These Shattered Stars -- Logs

Freyja is out riding her slaypneer. Forsetti Rigg has given rather strict instructions that she is to avoid meeting the Jotunsen entourage, and with the understanding that the Stromvalt's people will be remaining in the manse, has allowed her to do as she will on the estate grounds. This leaves Syf to play the hostess for the visitors, a duty which would normally fall to the eldest daughter. Vakkal follows along, dismounted. He can keep up to a slaypneer going just shy of a canter.

Balmorra is an industrial world, but fortunately modern technology has allowed industry and nature to exist in relative harmony. From the highest hill on the estate Freyja can see on the horizon the massive droidworks of Cyteller Automaton, her family's lifeblood and what makes them any sort of economic force to be reckoned with in the sector. The factories surround the Rigg estate, except for one site which is now a park, believed by some to be where Khurram Rigg and MacNeil-of-the-Seas landed the original Human colonists from Corellia to Balmorra. When Tyr Rigg became the major stockholder in Cyteller Automaton, his charisma and demagoguery allowed him to push for the naming of that place as an historical site, despite the extreme antiquity and dubious reliability of the legends of the Human colonists on Balmorra.

The sky is crystal-clear, blue with a faint tinge of green as is normal for Balmorran skies. A wide river runs through the estate, frolicking through the moors that are enshrouded in fog at the start of second winter. Today the visibility is startlingly clear, and for miles around, here and there, Freyja can see ships rising up through the atmosphere or descending cautiously. At one point, through distant clouds, a miles-long freighter, emblazoned with the logos of the disparate companies of the Republic's federation of traders and shippers, drifts serenely along as it makes to land at Cyteller's freightport.

Down by the river, as Freyja is riding along, she sees three men, hard at work about ten meters from the shores of the water, digging deeply into the earth. A Haus Rigg armsbearer watches over them curiously and calmly, apparently considering his job less than a chore or high-risk security concern.

Once on the hilltop, Freyja sighs, stretching her arms over her head and trying to shake some of the tension out of her shoulders and back. She found it amusing that her father felt he had to give strict instructions to warn her off from the Jotunsen entourage... what, did he think she was going to throw herself at some strange boy she'd never met?! Bah.

Freyja is a willowy, warm-honey-colored woman. Her steady eyes are frost blue, and her short-cropped, soft brown mane is undecorated -- highly unusual amongst Balmorran aristoi. She's obviously a shockingly pragmatic lady: the colorful, raw silk riding coat bears little adornment, and is worn startlingly informally -- loose and open over a light, brilliant silk shirt. Her flowing, patterned trousers tuck into obvious cavalry boots -- soft leather, intricately ornamented, with pointed, up-turned toes. She wears no other jewelry, though, and makes no unnecessary movements, her silent demeanor a curious mix of reserved pride and wariness. Unless spoken to, she's soon quietly gone.

Freyja's riding comfortably -- her outer coat is neatly bundled behind her cantle, as an impromptu pommel on the pillion saddle for Vakkal. She loosens the reins to let the slaypneer graze, relaxedly loops one leg around the pommel of her saddle, and grins at Vakkal, "Lovely view, hai?" The bit of early morning breeze ruffles her (shockingly light) silk shirt, and teases through her hair and Vakkal's pelt. She smiles, turning her face into it with her eyes closed. She knows they're on a tiny hillock compared to some worlds... but it's quite a height for Balmorra. The horizon is ordinarily just the nearest fringe of trees, or the edge of the plain as the eye of a rider can see... here she can see easily for at least fifty miles, and only the tops of the industrial buildings can be seen. True, she prefers the unobstructed natural view of the Northern estate... but this is nice too. She adds to Vakkal, "If we have time, we'll go visit one of the park estates, where Father's set up a wildlife reserve of sorts."

Vakkal nods, looking around. The unrivaled natural beauty of the place is very appealing to him -- even here it is easily superior to anything Coruscant can provide. "That would be nice, I think. I like it here, truly, Freyja, but it does seem to have a... lived-in feel to it."

Freyja laughs, then nods, "It's very... domesticated, hai. This area's been occupied by sapients for thousands of years. If you want a less, um, managed feel... then hai, we should definitely hit the Northern estate. It's left mostly alone, for hunting."

Vakkal nods, smiling, "It sounds like that would be a good trip. Thank you."

Freyja grins at Vakkal, enjoying the feel of sunlight on her bare arms, "So, want to canter down the hill with me? We can follow the river there," she traces it with a finger, "-and out to the lake. You can't see the lake for the fog, but it's lovely." She gathers up the reins and, with an inquiring look, holds a hand out for Vakkal to leap up behind her if he wishes.

Vakkal grins, "I'll walk or run along, if you don't mind, Freyja, but thank you. I feel... invigorated. My home world has a slightly higher gravity, I believe, but whatever the reason I feel quite capable, indeed eager, to exercise."

Freyja nods to Vakkal, but still points out the handholds on the back of the pillion saddle for Vakkal to grab onto and swing up, if he wishes. She also notes if he has a good sense of balance while riding, he might find it easier to wrap his arms around her waist, since that keeps their centers of balance closer together on the moving animal. Then she clicks to the slaypneer, nudging the big gelding with a heel... and slowly at first, but with increasing momentum, they start the long, tilted run down the shallow hill. The wind catches their clothing and whips the slaypneer's long shaggy fur, and Freyja laughs aloud for the sheer enjoyment of the moment, crouched easily over the big animal's shoulders, the happy snorting of the excited slaypneer and the thunder of cloven hooves loud in her ears.

Vakkal manages to keep pace with Freyja's slaypneer, running alongside them down the hill. He appears to be only a little winded by the time they reach the river's edge, winded but smiling widely. Freyja flashes a grin at Vakkal over her shoulder, pleased he's still with her, and sits back gradually, encouraging the cheerfully bouncy slaypneer to slow down to an easy canter that Vakkal can keep up with without much effort.

Freyja winds along the twisting river banks, enjoying the cool wispy tendrils of fog that occasionally trace along her face and arms, like the spectral fingers of the Aelfar... she sees the four men up ahead and skirts politely wide, nodding to them and smiling. She wonders idly who the men are and why their digging is being so supervised... are they perhaps poachers or something? Didn't think there was much of that any more, actually.

Vakkal continues to keep pace with Freyja, regaining his breath and realizing it would not be good to be caught flat-footed and out of breath if something happened. The armsbearer, a young Trandoshan female by the name of Gilick, nods and straightens, saluting Freyja. "Hoi, Milady!" she greets her politely. "Good morning!"

This close, the three individuals appear to be researchers more than laborers. A droid peers over their shoulders, bleeping to itself as they lean down into the hole they've dug. Freyja can see that they've carefully placed the sod and turf off to the side for later return, and that they've separated the loamy topsoil and the clay layers beneath. They are very much deep into their work, "Can you see anything down there?"

"I wish I could! You sure this is the right place?"

"Positive! The flood of pre-Republic year 3792 was right in this area, and supposedly the Partakan Manuscript says MacNeil-of-the-Seas was in this spot when the Raid of Jehan Mahal took place the year before-"

"Okay, okay, Leif! I get the idea..."

"Sorry. It's just that we'll be the first to find evidence of MacNeil-of-the-Seas being this far south..."

Freyja glances at the apparent researchers, then pulls rein well back by the Trandoshan, so as to not get in the way, "Good morning." She grins as she nods towards the diggers, "From the university, I take it? What is it this time?" Her voice is politely low, so as to not interrupt the busily digging kurasai... and it can't hurt, she reasons, to give Vakkal a moment to breath, also.

Freyja watches with the odd scene with interest. Were it not for the droid, they could be minions of the Fey things, digging industriously in the foggy morning on the riverbanks for no discernable reason. Freyja glances at Vakkal and grins to herself, realizing he could pass in the fog as one of the faithful frehkee-sarks too... the mystical warrior shapechangers with fur shirts that accompanied the Fey. She grins again... silvery slaypneer, true, but she and the Trandoshan don't really fit. She strokes a calming hand down the big gelding's arched neck as he impatiently shakes his head, making the belled bridle jingle furiously for a moment.

Gilick shakes her head. "I'm not sure, Milady." She gestures to the three. Two are Human males, with somewhat dark hair and light builds, but obvious Corellian or Balmorran heritage. The third is a young Mirialan with yellow-olive skin and startling indigo-within-indigo eyes, a black hood close about her head as is common for her people, and curious markings, tattoos or natural marks, appearing on her hands and cheeks.

"They're University students from the Jotunsen entourage. Asked the Baron to do a research dig at this specific spot. Odd, the baron didn't seem to complain much about their request."

The jingling bells catches the Mirialan's attention, and she looks up, blinking curiously. "Lief, Kant..." she says quietly. "We've a visitor-"

"There!" The one called Leif all but dives down into the hole. It's apparently fairly deep; his knees just barely come up to the edge, and the other Human, Kant, scrambles to keep Leif from falling deeper into the hole. A moment later, the legs disappear into it; a moment more, then a hand in an archaeologist's iso-glove pops out of the hole, grasping what looks like a small ring. "Perfect!" comes the exclamation from within the hole. "Just like the manuscript said! The ring of MacNeil-of-the-Seas, lost during his reprisals against Jehan Mahal for the raid of 3793 PR! I'd dreamed of finding something like this someday, but I never imagined...!" The young man's head pokes out of the hole, with an expression of elation. "We've got what we need to show the sector university that they're all wrong about pre-Republic Balmorran history...!" Then he blinks, looking up at the huge animal and figures before him. "Oh! Uh... hello..." He rummages quickly about his pocket, then puts on a pair of antiquated spectacles, brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes as he looks again at Freyja and Vakkal. He blinks. "Er... hello!" he repeats. Then, "Er... we'll be filling in the hole soon, honest."

Freyja gives Gilick a quick, slightly worried glance, murmuring, "Did you say from the Jotunsen entourage?!" She starts gathering up the reins, wondering if she should take off right now... she really doesn't want to cause trouble, however unwittingly, with her father currently. The slaypneer shifts restlessly, its tail swishing and ready to move. She sways easily in the saddle, studying the three individuals. Cautiously she says, "Good morning and, I suppose, congratulations. Please take your time." Spectacles?!, she thinks. Poor Kurasai, if that's all he can afford! Such is the rewards of the ivory tower, I suppose. She watches a little warily... do they know about her father's commands or not?

Leif blinks and smiles, bobbing his head. "Thank you! This is an incredible find. You see, before now, all the scholars thought that the first Human colonists on Bandomeer were united and at peace with each other, but this shows that there was at least one raid upon the northern splinter colonists under MacNeil-of-the-Seas by the main southern colony under Jehan Mahal, daughter of Khurram Rigg, and by sheer luck-" the droid chirps and holds aloft what looks like a deep-penetration geologist's sensor on a mechanical waldo, "-well, hai, and Kaytee-Nine there, we managed to find this spot-"

Kant rolls his eyes, looking to the Mirialan. "There he goes again," he says wryly.

The Mirialan seems to be counting. "I give him three more seconds."

"Naaaaaah..."

Leif continues talking animatedly. "-after we finally translated this manuscript showing that MacNeil-of-the-Seas, in his reprisal, was standing right here, on this very spot, when he lost his ring and... uhm..." He blinks a little as he seems to finally focus on Freyja instead of seeing just a large, six-legged slaypneer with a rider and a canid on foot in front of him. "That is... it's... quite a wonderful thing to lay eyes upon..."

The Mirialan smiles to Kant, who sketches a bow to her. "Three seconds. You win, Marissian."

Freyja studies the young man, wide-eyed and with increasing horror, From the University, from the Jotunsen entourage... holy sheisse, it's him! I am so in the frehkee house now! She leans slightly in the saddle, and that's all the encouragement the slaypneer needs. With a gleeful snort he leaps off, all six legs pounding enthusiastically and tail flourishing wildly in the air as he gallops down the riverbank towards the lake.

Freyja catches a brief glimpse of young Lief -- rather, Fafnir Leif-Kreil Jotunsen -- as he blinks in surprise at the sudden departure of the young woman he just met and did not know, almost leaping out of the hole, opening his mouth to call out something... then slowly closing it and just watching her ride off, dumbfounded.

Freyja slows the mad gallop once she's out of earshot, so Vakkal can catch up. She glances a bit grim-faced at him when he does so, calling to him past the whipping mane of the slaypneer, "I'm going to just pretend that didn't happen, if Father mentions staying away from the Jotunsen entourage!"

