Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) Title: A Star Connection (#2460) Author: TowerofPearl Chapters: 2
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Archive: Tolkien Category: Crossovers Description: A crossover between Lord of the Rings and Star Wars (pre-phantom menace) When Obi-Wan begins to have visions of a strange, archaic world, his mind connects with one of the planet's struggling protectors. When the plight of Middle Earth is revealed to the young padawan, the Jedi Council sends the Master and Student pair to assist in what way they can. Published: 23 Dec 2005 Updated: 23 Dec 2005 Warnings: none Type: Action/adventure Characters: Gandalf (thus far) Chapter 1 - Disturbed Slumber Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, objects, places and concepts belong to their respective owners. In short, I don’t own anything but the plot and the dialogue. “DESTROY IT!!!” The voice echoed against the walls of Obi-Wan’s previously blank and serene mind, startling him into rolling off the sleeping couch. His mind was in uproar, had he not just gone to sleep? Where had that voice come from? The young padawan rubbed his eyes and headed for the refresher, where the lights rose upon his entering. He scrubbed at his face with some water, then gazed into the mirror at himself. His face was drawn and dark patches lay under his eyes. He looked better than he felt. Just the day before, the seventeen year-old had been tested on his katas. He knew he was proficient enough, but with Qui-Gon Jinn as a master, he had to hold himself to a higher standard. Obi-Wan glanced at the timepiece. Another hour until sunrise, he figured. In years past, he would have relished the chance for just another hour under the cover of warm blankets, but since then, the Jedi Apprentice had learned the value of an early start. He took a meditative position on the floor and took deep breaths. Willing his mind clear of all other distractions, Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his mind to the force. -------------------------------------------- “DESTROY IT!!!” Elrond cried out, pleading with his ally, Isildur son of Elendil, to cast away the embodiment of evil- the evil they had so long sought to destroy- into the fiery chasm that spanned below both of them. “No.” The simplest word sent shivers of sorrow and fear down the Elf-lord’s spine. His own lord, Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor, had been slain. Now, a great lord of Men danced with destruction itself. How could he not see? “Isildur! Isildur!” Elrond begged, but the Numenorian turned his back and sauntered out of the Cavern of Sammath Naur. Pain and fear etched new lines in Elrond’s face that day. Even two-thousand years later, the memory still burned him. The Elf lord turned back to face the Grey Wizard with pain in his eyes. “The strength of men has failed. Narsil is broken, and its light has extinguished.” “You know of one who could wield it, were it re-forged. The elves have the skill to do so, and he has the skill to carry it.” Gandalf the Grey, ever the wizened councilor, broke the uneasy silence. “The sword of Elendil would be a help beyond the hope of men – if it were indeed to return out of the shadows of the past.” “Even so,” the Elf lord spoke as if to himself, “the power of the Ring and the Dark One’s lust for it will not be quelled by that sword alone. Are you sure of the Ring’s location? Could it indeed be the very ring that Bilbo found all those years ago, that now rests in the Shire? T’would be frightening indeed – a thing of that power in the hands of one so small.” The Grey Wizard cracked a wry smile, “You do not give them enough credit my lord, Hobbits are resilient creatures. Even so,” Gandalf stressed, using Elrond’s own words, “I must still visit the libraries of Minas Tirith, they will have the answers I need to put my doubts to rest. Then I shall go to my master. He will know how best to proceed.” A slender eyebrow lifted, “Is there something in the libraries of Minas Tirith that there is not in my own?” Elrond’s own collection of histories spanned back into a time when men still pondered the mysteries of written runes. Gandalf answered with a knowing smile, “Oh? Do happen to have a copy of Isildur’s personal memoirs lord Elrond? I did not think that you two had a habit of sharing journal entries….” Gandalf busied himself with packing his pipe to avoid Elrond’s furious glare. The son of Earendil scoffed, “If you are to go waste your time in Gondor, you had better leave now,” then softened, “Give my regards to Saruman. I would welcome his council at this time.” He bowed his head. “I take my leave master Elrond. Do not be troubled, the sun always finds away to peek through the clouds.” Gandalf smiled and turned his back on the worried Elf lord. “Valar, guide me!” Elrond whispered a prayer to the domed roof of his study. His eyes fixed on a mural. A painted soldier held aloft a bright, gleaming shard of a blade, while darkness itself bore down above him. His eyes turned to the darkening sky. “Let us hope the sun shines through now, or the stars for that matter.” Unbeknownst to the Elven Lord, Gandalf had loitered just outside the doorway. Elrond’s prayer was not lost on him. He felt sorry for Elrond, because for all his wisdom, he was still powerless against the throws of fate, as all elves were. Silently, the Grey Wizard stole out into the night. -------------------------------------------------- Obi-Wan rose to his feet after an hour and a half of meditation. His knees no longer protested the prolonged stay in that position; Qui-Gon made a point of setting