The Stranger

[Yondir Fenn]

Spoiler: Music OOC

A voice. A voice in his head.
A whisper. A whisper in his flesh.
An echo, like a bird’s call from a nest.
A song, like wind in the trees of a forest.

…Yondir…
…Yondir Fenn…

A voice, a woman’s breath, a lady’s tongue, as liquid as a lake.
Her words, water in the brain, letters in the heart, they permeate.
He hears them, that man, as young as old; old is young, they say.
Singing to him, she is; the last of the Varan, of his clan, of their day.

…Can you hear me, my son?...

Her words, he can hear them, like the bird hears the nestling.
He hears her, the son, ever feeding, if yet beyond a fledgling.
She sounds the same as yesterday, as years ago, this morning.
A lady’s voice, gentle as a feather, if ever ready with a warning.

…I...I can hear you…

He speaks in his head, for his lips are sealed, and his tongue is still.
He rests on his bed, bereft of blanket, pillow, for the grass is ever real.
The forest floor, beneath sunlight shone, creeping through canopy, peels.
Peeking, morning sun, slivers of warmth on bare skin, written as with quill.

…Listen to me sing, hear me, and learn, Yondir…

So he listens to her sing, he hears her, in his mind and in his heart, his soul.
In his spirit, in his flesh and bone, the sweet melody of lightyears from home.
Around him, surrounding his unmoved form, cloaked armor, he must be bold.
Ever vigilant, the Ranger of Rhunor, never really asleep even with eyes closed.

…Tell me what to do…show me where to go…for I am so lost in the dark…
…There is no darkness here, my dear, only bright wood, and I am not far…

Lost, gone, the forests of his homeworld, his moon, O so far from him removed.
Jedi, a Knight, a Justicar cradling justice in his arms, a warrior and watcher, a man.
He must be strong, he must be brave, but beneath sun’s rays so quiet is her tune.
So serene, like the tickling breeze, amid insects chirping, but she sings of the past.

…No…don’t look back…that is where you falter…standing on the edge of a knife…
…I…can’t see forward…the future so offered…I glimpse only death instead of life…

Jedi, Order, galaxy in strife. The more things change, the more they stayed the same.
It was every being’s notion of reality, how the stars remained, never taking a true shape.
To navigate that ocean of space, that sparkling sea of darkness, Jedi must be shapeless.
Like water, not stiff like stone, like Sith, emotions that burn the bone, yet Yondir's aimless.

…You are afraid, my son, and that is okay…but do not be afraid…rest your worries…
…What tomorrow holds, in the heat, the cold, I am ever alone, at the edge of fury…

Yondir Fenn, that stoic Sephi, on countenance frozen, those feelings he buries.
A protector yet, of the free, of peace, so he claimed, dispassionate in his justice.
Unafraid to fight back, to drive away that black gaping pit of chaos, to swing a fist.
When the occasion called for it, his sword and bow settle business, yet too his lips.

…Remember, you’re never alone Yondir…
…So far from my brothers and sisters…
…You have others…
…Yes…Mother…

Truth in her lyrics, her chanting kiss, she ever knows the truth of it.
In this life that the Ranger of Rhunor has chosen, he goes at it alone.
Yet, to succeed, the man must stand beside his fellow Jedi—his very kin.
For now, he simply lies still, listens in, a warm song like a violin in his bone.

 

[Yondir Fenn]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Sunlight. Like a bath. Warm, beating back storm, ever defiant. A sun. A son.
Jedi. Jedi… Jedi is his name, for Jedi he became, that warrior, but not a gun.
He isn’t a weapon, this Ranger, for a man wasn’t born for war nor bred to kill.
To defend, to protect, the forests of Rhunor, the men, women, children—still.

A storm… Jedi thinks, lying on the floor. A storm of swords… That forest bed.
Leaves beneath his head, beside blades of grass, cradling him, and he rests.
Yet, Jedi never rests, never sleeps, always awake to the beats of the galaxy.
In need of peace, gentle drums, then thrum, like hellish blood, dark dream.

