Chapter Text
Merisee
Din and Grogu’s first trip together in their own ship had been fun so far. Grogu’s pod fit nicely in one of the cockpit seats of the Razor Crest, but he didn’t stay there. Instead, he stood on a different seat, peering out the viewport. When he got tired of the whirl of hyperspace, he chirped at Din.
Going to check the holovision.
“The game hasn’t started yet. I have Zippo keeping watch on that.” When Grogu had been living with his grandparents, starting times for sports were predictable. On a ship, traveling from planet to planet, time zone to time zone, having the astromech keep track of the sacred limmie schedule was a must.
Grogu looked up at him with those wide eyes. Bored.
“There are vids you could watch.”
“Bah.”
“Let’s play a game, then. I brought my vocabulator,” he said. “You talk to me in Pak Pak, and I’ll try to talk back.”
The baby didn’t think this was much of a game until he heard Din croaking back to him. Apparently, Din was hilarious, based on the laughter. He’d hoped to get a little practice on speaking the language himself, but instead he began mispronouncing words on purpose to make Grogu correct him. He used bad grammar, and the baby scoffed at him.
“You’re good at this,” he said in Basic. “You learned all those new words just talking to Ba’buir?”
Ba’buir’s master took him to a ‘purse’ planet. They made pretty gold things. Din received a mental image from Grogu: Fintan visiting a giant purse and sitting atop it, doing detailed work in gold leaf for a wealthy Neimoidian’s mansion. Ba’buir’s master must’ve been one of note to be hired by someone so wealthy.
When the time for the game arrived, they went down into the ship’s hold. After years of afternoons at the cantina with Fintan, Grogu had developed a fondness for watching limmie, called Meshgeroya by Mandalorians. Din had liked limmie when he was a kid, too, so it wasn’t a sacrifice. Keeping a small holovision and only using it for tutorial holovids and limmie games was a simple enough compromise between education and entertainment. Grogu also liked to eat fried gorg while he watched, but this wasn’t the cantina and pickled gorg eggs were less messy.
Once the game ended, Din announced that it was bedtime. He set the ship’s alarm to wake them when they were close to dropping out of hyperspace. He put Grogu into his little hammock and crawled into the bunk below, smaller than the one on the Balac. Smaller, but the ship was all theirs.
The alarm roused them both. Merisee hovered in the viewscreen, blue and white swirls with only two continents. Hondo Ohnaka had brought the Fortunate Tide here once so the crew could make repairs. The local industry was mostly based around agriculture or fishing. Most of the population was in the eastern hemisphere, so naturally the pirates had landed in the western hemisphere. This was where Din headed now.
They skimmed over the broad azure waters of the world’s largest ocean, the Ocean of Memory. Grogu made excited sounds as they approached a pristine shoreline. Below them, the water had become turquoise.
Din set the Razor Crest down a respectable distance from the water, above the high tide line. He asked Zippo, the ship’s droid, for the outside conditions. The droid’s reply, translated from Binary to Basic via the ship’s computer, told him that it was sunny and warm. Breathable atmosphere, no structures or ships nearby. Din could’ve opened the ramp to learn the same information, but it was important to interact with their new droid, to become familiar with him.
Once Din had squared away the ship and put the droid on watch for visitors, the pair changed into their swim clothes. At least Din did. A naked Grogu dashed past him when he lowered the ramp.
“Hey! Come back here!”
He snatched up the baby’s togs and gave chase. Grogu leapt in great bounds with the Force, treating Din to repeated flashes of his little green butt as he flipped mid-air.
Beach beach beach!
The child was waist-deep in a tidal pool when Din caught up to him. He lifted him and began dressing him in the little suit.
No! Wanna splash!
Force, the little stinker could squirm.
“Not without the outfit. You do not want a sunburn down there.”
Grogu relented and permitted Din to put the bathing togs on. Once released, he began chasing tiny fish.
Din sat nearby and watched the rolling surf, stealing glances at the child now and then. Maybe it was self-indulgent of him to start their travels with time at the beach, but they’d never been able to travel for fun before.
The child finally caught a fish and swallowed it whole. Most of the local lifeforms were safe or could be made safe with the proper preparation. Grogu had eaten several of the little golden fish before with no ill effects.
“Taste good?”
The response was a giggle.
“Do you want to swim with me?”
The water was cool and felt good on their sun-warmed bodies. Din swam well, but Grogu needed the Force to keep his head above water. Din wore a harness across his shoulders for the child to ride on. They bobbed with the waves, cool water soothing the burn of the sun.
Afterwards, they collected bivalves for cooking. The child was fascinated by the headless creatures that dug into the sand after every wave, and eagerly grabbed for them. Din stopped him before he shoved one into his mouth.
