Title:The Merry Jedi Part 2
Author:Storm
Rating:PG
Feedback:be gentle... [email protected]
Category:crossover Star Wars/humor
Disclaimer:It's George's world, I'm only playing for a while.
"A true knight Qui-Gon is. Forever on his own quest."
from Cloak of Deception

"attend and listen gentlemen
that be of freeborn blood
I shall tell you of a good yeman
His name was Robyn Hode"

opening lines of "A Gest of Robyn Hode"

~*~

The four Jedi looked around in interest as they rode into the castle grounds. A brand-spanking-new guilliotine stood in spendor, with three white clad men polishing the blade so that the newly risen sun reflected in glory.

"Looks like Vader's been remodeling again." Obi said in a low voice. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"NO!" Yoda shouted, jumping off his mount. The others stared at him open-mouthed. The small Friar grabbed Little Obi by his foot and yanked him off the horse. Obi's head hit the ground with a thunk and Qui-Gon felt the master-padawan bond between them blink out.

"What in Sith's name are you doing?" he roared, and he leaped off his own horse. Cradling his unconscious apprentice in his long arms he glared at the Master Jedi Friar.

Yoda was unyielding. "My turn to say that line, it was. Mine! Promised you did. All of you!" And he spun around and stalked off.

Mace-A-Dale dismounted awkwardly. "Don't worry, he'll get over it. And it really was his turn."

Obi-Wan groaned, coming to, and shortly, the three of them headed out to find the disgruntled green Jedi, leading the four horses behind them.

~*~

The jousting field was filled with waving pennants, the bright colors a sharp contrast to the dusty dry earth. Now, rain, that would be a true blessing, Qui-Gon thought, as they knelt for the ritual blessing. He cracked an eyelid and peered upward, but not a cloud was to be seen. Friar Yoda, over his tiff, prodded him sharply in the ribs, and Qui-Gon shut his eyes tight once more, his fealty and devotion as outrageous as he could possibly make them.

Yoda grunted, appeased yet not deceived.

Soon the tournament was underway. The first contest was broadsword, which Master Yoda had entered one year, much to the local's amusement. Their amusement, however, had soon turned to amazement, and then to awe, as the tiny Jedi Friar took down opponent after opponent, wielding a sword heavier than he was. He never entered again, telling the band that he had merely wished to try. And anytime after that, if one of them mentioned an urge to 'try' something, Yoda would smile cynically and murmur "No need to try have I. Do it I can. There is no 'try'." And they would nod and smile and roll their eyes.

Qui-Gon and Mace-A-Dale were both large men, and the band had been after them of late to take up the broadsword. Neither one wished to, privately agreeing that it seemed too much like work. And after all, avoiding work was why they had all run off to live in Sherwood Forest to begin with. Well, that and alimony payments.

And so the two of them wandered off into the crowd, leaving Little Obi and Friar Yoda cheering on the underdog, Russell of Crowe, a humorless, expressionless man, yet one that somehow, everyone seemed to enjoy watching. Especially when he got all sweaty.

Speaking quietly of this and that, their stroll took them down past the squire's dugout, where the 'other' Knights' squires were preparing their masters' armor for the jousts. As they were recognized, the squires had a few loud catcalls for the Jedi, who had entered the lists once armorless, to prove that the Force was indeed, with them. Nodding politely, they passed by, and Qui-Gon headed towards the stream at the far side of the field.

Mace-A-Dale pulled up sharply.

"Eh, Locksley. Take a gander. Check out that crew." Qui-Gon peered around. "No, no. Under the willow trees, yonder."

"Which willow trees?" Qui-Gon asked reasonably. There were several sets of willow trees near the stream's course, and each grove had a shady looking group in the...well...in the shade.

"To the left."

"My left or your left?"

"They're the same left you idiot! It's only different if we're facing each other. That group, there!" And the Daleman pointed.

The people indicated were indeed very suspicious looking. A beautiful maiden in white, (though, Qui-Gon admitted silently, with the most Force-awful hairdo he had ever seen) a gawky young lad dressed in a squire's outfit, and an old man in a Friar's robe. As the two Jedi watched, two more joined the three under the trees. One was a man, good-looking (why, Qui-Gon wondered, were all the men in this world so damn good-looking?), somehow world weary and cynical. The other was, well, not a man. Or if he was, his father had never initiated him into the manly world of shaving. Tall, taller than Mace or Qui-Gon, the hairy man carried a heavy-looking crossbow, and he carried also the air of someone who knew how to use it.

"Well, Master Jedi?" Mace was deferential.

"After you, Master Jedi." And Qui-Gon gestured broadly. They approached the group nonchanlantly.

They were immediately noticed. The young man and the beautiful maiden both assumed the same unconscious, battle-ready stance. The hairy man and his companion shook their heads mournfully and stepped back while the old Friar merely smiled pleasantly at them.

"Greetings." Qui-Gon spoke in a melodious Voice, attempting to soothe their distrust with his powers. "Have you come far for today's tournament?"

The Friar made an arcane gesture. "You don't need to know that."

Qui-Gon blinked suddenly, and turned to Mace. "We don't need to know that."