Vakkal pants a little as he manages to catch up to Freyja. "As first introductions go," he quips in between breaths, "- it didn't seem to go too badly."

Freyja gives him a wry look, "Hela's icy breath, don't even joke about it -- Father'd be furious with me!" She slows politely down a bit more, adding apologetically, "Sorry about the rather, um... abrupt departure... want a lift, or keep running?"

Vakkal coughs a little. "I think he would understand. It was most unexpected. They probably departed after we did. Yes, please... I believe I'm a bit... winded." He clambers up to sit behind Freyja, though he tries not to dread the experience.

Freyja gives him a hand up, then grins, "Loosen up and relax, Vakkal... just let the slaypneer do the work." She settles into a long, easy loping gait that'll be easy on the inexperienced dog Sith, then adds a little grimly, "You... don't understand my father. Well... or what I've done in contrary moods, years ago. He wouldn't believe it was an accident." She coughs softly at a sudden lack of air, then pats his rather tightly clasped hands around her middle and adds with a grin, "You don't need to squeeze me in two either, please. Just relax... it's very comfortable. Sway with me and you'll get the rhythm of it."

Vakkal smiles wanly, "Sorry. I'll try to do so."

Freyja chuckles quietly, then continues on the ride, reasoning it's better to arrive well after the Jotunsen group. If they 'squeal,' it'll be a while before she has to face the music... and if they don't, she might as well arouse no suspicion by arriving with them, and might as well enjoy her ride. After a while she relaxes herself a bit too, singing quietly under her breath with the smoothly undulating gait of the slaypneer and thoughtfully considering the... rather focused young man she just saw. Hm... she hopes he's not offended. Well... too bad, if so. At least he wasn't ghastly.

The return to the manse goes without incident, and Freyja encounters no other members of the Jotunsen entourage. At one point soon after her return she looks out a window and sees the three students, droid, and armsbearer returning, the students talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Freyja smiles ruefully and shakes her head to herself, then turns from the window. He seems nice enough... but not really... all here, in a way. She suspects somehow he's not going to be able to help much in regards to running the family business... which is disappointing, in a way. She'd wondered if maybe between the two of them they could split up responsibilities, so she could continue in her duties to the Jedi Order as well. However... she can't in good conscience hand the reins of business over to someone who's likely to go haring off after one of her ancestors' rings because of a manuscript!

Morning becomes midday. While the Jotunsens have midday meal in the guest wing, the Riggs eat in the family dining room, again to keep the two inheritors separated until the formal gathering. That leaves several hours before the eventide when the formal introduction and betrothal is supposed to take place, followed by the (and Freyja mentally cringes at this) formal dinner and all that entails. If Forsetti Rigg was told that Freyja accidentally ran into Fafnir that morning, he gives no indication of it during the midday meal.

Freyja is in the hedge-maze that lies off of one side of the house, being reasonably assured that none of the Jotunsen entourage would appear there unexpectedly. Roakkana has encouraged her to practice and meditate when she can, and in this instance the motions of a lightsaber kata -- incorporating the advanced defense movements which Roakkana has instructed her in recently -- seem to be best for losing herself. Vakkal, for his part, prowls the maze, never far from Freyja as if using some sort of Force-awakened ability to track her nearby, and just a dozen steps -- and, of course, several trampled hedges -- away.

Freyja is quite happily lost in practicing within the Force. The new kata, stretching her abilities slightly, concentrating on moving the things around her, all are an excellent way to both focus utterly on the moment... and lose the impending trial of yet another formal dinner. She grins to herself as she tosses a small pebble with the Force over a hedge wall, opposite from where she last heard Vakkal. Pity Colburth's not here -- she can levitate rocks now! Well... when I'm not under pressure, I can. Still... I'll get better! She hopes quietly that Colburth and Valsha both are safe and hale... then moves herself and the lightsaber fluidly into the next stance.

The soft thrum of the lightsaber blade, the elegant arcs of the blade through the midday, the heady sensation perhaps makes Freyja not realize just where she's lobbing small pebbles. There is a faint *thock* and a muffled, "Ow...! What in the worlds...?" -then the pat-pat-pat of booted feet trying to find their way through the hedge maze to Freyja's location.

Freyja pauses, turning gracefully, saber arcing downwards over her shoulder in proper stance, waiting for the other person to arrive -- if they can find their way. She'll apologize -- she shouldn't have tossed the pebble quite so... briskly. She grins suddenly to herself, wondering if the person will get utterly lost. It's all right... she can show them out. She's spend many, many hours playing in this maze... much to the irritation of some of her nannies!

Freyja's eyes are striking, a thoughtful and disconcertingly direct ice blue. Her serene face is framed by a thick, soft brown mane cropped pragmatically short but for one long, thin braid in the back. Long legs and well-tanned shoulders and arms reveal the strong, supple musculature of an athlete. The sturdily practical clothing on her tall, eye- catching form consists of snug breeches, a cropped athlete's top, the lightly armored, taped combat gloves of a swordswoman, and well-worn, sure-footed, soft leather boots.

The footsteps finally reach an intersection where Freyja can see the person... and, horror of horrors, it's him. He does not see her immediately; Fafnir looks around curiously and analytically, gauging the measure of the maze. An off- white coat of muslin, trimmed with a thin trace of white fur along the edges to stave off the slight Balmorran evening chill, encloses his narrow shoulders snugly, in a somewhat flattering cut but one that unfortunately emphasizes his somewhat slender shoulders and chest. The Jotunsen crest -- a stylized representation of Balmorra, its sun, and its lone moon -- is on a silver crest at his throat. Loose trousers of matching hue and material are tucked into low black boots. His straight brown hair brushes his shoulders as he brushes the same itinerant lock out of his eyes, and though he doesn't wear the spectacles he looks around with bright, alert eyes. In one hand, he lightly tosses upward and catches the pebble.

Freyja is already still -- she doesn't move at all at sight of the young man. Her eyes widen slightly, though... then narrow in amusement, and she takes one long, gliding step back out of sight and into a more relaxed defensive pose to consider. Technically she should avoid him... but he came to her this time. Well... hm, Father would consider the pebble her calling him to her, wouldn't he? She frowns thoughtfully, then tries to remember -- did he look irritated or neh? She leans her head cautiously around the corner to see if she can tell.

The sound of the lightsaber as it purrs through the air catches Fafnir's attention, and he turns to the sound. He sees the face peering at him around the corner, and smiles quietly. He opens his mouth to utter a polite greeting -- then stops and blinks as his eyes focus. "Oh... Milady Freyja!" he says, startled, then remembers to bow to her. "I... I apologize for my intensity this morning," he adds, recovering. "Kant is always teasing me about how deep into history I can sometimes plunge myself..."

Freyja's eyes widen as she realize she's spotted, and she yanks back around the corner! -then pauses... and has to giggle at her automatic reaction. She's grinning as she peeks around the corner again, wondering what the poor guy must think of her. Every time he catches sight of her she's improperly dressed (at least as Mother would define 'dressed' and 'proper'), and she keeps disappearing! She wonders, with a sudden touch of wariness, if the youn-, er, if Faf- neh, Leif, that's it -- if Leif is going to assume she's a... a pushover, due to her clothing. Well... if he does, she can certainly disabuse him of that quickly enough. She nods with cautious politeness, if the young man is still there.

Leif looks a little unsure of himself for a moment, then manages to recover somewhat. "I... hope that I had not gotten you into trouble for this morning. I know that we were told we should not actively seek each other out before the ceremony -- that is, I was so instructed by my father. We were not asked, and said nary a word to anyone when we returned."

Freyja flows smoothly around the corner, finishing off the kata with a graceful flourish that culminates with the lightsaber powering down. Once the purring hum dies, she clips it to her belt, then straightens and politely salutes him, "Lord Fafnir. Thank you for not doing so. Or... do you prefer Lord Leif?" She wonders thoughtfully if he's going to stare at her 'underwear clothing' (according to her Mother) or not... well, she'll see in just a moment. If she's lucky, he'll be at least a bit more cosmopolitan than usual from exposure to different cultures in the University. She can't resist adding, with a touch of a grin, "You can keep the pebble, if you like."

Leif doesn't seem to react to Freyja's state of undress -- he's apparently seen more, or rather, less -- at the university. He smiles wanly. "If I am to be 'Lord' then I imagine it should be 'Lord Fafnir.' At the university I am called simply 'Leif.' It is... easier there, for me at least, and perhaps for my fellow students, if I'm not advertising my bloodline to the people whom I study and take the same exams with."

He grins softly, and looks to the pebble. "And thank you. I had been told you were a Jedi consular. Is it as weighty as I imagine it to be, to have the responsibilities of both a noble-born and a plenipotentiary of the Republic?"

Freyja goes still for a moment at that rather difficult question... then looks around. Maybe she should lead him farther into the maze, if they're going to be talking when technically they should not be. Vakkal can give her warning if anyone approaches. She says quietly, "If you wish to talk... perhaps elsewhere?" She waits until he's watching her and can see what corner she vanishes around... then does so.

Leif blinks, and nods... but she's already vanished. Freyja can see him cast a momentary glace to the manse, then follow. Freyja leads the young man quickly and surely to the center of the maze, making sure he catches a glimpse of her vanishing around the next corner each time he turns. It's... a little odd, like a hunt in reverse. He seems... intrigued, intrigued and curious as he follows, Freyja's disappearances and barest glimpses as she rounds corners just as he rounds the last one being almost beguiling.

Softly, Vakkal's chuckle comes from a hedge nearby, pacing her. "I will keep watch for anyone approaching. Is this what you meant about duties as your huskarl which Kuras Magnussen would not tell me about?"

Freyja giggles quietly to herself, padding swiftly and silently along -- it's like tag, sort of! -- and murmurs, "Thank you, Vakkal! Er..." She giggles again, then adds half guiltily, "Probably?" Vakkal can hear the grin in her voice as she softly adds, "They'd never believe this was accidental -- twice!"

Vakkal laughs quietly. "Indeed not. Though I suspect they do not know of the first time. No fear, Freyja. I am nearby and you will hear me if anyone enters the maze. This is rather fun, actually, there was an intriguing labyrinth on Daeiben I visited once... ah, you approach the center of the maze."

Freyja grins, "Maybe we can play tag here later, if you like -- good practice!" She'll dart swiftly into the pretty flowering bower in the center of the maze, slipping behind the leafy, tree-overhung gazebo, and watching curiously from hiding to see the young man come in... or if he does.

Vakkal's chuckle fades away as he meanders off through the maze, unseen. A few moments later, Leif seems to find the right, final corner with little difficulty, and enters the area. He blinks, though; perhaps he'd half-expected Freyja to be a little more visible. With a quiet, thoughtful sound, he begins to walk through the bower, looking about for Freyja, perhaps intuiting something which tells him that she would not answer if he merely called out. While he does admire many of the flowers in the bower, and the saturnalian beauty of the place, he does look about in an attempt to search for Freyja.

Freyja grins, suddenly enjoying herself far more than she ever expected to with this strange young man she's been so abruptly linked to. She slides quietly through the shrubbery and flowers, intimately familiar with this area from years of play here, and watches him with bright-eyed fascination. As she watches, she idly picks one of her favorite big indigo blooms, sniffs it with appreciation, then tucks it absently behind an ear. She hopes he's having fun too... and she's quite curious as to how he'll react!

Leif, unfortunately, is having a poor time of it. Despite his obviously alert mien, he seems unable to spot Freyja as she ghosts through the bower. Several times he stops and turns at a given sound -- once or twice in Vakkal's direction as the huskarl makes some sound in his pacing of the maze. Leif's hearing is apparently exquisite; it is his eyesight that seems to give difficulty. Yet even after he unselfconsciously puts on his spectacles, he still cannot seem to find Freyja... though to his credit he does not stop, and does, despite his utter failure to find her, seem to be enjoying it.

Freyja smiles, watching... he seems nice. Not getting cranky, willing to play... she should... hm. Give him something? A flower, maybe? She looks around, wondering if she has anything appropriate to hand... she sits up a bit and puts her data pad on her lap, trusting the sound of the small tinkling fountain to keep her hidden, and quietly taps up the page on the meaning of flowers. She keeps half an eye on the young man, not wanting to bore him, and scans hastily for something appropriate... not love, nor beauty... umm... something for cautious possible friendship, perhaps?