“They’re full of sand. We have to get the sand out before we cook them. I’ll show you.”
Cooking is a waste of time.
“Not for Buir. Buir would like to eat some, too. I learned how to prepare them when I went on that class trip to Spira. Don’t you want to learn what the Jedi taught me?”
Technically, Din was cheating. The island on Spira had contained more of the raw materials for cooking the clams. Din had brought the things he thought they’d need on the Razor Crest. It was easier to cook them with more equipment, and they would taste better with a little seasoning.
They commed the family at Vlemoth Port to let them know that all was well. During his turn to speak, Grogu told Fintan how bad Din was at Pak Pak. Buir said everything wrong, and his vocabulator sounded funny. The pair enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.
Din slathered them both with bacta lotion after the call. Even with the togs, they’d both burned after a day in the sun. It would make sleeping a little sticky, but sticky was better than painful.
Before they went to bed, Din flipped the switch that let him communicate with the astromech.
“We’re bedding down for the night, Zippo. Keep watch for us.”
The droid’s response, translated again by the ship’s computer, was: “You’re wasting a lovely view. The moons are almost full.”
“Maybe tomorrow night.”
“You can never guarantee tomorrow’s weather.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Grogu was already asleep in his hammock; Din slid into the bunk underneath and shut off the light.
He closed his eyes, but found himself thinking of the last time he’d spoken with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
When they’d begun their maiden voyage with the Razor Crest, Din had first taken the child to Tatooine to see the former Jedi. They’d found him riding an eopie in the Jundland Wastes. The years and suns had given the man deeper lines in his face and hints of gray in the hair. It was the first time the baby had seen Obi-Wan since the Temple fell. The old Jedi led them into a ravine where they could sit and talk. The trio sat down in the shadow of a sandstone cliff, taking out their canteens, while Obi-Wan’s eopie rested nearby. Din gave the creature a pallie he’d brought as a snack for Grogu.
Obi-Wan was pleased that the child was healthy and happy. Grogu sat in the Jedi’s lap, burbling happily, while Din told the older man about his decision to take the child with him in his travels.
“My buire were doing their best to educate him, but he doesn’t learn things in the same way human children do.”
“That’s fair,” the Jedi said. “That’s why Grogu had so many tutors in the Temple. He was behind the other Initiates in physical maturity, but ahead of them in his connection to the Force.”
I’m right here, Grogu sent.
Kenobi smiled at the child. “Yes, you are. What do you think?”
I’m his Padawan. Like you promised.
The man’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under his cowl. “Like I promised?”
Din moved closer. “You said that one day I would need to leave the Temple. But you also said that if I became a Knight, one day I might take Grogu as my Padawan.”
“I wasn’t aware I was promising,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. “I thought if you did, you would also be as old as I am now. He’s still quite young.”
I’m already his Padawan. Grogu sent pictures of Din trekking through the fields of Dantooine and the wooded areas between the cities of Carratos with Grogu on his back. The nights spent practicing meditation and the lightsaber forms. The stories of Darth Revan. The battles against Perdition and her apprentice.
The Jedi glanced up at Din. “He communicates very rapidly in the Force. Are you able to follow him?”
“Yes, but I’m used to it. Grogu, slow down a little.”
The child sighed and composed himself. This time, he sent pictures of them both in armor, practicing forms with their weapons. Din promising to pass his own lightsaber on to Grogu when he was older. This last was sent with great excitement.
“Oh, my,” the Jedi said.
“He has to be trained,” Din said, flushing from more than the suns. “Without training, he will always be in danger. I—I’m sharing everything I know, but I’m not a Knight.”
“You might as well be. If we were still in the Temple, I’d say that you had faced your Trials and met them well.”
“But-but I have attachments, Master. My buire, my child. People I love. I’m not qualified.”
Kenobi smiled gently. “The Temple accepted you as you were, Din, Force Bond and all. You always chose the greater good. And there is no Temple to return to.”
“Oh. Could you offer me some guidelines for training him …?”
Obi-Wan leaned back against the stone, withdrawing from them. His eyes closed.
Din anxiously studied his face, but kept quiet. Had he overstepped?
After a few moments, the man came back to life. “The person who knows the most about the way Grogu learns is you,” he said. “You’re the one who studied beside him every day in the Temple. And he seems to retain what you teach him.”
“Thank you, Master. Do you have any advice?”
“Work on his connection to the Force. Everything else he could learn flows from that.”
Well, Din was trying.
In the morning, they put on clean bathing togs and went to the beach for meditation. Grogu wanted to swim, but Din reminded him that he’d wanted to be Din’s Padawan. They would swim later, he promised.
