This story is dedicated to Markus who suggested the crossover and helped in the story's development. Enjoy!
He found himself in the middle of a lush meadow, the soft moonlight illuminating his path. Moths fluttered here and there in merry abandonment, as if in perfect rhythm to those wonderful sounds emanating from up ahead.
He walked along, hearing those sounds more clearly. Through the soft grass he walked, his footsteps not making the slightest of tremor or noise. How could that happen? Could it be no one is supposed to hear him?
Continuing his journey, he could see more clearly the house. He had never before seen such a structure. So large and all lit up inside. Surely someone lives here, he wondered, because he could hear voices along with that beautiful music. What is making that sound? Now he was in front of the house, marvelling at the wide porch, peering into the big windows. He walked to one window, watching two ladies clearing away what he guessed was the remains of the evening meal. He stood close to the window, his breath nearly fogging the glass, but the ladies just went about their tasks without noticing him. Such beautiful things I've seen before, all shiny and sparkling. What manner of creature lives here to have so much finery?
He followed in the direction of the music, to the other side of the house. Into the living room window he peered, seeing several humans enjoying their after dinner festivities. He could make out some figures: A lovely young woman chatting with a gentleman. Several others gathered around an instrument of sorts, the likes he had yet to behold – or did he see this thing in the distant past? Try as hard as he could, he had no recollection of ever seeing this before. The young man sitting playing the thing is certainly good, better than good, for he played effortlessly. One lady with blonde curls and wearing a crown, remarked that she always loved this piece.
"Mock Morris," she said, "I love it so."
The young man playing replied, "Yes, Dorothy, it is a nice little number. This the one of the first compositions I could play through, back when I took up piano."
Piano...So that is what that thing's called. Wait! What is he doing? Stopping? What is that other girl, the one who was talking to the gentleman, doing? What is that she's carrying? Oh, it's another music maker...She sits in the chair beside the man then proceeds to tune up. Drawing the bow across the strings, she waxed a beautiful aria that took Xander by surprise. Wow, she has a way with that thing, he thought.
He stood at the window, listening to this woman master the instrument, her friend accompanying her on piano. How long had I heard such wonderful music? So long ago I can't begin to count the years...
"What am I saying," Xander said out loud. "I don't know this woman, or do I?"
When the music stopped, all parties dispersed; some went to other rooms, others ventured out onto the porch. The lady who played the music was first outside, stretching her arms and breathing deeply. Then the gentleman stepped out carrying two objects containing...It doesn't look like water...
"Here, Maddie," said the gentleman, "Thought you could use a brandy. Lovely work you do on the cello. You and Anthony make quite a team."
"Thanks, James," she said, taking the brandy sniffer, holding it to her nose. She took a sip then said, "You know, I'm still trying to convince Six to join us. She really has a natural talent as a violinist, and she's a mere child at that. I guess she thinks she's not that good..."
"But," he said laughingly, puffing away on his cigar, "I guess Six underestimates herself. Maybe you could take her under your wing, help bring out that confidence. As your professor did for you. She is such in awe of you. Don't you remember the day you and she met?"
"Yes, and that was before I left to guide the Herd here, to Oz, after my own dinosaur family settled here."
Huh? The Herd relocated to a place called Oz? Where is Oz? What is it? And she guided us here? How did she accomplish that? When did this happen? And what did she mean by "my own dinosaur family"? Hey, didn't she mention someone named Bron...He's of the old legends Eema and Baylene tell...Is he, and the rest of the valley gang, real?
Suddenly he saw the gentleman tenderly kiss the lady. Not an amorous kiss but a friendly peck on the cheek, as between siblings or best friends. Still, Xander couldn't shake a sudden twinge of jealousy.
I don't care if he is family...I should be the one with her tonight...It's been too long since...
Xander awoke with a jolt. He glanced about to realize he was still in the cave; his companions still dozing soundly nearby. "Oh, it was just a dream," he muttered. He looked and listened for any sound of predators. No, just peace and quiet, and a faint mumbling coming from Marbe Tasou. Is she dreaming, too? Whatever it is, it must be about something from her past – or deep into the distant future. Xander, unable to go back to sleep, listened intently as Marbe, deep in her nocturnal slumber, embarked on a series of visions that left her quite unsettled...
She sees herself sitting at a desk. Dressed in rich silks, the voluminous crinoline skirt billowing, she surveys her surroundings, wondering how this place was spared the destruction suffered by her neighbors. She begins to write an old friend, someone she thought long lost. In that letter she pours out her soul, and reveals things that aren't normally shared with her neighbors...
La Terre Belle
March 15, 1865
My dear Charlotte,
How much longer will this war drag on? It has been four years since the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter. So many have died. So many families ripped apart by conflicting sentiments. Some were staunch Unionists; some more devoted to the Confederacy's cause. I've seen brothers, sisters, parents, the best of friends turn their backs on each other. For what? I don't understand why this country is determined to walk down that dark path. Oh, how I wish I could tell those hotheads in faraway Washington and Richmond how it was during our war, the conflict between the Separatists and Republic which claimed so many lives and changed much for the worse. One casualty being my father, along with nearly the entire Jedi Order. How I still miss Yoda, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker, Aalya Secura. How I wish they were here now, but that cannot be. There is, now, in my home galaxy, peace throughout, a New Republic forged out of the chaos that plunged so many into the darkness. There is also a new Jedi Order, founded by Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin. It was he who finally confronted his father, who had fallen to the dark side, and forced Anakin Skywalker to resurface into the light. It's been said Anakin was The Chosen One who would ultimately defeat the Sith and bring balance to the Force. The prophecy rang true...
