeated softly. He looked severely at Leia. "Are you sure you want me to go on?" He shook his head.   "I'm not even sure that's legal."
"You know you could beat me," Leia responded forcefully. "I could sense you thinking that."
"Are my thoughts that transparent?" Anakin smiled. "All right, that's true. I could have defeated you. And maybe I stand a better chance against the next opponent. But I'd rather say it's - fatherly protection. Going in your place to keep you from getting hurt or killed."
She shrugged. "Think of it that way, if you want. I just think you deserve to go on more than I do."
He wondered if it was the reminder of his being her father that made her so cold. "I - I know that no apology could be enough," he said in a low voice. "Please just know that I am sorry, more than words could say."
"I believe you."
He didn't know what to make of her tone, but her words meant everything to him. "Wish me luck, then."
"Good luck." A pause. "Good luck, father."

Winner: Anakin Skywalker

Match 2 - Mark Ailshie
Rand al'Thor vs. Gandalf the White

Rand al'Thor blinked his eyes as the light of the balefire began to dim again. He shouldn't have done that. No matter how evil the monster had seemed, there was no telling what using balefire might have done. With Maul burned out of the pattern, would his past defeats spring back to life? Well, not in this tournament perhaps. Gandalf located his new enemy almost immediately--so much power!
He had seldom seen a man so strong and so lost. He would have to be cautious. He smiled and strode forward. With the Power in him, Rand was ultra sensitive to sound. He heard footsteps and spun, a defiant snarl leaping to his face,
but the kindly old man only smiled. "Don't be afraid, young man," smiled the wizard. "I think we seek the same ends."
Lews Therin mumbled dangerously, but Rand stubbornly shoved him away. "Who are you, oldtimer?"
Gandalf didn't answer, instead gesturing to where Darth Maul had once been. "I don't suggest trying that on me. If you destroy my thread, you yourself will cease to be."
Lews Therin was very agitated now, somewhat how he was around Mazrim Taim. "Why is that?" asked the Dragon Reborn.
"Because without my story, there would be no market for yours" Rand furrowed his brows. What was he talking about? The old man drew a sword, and Rand was instantly defensive. The power-wrought heron sword flamed to life. "There is no need for anger," said Gandalf. "If we must fight, we can still respect each other."
Rand nodded, but he felt no anger in the void. Gandalf sighed. "So young, and so ready to die. Very well." Rand struck first, but Gandalf easily parried. Rand struck again, and Gandalf kept parrying. As they fought, Gandalf seemed to grow larger. Rand began to grow frustrated, and stepped up his tempo.
"Where did you learn such a taste for killing?" asked Gandalf conversationally as Rand kept up his useless attack. "Such an urge to prove yourself. It's not healthy, you know. Rand roared and drew in more of The Power. The Sword vanished, and tendrils of Air and Fire slammed out at the cocky old wizard. They were batted aside like string. Rand's mouth dropped open. Gandalf laughed, not wholly in mockery. "You don't really want to match power with me, young pup."
Now Rand was offended. "How dare you speak to me that way! I am the Dragon Reborn! I am the strongest of the strong!" Rand yanked at the power and blasted it at Gandalf. This time Gandalf reeled, but he didn't fall. And he didn't counterattack.
"Do not mistake me for some petty conjurer of cheap tricks, young one," warned the old wizard. "Or you might see Gandalf the White uncloaked." But Rand was beyond reason now. He pulled at the power with reckless abandon, blasting away unheeding soldiers with the power of his very presence. Still Gandalf stood up to him and did not budge. And finally it happened. Even the Dragon has his limits. If Rand had been in his right mind, he would have known when he was approaching them. The racing rapids of the power turned and overwhelmed him. Rand fought to control the wave, but it flared out of control, mounting like a horrifying tsunami!
"I always said you'd do it! I always said so!" cackled Lews Therin.
"Light!" thought Rand. "I'm going to do it again! I've broken the world!"
But then Gandalf struck. It was quick, and probably more painless than being burned alive with the power. Glamdring flashed, and Rand's head split in two. There was an explosion of power--as huge as a mighty bomb--but certainly less than would have been if Rand had been allowed to keep channelling.
Gandalf gasped for air. Though he had affected casualness, that had taxed his powers to their uttermost. Glamdring had been melted to the hilt, as though it had been plunged into Mount Doom. Gandalf pulled his cloak around himself and tried to re-gather his energy

Winner: Gandalf the White
(Gandalf-4, Rand-3)

Here is Aaron's version of the match, favoring Rand, just in case you're curious.