They linked minds and opened to the Force. Life surrounded them. Behind them, the grasses waved in the breeze. Under the sand, the bivalves thrived. Above them, birds flew. In front of them, the ocean teemed with fish and plants. Further out, they sensed cetaceans swimming in pods.
The song of the Force sang around them, and they put themselves in harmony with it. The ocean spread as far as they could see. It was open and broad, full of possibilities. Din felt that their lives were opening in front of them as well. They had a ship, and he had a trade. They could travel wherever they wanted or needed, and had a home to return to. Maybe they would have their own place one day.
They snacked on sliced nuna eggs before returning to the shore. Grogu quickly supplemented the eggs with more live fish. Din decided to try something he’d only read about: building a sandcastle. He shoved a mound of sand together, but it didn’t look like the pretty pictures. Some people used plastoid molds. He viewed using molds as cheating. The point was to form shapes with your hands. He piled more sand on, then filled the now-clean bucket he’d used for the clams with wet sand and seawater from the ocean’s edge. The wet sand dribbled from his finger into interesting shapes on his foundation, piling up into spires and rounded towers.
Grogu watched him from one of the tidal pools. After eating a couple more fish, he toddled over.
Help Buir make castle.
The Force wrapped around the sand and twisted it into delicate shapes.
“That’s beautiful, ad’ika,” he said, “but I was taking a little time off from Jedi study to have fun. Would you like to get your hands dirty?”
The child’s motor control left something to be desired, but Din wanted him to help. How was the kid supposed to develop dexterity, except through practice? For every mound of sand he added to the foundation, he knocked down a couple of spires. Din put some of the wet sand into Grogu’s hands and showed him how to dribble it through his claws. Together, they rebuilt the castle. It was a messy structure, but Din decorated it with shells and dubbed it Castle Grogu.
They returned to the ocean to wash the sand off and practice swimming again. The child did better, now that he trusted Din to rescue him if the waves were too big.
After lunch and a short rest, they went back out to the sand, closer to the ship this time. Din took his lightsaber and Grogu brought the beskad Fintan had made for him. It had been a while since they’d had time to fully practice the forms together. Grogu took the lessons more seriously now that he knew he would be getting a lightsaber of his own. He was already watching Din’s indigo blade with proprietary eyes.
Din usually sunk into trance during his katas, but this time, he linked with Grogu, nudging the child into the proper steps when needed. Eventually, the child became bored.
Same moves over and over again.
He smiled at the child. “We’ll stop for a moment. Stretch tall. Reach up as high as you can. Now, relax.”
Grogu plopped on his rear end. Din sat beside him.
“When I was learning lightsaber forms in the Temple,” he said, “our master was Cin Drallig. He was trained by Master Yoda. He made us work our butts off. Remember when I would come back to the nursery, and my arms would be sore?”
The child nodded.
“We had to do the forms over and over again to teach our bodies how to react. Master Drallig said that a Jedi’s greatest weapon was the guidance of the Force. Battle had to be trained into our bodies so they would the correct moves without thought. He said muscle memory would save our lives.”
Grogu fell asleep that evening while Din was rubbing bacta lotion on him. The little guy was worn out. Din loaded the swim clothes into the cleaner and changed into his own pajamas. They were red, like the ones he’d worn on Aq Vetina as a child. It was a way of connecting to his origins. He settled down with the crystal he’d been healing and resumed his work.
Din had battled several Inquisitors since the fall of the Temple. As a result, he’d acquired a collection of Force weapons with kyber crystals. Every crystal that had come from an Inquisitor had cried in pain, filled with the sorrow and hate of their users. Healing them gave him great satisfaction, and an occasional glimpse into the psyche of their wielders.
In the morning, after meditation and firstmeal, Din brought out a double saber he’d taken from one of the Inquisitors he’d fought. He’d been able to get an idea of how the flying function worked at Arumorut, but the trees had gotten in the way of experimentation.
The beach was an ideal location.
He stepped a decent distance from the Razor Crest and raised the weapon, a metallic ring, and ignited the blades. With a push to the button for the repulsors, the blades began whirling. The device lifted him off the sand slowly. Below him, the baby watched, awed.
You may need to catch me if it stops, Din sent.
The weapon carried him over the beach, north, then south again. He didn’t want to lose sight of Grogu. He soared higher; the Razor Crest shrunk to toy size, the child a mere speck in the sand. His gaze shifted to the turquoise waters. On their way in, he’d seen a barrier reef. Would the device take him that far?
If he went out there, he needed to have Grogu with him. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to practice another landing. The whirring blades descended at a touch to the proper button, and he sunk to the sand in front of the child.
Want to take a ride?
