striderfromthenorth started following you
By comparison to the boundless ecumenopolitan cityscape that covered the surface of Coruscant, the towering ziggurat that was the Jedi Temple was a bastion of quiet and serenity. The sweeping, majestic stone halls were home to thousands of Jedi, who, at any given time, could be seen mulling about in groups or briskly seeing about their business.
The Temple was home to several exquisite marvels of the age, one of which could be considered the Room of a Thousand Fountains. An indoor forest under an artificial sky, a man who had not entered through the doors to the Temple may not have realized that he was inside at all. It was densely populated with a plethora of exotic trees, flowers, and greenery, with an intricate system of streams and fountains that culminated in a waterfall at the center of the room.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was seated comfortably against a tree, a datapad from the archives in hand. With the Sith Asajj Ventress currently housed in the Temple, he was doing as much research on the ancient Sith as he could. It was slow going.
Strider had been dozing against Brego, staring up at the night sky and mulling over the events of the past few days. The idea that he had been caught up in some sort of magic overflow, explaining how one minute he could be in Rivendell and the next nearly getting hit by some sort of metal box on wheels. He had taken stop on the way to Rivendell to meet Gandalf so he could explain what was going on when suddenly there was no more night sky and no more horse behind him to lean against. Lying back with a thud he frowned, he was in some sort of forest that was for sure but it was not one he recognised. Sitting up his hand went to his sword, checking that it was at least still with him before he stood up.
“Hebo estel,” he murmured to himself as he glanced around before beginning to walk. Maybe there was a chance he had just ended up in the unexplored regions, or course when he saw a figure at the base of a tree holding….something he wasn’t so sure. Walking up he ran his eyes over him, keeping his hood up “Pedich Edhellen?” he asked. If he spoke Elvish he was still home, if not then he was…elsewhere.
Obi-Wan spared a glance at the man before turning his attention back to the datapad— then did a double take. From the corner of his eye, the man’s dark cloak and garb had appeared the tunic of a Jedi. It was his boots that signaled Obi-Wan that something was off— they were muddied and incredibly worn, far from the well-kept and polished boots of a Jedi. When he looked up again, Obi-Wan saw that the rest of the man’s appearance was much the same. His clothes were dirtied and worn, his jaw in need of a shave. Perhaps most puzzling, however, was the large sword that hung from the belt on the man’s hip; it wasn’t a vibroblade, but an actual sword, the likes of which Obi-Wan hadn’t seen since dueling the Prince of Gala when he was thirteen years old.
“I’m sorry— what was that?” he stammered, a look of both surprise and confusion evident on his face. He hadn’t really caught the words the first time, but he suspected that even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood them. He switched off the datapad and stood, looking the stranger over. “Who are you?”
He could see the stranger looking him over but honestly he was passed caring about not blending in when in these strange places. The clothing the man wore had a slight hint of familiarity apart from his boots and that just made him frowned slightly, the grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. Hearing his confusion he was certain this was not a wood in Middle Earth,
“They call me Strider, stranger what is your name?” he asked, glancing around them before back at the stranger and mainly whatever it was that he carried in his hand.