Sleeping, waking, a man, and his name is Yondir Fenn. This Sephi of long years.
He has lived a lifetime, a lifetime ago, before the Force found him, the Order.
The Jedi, those who now he fights beside. Once upon a time, he fought fear.
The terror of his land, a blight, a stain upon life, a threat that a man burns.

He killed them, those that threatened to take men, women, children alive.
To kill them, the innocents, the victims, for in darkness were monsters bred.
Jedi, yes, today and now, but back then, the Watcher of the Wood, he fights.
That Watcher, that Ranger, the Stranger, he faced danger wherever he went.

Now, in the shelter of a fantasy, quite like a dream, he wakes, he sleeps, this man.
In the bosom of his mother, in foliage hues, verdant true, she whispers with hands.
A voice, liquid lyrics bloom, beside instruments, lifting twigs, curling root and branch.
Among giants, those wooden sentries, those trees, so towering, stretching above land.

He flies, he floats, Jedi, for his spirit is beyond his body, and the light cannot hide.
Neither can the darkness, a Jedi knows, not from the sun, O that scorching justice.
A Justicar, Jedi is, ever vigilant in his diligent pursuit of others wavering, other Jedi.
Has to be, this man, this Stranger, for Yondir Fenn is ever at a threat of going amiss.

The darkness, the dark side, a terrible device, vengeful as it tries, tempts and twists.
Mother… He calls in his head, there upon that earthen bed, in sunken melody’s kiss.
It cradles him, it rocks him, Yondir Fenn, as he drifts and he dreams, awake if asleep.
Eyes closed, a breeze on the approach, tickling his skin. Mother…do not forsake me...

 

[Yondir Fenn]

Spoiler: Music OOC

…Yondir…
He hears her.
Yes…Mother?
Yondir answers.

Get up, my son.
I am…just dust.
Up. Up. Get up.
Yes…If I must.

A part of him does not want to budge.
He would rather lie down upon the mud.
Lie with back on the grass, nothing else but.
Let the rain fall. Let the sky rain as starlight blood.

The sun shines, casts its golden ray, bathing a man’s face.
And the man lays, eyes closed, like wildlife whose neck cranes.
Basking in that glow of the bright light on a throne so very far away.
Close, yet far, this world’s star, to warm a heart, and to cast him its gaze.

Up. Get up, my son.
Yes…Mother…I will…
Yet a man just lies still.
Before this day is done…

And a man opens his eyes, as if for the first time, like a babe from a womb.
The sky is above, fragmented blue beyond the reaches of towering branches.
The crowns of treetops beyond the throne, clothed in green, and nature’s truth.
He missed it, the forest, not this but his, on a world further away. I am...stranded…

No, Yondir, you are not alone. I will not let you go. You need to rise. You must stand.
And a man rises, if only to lift himself with the muscles of his stomach, just to sit up.
Like a child wavering to obey, hesitating in the face of his mother, that is this very man.
Legs upon the forest floor, on twigs and sticks, leaves brown and green, he is but a pup.

You were a babe once, my child. You became a man of years gone, and here you are...so strong.
I am weak… I wander…aimlessly… He sits up, his eyes are open, but this wood doesn’t belong.
A foolish fallacy, Yondir Fenn…for you are of the men and women of Rhunor…you are a warrior…
I am a Jedi Knight in name, Mother, but my strength wanes... He breathes in, out, breath in a blur.

Ranger…Watcher…Stranger…Warrior…Yondir…listen to my whisper…to your mother…
Emotion, yet peace. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. The Force is my answer…

To a question that a Jedi like him has yet to even ask, but Yondir shall wonder no further.
Not aimlessly, as the welkin breaks across his face, the hearth calls, and the voice is heard.
It is hers, it is Mother's, but also the tongue of his father, brothers, sisters, in daylight’s burn.
I hear you… Light streaks through the boughs, white gold radiant, brilliant, and the man turns.