I'm proud that my brother is part of the new Jedi Order. He is, from what is reported to me via a special holonet communicator, continuing to learn the ways of the Force, becoming stronger and, if truth be known, more powerful than I could ever be. Not that I don't have faith in my own abilities as a Jedi, but it's the time and place in which I now reside that prevent exploiting those abilities.
Oh, there has been an occasion where I used my Force abilities, such as doing Jedi mind tricks on unsuspecting local folks. On one such occasion, the mind trick was particularly useful as little Toby was caught on the road without a traveling pass. How ridiculous this slave code is! None of them can walk about their business without being accosted by patrollers. Toby was running an errand for Jean-Paul; he wasn't gone five minutes before those patrollers accosted him. They would have nearly beaten him if I, on a morning carriage ride, hadn't come along. Reasoning with the patrollers was not an easy task, so I resorted to the mind trick. It worked brilliantly; and Toby, after the men departed, asked how I did such things.
Of course I couldn't tell the boy outright I was a Jedi from a faraway galaxy. I couldn't tell anyone; no one would believe me, says Jean-Paul repeatedly. Even he has to keep his powers under wraps lest people spot him performing magic. He calls it magic although I really suspect he is Force sensitive. I, out of curiosity, asked about his family. Where are they from, really? What sort of power does this family possess? Jean-Paul could tell me so much as he really doesn't know much about his ancestors prior to the mid-15th Century. No matter, for the past should not concern me. Whatever happened days, months, even centuries ago is done. Nothing can change what has already occurred. Still, I am so curious about the Beauchamps, and what mystery surrounds this family.
Now I must concentrate on the future, my own family's future. I have two growing girls, Axelle and Margot, and a son Aramis. The son is far too young to fight in this war; the girls continuously ask if there will be any eligible young men left to marry. It is a valid question as too many have been killed, maimed, wounded. Yet, I tell them not to let fear and apprehension of the future fester into something more sinister, all paths to the dark side. I myself had to fight off those negative feelings ever since this war began. I've seen too many of my neighbors' fine homes destroyed, their valuables, livestock and crops confiscated by Union soldiers. I will admit to have doubts of this nation's future and its impact on my children and later descendants. Healing from this conflict will be slow and painful...
I have had this recurring dream ever since that confrontation with a pair of Union deserters, during a trip to New Orleans. I've already told you what happened, and how I reacted. I didn't mean to resort to such violence as it is not the Jedi way, but those men manifested all what was wrong with the ongoing sectional conflict which resulted in all-out war. I could stomach their insults no more, so I lashed out with my lightsaber. Jean-Paul, ever wary of the crowd's reaction, hustled me onto the steamboat bound for Natchez. There he scolded me, told me never to resort to such actions again. It is for our children's sake, for our later descendants, that we keep our special powers a secret. But how long will we be able to guard that secret? Too many are suspicious of us, and I've heard their whispering gossip. That we are witches, strange peoples who are not like them. It is all, to be sure, nonsensical hearsay, but sometimes I wonder if and when one of my children's children will be able to show those powers to the world.
About that dream: It was so strange, and I saw my family's far-off future. I see myself in New Orleans, in those idyllic days before the war. I am conversing with Tante Seraphine, an old slave brought up from Haiti decades ago. There is something about her which reminds of Master Yoda, as she, like Yoda, is wise beyond all comprehension. She speaks to me, tells of the greatness that is to come. My daughters will marry fine young men, and my son will strike out on his own in the newly formed western territories, becoming a success in his own right.
One grandchild, however, will defy convention – and the law – by marrying a man not of her kind. This union will be done in secret, and the couple will be forced to move elsewhere lest serve a prison term for miscegenation. The children from this union will return to New Orleans to fulfill their own destinies, and that of my husband's. I asked her, "What is Jean-Paul's destiny?"
She replies, "I cannot tell you that, but it has something to do with your father's visit, to this planet long ago..."
The dream ends as always with Seraphine walking away, muttering repeatedly, "All the bad will die in the desert...Music and meaning...The secret lies within the score...He doesn't know that...never will discover it until too late...The evil will die in the desert..."
When I awake, I try to piece it together. Jean-Paul believes Tante Seraphine represents someone from my immediate past, but the only I know who comes close to her wisdom and grasp of future knowledge is the one I met during that initial journey to this planet. She is Force sensitive, has a gift of seeing future events. But she became one with the Force eons ago. She told me of hearing music that would not be written for millions of years, and her daughter saw one of my descendants, an immensely talented lady who will bring those ancient creatures together in a faraway land of peace and wonderment. There is a connection between those creatures my father encountered and Jean-Paul's ancestors. In what capacity I do not know...
Your own life in Missouri sounds so content despite warring factions and bitter feelings on all sides. You speak of your son who has already exhibited tremendous powers. Train him well. He must use those gifts for good, to bring peace and happiness to those he loves. I can feel this. There is a connection between him and myself that I am not at liberty to reveal. My deepest desire is that he will, when the time comes, be there for my family as dark days are ahead. If what Tante Seraphine says does indeed come to pass, your Charles will be a key in bringing peace to my later descendants. I may not live to see the one who will defeat this evil, but my heart says I will behold a joy unbounded...
I am, dear friend,
When Marbe woke up, she glanced about to discover she was still in the cave. Her brother sitll dozed soundly next to her.
The dinosaurs also slumbered, except Xander who stood over her, saying softly, "I know, Marbe. We both saw it, in our dreams. I know what the future holds for you – and for me. Don't worry, I won't reveal the secret – Yet."
Copyright @2006 by P.R. Parker. All Rights Reserved.