Aaron Bartholomew
Gandalf vs. Rand

Bullets rang through the air as the Allies continued their attack upon the beach. A lone man in a white cloak leaned upon a thorny staff behind some sandbags recently vacated by soldiers who had retreated from the fiercer fighting. He was watching a tall younger man, with fiery red hair, cross the field of battle. Gandalf noted that this young man did not dodge the bullets, instead they seemed to richochet away whenever they got near him.
Rand walked along the beach, noticing strangely attired men pointing metal sticks at him and each other. They had no reason to do that. He pointed, and small fireballs leaped to each of the sticks, fusing them to slag.
Those who's weapons were destroyed fled, hands burned and blistered. He had noticed upon arrival that with men falling dead there was some sort of weapon in use, and had prepared a barrier to keep whatever was killing them away from him. Now, in his madness he maintained the barrier. He felt the Power flow through him, lifting his mind and at the same time, burying him in madness.
Suddenly his madness focused on a man in a white robe. A White Cloak! In his insanity, he did not notice the red sunburst was not present on this man's robe. Immediately he shot out a fireball ("Not balefire, must never use balefire") at the man, dazzling even his own vision with the brightness of the fire.
Yet when his eyes cleared, he saw the man standing there still!
"Come here boy, I may be able to help you", Gandalf stated. Whatever that spell had been, it was quite powerful, and blocking it had weakened him considerably. He had noticed the lad approach, and had noticed the madness raging in his eyes.
Yet for one who had studied in the forests of Lorien across the sea to the west, who had tended the mother of Feanor, despair, sadness, even madness were curable. If they must battle after, then so be it.
"Never!" raged Rand, "I am the Dragon Reborn! Die White Cloak" With that he charged the White Cloak, his fiery sword coming into existence as he charged. Glamdring left Gandalf's sheath quick as lighting to block it. However even elvish steel cannot block a sword made of light and fire.
Glamdring was cleft in two, and even as it fell, the light blade pierced Gandalf deeply. Gandalf, Olorin, wisest of the Maiar, knew he had been mortally wounded. Even while falling he sensed the man (hardly more than a boy) before him. There was much of good, and some of evil within him. As with all men. Summoning all strength remaining in him, Gandalf cast a final spell, one which would have surprised even his mentor of old, Nienna. The spell cast, he felt it take effect, cleansing the madness from the other man, and then Gandalf collapsed and died.
Rand looked around himself, coming out of his madness, the blade disappearing from his hand. Strange, even Lews Therin had stopped screaming at him. Had there been something about a Whitecloak? He noticed felled bodies around him, most in a strange attire, only one wearing anything approaching the ordinary. Unfortunately all were dead. As the madness cleared more from his mind, he remember his charge, the sword falling from the other's hand, and the feeling of a strange weaving of Spirit, Air, and Fire coming from the man in white. Then, there, in the middle of a battle field, Rand knelt and wept, for the man he had killed, and who had healed him.

Winner: Rand al'Thor, cleansed (at least for the time being) from madness
--That would have been cool, if it had happened. But it didn't. On we go!