He gets up, he stands, and his footing is firm, feet grounded upon the earth, facing this Yondir.
I am Yondir Fenn. A man must remind himself of who he is now and then. No mere stranger.
He straightens his clothes, grey cloak over armor, whose chestplate face is that of a thunder.
A Knight. A Ranger. More than a Jedi, than a warrior. Bow at back, sword at hilt, he will wander.

But I shall not walk alone. For a Jedi knows that he has the hope of those before and beside him.
Those after him, the past, present and future bundled into one like kindling in the fire, Jedi and kin.
Brothers. Sisters. Mother. Father. I do not walk alone. Yondir goes, into the wild wood, where he walks.
Yondir Fenn marches to find his path, with the sun at his back, while ahead beat the wings of a hawk.

 

[Yondir Fenn]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Canopy of crowns, boughs of green above brilliant brown, amid sunlight’s golden sheen.
The forest beckons the explorer forward, or else he has missed yet some other mystery.
He felt within his elements, if so distant, so far from home, as he goes, alone, wanders.
Ever onward, letting a spirit guide him, amid the light of another kind, this lone Yondir.

The Force, he felt it like the fabrics of his garment, like the wind. It permeated his being.
His essence had long since bonded with the light side of the Force, had opened its door.
It beckoned him, sent him forth, as an agent, a warrior, a guardian. Yet…I must be more...
He knew it in his heart as the man ventured further. The light bought me. And light I bring.

Limbs extend at his left, of jagged embrace, yet not so twisted for a forest not haunted.
Leaves at their ends, green as grace. In foliage hues like handshake, offering him solace.
The trees were familiar things, yet every tree was different, from this forest to Rhunor.
Home. Yondir thought as he stared yonder between these trees. Where watchers are born.

He was no less, this guardian, as he just then spotted a familiar guest from earlier ahead.
The hawk made no sound except the loud beat of its wings to the ears of the Sephi tuned.
It did fly high in the sky, it did dip back beneath treetop, it did gesture Yondir where to move.
Toward the perch of sunlight, to a stretch of trees like a corridor, wherein is gilded light’s nest.

“Where are you taking me?” Yondir asked the hawk, expecting no answer.
It screeched back at him, breaking its silence, amid a billion leaves shaken.
Scattered, littered on the ground, red as autumn, on the flanks of paved dirt.
A trail, made by hand or beast, Yondir could not tell. He walked. Reawakened.

 

[Yondir Fenn]

Spoiler: Music OOC

When the sky provides you the light as a guide...follow the light, my son...lest you waver...
In misted forests, wherein mystified was its traveler, he will not deny he needs her.
The voice of his mother, the singer of the lake, under song of moonlight, his leader.
Not here in form, but she’s with him in spirit. For, not her, but Yondir is the Stranger.

So he listens to her. Follow the hawk. That was yet his own voice, his own command.
She gave him that reminder. When on the path, do not waver. Don’t stray or go back.
Where does the familiar lead him? Cannot be certain yet he had come for a reason.
He was in this forest for more than simply to sleep. So the bird serves as his vision.

Onward, he wanders, and while where some would feel lost this wanderer does not.
To find a purpose within this gift of existence he knows he must search for it. Seek it.
Whether as the Ranger or as the Knight, by sunlight shone would sleep not be given.
On welkin’s throne, slivers of gold did dance, silent song, reminding Yondir to go on.

Time passed; so small a thing against the ancient towering trees surrounding his being.
Spread further apart from his last encounter in the other environment. It was a big forest.
He walks forward, eyes on the sky, crowned canopy shading the blind, gaze ever seeking.
Searching for another being, that hawk that found him, his guide, its wings in silent chorus.

Yet it was nowhere to be seen. Where are you, avian grace? Sharp of talon and sharp of beak...
Swift of wing. Great in speed. Was he reciting poetry? Or lyrics from the same liquid as home?
He could not remember the lines. In time. He was still catching up to his own mind. Not alone.
No hawk did he find, though Yondir had his senses as his guide had wit. Something is coming.

A threat? A friend? Cannot determine.
Sword. Bow. And armor on his person.
He did not stop. He walked. Ever ready.
Sweet is the wood…and good is my creed…