Work Text:
There are words, sometimes, that his padawan thinks of that he just can’t understand. Luke realizes he doesn’t know many languages in general. Basic, Jawa, and droid, of course. Enough Wookie to hold a conversation with Chewbacca. But he didn’t take time to learn any others while working with the resistance, and he hasn’t taken any time to do so since then. Han would make remarks about it, and Leia would just huff, roll her eyes, and say she has to agree despite her natural avoidance of letting Han be right. He didn’t think much of it then, but, well… it could be an issue if he really does want anything more substantial than teaching his sister to throw rocks.
“Vaabir gar aalar ner buir?” is like a small wave sent through him, its transmitter— Grogu— looking up at him with his big eyes, idly swinging his feet.
“I’m sorry, afraid I don't speak that,” he smiles back, “what is it anyway?”
“What buir spoke with me. It feels nice to think.”
“Aahhh,” Luke nods, “I only spoke basic at home. Well, that and having to speak to the Jawas and droids.”
“Don’t know droid,” rippled through his body, “buir poofed Jawas. We got them an egg and got our ship back.”
“That sounds fun, when’d that happen?”
“When we met. We killed a mudhorn! ”
“Man, I really need to get more info on this galaxy, huh? I don't even know what that is. Maybe Leia can help.”
A scene of the mudhorn being lifted appeared in his mind—Luke “watched” in awe, seemingly every second he spent with the kid had expanded his knowledge of the force. At this rate, maybe Grogu could be a teacher, too. Force ghosts can only say so much.
“You lifted that all by yourself?”
The kid coo’d and nodded.
“Geez, no wonder Master Yoda said I was too old to be a Jedi. That’s really impressive—I didn’t even know what the force was when I was your size!”
“Humans age weird. ”
“Yeah, I’d think the same if I were you. Master Yoda, he’s like you, died at 900, I think. Say, what were you asking in the first place?”
The child stiffened for a second, tugging at the loose strands of his cloak. “Can you feel my dad? With the force?”
“No, I don’t know him that well. I can feel Leia though, sometimes Han and Chewie.”
The child kept playing with his cloak, waves of embarrassment and fear coming from him. “ I feel him. But Ashoka says it’s bad to be attached. ”
As he snorts, his padawan looks up at him, eyes wide. “What?” he says, “does this Ashoka even know anything about the force? Attachment, well,” he smiles, “it’s the only way I ever got anything done! You can ask Master Yoda, or Obi-Wan, or my dad if you don't believe me. We have to stay in-tune with our emotions, our love, Grogu. Or else we lose the force. Just like that.”
Grogu stares at him now, mouth agape, a mix of confusion, doubt, and the tiniest sliver of hope radiating off of him.
“Well, I’m in charge of rebuilding the Jedi anyway. If this Ashoka thinks I’m so wrong she can bring it up to me herself.”