Match 3 - Mark Ailshie
Paksennarion Dorthansdotter vs. Luke Skywalker

Luke holstered his lightsaber and turned back to the battlefield. Something was wrong. The battle had temporarily ceased. Luke's attention was focused on a light some two hundred yards away. It was a peculiar light--neither laser nor fire. A tall blond woman with silver armor was inside the light, and most of the battle had ceased while they watched her. Luke approached her, as the battle shook itself and started up again. The woman had tears in her eyes.
Paks turned at the sound of approaching feet. A tall blond man in black. A Jedi. She was sure. Like Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, whom she had met in 1999.
"Greetings, my lady. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight."
"I am Paksennarion Dorthandotter of Three Firs, a paladin of Gird. Call me Paks."
Luke looked on his opponent with the new senses that Aslan had lent him. "I am not anxious to fight you. I was expecting someone else. An old enemy."
Paks frowned and looked at a faded black cloak on the ground. �Palpatine?�
Luke nodded. "Indeed, you are powerful."
Paks laughed, a clear bell-like sound. "Not really. Gird is, though. I don't think he would want us to fight."
"Neither would the force. Or Aslan."
Paks nodded, although she had never heard the last name. "Well, I know enough about you Jedi to know that you are like the paladins of my world. So, either of us would be worthy to continue."
"I don't want to kill you," said Luke. "But there is someone in this tournament now that I've been waiting to meet for a long time."
"In that case, I suggest a simple battle for supremacy. A sparring, if you will."
"I will," smiled Luke, and ignited his lightsaber, as Paks drew her magic sword. The two circled amid the flying of bombs, and then flew at each other. At first, neither could score on the other--Paks' sword was powerful enough to resist the clash of the lightsaber, but Luke's danger sense alerted him whenever Paks got too close to a hit. Finally, Luke ducked inside her defenses and scored a slice on Paks' elbow. The lightsaber sliced through the gleaming armor like cheese, and blood flew. Paks cried out, and Luke stopped and stepped back.
Paks held her elbow and closed her eyes, asking Gird for healing. Nothing happened. "Why can't you heal it?" asked Luke.
"I never do. Gird does. Why he gives or refuses healing is a mystery that only he knows. Perhaps he wants me to fight you on my own."
Luke nodded, but he knew that wasn't fair. He still had the force. Unless this 'Gird' thought Paks an equal match for him even then. Luke grimaced at the thought. Paks tied off her injury, and nodded, raising her sword. They closed again.
At first, Luke tried not to use Paks' injury to his advantage. Soon, he realized that she hardly needed his mercy. She scored a hit on the Jedi, ripping a long scar down his side. Paks stepped back and waited.
Luke panted and examined his wound. Ugly. 2-1B would not be pleased. Luke was no healer, but he tried to use the force to close the wound as best he could. It wasn't very good. But it would do. He raised his saber.
This time, the fight was long and dirty. Finally, Luke pushed Paks slightly off her balance, and she stumbled and almost fell. Luke reached out with the force and snatched Paks' sword from her stumbling fingers, and brought the point of his lightsaber to her throat. Paks panted, and raised a hand, calling for mercy, but a smile was on her face. "You win!" she laughed.
"Go on, and fight evil greater than I could face. Gird's grace be with you." With that, Paks vanished, and Luke was left alone.

Winner: Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight.
Votes: (Luke-6, Paks-1)

And finally, in the last match, the voting was perfectly tied--Three each for Shelob and the WitchKing. However, only one match was written, so I'm calling that the official word.

