Din watched Luke as he settled next to the pond. It was clear and pure water, the type that let you see right through to the bottom, to the smooth stones and plants that poked through, reaching for the sunlight streaming through the water.
There was a brook nearby, trickling into the pond— Din could hear it, just on the edge of what his helmet could pick up. He could also hear Luke, so soft he wasn’t sure Luke even realized he was doing it, singing under his breath.
Din sat back and just watched. Luke had a small smile on his face as he trailed the fingers of his left hand through the pond, sending ripples dancing across the surface. The song he sang was in a language Din didn’t recognize. There was something haunting and aching about it, but it also held a note of hopeful joy, and Luke smiled a little wider as he reached what sounded like the chorus, his voice growing louder.
Din waited until the song tapered off and Luke stared across the surface of the pond, eyes soft and thoughtful, before Din spoke, nearly whispering, just loud enough to be heard, but not enough to truly break the stillness around them.
“What was that song?”
Luke blinked a few times before he looked over at Din— as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. He sighed, and shifted so that he was leaning against Din’s side, his head on Din’s pauldron. His voice was slow and thoughtful as he spoke.
“It was a song of thankfulness for Ar-Amu. A song about the value of water and what it means.”
Din waited, looking out over the water.
“Ar-Amu is the Mother who watches over and protects the slave people of Tatooine.” Din must have jerked at that, because Luke reached out to put a comforting hand on his thigh plate. “I was never a slave, Din, don’t worry. But I was raised knowing my history.” He sighed. “My father, and his mother, and her mother, going back as far as I know of, they were all born slaves. My aunt and uncle made sure I knew that, and that I was never ashamed of it.”
Din reached out to clasp Luke’s hand. “Good.”
Luke nodded. “That’s where our name comes from, actually— Skywalker. It’s the Basic translation for the Amavikka’s name for the trickster, the ‘slave who makes free’. Ekkreth.”
Din mulled this over. “So are there many stories about Ekkreth, and Ar-Amu?”
“Oh, absolutely, and about Maru the water giver, and Leia, the Mighty One—“
“Leia?”
“Yes, she’s a fierce Krayt Dragon, one of Ekkreth’s children. It’s rather fitting, isn’t it?”
Din thought of Luke’s twin, how even Bo-Katan and Fennec respected her, and nodded.
Luke smiled at him and reached out to trail a hand in the water again.
“It’s been years since I was last on Tatooine, and nearly a decade since my aunt and uncle died. But every time I see water like this, I can’t help but wonder what they would think. You’ve been to Tatooine, you know-- water is so scarce there. That’s why it’s sacred, to Ar-Amu’s people, and why it’s said that slavery will end when rain falls on Tatooine. My aunt and uncle raised me knowing the stories, and the language, and I can’t ever take water like this for granted.”
Din nodded again, and closed his eyes behind his helmet as he remembered his own parents, his village, the memories brittle with age. “I don’t-- I can’t remember much about my parents or my homeworld. I don’t know what legends or gods we had. I’m glad you know yours.”
Luke smiled softly and reached up to press their foreheads together, before settling against his side once more. They sat together and listened to the brook babble, and to the soft call of the creatures in the trees around them, as the evening darkened into dusk.