"These aren't the droids you're looking for," the old man continued.

"These aren't the droids we're looking for," Qui-Gon related to Mace conversationally. Mace-A-Dale elbowed him sharply. "OW! What in Sith's name was that for?"

Mace murmured out of the side of his mouth. "He's using the Voice too you long-haired idiot."

"Hey!" Qui-Gon turned back to the Friar indignantly. "You can't use Jedi mind tricks unless you're a Jedi, and you're not a Jedi."

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"Because I'm in charge of the birthdays on the Jedi mailing list, and I don't recognize you!"

The old man gestured smoothly once again, and nodded amiably to them. "Let me introduce you to my companions."

Qui-Gon turned to Mace again. "He's going to introduce us to his companions."

Mace elbowed him sharply once again and Qui-Gon shook his head violently while the old man smiled benignly.

"First, the beautiful maid Leia, and her defender, Sir Luke."

"No, just Luke," the young man said in embarrassment, and the maiden shoved him with the palm of her hand.

"If you're defending royalty, you're a Sir."

"Royalty?" Mace questioned.

The young woman paused. "Er, no. Not really. I just...ah...like to pretend." The cynical man in the back snorted at that, and the old Friar pulled him forward. "Sir Han Sirhan and his shield partner, Chewbacca of..." the old man frowned, disconcerted. "Exactly where are you from, Chewie?"

The hairy man roared.

"Oh, right, I forgot. And I, good Jedi, am Sir Ben of Kenobi. No longer a Knight, alas, but I remember most of it."

"Sir Ben of Kenobi?" Qui-Gon of Locksley leaned forward eagerly. "Maybe you know my apprentice! His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, or some call him Little Obi."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi!" The old man sat down suddenly, his hand pressed to his chest. "Obi-Wan Kenobi! Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time. A long time."

Sir Luke interrupted, looking confused. "What do you mean, a long time? We've been calling you that for a week now."

Qui-Gon and Mace looked at each other in consternation. Who was this old fossil claiming Little Obi's name? They stepped forward in unison, and the hairy man stepped forward at the same time, raising his wicked looking crossbow. They all stared at each other hard, then before one of them had to act to save face, a shout caught their attention.

"Qui-Gon! Wait for me, you will!" And the two Jedi turned to see Friar Yoda limping ostentatiously across the field, picking up his feet with care as he trod the manure strewn meadow.

The old man clutched his heart again. "Qui-Gon?" he asked in amazement, looking closer. "And...Yoda?"

Qui-Gon furrowed his brows. "Yes, Qui-Gon of Locksley. And yon approaching Friar is indeed Yoda, our friend and mentor." He frowned again, just as Yoda reached them.

The two old Friars regarded each other silently, then Yoda spoke. "Know you I do. Yes. Knighted you myself, did I."

Sir Ben smiled suddenly, tears in his eyes. "Yoda. I knew you wouldn't stay in that damn swamp. You're too ornery."

"Er...Ben?" The young Sir Luke shuffled his feet awkwardly. "What's going on?"

Before the old man could answer, another shout came from across the field. Little Obi was waving vigorously and gesturing for them to join him. Qui-Gon waved back and called, "Over here, young Padawan!" just before Friar Yoda shoved him over with his stick. He toppled to the ground in amazement as Yoda whispered urgently.

"Delay him you must! Join us, he must not. Do this now, you will." As Qui-Gon continued to stare in astonishment, Yoda said again, "Far away, you must take young Obi-Wan!" and he poked Qui-Gon again. Qui-Gon grabbed the stick out of his hand.

"Poke me again, you will not!" He roared at his Master. "Heard you the first time, I did!"

He bounded to his feet and stalked away, seething. Who was this old Kenobi man? He looked like nothing more than an old wizard. Setting himself up as a Jedi, indeed. Why, he was no more a Jedi than Maid Marian was! And that boy, he was a laugh, Sir Luke, no less. And the hairy man, a walking...a walking...a walking carpet if there ever was. And so his mind mumbled as he approached his Padawan, wondering briefly what in Sith's name a droid was, and why he was supposed to looking for them.

As Qui-Gon neared Little Obi, something caught his attention. Something, he couldn't put his finger on it....he peered into Little Obi's face, squinting and frowning.

"Master?" Young Obi pulled away. "Er...is there a problem?"

"No, young Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon of Locksley said in relief. "Just a momentary resemblence. It probably comes from Friar Yoda poking me too hard."

Little Obi laughed. "Friar Yoda! That old fraud! Don't let him bother you. He's been like that ever since he came back from Dagobahtown." He grabbed his Master's hand and tugged. "C'mon. Sheriff Vader of Nottingham has entered his name in the fencing tournament. He's up against an unknown. Sir Luke of Tatooine or something like that."

Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder in surprise at the slim young man under the willow tree. The Force moves in mysterious ways, he thought as he followed his young apprentice.

Obi-Wan laughed again. "Friar Yoda. I knew he wouldn't stay in that damn swamp. He's too ornery."

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Qui-Gon of Locksley muttered under his breath.

~*~

TBC