Match 4 - Mark Ailshie
Witch King vs. Shelob

A shadow passed over the allies as the Nazgul entered the battlefield. At last, a confrontation to test his powers. He had often wondered--back in the cold emptiness of his mind where he could still ponder such things--whether he was the equal of his old eight-legged neighbor and ally. In truth, it was his final challenge: In all likelyhood, all his other opponents would be men, and it had been prophecied that he would never fall by the hand of man. If such things held in this strange tournament. He drew his pale sword and walked through the cowering ranks of the allies.
Shelob was quite upset. She had lost the body of the wolf-ape.
That body would have provided food for a year! The paltry humans she collected in the meantime weren't much compensation. She felt a familiar cold presence. One of Sauron's wraiths! What was he doing here? Shelob had never liked them, and though she knew they were allied, steeled herself against the wraith's advance.
Both Nazis and Allies had already learned to avoid the wooded patch where dwelt the great blackness. Webs of frightful size had grown up to cover the trees. The Witch-King entered unafraid. Fear was one thing he had long ago forgotten how to feel. There she was--the great daughter of Ungoliant the Mighty. He knew his black breath attacks and his fear were useless against a beast herself so poisonous and evil. No matter. The Nazgul snarled and leapt forward with his sword.
Ouch! That foul wraith had attacked her! Shelob's fury at the betrayal was such that it momentarily blinded her from the pain of having one of her claws hacked off. A spray of webbing shot out at the wraith, tangling his cloak.
Sauron's lieutenant cut at the strands and struck again, this time blinding one of Shelob's eyes. Shelob reared up and roared in pain. Have you ever heard a spider roar? It's not a pleasant sound. Shelob struck out with her leg and batted the wraith against a tree. The Nazgul sprang again, and hacked at the spider's maw, but this time Shelob caught the pale sword in her mandibles and snapped it in half, spitting venom at the wraith in the process. A part of the sword might have lodged in her mouth, but even if the Nazgul had time to let it work its way to her black heart, it was doubtful it would accomplish much. In any case, Shelob could move pretty fast when she was enraged.   And now she was very mad. She leapt forward, grappling the wraith with three arms and snapping her maw over his head. The ghostly crown split in her jaws, and the Nazgul's undead head came away from its body. A high ghoulish wail sounded through the woods, and was never again heard in that age of the world. The soldiers quailed, and resolved again never to go near that place.

Winner: Shelob, with a maimed leg and one destroyed eye.