Grogu squealed happily and leapt onto his free arm.
They glided above the waters, the turquoise near the shore deepening as the water did. Larger shapes moved in the water, bigger fish. Too bad he didn’t have a boat and fishing gear. Hondo had kept a water vessel in the ship’s hold, and the pirates had brought fish for Din to cook. He directed Grogu’s attention to the fish, and the kid enjoyed watching them.
Ahead, the reef stretched across their view of the water. The coral was pink-orange, in brilliant contrast to the waters.
It’s alive, Grogu sent.
Yes. Millions of organisms stacked together. He shared a little information about coral and its role in the oceanic ecosystem. Eventually, his upright arm complained about the lack of circulation and he shifted arms, using the Force to keep them both stable while he made the trade.
They explored a little more before returning to the ship. Din heated some frozen tiingilar he’d brought from home, and poured cassius tea for them both.
“We’ll rest for a bit,” he said. “Then we’re going to practice with your beskad.”
After meditation the next morning, they practiced Force pushing. At the Temple, Master Kelleran had paired Initiates in a large room padded on all sides—walls, floor, and ceiling. They’d matched their command of the Force and their willpower against each other. It wasn’t just telekinesis, although at least one kid went flying during every class. The Master was there to catch them, though, so no one got seriously hurt.
Waylen had always been eager to test his mettle against Din. He’d shoved hard.
Din tried this exercise with Grogu in the nursery once, but the baby flung him into the walls hard enough to bruise multiple times, and Yoda had threatened to separate them if they did it again. Their home in Arumorut wasn’t suitable, either. The walls of the vheh’yaim were too pliant and the trees outside weren’t pliant enough. In this wide-open space, though, the risk was considerably smaller.
Din wore his armor so he wouldn’t tear up his skin, but Grogu, like Master Yoda, only had chain mail and didn’t even wear sandals. He had no illusions about which one of them would get knocked on their shebs, but Grogu was very small and he would need to be careful.
“No flinging,” Din told the child. “We’re just going to shove each other back.”
They locked wills and began pushing.
Grogu planted his little butt on the ground. Good idea; the tunic and chain mail would protect his behind and he was less likely to fall. Din dug his feet into the sand and braced himself with the Force. As the pushing began in earnest, he slid backwards, leaving deep trenches in his wake.
Grogu’s plan was to shove Din about a klick down the beach, based on the pressure he was exerting. Din’s strategy was to remain upright, stay within shouting distance, and outlast the toddler.
He focused his will, not wavering, not yielding to the pressure, moving himself closer whenever Grogu stopped to breathe. The child growled and pushed him away again and again.
Finally, Grogu relented.
I’m bored. And hungry.
“Me, too, buddy.” He scooped the boy up and carried him towards the ship. “How about grilled nerfcheese sandwiches and pog soup for lunch?”
After three days of meditation and swimming, Din cleaned the interior of the Crest and put everything back in order. They’d had a good retreat, but it was time to go to work. Grogu sighed mournfully as the planet shrunk on the viewscreen.
“We’ll come back another time,” Din said. “We might even visit the inhabited area, see who lives there.”
Once they were properly in the black, Din looked up the time at home. He needed to check in with the family again. It was the middle of the night on Vlemoth Port, but Ba’vodu Konn should either be on or near Tatooine.
“Su cuy'gar,” Konn Eldar said when Din commed. His uncle was on the Balac, headed to Tatooine to pick up jobs. “How’s the new ship handling?”
“Good so far. How’s it feel to be working without a clunky apprentice?”
“Tiring. I have to chase the crooks myself. That’s what the apprentice is for.”
“I’ll remember that.”
The pale image of Konn’s face squinted. “Is that fuzz on your face?”
“I thought I’d see what I looked like with a mustache and maybe a beard.”
“Don’t go too long on the beard. Gets caught in the helmet seals. Are you coming to Tatooine?”
“I’m going to try the Guild Hub on Carajam. Explore some new places with the squirt.”
“Avoiding Fett?”
Din shrugged; he’d rather not think about Boba. “More like the Empire. Places like Paqualis III handle mostly Empire jobs. Carajam’s more like Tatooine.”
“Yeah, same deserts and villages with half the charm. Oh, and the Death Plains, which are as advertised.”
“Still, gonna try it.”
“Carry extra water. Hey, kid, has your buir taken you on any jobs yet?”
The baby burped “No” in Pak Pak.
Din leaned closer to the child. “Can you say nayc? Tell Ba’vodu Konn ‘nayc’.”
“N-nay-thhh…”
“Very good!” Konn said. “Make sure you stay safe and do what your buir tells you.”
Grogu blew a raspberry.
"No translation necessary for that," Konn said.