Ah, that's perfect -- early friendship! She puts the data pad away, then slides quietly through the underbrush to pick a blue periwinkle... then waits until he wanders slowly by to step quietly out behind him. She watches him for a second... then paces silently forward to reach past him, somewhat to the side so she doesn't scare him, and lay it on the large boulder his hand is currently resting on. Then she tilts her head, watching to see what he does. She doesn't realize what she's 'saying' herself, and would blush to be told... but the lovely big morning glory in her hair would indicate affectionate coquetry.

Lief is apparently standing puzzled, hand upon the boulder as he looks around, considering deeply. Freyja notices him simply stop moving, however, holding very still as she creeps up behind him. As she lightly places the periwinkle upon the stone, he tilts his head to the side, looking at it with a quiet smile, then laughs quietly, taking up the blossom as he turns. "Your step is as quiet as the fall of snow, milady."

Freyja smiles, "Thank you." She falls silent, suddenly not sure what to say -- to the person who will be her hus- bond, in the traditional sense. She finds herself trying to figure out who he is from how he looks, studying him slowly from top to bottom, and up again, unselfconscious about her curiosity.

Freyja sees a man who is about as tall as most Balmorrans, but with slightly narrower shoulders than usual. His very dark brown hair is straight and just barely brushes his shoulders... curious. She wonders why it's that color instead of blonde, and why he wears it so short instead of in a braid. Still... he stands straight and reasonably noble. His clothing is a white muslin coat that comes properly to his knees, with matching trousers tucked into boots, which come up to his calf. There's a thin length of white fur trimming the edges of the coat, and he wears only a pair of earrings, a ring, and a brooch of the Jotunsen crest -- a stylized Balmorra, complete with sun and moon. The brocade along the hems of his coat is done in white, so it's subtle, but in a flower pattern typical of Balmorran Human design. No makeup, that's nice... and the clothing is neat and well cared for. She grins quietly to herself, thinking, You'd never know he dove into a hole to retrieve a twenty-thousand-year-old ring that morning!

Leif smiles quietly, looking to the blossom. "House Jinn and House Kenobi, on Alderaan in the years before the Republic," he says quietly, "-sought to establish a dynastic alliance between each other. The princess Noi-kel Jinn was sent to House Kenobi, crowned with flowers and bearing a garland for her betrothed, Mer-Sonn Kenobi." He holds up the blossom, smiling quietly. "Crown and garland were of blue periwinkle. I, too, hope that we may be friends, milady Freyja."

Freyja raises an eyebrow in surprise -- interesting knowledge bits he keeps in that head! -- then grins, turning and moving off. She glances over her shoulder and beckons, then leads the way to the quiet, shady gazebo, where they both can sit comfortably on cushions and hear the fountain dance and chuckle to itself. She settles comfortably, wrapping her arms around her knees and watching to see if he joins her. Leif walks over at her invitation, the blue periwinkle now tucked neatly into his hair, settling down smoothly onto a cushion beside her -- decorously not too close, but comfortably near.

Freyja says softly, "Hello," as he settles near her. She waits until he's comfortable, then asks, "Do you... er, may I ask you some questions?" Honesty compels her to add with a grin, "I confess to a great deal of curiosity about you."

He smiles in return. "And I about you. But you asked first, so please feel free."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, then considers for a moment... and then the questions come tumbling out, "Do you ride? Do you have any pets? Are you getting along with my father? Can you say neh to my sister? What did you expect of me before -- and what do you expect now that you've met me? Do you want to be married? Do you have any paramours? Do you have any business training? Do you have any questions for me?" She pauses, then grins a touch mischievously, "Um... for starters, that is..."

Leif blinks. "For starters?" he asks, with a laugh. "Well. Where to begin... I have ridden slaypneers, I can ride, though slaypneers seem to usually regard me with something between mild tolerance and outright disdain. I have raised some cattas, or rather they raised me. I've only briefly met the Baron Rigg, and... to be honest I'm afraid I did not impress him very much. At least that is the impression I get, though he acknowledged the scholarly work I've done, which was surprising -- most people do not know of it." He looks curiously to Freyja. "If I'm to answer them in order, then I have to ask... how do you mean, say 'neh' to your sister?"

Freyja's smile becomes guarded, "Ah... have you met the lady Syf, face to face, yet?" She adds with a hint of wry commiseration, "Don't feel bad... I get the same reaction from him."

The brief flash of near-pain that flits briefly across his face should be more than enough answer, though he says decorously, "The Lady Syf has been asked to entertain us until the formal ceremony tonight, though I have not been much in the guest wing today." He smiles wanly. "My father used to be that way sometimes, though since the eldest inheritor died he has been much less so."

Freyja says softly, "I'm sorry." It's not entirely clear which comment she's referring to... and she doesn't clarify, although her tone was quite sincere. Freyja wonders a little puzzledly what Syf did that would cause Fafnir pain... usually Syf's got everyone wrapped around her little finger in about ten minutes or so.

Freyja hms quietly to herself, considering the answers. So... not wildly outdoorsy, but not afraid of it... likes animals, that's good... will probably understand what's up with difficult fathers -- that's very good. She wonders if the poor guy will need defense occasionally from her father's sometimes blistering sense of... well, he calls it humor... then, even more startledly, realizes if he did need that defense... she just might do it... maybe. How... odd... she continues listening thoughtfully.

Leif nods quietly, giving Freyja a slight smile. He chooses to take it to mean commiseration over Fasolt's passing. "Thank you." He straightens. "Well... where was I... oh, hai. I was not sure what to expect, milady. Your holographs were from years in the past and seemed to be of another person entirely." He hesitates. "You always seemed so... unhappy, and I wondered what would make you that way, and if you would still be so now." He smiles quietly as he looks to Freyja again. "I am glad to see that you are apparently not. At least as far as I can see."

He lets out a breath. "Do I want to be married. I recognize it as my duty now, as Arving of Haus Jotunsen. I had never expected it, though. I threw myself into my studies, thinking that Fasolt or even Angrbotha would be the next Stromvert. But now..." He shakes his head. "I'm... not sure what will happen now. I have not grown up preparing myself for this. It is what is expected of me as a Jotunsen, and so I will do it. It... is only unexpected, but then again everyone must be able to stand well when the unexpected happens, neh?"

Freyja looks faintly relieved... so it wasn't as bad as she'd feared -- he's at least willing to consider her now, rather than just as then. She wonders idly if he'll ask her about that, later... and then the corners of her lips quirk up slightly, with some sympathy, at his next answer. She murmurs softly, "Must've been... a bit of a shock, hai?"

He grins quietly to her, and nods, "A bit of one. But not an unpleasant one, having met you at last." Freyja just smiles quietly. It was something she'd expected, but still a shock to her. She'd expected marriage in her late 20's, at the earliest.

He chuckles quietly, if a little embarrassed. "Paramours... well... for a time Marissian -- the lady at the dig site this morning -- and I... were together. We had studied advanced archaeology together, and helped each other with our theses. We... drew together, for a time, while we have been continuing our studies at the university, but... we realized not too long ago that it was not working out for us after all. We both have no problems working together still, though, which is good because we, all three of us, Kant as well, work well together -- the finding of the ring this morning was the climax of a year's work that we've done."

Freyja tilts her head curiously. No paramours? How... odd, again... and strangely shy about it too, apparently. She wonders why. She adds politely, "Congratulations are in order, then."

He smiles wryly again. "Thank you. We're hoping it'll be enough to shake the professors at the university out of their rigid adherence to thousand-year-old dogma about Balmorran history. As for business training... well, I have only started that. I know Father wishes I had studied business administration from the start, but there is no helping that now. That will have to be my concentration of study now." His tone shows that he dearly would like to remain in archaeology instead... but he will still give his all as a Jotunsen.

Freyja sighs softly, a bit internally disappointed. There's no way he'll be able to run the family business on his own, if her parents dropped dead tomorrow. She winces slightly to herself at the unpleasant realization of what that would mean -- she'd have to drop everything and come home. Sheisse! Now what?! I can't exactly go haring off to Zhar with a war on, and with Father and Mother having no business backup, now, can I? She rests her chin on her knees, a glum expression on her face. This is going to take some serious thought and planning... then she firmly reminds herself it's not the boy's fau- er, young man's fault. Plus, he did indicate he'd do what was right, despite personal preference. She can hardly expect to do less herself.

"I'm lucky, fortunately, that Father has excellent managers on retainer. While he would have liked to have instructed me, unfortunately, he... isn't well enough to do that. They have been instructing me as best as they can. It is... not the most natural of subjects for me, but I am told that I am picking it up very well."

Freyja blinks a bit startledly, "Er... explain? How is it not natural? Oh... for you. I understand." She pauses, then adds thoughtfully, "Was Syffy rude or something? Usually she's so smooth, after all... and is your father ill, or simply hurting?" She pauses, realizes what that sounds like, and hastily adds, "Er... wait, you don't need to answer those -- I'm afraid they probably sound a bit, um... Wookie-blunt, sorry."

Leif chuckles softly. "Neh... that's all right. I should have no qualms about honesty or bluntness between us." Nevertheless he does hesitate. "My father has not taken the deaths of my older siblings well. His health has begun to fail him as well, which only exacerbates things. He was never one to trust his emotions with others, and even now he keeps his feelings hidden. It is long past the time when there was a reason for it; it has become simply His Way. He hurts, I know he does, and he hides it. But with his failing health he finds it harder to simply hide his feelings, and so he hides himself.

"As for the Lady Syf... well. Your sister is... a good person, I am sure. I have no doubt that she's done much to raise many peoples' spirits with her music, and her repertoire of songs is nothing short of librarial. I fear, though, that she took her duties as hostess far.

"I have been called a simple man, milady, though in truth I only have few physical needs. It has been in the exercise of my mind that I have found the greatest challenges. Unraveling the secrets of this sector's hidden history has been my passion for many years. I must now gear my intellect towards the running of... a very, very large business. Yet that has not changed who I am or what I enjoy. It is only for so long that I can be asked, with near-infinite effervescence, whether I am in need of anything, whether I would like to hear of how she came to take on a Gran as her huskarl, if I could relate how I came to study archaeology and why I chose to study Balmorra's history so deeply..." He sighs and shakes his head quietly."

Freyja's eyes widen... and as Fafnir continues speaking she's obviously struggling with some strong emotion! She's relieved he isn't looking at her right at that moment -- she's slid one hand up to firmly cover her mouth. Leif lets out a breath, and manages to put on a mildly self-rebuking expression. "Well. Perhaps she was just far too overwhelming for me, after our journey from the moon." He looks over to Freyja... then blinks at her expression, his humor evaporating. "Milady? What... what is wrong?"

Freyja's shoulders are shaking, and her eyes are bright. Giggles are starting to leak past her hand -- and at the question she can't hold it in any longer -- she almost falls over sideways on the cushion, she's laughing so hard! She struggles to breath and to explain, which makes her almost incoherent, "Neh, neh-heh-heh... er, just such a good de-heh -- description of her!"

Leif looks mildly relieved that Freyja isn't mind-numbingly angry or horrified at something, but until her explanation he can't fathom what she finds so incredibly hilarious. He laughs quietly. "Oh, dear. You mean she's that energetic all the time?"

Freyja finally pulls herself together, sitting up to wipe her eyes, still grinning, "Oh, goddess, I think I needed that... haven't laughed that hard in a long time!" She gets a slightly sheepish look, "Er... sorry about that... and ah... well, hai, she is." She grins ruefully, "It's... surprisingly nice to not hear her always being praised. I know that's shallow of me, and she is my sister -- I do love her -- but... well, I'm always being told she's got perfect pitch, or is a natural athlete (whatever that is), or has astonishing balance and grace, or always has excellent marks in her classes..." She sighs amusedly, "Eh, I'm just being whiny. She really is nice... just... a bit overwhelming to live with sometimes."

Freyja sighs a bit wearily, "At least they don't ask me directly why I can't be more like her. That's a small blessing." She smiles, pulling her legs up again and wrapping her arms around them -- almost like a small shield between them -- and tilting her head to rest her cheek on her arm. "Well... fair's fair. Do you have any questions?"