ROUND 3

Match 1 - Mark Ailshie
Anakin vs Gandalf

As Anakin came over the rise to look down at the bent, robed form of the old man before him his heart skipped a beat. But no. Palpatine had already been beaten. He only wished it could have been him to defeat the man who once had defeated him in a much more significant way. Gandalf looked up into Anakin's eyes, and the former Sith lord saw a kindness beneath those bushy eyebrows that put away any fear of the dark side.
"You are a jedi," observed Gandalf. "I have heard of your kind."
Anakin beamed. It had been too long since he had been addressed as Jedi. "Not just any Jedi. I am the chosen one." He said it simply, without bluster. It was the literal truth. Gandalf was not impressed, partly because he had no idea what a 'chosen one' signified. "I have never faced a Jedi. I understand that you are great warriors."
�Wars do not make one great" quoted Skywalker. "But yes, we are skilled in battle. And I am the best. I have never lost in a one on one match in this tournament."
Gandalf nodded. He himself had lost in a fluke to Madmartigan back in the first tournament, but his new opponent didn't need to know that. "You may find you've never faced an opponent like me."
Anakin nodded. He didn't want to start this battle, but Gandalf wasn't letting himself be baited into attacking. Anakin lit his own lightsaber and his daughter's. "Come on then, friend. We are both old men now, and neither of us are getting any younger."
Gandalf nodded grimly. "You are reckless. Good. I might need any edge I can get."
Anakin grinned and advanced. Suddenly, he felt his feet swept out from under him as some invisible force propelled him into a cement barricade. It had been so sudden that he had barely evaded having his back broken. This old man was attacking with the force! Now he had ample reason to attack! Anakin force-leaped over Gandalf, and landed on the far side with lightsabers singing in the air. Gandalf wished he had Glamdring to counter the blades of light. Instead, he gave ground blasting the ground at Anakin's feet with magic. He reached out with clamps of magic and wrestled against Anakin's force-induced charge. The old Jedi slowed his advance, but did not stop--he seemed impervious to Gandalf's attack. "You are magnificent!" said Gandalf as Anakin closed to melee range.
Anakin swung, but Gandalf leaped fifty feet backward, and levitated a heavy rock up to strike him in the head. Anakin fumed. This was infuriating! If he could attack with the force, he could meet this old duffer with his own tactics.
The battle would be over. But the Jedi Code forbade him from using the force to attack. Gandalf's own code seemed to hold no such regulation. Anakin wrapped a protective envelope of force around himself to ward off attacks, and advanced, swinging his lightsabers.
Gandalf was at a loss. The old Jedi was amazing! He used his own magic to counter his own. Even if he had Glamdring, it was unlikely that he could compete against this ferocious juggernaut one on one. Anakin had closed to sword length again, and Gandalf unleashed a fireball on him. Anakin was blasted back with seared eyebrows. But he was far from defeated.   Gandalf gritted his teeth his strength was in knowledge and counsel, not in personal combat. Certainly not against an enemy that was at least his equal. The battle raged for hours, neither gaining a clear upper hand.
At one point, Gandalf disarmed Anakin, but the sabers quickly returned to their owner. Anakin scored a few hits on Gandalf, but if they affected his powers at all, he didn't show it.
The two warriors stopped for a moment, panting with exertion. After a moment, Anakin spoke. "We seem to be equals."
Gandalf nodded. "You sound surprised."
"I am. I have never met an equal."
Gandalf nodded. "I can believe that. Before, I thought you arrogant. But perhaps your acts have merited some pride."
Anakin grimaced as if stung. His pride. What he had done. "Your thoughts betray you, Anakin. There are some things you have not been proud of?"
Anakin shrugged. "With great powers come great temptation. I confess that I was not equal to the task."
Gandalf smiled as though reminded of something. "Not many are."
Anakin smiled back. He had to admit, he really liked this man.
"This could go on forever, this battle between us."
"Not that long. But for some time, true. Perhaps not so long if I had my sword and my horse."
"Or if I had my star destoyer." They both laughed, although Gandalf had no idea what a 'star destroyer' was. Anakin didn't add that the dark side would probably make things quicker too.
That, of course, was the real seduction of the dark side--it worked so well. He wished he could make an agreement with Gandalf as he had with Leia and Obi-Wan, but he had nothing to offer him.
Suddenly, an idea came to him.
"You say you are a swordsman?"
"Not really. More of an advisor and mentor, truth be told. But I do know how to use a sword."
Anakin tossed Gandalf his lightsaber. "Then meet me in sword combat. Let the best man win."
Gandalf was hesitant. Anakin had shown himself a capable swordsman. But there was nothing else for it--their match was at a standstill. He ignited the lightsaber, and Anakin ignited his daughter's, and the two clashed together again. Anakin was clearly better trained with the saber, but Gandalf held his own surprisingly well. Anakin was surprised when Gandalf actually disarmed him and knocked him over, holding the saber to his chest.
"Well played," said Gandalf. "Do you yield?"
But Anakin didn't hear. He had been in this situation before.
The final match of the first tournament came back to him. Rygara Monpue had stood over him, having disarmed him. He had ignited his lightsaber with the force and sent it slashing through the armor at her back. Gandalf was completely unprotected from the back. The silvery glint of the lightsaber sat unwatched two yards behind him.
"I don't want to actually kill you, Anakin. I try to avoid that."
The dark side reached out to him. Anakin shook with the effort.
Gandalf thought he had the match won, but it was Anakin who held the blade to his throat. The saber levitated and ignited silently. It hung unnoticed directly behind the wizard of Middle Earth. It would be so easy! He didn't even see it coming! Just one little use of the dark side--wasn't this a battle of life and death anyway? Just one little fall, and the final match could be father against son!
"Anakin? Do you yield?"
His son. Anakin smiled, and the saber fell to the ground, snapping off. The dark voices went screaming off into the shadows. He had won. Perhaps he wouldn't continue in the tournament, but he had the true victory. Over himself.
"I yield, Gandalf. Good luck."
Gandalf smiled, too, and closed down the lightsaber. He tried to hand it to Anakin, but the triumphant Jedi waved his hand. "You earned it. And you might need it. Say hello to my son, if he makes it."
"I will, my friend. Peace be to you."
Anakin vanished, and Gandalf stood and faced the east, where his final opponent was approaching.

