Title: The Mystical, Magical Cloak of Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary: Qui-Gon muses upon his Padawan’s special cloak

Rating: G

Disclaimer: George my man they are all yours, you rich man you. I own nothing and make no money.

Author’s Note: Thanks to all the great people at the Obi-Wan Character Workshop () at the JC for the great
challenge idea =D It was A LOT of fun!


Obi-Wan was snuggled beneath his cloak, sleeping deeply on the sofa in his and Qui-Gon’s temporary
accommodation while they were on the planet Briove completing a mission. Qui-Gon looked at the boy and
couldn’t help but to chuckle quietly to himself. Underneath the pristine cloak, the eighteen-year-old
apprentice was soaking wet, covered in sticky mud and his Jedi clothes were torn and irrevocably stained.

But not the cloak.

Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the couch his Padawan was dozing on, contemplating whether to let the boy
sleep or wake him up and drag him into the already prepared hot bath. The Master found himself mulling
over the odd yet strangely familiar situation. It wasn’t the part that involved Obi-Wan getting
accidentally caught in a mudslide (much to Obi-Wan’s slightly tipsy amusement) during one of Briove’s many
joyous, religious festivals (this one being a celebration of a good rainy season – rain that had led to
this entire situation which hard fortunately claimed no lives) that was so familiar. No, that was a fairly
odd occurrence even by Obi-Wan’s high standards. The familiarity of the situation lay in the fact that the
boy’s well-worn yet perfectly kept cloak had once again escaped danger entirely undamaged. There was not
even one splatter of mud or one miniscule tear.

Qui-Gon reflected on how, when a chuckling Obi-Wan had pulled himself out of the fluid river of thick
brown mud and onto a grassy embankment, he had stood on slightly wobbly feet (well he could hardly be
expected to stand totally still after one: being suddenly swept of his feet by gushing currents of
liquidated mud and two: having drunk a little too much) and simply removed his sodden cloak, held it out,
given it a few dramatic shakes and replaced it, good as new.

Qui-Gon had marvelled at it as he led his happily exhausted Padawan back to their quarters. Again,
Obi-Wan’s cloak revealed it’s hidden power – that power being it’s ability to stay absolutely perfect in
conditions that would leave the average man’s clothes in tatters. He remembered the time the boy had
fought off blaster-wielding droids and taken a shot to the shoulder. Even then the cloak had remained
stubbornly intact. And of course there were all the usual accidents a boy went through that the cloak
shrugged off as easily as Obi-Wan shrugged it off – the spilt drinks, the jell-o stains and even the
occasional runny nose, blood and vomit marks (which Qui-Gon was quite content not to go into huge detail
over in his memory). Where in the galaxy had Obi-Wan found this miraculous piece of cloth and when? As far
as Qui-Gon could recall the phenomenal cloak had always been in Obi-Wan’s possession. It seemed to have
come with the boy when Qui-Gon had first taken him as an apprentice and grown with Obi-Wan as he spouted
after each growth spurt. Qui-Gon however, when he’d been Obi-Wan’s tender age, had required a new cloak
every other month. So unless Obi-Wan was incredibly clever and had been getting new clothes without his
Master knowing so as to leave his Master playing a guessing game, his cloak was indestructible.

Truly a marvel.

And a tad spooky too in Qui-Gon’s humble opinion. He had a feeling that if he took it from Obi-Wan,
slashed it into pieces with his lightsaber and tossed it to the wind, the tenacious item of standard Jedi
clothing would reform itself and find its way back to Obi-Wan.

Now the drowsing boy was using the ageless cloak as a bed sheet and it showed no signs of creases. Obi-Wan
sneezed in his sleep and unconsciously wiped his streaming nose on the brown fabric. Qui-Gon watched
closely, waiting to see if the stain would magically disappear. He tried not to blink but when his eyes
stung mercilessly, he couldn’t stop the natural impulse and blinked rapidly. When his gaze refocused on
his Padawan’s cloak, the stain had gone. Qui-Gon felt a slight burst of disappointment before he checked
himself. Oh for crying out loud, he was a grown man watching his Padawan’s ‘magical’ cloak for signs of
it’s paranormal actvities! He needed to act his age and not his shoe size.

Forcing himself to shake of his cloak musings, Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder and called to the
boy. Groggily Obi-Wan opened his eyes and ran a hand through his mud-clogged hair. Shaking his head at his
Padawan’s sorry state, Qui-Gon helped the lethargic Obi-Wan to the bathroom, poking him whenever he
appeared to be nodding off on his feet. Obi-Wan got undressed and tossed his clothes to his Master, who
let them fall to the floor rather than catch them and get messy himself. When the dripping mass of
mud-caked clothes was in one nice pile, Qui-Gon gathered them up carefully and promptly disposed of the
damaged tunic and trousers. He nearly tossed the cloak into the trash as well, before he remembered its
super powers. Unwillingly, Qui-Gon’s eyes roamed the cloak in search of something that disproved his silly
thoughts. But it, of course, revealed nothing. It was as clean and as fresh now as it had been when
Obi-Wan had pulled it on that morning. Qui-Gon hoped that maybe it was just because the mud that had
covered Obi-Wan had been dry but his gaze trailed over the sofa, which was utterly filthy and had a stain
the shape and size of his Padawan.

Qui-Gon sighed. What a shame the cloak’s indestructibility didn’t rub off onto other textiles. So while
his Padawan washed in the bath, Qui-Gon scrubbed the sofa, lamenting its inability to clean itself like
his Padawan’s mystical, magical self-cleaning, self-enlarging cloak.