Leif laughs. "I'm glad I could provide hilarity for you, then!" He tilts his head to the side. "And none have ever even complimented you on being a Jedi? When so few in the entire galaxy even have the barest ability to think and see in ways that allow them to become awakened in the Force? I would have thought that alone would be worthy of note... and to advance in the training of the Order even more so."

Freyja smiles quietly, "My lord, being a Jedi is far less exciting to live along with vicariously."

Leif smiles quietly. "Vicariously, perhaps. But is it no source of pride for your parents?"

Freyja murmurs dryly, "I'm sure it is... but it's my sister that's exciting to be around for my father, as I said." She's quite aware of what she's implying about her father... but she thinks it's accurate, from her observations.

Leif arches an eyebrow. "Hm. Well, you've possibly heard this before from flatterers and sycophants, but I honestly believe being a Jedi is more interesting than a holovid star. Certainly, we have holovids from a few thousand years ago still, but who is interested in them? The lore the Jedi have collected, though... and the meditations and ruminations upon the Force and the universe which they conduct even now, which is something alive and ever-changing... that, to me, sounds far more intriguing."

Freyja smiles quietly, "Well, hai... I'm often considered a possible gateway to Syf." Her face gets very still, hiding the emotions beneath, for just a moment... then she smiles again, although it doesn't really reach her eyes, "Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you to say."

Leif glances to Freyja at her rather politely neutral response, and inclines his head a little. "So," he says, smiling quietly and changing the subject. "You asked me about riding. I saw you on a slaypneer this morn. Is that something which you enjoy?

Freyja grins, her frost blue eyes lighting up, "Oh, hai! I really enjoy spending time with the animals. They're so... ho- er..." She pauses, realizing what she's about to say might sound rude... then realizing almost as rapidly that stopping now would be rude too, "-er... honest..." She hastily adds, "I, ah, trained Stein from a pup, and trained the bad habits out of Torden when we first got him also." She smiles proudly, "They're both lovely folks. Taught me a lot." She murmurs a bit wistfully, "I... miss them. I wish I could wrap them up into a small package I could carry on my shoulder, and take them along with me..." She laughs ruefully, "I know, it's a silly idea."

Leif doesn't seem at all insulted by that use of the term "honest." He smiles quietly and nods. "'Honest.' I think I can understand what you mean. There was one of the cattas I raised, Dronning -- uhm, the cattas we raised were, oh... about half the size of frehkee. Chasing after her always took up a lot of time before she really learned what she could and shouldn't do in the manse. Until then every other room would have some effect of her sharpening her claws. With six paws... that made for quite a few impromptu scratching posts. She learned quickly, fortunately, after about a week. But I've had utmost respect for the damage a catta can do in a week!"

Freyja giggles softly, then grins, "Our cattas are all barn cattas... but hai, they're all friendly and well-loved... except by the rattatosks, of course. Well... they're just respected heartily by some of the pushier frehkees." She grins again, "Stein must think they're all his, though... they sleep on him, and play with him, and I've seen him grooming them on occasion too."

Leif laughs quietly. "We didn't have rattatosks on the moon until about a thousand years ago. Now we can't get rid of them." He nods, smiling. "Some cattas get really protective about the people and animals they're around a lot. My youngest sister has a rattatosk for a pet." He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Only one, thank Baldar... anyway, one day after a few years, we discovered Donning grooming Tyv the way she would another catta. Tyv looked terrified, but I imagine he was just glad Donning wasn't trying to eat him."

Freyja giggles softly again, and nods, "Animals are amazing that way. It's like... like they adopt you, and it doesn't matt-" She blinks as a sudden, odd thought hits her, and finishes her sentence slowly, "...doesn't matter how different you are... it just matters that you're safe and happy, to them..." Is that what I'm doing? Is that what we're all doing, in a way? Me for Vakkal, and vice versa... and with Zero -- he's so protective sometimes! -it's really sweet -- and Roakkana... all of us? It's a fascinating thought to her, but she pushes it carefully to the side for later consideration - - she should focus on Fafnir right now.

The thought continues drifting through the back of her head, unbidden... is that what paramours are? -the people you love enough to sort of mentally adopt? She only has a tiny handful, if so... but it can't be exactly the same as paramours, because many of those folks simply wouldn't be her paramours... right? Lief tilts his head to the side to listen to Freyja, curious as to the panoply of expressions she shows. Freyja looks a bit self-conscious, "Er, sorry... had an odd thought there..."

Leif smiles quietly. "I hope it wasn't an ill one for your mood, milady."

Freyja smiles, "Neh... just..." She pauses, realizing with a chill down her spine that she was well on her way to doing something really, really stupid there -- she was starting to open up to this person! She freezes, studying him carefully, thoughts tumbling through her head. Well... painful though it might be in the short term, perhaps she's better off finding out now if he's trustworthy or not. She sighs mentally, Ow... not again. This always hurts so damn much... well, it's got to be done, I guess... Carefully she says, "May I ask a favor of you, Lord Fafn- er, Lei- darnit! Wait. Which do you prefer, please? Lord Fafnir or Lord Leif?"

Leif blinks a little at the sudden halt in her speech, the change in her expression, the change in the subject. "Uhm... if as lord, then 'Lord Fafnir,' please, milady. And certainly you may."

Freyja rubs her bare arms a bit tensely, then says carefully, "Very well then, Lord Fafnir. I would ask an oath of you, please. If you wish, I will make the same one to you... I'd like you to swear you won't repeat any of this conversation to anyone else, without my express permission." She shifts around on the cushion so she's kneeling, hands resting on her thighs, an extremely intent look in her frosty blue gaze.

He blinks, straightening a bit and considering, then inclines his head. "I am flattered by your trust, milady," he says. "I know this is not something you ask of just anyone. Very well." He stands, his hand formally upon his heart. "I, Arving Lord Fafnir Leif-Kreil Jotunsen, swear upon my name and my honor to speak not of this conversation to anyone else unless the Arving Lady Freyja Rigg of Balmorra expressly permits me to."

Freyja watches him thoughtfully... then fluidly rises, lightly touching her lips. She steps forward enough to carefully touch his chest, his forehead, then his lips. Her gaze is still piercingly intent on him as she murmurs, "An oath between the gods and us both, then."

Freyja studies him for a moment... then takes a deep breath, looking away. Well... we'll see if he keeps it. I should be careful what I say regardless... but I guess I should at least say one thing it'd be interesting for him to share with others, so he can make a real decision as to whether or not to keep it. She sighs gustily, then waves a hand, "Shall we be seated again, then? I'm sure you have more questions. I know I do."

Fafnir inclines his head in a nod, then smiles a bit, though his eyes show concern. "Certainly, milady." He waits until Freyja moves to sit, sitting at the same time as her. "If I may ask, what were you expecting of me before today?"

Freyja settles back cross-legged on her cushion, then says politely, "You asked about what I was thinking. I was wondering if the apparent adoptions animals make of other species of animals are similar to the strong interspecies friendships some people have. I also wondered if it had anything to do with taking paramours... but realized that couldn't be the case, since I have a few very dear friends, but at least half of them probably would never consider me as a paramour." She pauses, eyeing him and wondering if he's going to laugh at her.

He appears to consider that for a moment, then nods quietly. "They're likely very similar," he says. "At the university, friendships would develop regardless of species boundaries, for a variety of reasons: companionship, someone to work or study with, bonds of mutual support. And yet of all the people I knew there, it was only with Marissian that I became romantically involved with. It's as if there's... neh, not another level to a relationship. I believe that you can have a strong, years-lasting friendship with someone without becoming paramours. Rather, a paramour is... something different. No less strong than a friendship. Just... different." He shakes his head. "Forgive me, milady, I'm afraid that... I do not know how else to say it."

Freyja rolls over to lie comfortably on her front, her booted feet swaying lazily as she rests her chin on her crossed hands. She sighs gustily, "I know. I don't know how to say it either... maybe that's why I don't have any paramours yet." She reflects, then adds more honestly, "Well... that, and I don't care to have someone using Syf Rigg's sister for bragging rights..." she scowls, muttering, "...again."

Leif is quiet for a moment, then Freyja can hear him sigh a little. "I can only imagine how many times that must have happened to you, milady," he says quietly. "I hope that there soon comes a time when you are sought after for your own accomplishments and virtues rather than your sister's."

Freyja sighs and changes the subject a little grumpily, "Well... enough of that." She obviously is rather unconvinced that will ever happen. "So... how do you feel about moving in with my family after the marriage?" She adds dryly, "Especially since I may not always be there? I don't think Mother will be the usual terror of a mother-in-law... but Father probably will be. And Syf..." She grins dryly, "-er... may remain somewhat overwhelming..."

Fafnir nods. "I'm fairly comfortable with the idea. If nothing else, it will allow me to very much get into the mindset of, and concentrate on, learning to run a business. As for your father, I will have to bear it, after all, but I do hope that we do not get into any arguments. Kant occasionally makes jokes with regards to me and 'bearding the katarn in his den,' but I fear they are merely jokes." He grins quietly. "As for your sister, as a holovid star she'll hopefully be out and around entertaining people, and directing her energy towards that end." He shakes his head. "If I can defend my thesis against a half a dozen of the most hidebound, obstinate, static professors in the sector... well, I'm hoping that I may yet bear any other hardship that might come my way. I realize that not everything will be quite the same as it was in the university."

Freyja nods slowly, her eyes thoughtful. Weirdly enough, she's starting to feel a bit... responsible for this strangely earnest seeming young man. There are some signs in his behavior that are starting to worry her a bit. He seems quite a nice guy... but he doesn't seem to say 'neh!' at all well, at least from what he said about Syf... and that's prime 'push-me- around' sign for animal trainers... and for aggressive families. She's quite aware her father and sister are aggressive, too -- as is she -- although in different ways and for different reasons. Dryly she thinks, What the Hela's wrong with me? I had to fight my own battles... Nevertheless, she can tell she's starting to worry about him a bit... although all she does is simply murmur quietly, "Hai... it will be quite different from University..."

Freyja adds almost dreamily, wondering if her message is getting through, "There's a difference between someone trying to pick apart an idea of yours... and someone trying to pick apart your sense of self respect. A huge difference." She sighs, rolling over and sitting up in one smoothly abrupt motion, "Well... enough of that." She tilts her head curiously, then asks (since he's not asking anything), "Why don't you get your eyes fixed? Do you actually prefer glasses?"

He nods quietly. "That's becoming more and more apparent. At the university, the greatest tasks were only to defend your ideas. Admittedly, the ways some people chose to attack those ideas were to attack the person holding those ideas -- the way some people carried on that way, you'd think that they were engaged in some life-and-death struggle, and that nothing short of the destruction of the other person's character was all that would satisfy them." He shakes his head. "It took time, but dealing with them was necessary."

He grins quietly. "Do I prefer glasses? Not particularly, neh, though I admit I've become fond of them, for some bizarre reason. On a dig site to a world about a hundred light-years from Balmorra, I contracted some sort of spore; I'm not quite sure what. The organism was removed, but it damaged my distance vision."

Freyja nods interestedly at the explanation for the glasses, then asks, "And your hair? Why's it so short, instead of in a braid?" She pauses, then adds curiously, "How'd you end up with dark hair, if I may ask?"

He shakes his head, smiling cheerfully. "I really don't know. It was just the roll of the genetic spindles, really. Fasolt and Angrbotha both had hair so blond it was almost white. As for the style... I never really wanted to. When I was younger I would braid it, but I detested it. I felt like I was walking around with coils of rope on my head. When I'd been at the university for a year, I changed it." He smiles quietly. "I know it isn't the typical Balmorran Human style. But I'm not quite the typical Balmorran Human as it is."

Freyja laughs softly, then murmurs with amusement, "Not a fan of formal affairs, then, hai?"

"By Baldar, neh! I will go if I am called upon to do so, but they always seemed so... empty." He shakes his head ruefully. "As a historian, I should be more appreciative of them. The futures of dynasties and worlds can be decided at such things, and have been. One would think, though, that if they were so historic, they'd seem a little less... empty."

Freyja sighs, rolling her eyes in amusement, "Hai." Her voice gets really dry, "I am so looking forward to tonight..." She sighs again, "Well... at least ritual means you don't have to think..." She's still resting her chin on her hands, so she just turns her gaze sideways to thoughtfully ask, "Have you seen the contract yet? I've not... I'm wondering how long the betrothal is intended to be. Do you know?"