Winner: Gandalf the White
Votes: Gandalf (3) over Anakin (2)

Match 2 - RJ Harris
Luke vs Shelob

Luke felt cold; only one thing gave him such a feeling--great evil. He had learned over the many years of his training that only a serious (even "beautiful") mind could defeat such things. Thus as he ascended the hilly forest which all of the soldiers avoided, he felt calm as he deactivated his lightsaber and entered the dark wood.
Shelob lifted her head from sleep--it wasn't very content though and this made her mad. The sounds of war in the distance were annoying, not to mention the pain in her eye and leg. The only redeeming fact of being this far in the tournament was the probability of more food, and she smelled more coming.
Luke entered the corner where Shelob had made her web. The stench of human blood was strong, but Luke showed no fear.
The giant spider strained to see her new foe through one eye, and noticed that he carried no visible weapon. She yelled a fierce cry and shot webbing at the Jedi. Luke quickly jumped out of the way into an overhanging tree. Again a shot of webbing came toward him. This time Shelob caught more than the air she got last time. A large branch flew towards her--she cried the more for it. Now it was about more than food. It was at this time that Luke figured out his strategy; he continued jumping around the trees and shrubberies of the forest, dodging the spider's attempts to capture him (sometimes just barely). After nearly a half an hour of this, Shelob had amassed a large pile of wooded debris all around herself, while Luke had not yet begun to sweat. The Force mind control he had been practicing had helped keep him calm but had angered his opponent. The time to strike was at hand. Luke gathered the debris around the spider and along with some of the webbing, trapped Shelob in her own nest. Luke took out his lightsaber, and cut three of the trees surrounding the web down with a clean swipe. The spider cried for the final time as the larger than life limbs crashed upon the larger than life spider. Luke walked out of the forest, as calm as he had entered in--he had a final battle left.

Winner: Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight
Votes: Luke (6) over Shelob (0)

ROUND 4

Story 1 - RJ Harris
Luke Skywalker v. Gandalf the White

The sun was rising and the air was cool. The weather reminded Luke of mornings on the forest moon of Endor--not as cold as Hoth, but a bit cooler than Tatooine. As Luke watched the early morning calm disappear, he waited...but for whom? He sensed that the man he wanted to face, his own father, was not coming.
Eventually his opponent came over a small hill--Luke only saw his silhouette at first. The stranger was as tall, if not taller, than his father. In one hand he held a large staff; in the other, a lightsaber.
"Who are you?" Luke asked once the man was in earshot.
"A friend Luke, at least I think so. You may call me Gandalf."
Luke looked puzzled, but he could feel the Force in this stranger and it told him that he was at least no friend of the Dark Side.
"How do you know my name, Gandalf?"
"Your father and I spoke before we parted. He is well and good--he is proud of how well you have fared here. No matter what happens Luke, all will be well and you'll see him again."
Luke knew Gandalf spoke the truth. "Well then," Luke said, "Let's get started."
Each lightsaber flared at the same time. Each could sense so much of the others thought and actions. Both knew it would be the most fair match of the tournament. Attack followed counterattack for hours on end.
The two masters fought all day long. As the sun began to set, they finally decided to a different sort of fight.
"Then we are both in agreement then," said Gandalf. "Whomever has the wisest bit of wisdom to impart to the other will win. You may chose who will go first, Luke."
"Well, I'll go first. The greatest wisdom that I know is that even in the midst of great evil, you can always find good. The key is to never give up on them."
"Right you are my friend. The greatest wisdom I know is that you can always learn from someone, no matter who they are. The key is to be willing to listen, and then learn."
Gandalf's words were uttered as the last ray of light hit Luke. The Jedi Knight paused for a second in retrospect. He looked up at the great White Wizard, saw a kindness more dear than that of anyone he had met. Luke exhaled and set his lightsaber down at Gandalf's feet--he had imparted the greater wisdom.
Gandalf stood alone on top of the hill as Luke walked off to where the rest of his family had left to. He looked over the world and said to himself, "If only everyone would accept that truth as Luke Skywalker did, each of us could count ourselves as true champions." Gandalf snugged his hat down around his brow, threw his cape around himself and disappeared, off to impart more good to be sure.

