"Treacherous, the force may be."

Luke turned a side-glance to the little green being seated on a boulder in front of him.

"Sweet and enticing, The Dark Side ever is. Showing two faces, always it had."

This incessant repetition of the same words, the same ideas, was starting to bore the young man.

"Luring young Padawans, its objective is."

Yoda was obviously warming to his subject. Was he trying to get Luke annoyed? Was he trying to get a reaction from him?

"Learning from this story, I hope you will."

The young man tried not to show his impatience. Would this leitmotiv ever stop?

"The strength of the force, the story of Arty will tell. Carefully, young Padawan, to it, listen..."

Finally, this was going somewhere, Luke thought...

*~*

A long time ago, on a small planet far, far away...

The Battle of Camlann.

"Arty has returned to defend his kingdom, to reclaim his throne, but the enemy proves to be hard to fight.

The Force is weakening, and the Dark Side is becoming stronger.

Arty is about to fight his last battle..."

Today would be his last day on this planet, he was sure of it. The battle was raging; many fine men were dying on each side. The Force was leaving him.

His nemesis was standing high and straight on the ramparts surrounding the place he used to call home until an error in judgment sent him away long enough for Morty to take over en force.

Arty looked at the man, wondering how the situation ended up this way.

He had had a somehow long and fruitful life, happy youthful days, many truthful friends, a lovely wife, and a worthy enemy. Said enemy he used to call family and friend.

The Force is weak, Arty thought. The Dark Side is winning. What did I do wrong?

Morty, tall and young, was climbing down the walls to meet the man who taught him everything he knew. As he looked towards his former king, his former mentor, his former friend and family, he thought how much that man had changed his life. On some days, he thanked Arty to have introduced him to the Force. On some other, he hated him for not having protected him from the traps of the other side. These days, though, he felt almost nothing, numbed, as he was, the cost of joining the Dark Side of the Force.

On the plain, surrounded by fighting knights, Arty was waiting for Morty. The later was walking toward him, slowly, with assurance in his skills the former was not able to feel anymore. All Arty saw, at this moment, was the Grim Reaper walking to him, ready to end his life. The king, however, and despite his certitude of near end, was about to fight with all he had, all his old mentor, Marvin, had told him, many years ago.

With a large circular movement of his hand, Arty cleared a path in front of him, getting sure not to endanger his troops, considering the Force was not with all of them. In fact, very few of his number had followed in his steps and received the knightly training. This did not remove any worth from the rest of his soldiers, however. These men had sworn fealty to his cause and were giving their life to prove it.

It was time to end the unnecessary massacre, Arty thought. Morty, the young man he had taught all he knew about the Force was now facing him, his eyes empty, as if he was devoid of any lie. How sad, the older man thought, that this had to be his destiny. The Dark Side was a demanding master, fulfilling the Sith expectations never a joyful path...

"Here we are, Old man!" Morty's voice was flat, no heat in it, no joy or hatred showing.

"So, this is what you chose for you, my friend?" Arty was sad to see the void in his eyes.

"Give me your pride blade and kneel in front of me, and I will spare your troops."

The king denied his enemy request with a negative nod and a small wave of his hand, raising a force field around them to protect the nearest men fighting around them.

Recounting the battle between the two enemies would take many pages and a long time, as the skills of the two former friends were wondrous. The soldiers, in the field, continued to fight, those on Arty's side falling more of their opponents.

The battle was gargantuan, the fate of the Universe in the hands of the winner. Arty and Morty were fighting with all they had, the Force and skill with the blade on Arty's side, the deception and trickery of the Sith on Morty's.

The Force was not weakening, the king observed, but his foe had the advantage of the youth and a thirst for victory.

As it happened, Arty finally slowed in his attacks and parries. He found himself cornered, his retreat blocked by water. He looked at the stillness of the lake, remembering the many fishing parties he had on it, with his pupil, a younger Morty who used to look to him for everything and anything. Now, the grown man was looking to take his crown and his blade. He would not acknowledge this treason, and with his last strength, Arty threw his beloved weapon in the depth of the waters.

With his bare hands, he slowly turned back to face his enemy, knowing fully these were his last moments. Death was coming to him. As the darkness invaded him, he tried to call his old mentor, with the last of his power.

Marvin...

On the field, the battle stopped. Those who were graced by it felt instantly a shift in the Force...

*~*

"So, this is it? This is your story about the danger of the Dark Side? I don't understand where this show any of it. What about Morty? How did he end up on the Dark Side? And Arty, did the Force desert him at the end? All this is just confusing to me..."

Luke felt as if he had lost his time listening to the tale.

"About the morale of it, you need to think. Without the Dark Side, nothing the Force is. Without the Force, none the Dark Side is. In every one, the Force lives..."

The little green master frowned as if he was foraging into Luke's mind to see whether his words found a resonance.

"A promising Padawan, Young Morty once had been. Impatient and foolish, he was. An easy prey, in him, the Dark Side found."

Luke was thoughtful, assimilating those words. Impatience was the trait of the young. A thought gnawed at him, however, he needed to get the answer to it...

"So... did Arty die, like that? Did he just let his enemy take him, fighting with the Force?" Deep in his thoughts, voicing his concern, he added, "can the Force abandon you like that? Is it what happened to Arty? He stopped fighting and the Force left him?"

Just thinking of this made him shiver...

*~*

A long time ago, somewhere between the stars, in the star cruiser Avalon infirmary bay...

"He is stable now, Marvin." Admiral Morigan was standing in front of the glass panel separating the operating theatre from the rest of the medic centre. The old man was thoughtful...

"So much happened since I first met with young Arty. He was only fifteen, full of life. I was so proud of him the first time he used the Force... and when he used it to lift this blade... so much power and skill..." Marvin was lost in his memories, reliving the joyful moments...

"Perhaps shall I have not refused to help him introducing the Force to his young friend... perhaps the story would have ended differently..."

"At least," the admiral commented, "the Sith did not win either. Morty is dead, or out of commission for a long time, in any cases... and Arty... who knows? May the Force be with him..."