Fafnir nods quietly. "I would like to console myself, and you, by saying that what's started tonight may begin a chain of events which will culminate in something grand in the future, shaking established social orders and establishing new precedents, new ways of thinking, new historical events..." His tone becomes dry as well, "But I have to admit that for the most part my body will be on 'automatic pilot' for most of the evening."

He shakes his head. "I have not. I understand it is... a little vague as far as when the betrothal will end, because you are a Jedi and may be away from Balmorra frequently and unexpectedly."

Freyja smiles at Fafnir's commentary, then asks curiously, "Why do you think the wedding will shake up the old ways?" She looks a bit pleased at the news about the betrothal, "Well, that's a relief. I'm due to start some rather, um, intensive training very soon... I didn't want to be constantly torn between training and betrothal."

"Well... traditionally, dynastic alliances mean some sort of major change in the way things are done. The noble houses of Alderaan used a number of dynastic alliances to forge the world into a single, unified whole. It would never have become the major world it is now without that happening. In this case, it unites the two strongest Human houses of Balmorra under the banner of Haus Rigg." He looks curiously to Freyja, then smiles quietly and nods. "I think I understand."

Freyja considers the young man thoughtfully, then murmurs, "So... you see this marriage as having the potential to stop the current internecine squabbling?"

Fafnir considers for a long moment. "Well... possibly. Unfortunately, one of the ways it might do that is direct all the other cantons' attention to your Father's. And they will not at all be able to see the Jotunsen holdings on the moon as being completely neutral anymore."

Freyja nods and murmurs dryly, "I was... wondering if I should point that out." She considers a few more moments, then adds quietly, "Do you agree with my father's assessment of the Sith-Republic war outcome?"

He bites his lip. "That's a little more nebulous, I'm afraid. I don't know enough about the Sith. Nobody does. All the professors at the university, when I talked with them, hemmed and hawed and finally just threw up their arms, saying all they could do is make guesses. The Sith are a complete unknown. We never encountered them before the war started. I cannot agree with your father; I think the Republic has thousands of years of inertia and economic strength behind it... but I cannot build a case to directly and quantitatively disagree with him, either."

Freyja grins amusedly at this cute young man, "You know, a simple neh would work." Then she giggles, sitting up, "Ah, well. I shouldn't tease you. It's not like it won't be you stuck holding the bag, so to speak, if I'm stupid enough to get myself killed by the Sith, doing what I do." Her smile is rueful.

He smiles sheepishly. "He hasn't asked me yet. And I suspect he would pay me no heed when he does and I tell him. But if he asks, that will be my answer, and unless I learn of other data, that's what I will stick to."

He looks mildly startled for a moment, then matches her smile a bit. "To be honest, it would be a great sorrow to learn that happened to you, milady."

Freyja smiles, "You're too kind. Just... take care of business as best you can, please, should that occur."

He nods soberly. "I will do so, milady."

Freyja wonders idly if it'd not yet occurred to him what she did was actually dangerous on occasion... she'd guess her father's carefully not letting that realization hit him, also. She wonders thoughtfully if this nice young man has ever had anything bad happen to him. True, he's lost a brother and a sister... has he ever had to fight for his life? Kill someone to protect someone or thing he holds dear? She'd guess not... he seems very quietly gentle and softly introspective... a true scholar. She sighs softly... pity how life's duties and desires tend to crash so disastrously into each other.

Freyja forces her thoughts back into the here and now. Well... he said he could take care of himself... so she shouldn't try to take care of him, or buffer against her father for him. He'd probably be insulted, even though all her warning flags are telling her she should and he needs it. She sighs. He's going to have to fend for himself and if he's changed his mind in regards to wanting help from her, he can tell her that when she comes back here. The cynical side of her murmurs in her head, That'll be in a year to five years... kinda skipping out on your responsibilities there, eh?

Freyja snarls mentally at the voice, Hey! He said he could take care of himself! Her inner voice snickers, Oh, right... your father and... an archaeology grad student. Like that'll be a fair fight. She grimly snaps, He's not a grad student any more. He's in the big bad real world now -- he has to fight the same battles we all had to fight! And my coddling him here sure won't help him when the other business tycoons start taking aim at him! She mentally turns her back on her cynicism, ignoring the quiet, You'd protect Zero... or Vakkal... She just... didn't hear that. Neh. She didn't.

Fafnir watches Freyja carefully, his brow furrowed a little. "What bothers you, milady." he asks quietly.

Freyja twitches slightly, forcefully returned to the here and now, and takes a slow breath, centering herself. Carefully she says, "I... have internal doubts I am struggling with... I'm afraid I don't yet know how to resolve them."

He studies her for a few more moments, then nods a little. "I am not your husband yet," he says softly. "I cannot even say that I am truly your friend yet, though I hope I may be someday. I... realize that I do not inspire faith well in people. In this short time I can see that, though ten years older, you are more... wise to the ways of things than I ever have been, as a scholar and little more than that, locked away in the ivory towers of academia." He chuckles quietly. "And one who gets excited over little more than a ring buried in silt and clay for twenty thousand years! I know I am probably not truly ready for what the realpolitik of the galaxy and Republic industry has in store for me."

He considers for a moment more. "But though I have been no more than a scholar, I swear this, milady Freyja. I will not let you down. I will learn, and I will adapt. As hard as it may be, as painful, as difficult or as... unhappy as my duties might become, in the administrating of the business here and on the moon, I will do all that I can for Haus Rigg and for you."

Freyja blinks at her intended, impressed in spite of herself. A slow smile crosses her face, and she murmurs quietly, "All right... that must've taken courage. Thank you. I am honored that you'd tell me this."

He sighs a little. "It's been my belief that those who are called to the way of the Jedi have that as their first, best destiny. I can only understand what it means to be awakened in the Force from dusty old histories, memoirs written by half-senile generals and statesmen who thought their names would be remembered by everyone forever, and scrolls penned by the founders of the Syncretic Assembly. But in all times, in all places, those who are awakened in the Force, the Jedi, have seemed to be there, in some way. As if there was some... force of history that moved them to be in those places, doing those things.

Leif says, "For this reason, I would not wish to do anything that would tie you to Balmorra. It will be hard... and I would need help in this... but it would feel as if I were committing some great crime against the future if I did anything to tie you to Balmorra." He looks to Freyja. "Milady, I know your father can be a hard man, perhaps even harder than my own. The nobles of the other cantons will, if history has told me anything, see me as an easy mark." His tone becomes deadpan, "And Baldar only knows how your sister is going to be... I want for you to be able to pursue your destiny without worrying about the name of Rigg or the twin businesses which will be under your name... but I know that's not something that will come easy." He bows his head. "I would be... more than indebted to you, if there were some way you could help me in this, without being distracted or torn away from your historical destiny as a Jedi."

Freyja gets a suddenly intent look as Fafnir mentions scrolls from the Syncretic Assembly, opening her mouth to interject a quick question -- and then her mouth stays open, in shock, at the rest of his statement. She simply stares at him for a long moment after he's done... then realizes how silly she must look, and snaps her mouth shut abruptly. She blinks... then says weakly, "...excuse me, I think maybe I heard you wrong... did you just ask... me... I mean, did you tell me you didn't... uh, didn't want..." Words fail her -- this particular moment is an absolute first for her -- and she falls silent, still staring at him in startlement. Finally she says slowly, "I... no one's ever asked me that before..."

He looks curiously up to her. "Er... pardon, milady?" He shakes his head. "Milady... I know my limitations. Scholars in positions of power have a bad habit of becoming targets for the opportunists. Why, on Vergala, in 1832 PR, there was the Scholar-King, who- er, sorry. That is, I do not want to pull you from your duties as a Jedi. At the same time I know that this is going to be completely unlike anything I experienced at the university."

Freyja blinks... then giggles in spite of herself. She hastily covers her mouth with one hand, looking guilty, "Sorry about that."

He grins quietly. "That's all right. As I've said, I've lived history, names, dates, places older than the Republic for so long, sometimes they slip out."

Freyja's expression is... different now. There's less of that constant hovering hint of a protective mask ready to slip into place in the flash of a second. She considers for a long moment... then studies Fafnir thoughtfully. She's guessing she's going to read utter sincerity in him... and... oh, dear... she's going to guess it didn't even occur to him to test her in return... She looks suddenly away from her regard of Fafnir, and he can see the hot blush creep up the side of her face. She's deeply shocked -- it's just occurred to her, and her examination of him would seem to bear it out -- that he's been perfectly honest and open with her... since the conversation began!

Holy sheisse... how do I tell him what I've been doing?! Oh, dear... and worse, how do I help him... he's telling the truth -- he does need it...

Fafnir blinks as she looks away and blushes. "Milady?" he asks. "Are you well? I hope I have not caused you ill...?"

Freyja looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers slowly together in her lap, "Ah, neh... neh, it's not... not your fault at all..." She sighs, then takes a deep breath, raising her head to face him squarely, "But... I fear I have... a confession I should make." All right... here goes... "I... I just realized you've been being... completely forthright with me since the conversation began." Her face flushes a bit more, but she doesn't look away as she says, "I... haven't been. I'm sorry."

Fafnir blinks, then looks away as well, chewing on his lip. He is quiet for several long moments.

Freyja waits, utterly unsure what to say next. She's never met an honest man on Balmorra... she's not sure how one treats them, even, strange though that sounds. She hopes she's doing it right so far... the cynical voice in her head murmurs, Probably not... and she mentally slaps it. It makes her feel better for a moment, distracting her from the current problem... how does she make up for this?

Finally he says quietly. "Well. I thank you for saying that, milady." He looks up, smiling, if quietly and subdued. "Unless I am completely wrong... I know that trust is not easy to give, perhaps especially on Balmorra." He nods a little. "Giving trust, and then seeing it torn up and thrown in your face... it is a painful thing." His smile quirks a little. "Take it from a historian. Wars have been declared over that." He takes a quiet breath. "I am... not insulted or angry, for what it is worth. After all, in time I will be the one whom you would need to trust to remain here on Balmorra to run the businesses, and if I am not worthy of that trust, it must be learned soon, and if I may be so worthy... likewise, I must prove it soon. Soonest, at least." He fidgets a little. "I... hope by admitting that I will not be able to easily or immediately be the businessman your father or my father is, that I have not sabotaged my own chance to earn that trust."

Freyja winces slightly -- that was far nicer than she deserved, she thinks -- then sighs, looking back down at her hands. Well... all right, how does she try to earn his trust back, then? Finally she says slowly, "My lord Fafnir... I cannot in good conscience ask you to put aside your dreams... so that I may freely follow mine." She looks up thoughtfully, her gaze falling on the small, tinkling fountain. The water ripples, glittering in the sunlight... and the many semi-precious stones that rest in the basin glow faintly. Hm... maybe a promise, given freely to him, would help? She rises, holding out a hand and saying slowly, "You know the language of flowers... do you know of the ritual uses of gems?"

He shakes his head. "I thank you for the thought, Lady Freyja, but this goes beyond us and our own hopes and dreams. It is our familial duty. The betrothal will happen, the dynastic alliance will happen. We must both adapt as best as we can. Far be it from an academic to denigrate his own field of study! -but if that field of study has shown me anything, you as a Jedi are the future. The past shall always be there for me to delve into. But the here, the now, the events which shape the future, are the arena that the Jedi must move through. If anything, the price that destiny will ask of you is far, far greater than the one that history has ever asked of me." He blinks up to her, and gingerly takes her hand as he stands as well. "I... know but a little of it, milady."

Freyja smiles ruefully at him, and hopes- neh, wait, she shouldn't hide -- he didn't. "I hope you still feel that way... in a few years, Faf- uh..." She turns, her steps silent on the stairs, and grins up at him over her shoulder, "All right, decision time -- what should I call you, please, when it's just us? Personally, I prefer Freyja when we're not doing public shei- er, garbage."

Fafnir actually blushes a little, but he smiles quietly. "Ah... 'Leif,' please. I've become so used to being called that in informal occasions that calling me 'Lord Fafnir' makes me start wondering if I should not be at rigid attention, and calling me 'Lord Leif' would likely make my head spin right off my neck in confusion."

Freyja giggles softly and nods, "All right, Leif. Anyway... let's look." She leads him over to the grass by the fountain and kneels by it, studying the stones, "Hm... what've we got... what's your favorite color?"