CHAMPION: Gandalf, the White Wizard

Vote 1 - Brian Ailshie
Luke Skywalker over Gandalf

Story 2 - Mark Ailshie
Gandalf the White vs. Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master

Luke turned away from the ruined corpse of the great spider, as a powerful tremor in the force nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Father?" he breathed, and a tear sprang to his cheek. Gandalf closed down the peculiar light blade and went in search of his next opponent. His final opponent.   The battle had long ago left this particular beach, moved further up the beach into the town, as the allies carried the day. The two remaining warriors strode toward each other through the smoke and gloom. Gandalf noted where Luke came from and raised an eyebrow. "So! You have defeated Shelob. Impressive. Most Impressive."
Luke didn't answer. "I am Gandalf the White," continued the Istari.
"Now it is down to you, and it is down to me." Gandalf lit the saber and held it at the ready. Of course, the Jedi Master recognized the weapon of Darth Vader.
"My name is Luke Skywalker. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
Gandalf shook his head. "He yielded. I didn't kill him. He gave me a message for you. He is proud of you and what you have accomplished. Your father. He is a good man." Luke could not conceal how much it meant to him to hear those words.
"Thank you, wizard."
"But as you said. It is down to you, and it is down to me."   Luke ignited his green lightsaber, and held it ready. Gandalf recognized in the son as great a swordsman as the father. It would be much safer to fight with magic. But safety has little to do with gladiatorial combat. The two circled, and with a thunderous crash, Luke struck out with his saber, and Gandalf parried, and the melee was joined. Crash! Crash! Crash! An epic battle, worthy of the archives of the Jedi and the Istari commenced. Gandalf found himself taxed with the effort of lightsaber combat, but Luke was fresh, calm and passive. The force flowed through him. Anakin had been a difficult fight for Gandalf, but Luke was younger and stronger physically, if not as strong in the force.
"You are amazing!" panted Gandalf between parries.
"Thank you," replied Luke, without a pause in the ferocity of his attack. "I must admit, you are a better swordsman that I." Gandalf stepped back and closed down his lightsaber. "But there are other ways of fighting, and in these I am the champion." So saying, Gandalf shot his hand at Luke, and the ground beneath him buckled and flew away. Luke was propelled halfway across the field.
"The force," mumbled Luke, getting to his feet. "But I didn't sense any darkness in you."
Gandalf didn't hear him. He stood commandingly, the light shining in his hair like a thunderstorm. He held out his hands again, and a shaft of lightning sprang from him and struck the Jedi!
To the wizard, a bolt of lightning was a spell like any other, but to Luke, it was very confusing. The wizard was no Sith Lord--that he could tell by his demeanor. But this was certainly a Sith weapon. The lightning crackling over his body, sending him into a rictus of agony, was disturbingly familiar.
"Use the force, Luke!"
Luke turned his head, and a blue figure materialized out of thin air a few feet away. At first, he thought it was Ben, what with the beard and the cloak and all. But no. The beard was black, not white. And this ghost was pudgier than Ben had ever been.
And what was with the flannel shirt?
"Use the force, Luke!"
"Who are you?"
"I am your creator, Luke. My name is George Lucas."
Luke furrowed his brow. George who?
"Never mind that, now. Let go, Luke. Act on instinct. Use the force!"
Luke nodded. He waited for the next lightning bolt, and used the force to leap over it, landing not ten feet from Gandalf. He reached out with the force and pushed the older man across the field, where he struck the remains of a concrete bunker.
"Wait!" said Luke to the holo-projection of his creator.
"Wasn't that Dark Side?"
"Of course not," sneered the Great Flanneled One. "That's just something the book writers made up. Obi Wan and Qui Gon did it all the time."