regular meditation periods for his padawan. Obi-Wan was still puzzling over the strange things the Force had chosen to show him during his meditation, when his eyes fell onto the timepiece. By now, the morning meal was almost over. He figured it would not be productive to rush, so he spent his time cleaning himself up, dressing, then finally taking the trip down the corridor to the lift, where it took him to the level of the mess hall. Several faces rose from their meals and conversations when Obi-Wan entered the hall, but he paid them no mind. He headed to his normal spot where he found his Master waiting for him. Qui-Gon Jinn watched his padawan sit, but did not question him. Obi-Wan was rarely late for the morning meal, or any meal for that matter, so Qui-Gon knew something was off. A gentle mental probe told him that his padawan was content, but slightly puzzled about something. The boy would be hungry – the questions could come later. The meal passed down Obi-Wan’s throat with less notice than usual, and it’s taste was dulled. He could not get his mind off of that vision. He rarely had them, so why now? He could see that Qui-Gon was waiting for him to finish, so he gulped down his tea and finished the last of his food. He knew Qui-Gon wanted to talk to him. “Sparring room 4?” Obi-Wan suggested, and his master nodded. They both stood and left silently. Once inside the room, they discarded their robes and took time to stretch. Fortunately, this room was designed for personal matches, and could only be used by two people at a time. Qui-Gon studied his padawan closely. He would speak when he was ready. They ignited their lightsabers, and proceeded to spar. Nothing like the tests of the day before, this was more controlled and methodical – a warm up. It was too early for anything more rigorous. As usual, Obi-Wan was the first to start breathing heavily. When Qui-Gon saw this, he knew it had been long enough. The Jedi master extinguished his lightsaber, tossed his padawan a towel and waited for him to speak. Obi-Wan took a seat on the floor, so Qui-Gon sat across from him. “I had a vision this morning.” The simple sentence told Qui-Gon volumes. The reason he had been late, that he had woken up early and meditated, that this was the cause of his confusion. “What did the Force show you?” he questioned. “I do not rightly know Master,” Obi-Wan hesitated, “I heard a voice that cried: ‘Destroy it!’ and I saw two men in fiery place, probably a volcano. They argued about… something.” The padawan rubbed his temples, what was it they fought over? One of them had seemed so adamant about it… and the other… he held something in his hand, could that have been it? “One of them begged the other to destroy it, whatever it was.” Obi-Wan threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. Qui-Gon waited for his padawan to tell him all he could. Only then did he begin to ask the questions whose answers would yield more information about the mysterious visions. “Describe these people. There were two, you said? Did they speak Basic, or did the Force allow you to know their tongue? Was it the past, the present, or the future?” Qui-Gon crossed his arms. “Yes there were two. And they spoke…” Obi-Wan’s memory went back to the vision. Of the hazy parts he could remember, he saw their lips move. He could not read any words that they formed, so he supposed they spoke another language. “They did not speak basic. One of them, the one who pleaded with the other – he stood on a precipice in the cavern – had long, dark hair. He was covered in dirt and blood, from a battle?” Asking the right questions always brought about the right answers. “Yes, from a battle. They wore armor and had weapons, but they were so… primitive. No, that’s not the right word.” He clenched his teeth, why was this so difficult? “Their armor was beautiful, and looked functional. It had finesse and grace to it. But it was made of some sort of simply refined metal alloy, nothing like we have now.” Qui-Gon did his best to piece together his padawan’s vision. “So there were two men in the cavern of a volcano, arguing about destroying something. They wore finely crafted, but ancient armor.” The past then. Qui-Gon surmised, though he was not sure enough to say this aloud. His steel gray eyes caught those of his apprentice, “What could you feel?” Obi-Wan searched his mind for the answer. A few emotions rose above all others, and it came from the pleading man. “Betrayal, disgust, fear, sorrow. These two men knew each other, fought together, bled together. And then one of them turned his back on the other, forsaking all they had fought for, all that their people had died for.” Sweat trickled down Obi-Wan’s brow – it was hard to keep his concentration, but new revelations had bubbled to the surface. The master was proud. Obi-Wan was figuring most of this out himself, and though neither of them knew the cause or reason for this vision, he could not help but smile to himself. His padawan had come a long way. “Much we have discovered about the nature of this vision Obi-Wan, but even so, it was a vision. The past is solid, for it has already happened. The present can only be examined as it happens, and the future is always in motion. I fear we do not know enough about this to do anything yet. We shall wait until the cause behind this becomes clear.” Qui-Gon nodded as a sign of his verdict, but Obi-Wan did not repeat the sign of confirmation. The youth’s eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and deep. The mentor could not peer into his apprentice’s mind, for a deep fog clouded his feelings. It could only mean one thing: he was having another vision. “Even so,” the dark haired man spoke as if to himself, “the power of the Ring and the Dark One’s lust for it will not be quelled by that sword alone. Are you sure of the Ring’s location? Could it indeed be the very ring that Bilbo found all those years ago, that now rests in the Shire? T’would be frightening indeed – a thing of that power in the hands of one so small.” This time, Obi-Wan could see him more closely. He no longer wore the armor of the last vision. Instead, he was robed in rich fabrics, his hair was braided neatly back with a single plait. Physically, he had not aged, but in his eyes was a wisdom to rival Master Yoda’s, and his faced was lined with worry. Obi-Wan could not see the person he spoke to. “You do not give them enough credit my lord, Hobbits are resilient creatures. Even so,” the wise, deep, yet still disembodied voice said, “I must still visit the libraries of Minas Tirith, they will have the answers I need to put my doubts to rest. Then I shall go to my master. He will know how best to proceed.” The vision grew hazy as more words were spoken between the two. In the distance, Obi-Wan could hear someone calling his names. He saw the man from the previous vision look longingly at the stars for guidance, before all went black. ------------------------------------------------ “Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly as the boy’s face softened and his brows knitted. Again he tried with more volume, “Obi-Wan!” Suddenly, his padawan pitched forwards. Qui-Gon caught him before he fell on his face. Obi-Wan was unconscious. Chapter 2 - A Conversation of the Mind Gandalf was hardly two hours out of Imladris when the strange presence in his mind became steadily stronger. It had been there ever since his conversation with Elrond, but he had paid no heed. He tried to ignore it and ride on, but it was not easily dismissed. The wizard dismounted and let his horse graze for a while on the roadside ferns as he walked to a rise in the road where he could see the stars through the trees. His eyes focused on the bright pinpoints of light until his eyes went out of focus completely, and truly opened. -------------------------------------------- Obi-Wan was lost. A dense fog permeated the area around him, which seemed as open and as desolate as space, but not as dark. He walked and walked until his legs gave out beneath him. He opened his senses, but the raw power of the Force was overwhelming. Obi-Wan could not cut himself off from hit, nor did he want to. He felt one with the force; he was no longer afraid. But where was he? Then, finally, he found he wasn’t alone. An echo rang out into the void, questioning, “Who are you? What is it you want?” Obi-Wan searched for the direction of the source but could not find it. He answered, “I do not know where I am! Who are you? Why am I here?” “You came into my mind.” The disgruntled voice said, suddenly louder, clearer, and much more near, “I think it is you who should be answering the questions, not asking them, young man.” Obi-Wan felt sharp jab between his shoulder blades, with what he assumed was a stick. Before he turned around, he thought for an instant that it might be Master Yoda. He was always poking or gesturing with that cane of his, but when he did turn, he came face to face with a humanoid old man with a long beard. His eyebrows seemed to stick out beyond the brim of his very large hat, and his eyes sparkled with both wisdom and wit. He held a tall, gnarled staff with which he poked Obi-Wan again in the shoulder. “I came into your mind?” Kenobi pondered. The Visions! Obi wondered to himself, but this is not the man I saw in the Volcano. Perhaps… the second vision. The one the first man was speaking to in the second vision. His voice is the same. The details of the vision came slowly back to him. It had felt as if the man had been speaking to Obi-Wan. Could he have been seeing through the eyes of this old man? “Forgive me,” the padawan said finally with a short bow- it didn’t hurt to be polite, especially if he was being accused of mind-intrusion, “I am afraid I had no control. Your mind must have opened to me during my vision, which came unbidden- like the first.” He explained. The wizard snorted and proceeded to walk a circle around the apprentice. “You are very young to be having visions. But even so, what did you see, the first time?” the old man put his face inches from Obi-Wan’s. He could see the sheer power and knowledge in his eyes. He was not someone to be trifled with. “Two men, standing on a precipice inside a volcano. One shouted at the other, ‘Destroy it’. The other….” Obi-Wan was interrupted by a silencing move of the old man’s hand and a snort. “Enough. I know what you saw, though its importance looks lost on you young man. I must enlighten you. One of the men you saw was Isildur son of Elendil, a king of Men. The other was Elrond Half-Elven, herald of Gil-Galad, the High King of the Noldor who was slain on the slopes of that very mountain. That very event is the reason why our world now stands in jeopardy. What Isildur refused to destroy was the One Ring of Power, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron, whom Isildur had killed moments earlier. But in this Ring, Sauron’s spirit survived. Even now, the Ring endures, thus, Sauron still exists.” Obi-Wan was stunned. There was an urgency in the old man’s voice that made Obi-Wan feel their very conversation was a hindrance to the man. “And you? Do you search for this Ring? Am I delaying your search?” Gandalf was intrigued by the boy’s intuition. “How perceptive of you. Before I took my time to talk to you I was on my way south to put my doubts to rest. And this second vision you speak of?” The phrase called the vision to mind, and he found clarity while remembering it. “I saw the same man, Elrond, you called him? I believe he was speaking to you about your very journey. And you spoke as well.” “The conversation you speak of happened only hours before hand.” Gandalf said soberly. He was surprised. Was this boy was having visions of current events? “Who are you young man? Where do you come from?” he asked, more intrigued and curious now than annoyed. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, padawan to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. My home is the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” None of the words the boy spoke held any meaning for Gandalf. “Coruscant? In which kingdom is that? I have been to the far corners of this Middle Earth, and I have never heard of a place by that name. And what are these Jedi?” “Coruscant isn’t in a Kingdom, per say, but it is part of the Republic, which is made up of hundreds of different star systems. It is where the senate meets. The Jedi Order attempts to keep peace and establish justice wherever there is violence or pain. We are warriors and counselors, knights and negotiators.” He explained hastily, “Is Middle Earth the name of your planet?” Obi-Wan asked and followed behind the old man who had turned to pace while he listened to Obi-Wan. “Star systems?!” Gandalf exclaimed. “You mean to say you come from the very stars themselves?” “Well, more like planets within those systems, but…” Gandalf wasn’t listening. His mind was a buzz with ideas. A young Knight from the stars who fights for justice! Could it be that the Valar have not entirely left us to ourselves? Would they let a ray of hope shine down from the stars once more? Obi-Wan watched the strange old man’s pace quicken and his brow furrowed like a newly poughed field. He didn’t seem to be listening at all. “Now wait…” he began just as a familiar voice called out his name. “Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Can you hear me? Wake up padawan!” Master? Obi-Wan’s attentioned focused outwards, and the fog began to thicken around him, and all began to darken. “It looks like our conversation has come to a close young Obi-Wan.” The old man’s voice, now very cheerful, was the only thing that penetrated the mists. “Wait! Where are you? I didn’t even learn your name!” Obi-Wan cried out. A whisper echoed in his mind just as he slipped back into the waking world; “I am Gandalf the Grey, of the Istari. Come to Arda, to Middle Earth, child of the stars, it is our hour of need…” ----------------------------------------- Qui-Gon sat in a chair pulled close beside his padawan’s bed in the Healing Ward of the Jedi Temple. The boy had laid quiet for the entire time, and his face was calm. The Jedi Master stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. Obi-Wan had been through some difficult situations durring his apprenticeship, but had always pulled through. Qui-Gon felt no reason to worry. But he was puzzled; these new visions had to mean something, but what? He sensed his student was coming back into consciousness. Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan’s hand in his own two and squeezed firmly. “Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Can you here me? Wake up padawan!” he called softly. “Wait! Where are you… I didn’t even learn your name!” the patient murmurred, and EU-2O4 stopped by his bed. “Is there anything you require Ma…” the medi-droid fell silent as the Jedi waved him away. Obi-Wan’s eyes opened slowly, but he shut them almost immediately against the painful light. “Master?” “I am here. You gave all the medi-droids quite a scare padawan, they could find nothing physically wrong with you, but could not find the reason for why you fell unconscious. It ‘did not compute’, or something to that effect.” Qui-Gon chuckled and grabbed a cup, already filled with water, from the stand next to the bed, and helped Obi to drink. After he had wet his throat, Obi-Wan laid back on his pillow to think. Qui-Gon waited in silence for a few moments. “Is your mind clear now Padawan?” he asked. “Yes Master.” “What did you see?” “At first, another vision. Then all was dark. But when the darkness dissipated, there was a grey void, filled with a dense fog. I think now that this was a plane of thought within his mind.” Obi-Wan explained. Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed, “Who’s mind?” “Gandalf the Grey, of the Istari. He lives on a planet called Arda. We had an… interesting conversation.” “And what did this conversation yeild?” ”An explanation – for the visions I’ve had. I think that I accidentaly intruded upon Gandalf’s thoughts, and entered into his mind.” He admitted. Qui-Gon took a moment to consider all he had heard. This was no simple matter, and he could sense that many things still lay hidden from both of them. “The Council should hear of this. Can you stand?” Obi-Wan raised himself on his elbows into a sitting position. The sudden rush of blood from his head was most disagreeable. “Not too fast. You have been in that position for some time.” He nodded wearily and swung his legs over the side of the bed slowly. “I’ll be fine, it’s not a big deal.” He stood and stretched his back. “Shall we go to the Council Chamber?” “If you are ready Obi-Wan. I feel that the meaning of these visions is much more complicated than we first thought.” ------------------------------------------------------------------ Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 1:17 am