He kneels beside her curiously but without hesitation. "My favorite color? Green..."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, murmuring, "All right... ah! Brace me..." She reaches for his hand, then leans way forward to reach one bare arm into the water, up to past her elbow, trusting him to not let her pitch forward into the water. Leif blinks in surprise, and reaches out immediately to take light, firm hold of her waist when he sees her all but diving into the fountain.

Freyja sits back a moment later, looking pleased, with water dripping off her arm, and holds up a small chunk of greenish blue stone, "Perfect. Green and blue... blue's one of my favorite colors." She turns it over, studying it for a few moments, then smiles and holds it up in the sunlight so he can see it too. The bands of varying hues gleam and shimmer wetly as she says, "Malachite... traditionally worn for protection, to detect impending danger, or lend extra energy for magical rites." She takes his hand and gently sets the wet stone in it, adding, "If you wear it so it touches your skin near your heart it's supposed to expand your ability to love, and so draws love to you. Also, if worn during business it's supposed to increase your ability to obtain good deals and sales." She smiles, her ice blue gaze unusually unguarded, "So... a promise, and a hope for you, hai? I promise I'll do my best to help you all I can... and I hope you will draw love and good business to you in equal and abundant measure."

Freyja grins a little shyly, sitting back, "I, ah... always liked the stone for that. I used to wear some myself, years ago when I was small."

Leif blinks a little in surprise at her words, then smiles quietly. He gently places his hand over hers before she draws back. "And I would repeat my promise. That no matter the effort, the pain, the difficulty, I will do all that I can for Haus Rigg and for you." He smiles warmer. "And my own hope for you, Freyja. Whatever destiny calls to you, that you shall be always be protected from ill, and that all obstacles before you may fall."

Freyja looks a bit startled, but doesn't pull away. Another sudden, startling thought occurs to her -- he said he didn't care for Syf that much -- and he's... touching her. Does he... maybe like her, the way Zero and Fhazil said they did...? Oh, neh! That's just silly... three guys saying they like her would probably disrupt the balance of the universe or something. She grins ruefully, reminding herself besides that Fhazil's not yet met her sister... and she doesn't know how it'll turn out with Zero either. She must be just projecting, is all.

She pauses a moment, studying his hand on hers, then says slowly, "Leif... in the times to come, you may... you may hear startling stories about me. The... training I'm going to go take is... unusual. I can't know what will happen, but I can tell you this -- I'm doing what I think is right... what I think will be the best for us all." She looks up at him somberly, "I hope that will help." She looks back at the fountain, murmuring very softly, almost under her breath, "It won't help Father..."

Leif blinks a little, and Freyja can almost see the gears turning in his mind, and the tiny mechanical *ding* as it reaches a conclusion based off of his study of thirty thousand years of history both overt and hidden. His eyes widen slightly, then he nods quietly. "I believe you," he says firmly. "Whatever stories I hear, it will be enough to know that you are doing what in your heart you know is right. That is more than far too many people have done, or rather allowed to be done, in the past."

Freyja smiles ruefully, "Thanks," and lets it go at that. She knows he may well get tarred with the same brush as will be used on her, even if only by association... so she thought it only fair she warn him. He smiles quietly and nods, releasing her hand.

Freyja grins, flopping back on the grass, "All right, got any other questions? Hit me now or forever hold your peace!" She giggles, then adds, "Well... until whenever the next accidental and unusual point where we find ourselves alone... relatively." She stretches lazily, enjoying the cool tickle of the grass on her back and arms, then puts her arms behind her head and grins at Leif.

He laughs. "Which may be quite some time," he says, visibly relaxing somewhat. "Hai, actually. I am curious... what did you expect of me before you came to Balmorra?"

Freyja chuckles, "I expected you to be aghast that you were getting stuck with some chubby, awkward, socially inept teenager!" She grins ruefully, rolling her eyes, "I just do not holo well!"

He laughs. "Not many people do. Was it as great a surprise for you as it was for me?"

Freyja turns her face up to the sun, smiling and closing her eyes, and murmurs lazily, "Which part? Meeting the person I'm supposed to be staying strictly away from -- on what's supposed to be just a casual ride?" She giggles, then adds, "Or bopping him accidentally with a pebble?"

He almost falls backwards from laughing. "Oh, neh... I mean, about the betrothal itself! Though... both were certainly surprises for me!"

Freyja grins cheerfully as he laughs... then nods ruefully, "Oh, hai. Someone was telling me about looking up information on me. You know, the usual... the most recent Padawan of Master Roakkana, a Human from Balmorra, daughter of Forsetti and Erde Rigg, sister to Syf Rigg... betrothed to Fafnir Jotunsen... and I was nodding and listening interestedly -- and then it hit me what she'd said and I went, what?!"

He blinks. "Oh, my. What a horrible way to find out!"

Freyja grins amusedly, "Hai... but in retrospect, it can't have been any worse than what you had happen, from what I heard. How embarrassing for you! At least mine was in private."

Leif grins a little. "Well, perhaps true. I'm still wondering how much of the university knew I was betrothed before I did."

Freyja laughs softly, "Hey, at least the friend congratulated you, instead of giving you deepest sympathies!" She giggles, adding, "Obviously he'd not seen any of my holos either..."

He chuckles quietly. "Speaking of which... did you see any holos of me beforehand?"

Freyja says, "Neh, just a still. Why?" She grins mischievously at him, "Got any of those ghastly holos that parents save just to embarrass you with years later?"

With a mild look of horror, he nods. "Oh, hai. Oh, my, hai. There's one that was taken of me when trying to bathe some of the family cattas, before I knew that cattas do not like water. I was fortunate -- they weren't eager to claw me open -- but there I'm sitting, drenched and miserable, and four cattas, apparently satisfied that I won't be trying that again, are using me as a an ersatz tree to lounge on. And who should walk by but Fasolt, and what should he have but a holocamera he's been using to make a record of a weed infestation in the fields. He used it for a less official purpose after he stopped laughing at the sight of me..."

Freyja is already laying flat on the ground, so she ends up curling up due to laughter, "Oh, my, cattas and water -- oh, dear...!" She recovers enough to finally roll over and rest her chin on her hands and her elbows on the ground. She asks with a grin, "Dare I ask what he used it for?"

Leif is laughing but he moans in mock despair. "There wasn't a person in the manse who hadn't seen that picture by that evening..."

Freyja giggles again despite herself, her eyes dancing with amusement. Then she grins, adding, "Well, my mother caught me in the tub sulking one time. So mine is naked baby holos -- well, naked toddler holos, I guess." She adds amusedly, "Can't really see me much. Apparently I was really peeved and wouldn't turn around."

He laughs and shakes his head, "Those are the worst, aren't they? And they always seem to come out when you don't want them to..."

Freyja nods amusedly, "Oh, assuredly." She grins, adding, "Fortunately I doubt Mother will bring them out for the betrothal party." She adds, "It was on Coruscant I got to see the still. One of Mother's people works there and had one. I think it was like an official shot or something, for the university?"

He laughs, "I don't think Father will be bringing out any such photos, either." He nods quietly. "Hai, I think I know the one you saw. It was... uh..." He coughs a little, embarrassed. "It was for a... book, that I helped write on the Goka Period of Commenor history."

Freyja tilts her head curiously, then grins, "What? Did you not like that one?"

He seems to relax a little. "Oh, neh, I think the picture came out well. It's just that I sometimes run into odd reactions when I say I actually helped to write a book."

Freyja looks curious again, her booted feet crossed at the ankles and waving slowly in the air, "Why? I can see people being startled if you announced you were a crack shot with a blaster or something... but a book?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure! I think maybe it's because it's so... esoteric. Most schools of the Republic teach that it was founded so many thousands of years ago, after the defeat of Xim the Despot... and then skim forward over events to really cover only the past thousand years or so, like only a few important events happened in between."

Freyja pauses, then says thoughtfully, "Wait... Commenor? Have you actually been there? Oh!" She sits up a bit as she remembers a previous thread of conversation, "That reminds me! You said you'd read scrolls from the Syncretic Council!" She beams fascinatedly, "Which ones?!"

He blinks a bit at Freyja's interest. "Oh. Well, there were a number of them. We traveled to Ossus at the invitation of the Jedi Academy, the College of Archaeology, and while there a Master B'leshourr showed me the scrolls." He rests his head on his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I could read Aurabesh from that time period. It was... fascinating. They were minutes from one of the debates. I couldn't understand half of what they were talking about. The Bendu representative was apparently outraged about something he called... oh, what was it... 'the pillaging of the Oghan pantheon, the whoring of Ashla as if a common trollop, and the vilification of Boghan.' I'd never read of any monastic using language like that."

Freyja's eyes widen in delight, "Oh! Really?! Oh, I wish I could read those -- no wonder he was so furious!" She adds more softly, "Poor man. Must be terrible to see your cherished beliefs being torn to bits for someone else's benefit."

Leif blinks and straightens. "You understand what he meant? I couldn't... and Master B'leshourr seemed embarrassed, said only that I'd 'understand when gray dawn rises.'" He shakes his head. "The Ossus Jedi are a very, very esoteric lot, and they scared me sometimes..." He looks again at Freyja, curious for her answer.

Freyja nods cheerfully, sitting up to more easily explain, "Hai!" then pauses, her expression getting quiet, "Leif... I know you've already promised to tell no one about this conversation. Let me just reiterate here... in the time of war, there are many who feel if you are not 100 percent with them... you are against them -- and they will bitterly attack you -- even more fiercely than they'd attack their true enemies." She pauses, her expression grave, and adds, "You're a historian... do you understand what I mean?"

He blinks, then nods quietly. "All too well," he replies simply.

Freyja nods, satisfied... then smiles faintly to herself, murmuring, "Gray Dawn rising... here we come..." She shakes her head amusedly, then takes a deep breath, straightening, and explains the Bendu philosophy as clearly as she knows how -- the necessity of both dark and light to balance each other, who Ashla and Boghan are in the Oghan pantheon... and how the Jedi have forsaken Boghan, while the Sith apparently have forsaken Ashla, in their varied quests for power, knowledge, or some combination thereof.

Freyja falls silent when she's done, wondering how he'll interpret the information. His is a very different perspective from a Jedi's, after all. The one thing she doesn't mention is the speculations concerning the Sith's probable descent from Dark Jedi. She's not completely clear on that one herself, and doesn't want to spread inaccurate information... plus, the discovery was made on Marnaas, and she shouldn't talk much about that. Leif takes in the knowledge with all the hunger of a scholar of history who understands the influence that philosophy can have on peoples' motivations. He listens quietly, and digests it all.

"Fascinating!" he murmurs. "That explains a lot about why the abbot of the Bendu order was so incensed. He was seeing his philosophy -- neh, his religion being cut up and parceled out and twisted by secular forces. I'm surprised it didn't trigger some sort of major conflict... or maybe it did, only much later... the so-called Heresy Wars." He shakes his head, still looking a bit dazed. "It makes an odd sort of sense. As a historian I'm trained to be suspicious of any 'official' recounting of events -- the victors always write the history books -- and the... heck, the legends of the Syncretic Assembly seemed even more distant and blurry than events that took place a few thousand years earlier. The devotion to the imagery of 'light,' the credo of the Templars which never made any sense to me until now..."

He looks curiously to Freyja. "But... you're a Jedi as well, and yet you speak of the rift between Ashla and Boghan as if it were bad...." He blinks, then, then almost sits back where he is, blinking at her. "This... training you're going to. It's to... I don't know... try to heal that rift somehow, isn't it? Between Boghan and Ashla. And the Order would never want to see that happen. That's why you said I might hear..." He falls silent, biting his lip.

Freyja nods quietly... then smiles ruefully, holding up a finger to her lips. She listens thoughtfully, wondering if Vakkal's anywhere within earshot also. Him she trusts with this knowledge... and he'll keep anyone else away. Leif blinks again, then nods once, smiling quietly. "Never shall these words pass again from my lips," he murmurs softly.

Freyja smiles, quietly relieved... then adds curiously, "Did you read anything about... oh, the Savalli Kho, or the Kono?" She doesn't hear Vakkal... she grins internally -- not that that means anything, really! She adds more softly, "I doubt the Sith would want to see it either."

He rouses himself a little. "Oh! Neh, except for one adept's memoirs who said something about the bacchanalia the Savalli Kho held in the first week of the convocations. The Kono... they didn't appear until a little while later, and none of the records on Ossus that I saw related to the Kono. But in my reading after returning from Ossus I found one mention of the debates between the Assembly and the Kono -- debates which lasted for hours, involved hundreds of debaters on both sides... almost of epic scale, if it can be believed."