Meanwhile, Gandalf was crawling back to his feet. "So, there is something more to you after all." He ignited the lightsaber, and called his staff to his hand.
"Use your powers, Olorin"
Gandalf turned in surprise at the use of his Maia name. Before his eyes, a shimmering blue figure appeared. The wizard was sure he'd never seen him before, but he looked somewhat familiar. He was short and bald, and reminded him somehow of an overgrown hobbit. He carried a short pipe with smoke coming out of it.
"No need to be alarmed, old chap. I'm a friend. In fact, I am, well, you might say I am your creator."
Gandalf furrowed his brow. "Iluvatar?"
The old man chuckled. "In a sense, I suppose, although I really intended him to reflect God more than anyone else. But, of course, I might be called the God, so to speak, of your world.
I made it, you see. My name is Tolkien. Call me Ronald."
"Tolkien!" shouted the ghost of Lucas. "You can't show up here, you're dead!"
"Well, you're not, so, how could you be a ghost anyway?"
"I'm a holoprojection, you Stupid English fart! Now get lost!"
"Well, it seems to me that if you can interfere and help your champion, than I may as well come in and . . ."
"More than just a champion! He's the son of the Chosen One. He is the last hope for the Universe!"
"Well, I say my chosen one, the wisest of all Maiar, is quite, ah--"
"Don't mess with me, you stuffy Brit! I've owned this whole tournament from the beginnings of it. My soldiers have . . ."
"It helped, I think, that your people outnumbered every other major grouping. My creations have done quite well for themselves, I think. Maybe your evil empire is ripe for tumbling."
"You want a piece of me, old man? I created a galaxy-spanning culture that--"
"Oh please, you didn't create any culture. You couldn't even create your own languages!"
"What do you mean? I had real languages, and some of them . . ."
"Oh, so in what language does 'Yoto-Yoto' mean 'fifty-thousand. No less?'"
"Oh and I guess you did better with your 'ash nazg gimbatul' gibberish, eh?"
Luke and Gandalf stood entranced as the two shimmering blue world-builders argued. Neither was sure what to do. The two old men finally were escorted out of the fantastic-rumble dimension by security. Luke looked at Gandalf, and the two started laughing. After a moment, Gandalf wiped his eyes.
"I don't think either of those two will ever defeat the other."
"Yeah, but why would they need to? Wars do not make one Great."
"Yes. It also seems to me that the two can coexist without conflict.�
"Well, I suppose we'd better get on with this thing, eh?"
"Yes, you are right, young Skywalker." The two lit their sabers, and the battle resumed. Gandalf used his magic to try to gain an advantage, but Luke had learned that the Force was more than adequate to counter Gandalf's magic. Luke kept his saber lit and continued to aggressively push his advantage. Gandalf began to sweat. He was slowly but surely being overwhelmed with the might of the Jedi Master. Gandalf retreated from Luke's attack, and was trying to see some way out when he felt water lapping against his ankles. Luke had driven him back to the beach!
"That was a mistake, Jedi!" said Gandalf, and suddenly the water rose in great power, taking the shape of huge white horses of foam and swept Luke off his feet. This attack was more effective than Gandalf would have thought--Luke, having been born on a desert planet, was never a very strong swimmer.
Gandalf picked him up with his magic and tossed him back into the spray, over and over, until Luke was near exhausted with the fight. Finally, Gandalf pulled the nearly unconscious Jedi from the water, and left him safely on the shore. As was his habit, he preferred not to actually kill his opponents when they were not his enemies. But the judges agreed that he certainly could have, and declared him the winner.

Winner: Gandalf the White

Vote 2 - Stacey Ailshie
Gandalf over Luke

FINAL TALLY: Gandalf the White 3, Luke Skywalker 1

Ladies and gentlemen we have a new champion, hailing from the land of Middle Earth, Gandalf the White, aka Mithrandir!
Congratulations!!!