Freyja's eyes widen, and she breaths softly, "Ooh... I wish I could have read those too!" She asks hopefully, "I don't suppose you holo'd any of the scrolls for later study?"

He smiles quietly. "I wish I could, too." His expression fades. "Unfortunately... a lot of records are simply gone, and we have to rely on secondary sources in a lot of cases. And I wasn't allowed to holo any of the scrolls, I'm afraid. That isn't uncommon in some of the more ancient libraries and archives."

Leif adds, "It's so very strange. We have some excellent records for some things -- I've heard it said that we know what Kossak the Hutt had for breakfast the day he began the campaign against Xim, and that it's something we should rather forget! But for some other things, like anything to do with any tradition associated with the Force, both before and after the founding of the Republic... it gets so blurry, so hard to find facts and proof of events."

Freyja smiles ruefully, "Not surprising, unfortunately. We don't care what whomever had for breakfast, so that information isn't lost. But the Force... well, as you noted, the winners get to re-write history."

He shakes his head. "For anything else, especially after hearing what you told me of Ashla and Boghan, I would say that hai, the Jedi Order is responsible for probably the greatest obfuscation of historical records in almost a hundred thousand years of recorded and extrapolated history. But it seems to be more than that -- much, much more. Even beyond the borders of the Republic the Force is historically a mysterious thing. We read sources that speak of it or of its presence and effect, of people who are awakened to it, but we read nothing concrete, nothing solid. It's only after the Jedi Order was formally recognized by the Senate as plenipotentiaries and guardians of the Republic that there's anything solid about the Force."

Freyja considers... then says slowly, "Well, that's part of the difficulty, really, Leif. Define the Force for me." She adds thoughtfully, "The Sith seem to see it mostly as a means to power, while the Jedi seem to regard it as a path to knowledge. I'm... not sure either of them is truly wrong... or completely correct." She sighs a bit frustratedly, adding, "I just don't know enough!"

He blinks for a moment, then smiles a bit. "Good point. For me the Force is something mysterious and secret. I can grasp the idea that there is... something more than just what we can see in the universe, something that binds us together. But it seems so... nebulous.

"I think what I meant to say is that... well, these days, we can say that 'Master Deivan of Ryloth used his awareness of the Force to find a dozen people who were trapped in a collapsed mine, and here are their names.' Or 'Jedi Voi-len Organa fought a Darksider on Ithor on such a date; the Ithorian police confirm this.' But before the time when the Jedi were named plenipotentiaries it was impossible to find that sort of information. Even from the Heresy Wars we can find casualty figures for when the Edgar Biggs crashed into Cinnagar's capitol, but as soon as any of the Force-awakened are talked of, the language of the sources becomes... I don't know, like what you would read in legends from pre-space flight cultures. Indistinct, suggestive, vague... almost coy. 'The Jedi of the Temple stood firm against the approach of the darkling horde and though they slew dozens, many more came in.' And this was on Coruscant."

He listens, then nods quietly, looking a little forlorn. "Neither do I, Freyja, but while a long time ago I learned that I would never know enough about what I was studying, and accepted that... I don't think you have that luxury."

Freyja nods a bit grimly, "Neh, I think I don't. And hai, they would be nebulous... they were starting a new Order then, and working on presenting the triumph of Light and Ashla over the supposedly 'evil' Dark Boghan. Think about it, Leif... what if naming names showed siblings in conflict? Wouldn't that shatter the illusion they were working so hard on?" She adds unhappily, "It would be... a tragedy."

"It would be, hai, in their eyes. I think I see what you mean. In that sense it's almost so obvious I am kicking myself for not seeing it before. But what of the records from before the Syncretic Assembly, from before even the Republic's founding? When Alderaan was sending exploration missions into the Deep Core, there's a great amount of detail. And then the first recorded instance of the Force-awakened appears, and in that one topic there is nothing but vagaries, while at the same time we have almost mind-numbing detail about most of the Alderaanian exploration ships." He frowns, worriedly, then asks quietly, "Would... would the Order want those changed, as well?" The idea clearly disturbs him.

Freyja hesitates... then says quietly, "Leif... I'm truly sorry, but I don't know if it's safe to talk to you about things like this." She adds even more quietly, "If I'm successful in my quest... then I'd be happy to tell you what I know. But... there are those who can read minds, and in time of war ethics tend to go out the door almost as fast as good taste in patriotic music." She gives him a wry sideways glance, and hopes he takes this well.

He blinks, looking confused and hurt for a moment, but then as she continues to speak he sighs softly, closing his eyes. "I think I understand," he says softly. He looks up, smiling quietly. "I can promise to not speak, but saying that I shall not think either is about as silly as giving a cattas a bath."

Freyja smiles... then reaches out and takes his hand, relieved at his reaction, "Thank you." She grins, squeezing his hand lightly and deliberately trying to lighten the mood, "So... can I show you anything in the Force? Would you like to see a practice or something? Oh! Let's try an experiment, shall we?"

He smiles and nods quietly, gently squeezing her hand in return. "You are welcome, Freyja. Perhaps it is better then, that I am to now concentrate on mastering business and economics. I could not look again at the history books without wondering and considering." He blinks. "An... experiment? I'm certainly curious. Certainly!"

Freyja scrambles lightly around to behind Leif, unless he objects, settling close behind as if riding pillion on a slaypneer with him. She unclips her lightsaber handle, then wraps her arms around his waist, gently directing him to put his hands around the lightsaber handle, with hers carefully over his to direct. "All right. Don't twitch, now, please... I'm going to turn it on, so you can see how to do so. Watch... on..." She shows him which buttons to click, and the blade of light purrs into shimmering existence.

It's obvious he's never handled a lightsaber before, but he's seen what one can do, and while he doesn't object it's almost humorous the way he (more than needed) avoids pointing the emitter at anything. He nods, swallowing as she guides his hands onto the lightsaber... then sits there, almost entranced by the glowing sword appears before him. "It's... incredible," he murmurs, finally finding his voice. "The blade... it has no mass or inertia at all..."

Freyja smiles, and doesn't hurry him. This may be the closest he ever gets to using a lightsaber, so she'll let him enjoy himself. She murmurs quietly, "Isn't it beautiful? I was taught it is an extension of my will." She adds with a hint of pride, "This one was made by my Master Roakkana. Someday I'll make my own."

He nods slowly, listening to the thrum of the blade as the air moves around and through it, the soft modulation of the blade of light. "Blades... that is, swords and vibroblades and shard-swords, were sometimes considered to be that... but..." He shakes his head slowly, "-only in this can I really see what they truly meant." His eyes flick to the handle, but only momentarily. "I... I was wondering, the grip seems so much larger than a Human might need... that is one of your final tests, isn't it? Before you are knighted?" His voice, though, is a little distant.

Freyja grins, "This is a one-handed Wookie handle, hai... which makes a dandy two-handed Human handle! And hai, before knighting one makes one's own lightsaber." She pauses, then asks curiously, "What are you thinking? You sound... very far away there."

He smiles a little and returns somewhat to the present as he shakes his head. "I was just thinking. Of the stories I used to read as a child, the legends and tales of the Jedi; I wanted to understand them, not just know what they did, but know what drove them to what sometimes seemed like tragic destinies. What could urge them on to face even death itself in the course of what they had to do? When on some forsaken back-Rim world, with nobody else around, what would be their inspiration?"

Freyja murmurs softly, "Ah..." She considers for a moment, resting her chin on his shoulder as she thinks. Finally she says slowly, "One of the koans my Master taught me I repeated to your... your aunt, I think... last night, I think it was? The lady van Buus? She understood it well, I believe... I speculate that everyone who serves, in whatever way, will recognize the meaning. It goes like this: 'Do your best at what you think is right... and in the end you will never look back in shame.'"

He nods slowly. "Maybe... maybe they couldn't see themselves reflected in the blade of a lightsaber... but maybe they saw the reflection of something bigger than themselves, something noble, something... bright."

Freyja smiles quietly at his words, "Hai, like that." Freyja's smile fades slightly and her eyes get distant as she remembers Marnaas. Hai, she could have died due to the revenant... but she did her best, and the Force was with her. She sighs softly, unwitting that her breath is warm on the back of Leif's neck, and says quietly, "We all serve in different ways, I suppose."

A smile touches Leif's lips. "Aunt Brynhilde. She would understand that, hai." He nods slowly. "And hai... we do." He gives a slight sigh -- not of sadness, but of some metaphysical ease which has settled upon him. "Hai. We all do. Whether we are led down a path to our destinies, or make our own." He shakes his head slowly. "The lightsaber as the extension of your will," he says quietly. "That seems... so very fitting."

Freyja smiles again, "I thought so too. That's the experiment I wanted to conduct, if you will. I'll show you how to turn it off... and then I'll concentrate on it not coming on, and you click the on button. Is that all right with you?" She grins, adding softly, since she's next to his ear, "Brynhilde? Very fitting... one of the Choosers of the Slain originally!" She giggles softly, "So, did she report on me to you? I fear I was... very guarded that night. I was about to die of boredom!"

Fafnir blinks a bit. "I'll... certainly try. Hai, of course, Freyja." He grins softly. "Hai. That's what we always thought. I suspect she secretly revels in the name, but of course would never show it." He chuckles softly. "She only said that she had met you, and thought you were a very nice young lady... and then made a few comments about how impossible it is to properly tell the measure of a person when they're wearing full formal courtly Balmorran costume, and only because my Father was present when she said it."

Freyja giggles quietly at his comment about his aunt's name, then laughs softly, so she doesn't deafen him, "Ah, and perceptive too!" As she shows him the off button she murmurs curiously, "You are saying she... chose her words carefully due to your father being present? Why would her opinion of my behavior matter to him?"

He nods as he finds the off button. "Oh, on the contrary. Actually, if she chose her words carefully it was to exaggerate her dislike of Balmorran dress. She was saying nothing about you in that. She's made her dislike of courtly apparel, for any number of reasons, well known to Father ever since she returned to Balmorra. It's a game they play. She complains about the apparel, Father suggests sackcloth, she comes back with something even more outlandish, and so on. Eventually she acquiesces and again puts on the full regalia, but I half suspect that someday she'll take one of Father's joking suggestions seriously."

Freyja giggles softly again, then grins, "Well, if she does, let me know -- maybe we can start a new Balmorran fashion trend!" With a faint 'click' the lightsaber beam seems to ripple and cascade down in upon itself collapse into the handle.

Leif laughs, though he still holds the lightsaber carefully. "I certainly will! Unless it was the most recent suggestion from Father... which was that of a coat of asteroidal iron accessorized by a live katarn..."

Freyja laughs again, softly. Then she takes a slow breath, centering herself, and breaths it out just as slowly. "All right now. On the count of three turn it on, hai?" She takes a moment, concentrating... then murmurs, "One... two... three."

Leif nods, and Freyja feels his arm move a little as he touches the on-switch... and there is the familiar thrumming purr of the blade coming into being. Freyja hms thoughtfully, opening her eyes and studying the blade of light. Does it feel any different to her?

The blade seems to be its usual pale indigo hue, the modulated thrum of its blade unchanged to Freyja's ears. It 'feels' no different than before. Leif holds the blade gingerly, glancing to Freyja and, unwilling to break the silence, letting her speak first.

Freyja hms again, then tilts her head slightly, her hair brushing Leif's ear, and grins, "I'll have to ask Master Roakkana about this. I'm guessing he'll tell me-" her voice drops as much as she can in imitation of the voder's best attempts at translation, "'You are still young, impatient child!'" She giggles... then clicks the saber off, clips it to her belt, and slides easily to sit next to Leif and say cheerfully, "Well! I'll have to practice more before I try that again. Thank you for your help, though."

Leif chuckles softly and lets Freyja reclaim her saber. "You're very welcome, Freyja. I'm only sorry it didn't work as you had hoped it would."

Freyja smiles, "Well, it taught me something I didn't expect. Not the result I hoped for, but still a good one." She glances up at the sun's location in the sky, then asks, "So... when are you due back in the house for dressing for dinner?" She grins at the sudden consternation on his face, then jumps lightly to her feet, "C'mon, I'll show you out, and I'll follow in ten, how's that?"

The trip out is much like the trip in -- Freyja darting swiftly around corners, her laughing gaze turned back over her shoulder, always just slipping out of sight around another corner.

Fafnir walks back towards the manse, while Freyja remains just inside the hedge maze. After a few moments, Freyja hears Vakkal make a quiet sound beside her. "Not an unlikable young man, in my own judgment."

Freyja stands silently in the shadows of the hedge maze, arms folded as she watches her betrothed-elect walking hastily towards the manse, and considers the recent (and carefully forbidden) conversation they just had. She smiles quietly, leaning slightly so her shoulder lightly brushes Vakkal's, "I'd have to agree... although I think he has a, ah... higher estimation of my value to the universe than I do." She's silent a moment more, then adds quietly, "I guess I should be careful not to let him down..."

Vakkal chuckles quietly and doesn't draw away. "That would depend on what his scale of the universe is, I think. Though... from what I can tell, he seems strongly convinced that the Force-aware are in a very strong position in the Galaxy to influence events."

Freyja nods quietly, then murmurs, "I wonder if he's right? Fhazil seems to feel that way too -- that the Force aware are somehow... more suited to rule? I'm not sure... but then I'm not sure we really deserve being considered a sort of... new nobility, as it were... nobility that understands its responsibilities is one thing. Nobility that believes privilege is a right is something else entirely."

Vakkal shakes his head. "I didn't get the impression that he said the Force-aware are more suited to rule. To rule and to influence events are two different things." He considers for a moment. "Of course, that the Force-aware should rule is almost a truism of the Empire."

Freyja smiles quietly, still watching the young man as he glances both ways, then slips into one of the back doors of the huge, rambling house. Only then does she look curiously at Vakkal, "So... does the Empire believe ruling brings certain unavoidable responsibilities with it?"

"Always. Only the foolish think that they don't have responsibilities when they become lords. And the foolish don't seem to last long."

Freyja says, "Interesting. I'd love to know what they thought those responsibilities were... considering a lot of what we hear, here, is of despotism." She pauses, then says consideringly, "Of course... a lot of what we hear doesn't appear to be all completely true either..." She tilts her head curiously, turning to pace quietly back deeper into the maze, so they can't be accidentally observed, "Is there any place where that information is written down or something?"

Vakkal paces along beside Freyja, though he remains alert for any other intrusions in the area. "Not in the Republic, that I know of. The records you would want to peruse are in the fortresses of Ziost. Though perhaps Republic Intelligence may have such."

Freyja grins ruefully, "Wolf-feathers. Don't think I'll be able to access any of those any time soon. Pity." She walks for a bit, mostly just enjoying the sunshine on her shoulders and the beauty of the day... then asks curiously, "Hey, Vakkal... how'd you do that... I don't know... that sort of um... neutralization of your Force use? I noticed it didn't scream when you used- er, well, that's not quite the right descriptive..." She looks a bit embarrassed, then hastily adds, "Your Force use in the huskarl test felt different. Why was that?"

He blinks a little. "Er, well... it's intent, mostly. I didn't intend to do the armsbearer any harm, just to push him away a little. Even in Sith battlemind I can have some control over how I conduct myself. In actual combat, I wouldn't have nearly that much restraint, I think."

Freyja says, "Huh... fascinating." She considers for a moment, then says slowly, "So... if I wanted to really hurt someone with the Force... it would probably scream when I used it, despite my Jedi training?"

Vakkal thinks for a moment. "Uhm. We are starting to get into the metaphysics of morals and the use of the Force, which I am not as learned in as much as, say, the Lords or Masters. Though I would hazard a guess that you would not, yourself, feel that disturbance in the Force. The times that I have caused significant disturbance in the Force, I have not noticed, while Fhazil often said he 'sensed' it from some distance away. Then again, he would sometimes joke that he could 'sense' me eating very spicy food from some distance away..."

Freyja giggles... then thinks carefully for a while. Finally she says thoughtfully, "Interesting. So... the damaging user can't tell what they're doing to the Force. I wonder why." She's silent a moment... then says a little frustratedly, "Sheisse... I wish I knew more! There must be some common theme, some underlying basic theory, that I've just not grasped yet!"

"Speaking as a Lightsider might, I suspect that it may, in part, aid some in turning to the Dark Side: they do not realize the full effect of what they have done, and so the next time it is easier for them, and they edge a little closer to the dividing line between Light and Dark." The canid tilts his head to the side. "How do you mean? What sort of theory are you seeking?"

Freyja nods silently, still thinking furiously. She murmurs quietly, "You mentioned being able to negate or mute somewhat the... the Darkness around Verg's sword. Have you been able to negate its non-healing damage capabilities?"

He shakes his head. "I have not. That appears to be the nature of the blade and the alchemy performed upon it, and I am not of the Smiths. And the muting of it was difficult as it was, but I did my best. I do not suspect the 'muting' will last, however."

Freyja blinks, then belatedly answers Vakkal's question, "Oh, sorry. I'm trying to understand what the Light and the Dark have in common in the Force. I mean, there's just the Force, you know? It's not like there's a Dark Force and a Light Force, just as there's not, ah... evil air and good air, and evil people only breath evil air, and so on. It's what you do with it that makes the results different. So... if we're working with the same essence, it must be the 'how' of what we're doing that makes the results so different. But there must also be commonalties, or we wouldn't be able to use the same thing to do what we do. Like evil and good people both having lungs, you know? So... I'm trying to piece together what those commonalties are."

Vakkal nods a little. "I think I understand what you mean. It is still the same Force, though different sides of it. I would agree that part of it is likely intent; I suspect that I did not have the same effect upon the Force as I usually do when invoking the Force when in the dojo, since though I was in battlemind I did not seek to harm the armsbearer."

Freyja sighs unhappily... then says politely, "Vakkal, Zero gave Verg's sword to you, so it's yours. But... may I ask, please, that you not use it? I..." she shudders once, then continues slowly, "I really don't look forward to struggling with trying to save someone who I know is horribly damaged and won't heal correctly, no matter what I do." She rubs her arms quietly, looking around and wondering when it got cold.

Vakkal considers, then nods. "For as long as I serve you as your huskarl, or am associated with you in any way, I will not use the sword."

Freyja sighs, absently leaning a little against her Soulguard, and murmurs quietly, "Thank you, Vakkal..." She considers, then changes the subject, feeling a little guilty that she even asked him about the sword, "So... out of curiosity, what were you whispering to the Gran?" She grins, "You said it was interesting to watch... what happened?" She blinks, then adds dryly, "Tell me please Syffy didn't... try to interrupt... or anything?"

He smiles a little. "I was just offering him encouragement. We were talking a little, and he is from Reecee. Apparently your sister ran into a less-than-pleasant predicament -- something about a 'command performance' for the local small-time crime lord -- and he helped her and her companions out of it. He is a fighter, formally trained as such, but his past is apparently as a law enforcement officer. He was nervous, however, about facing Magnussen for his test, as it had been some time since he'd been in proper practice."

"And she held herself well. I doubt there would be anything that she could have done to stop it; it was well over before she could move. The Gran was on the floor in six seconds -- about typical, from what I was told. Magnussen is very, very good; I'm still surprised I held out for as long as I had. By the time she reacted it was over, and Magnussen was welcoming him to the ranks of the huskarls and starting to give him a curriculum for his improvement. I get the impression that Syf half-expected that outcome, however. From what I have heard, only three others have floored Magnussen in the past during his test... one of them being the Baroness's personal huskarl."

Freyja grins, a hint of pride in her voice, although it's probably not clear that it's pride in Vakkal, "Hai... she's really good -- it's a shame Magnussen's a... bit of a prude, like Father. She deserves to be the next head huskarl, I think... but hey, it's not my decision." She pauses, then adds, "I'm glad the Gran helped Syf out, too. I don't know if Syf has had much experience with really violently nasty people."

"She may not. Then again, I have found that most people are fortunate in that they have not generally been exposed to such."

Freyja nods quietly, her face going still. She murmurs softly, "It was... strangely interesting, hearing her speak of the worlds she'd been on that I've been on too... and realizing that even though we were on the same planet, we moved in different worlds... and realizing that I don't think my family would really like to hear what worlds I was on... or in..." She falls silent, then adds with a hint of a smile, "And I suppose in some ways a soldier like you would feel the same way, listening to me talk about the worlds I've been on, hai?"

He smiles quietly. "Not really. While I am first and foremost a Sith soldier, I am still Sith, and I think that there would be much for two persons Force-aware to discuss. Though in a sense you are right. A soldier's experience of a world is different from that of a Jedi, and both are wholly different from that of an entertainer."

Freyja nods quietly, still considering... then turns and grins with a hint of mischief at Vakkal, "So... what was Fhazil thinking about so intently when he heard I was betrothed -- do you know?"

Vakkal blinks a bit. "I can't read his mind... but later, he seemed tense. I asked him what was on his mind, and his reply was, 'Betrothal! Her! Why?' I suspect that betrothal is looked-down upon or simply not done in his home culture, and is not used as the basis of business alliances."

Freyja laughs! -then says cheerfully, "Those Corellians -- they're wacky! I've no idea how a Corellian would handle betrothal... but I get the vague impression individual choice rather than familial duty is a bit more important there, at least culturally speaking." She grins, "I wonder if there's a way to tease him about it?"

Vakkal arches an eyebrow. "Perhaps he may as well be saying, 'Those Balmorrans -- they're wacky!' If betrothal is not used as a basis for business alliances or inheriting business positions, then is it needed? True, there is the problem of the management of personal inheritances, but in Corellian culture I don't think there's anything that requires the children of someone be the inheritors; merely someone designated by the inheritee -- er, the person passing on their assets."

Freyja giggles at Vakkal's assessment of both cultures, then grins, "Well, I certainly hope he feels that way -- teasing's a lot more fun than just getting angry!"

"Well, I suspect he is not angry with you. He may be bursting with questions, however. It was not long after that little revelation was dropped upon him that Qatto Verg and the Sith arrived, in turn."

Freyja grins cheerfully again, "Oh, horrors -- you mean I might actually face someone with as many questions as I usually have? Oh, how shall I bear up?!"

He laughs. "Well enough, I imagine. I... know that he likes you. I do not think he fully understands the... subtleties of Balmorran betrothal."

Freyja giggles again at Vakkal's comment, then says cheerfully, "So, you mentioned liking the maze, and practicing... want to play tag? I'll be 'it' first, if you want -- I know the maze really well, but you've got a lot of ground speed on me!"

Vakkal blinks, then grins. "Certainly, milady." And then... he's simply gone. A quick glance around sees his feet turning a corner quickly.

Freyja grins, counting under her breath to ten... then pauses a moment, centering herself and searching through the Force for the flare of light that's Vakkal. She knows what direction Vakkal first went in, and knowing the maze well means she also knows that limits some of the potential paths he can take. She's also using her normal senses, as well as his 'feel' within the Force. His presence in the Force and his own Sith stain is like a glowing inkblot running through the pattern she knows so well... and so it takes her about 10 to 15 minutes to realize he's ahead of her in a dead end. She grins, backing up a step so she's behind a corner he'll have to come around soon.

Vakkal makes a quiet sound, probably his peoples' equivalent of "tch," then turns and starts to lope out of the dead-end. Freyja grins, making herself small and as Force muted as she can (although she's next to no practice in that), waiting happily to pounce out at her friend when he rounds the corner.

Vakkal does not even seem to notice Freyja as he rounds the corner, his ears alert and perked for any sound of Freyja. Freyja jumps out happily just as the big dog Sith rounds the corner. If Vakkal doesn't leap away too fast she'll land partly on him in a gleeful hug, "Wheeee! Caughtcha, you're it!"

Vakkal makes a startled sound, and does not leap out of the way fast enough. He laughs, and begins the chase anew, going after Freyja though he gives her something of a head start, and does not run quite as fast. Freyja giggles delightedly, giving him a quick hug, then dashes hastily off! Unfortunately, it takes Vakkal somewhat longer before he manages to get into the general area of Freyja.

The game of tag goes on for about half an hour, at which point Freyja realizes somberly that it's time to return to the manse to prepare for the ceremony. She thanks him for a fun game, then they make their way out of the maze and Vakkal escorts her to her chambers before reporting to Magnussen for what his own duties will be that evening.

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Last modified: 2002-Jul-16 16:14:54

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