#i am so. i am so normal about this yup yup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnwater13 · 4 hours ago

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Pedro Pascal as Din Djarin in The Mandalorian. Image from Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer. Image depicts a helmetless Din Djarin in an Imperial vehicle driver's armor.

Note: This is the final chapter of Grogu goes to Rome.

Marcus Acacius thought he had seen many wonders. Lived through many battles that should have ended him. Had given his life to honor an old friend and the love he felt toward the woman who gave him everything he ever dreamed of. As the arrows had sunk into his flesh, he knew that he had done all that he could to live his life as a Roman should. What puzzled him now was how had this come to pass? His return to Terra Mater. Breathing the air of his ancestors. Feeling the Tiber upon his skin as if he’d never left it all behind in the arena. Why had the gods chosen that moment to take interest in him?

And, if a god should take any interest in him, why the god of the Mandalorians? He’d never heard of them. He’d learned of the Celtic gods, many that there were. He’d heard tales of familiar Roman gods among the tribes and peoples of Gaul, but with their names changed to suit the people who told them. But no where had he ever heard the name ‘Mandalorian' or knew any of their tales, attributes or disguises. Was it solely because the small daemon had found him?

Marcus did not think the creature that referred to itself as ‘Grogu Jedi’ was really a god. He wasn’t sure he actually believed in any god, as the wonders he had witnessed had all been performed by man or nature itself. Philosophers might argue that was one in the same, but he was a solider. A commander of legions. He had seen what men could do when they were motivated. That had been both wondrous and terrible at times.

Now here he was, floating down the Via Aurelia, holding the daemon and wondering if he was actually dead and that this was really the famous Charon taking him to his final rest. Would he find the peace and tranquility of a life lived with honor, or the pain of fields of punishment for daring to defy the Emperors?

Perhaps a question for the daemon?

“Grogu Jedi, tell me of the Mandalorians. I have not come across your legends in my travels.”

The small creature looked up at him with a look that was clearly a sign of its confusion, it’s large, green ears folded down emphasizing it’s childlike aspect.

“Warriors. Fierce. Honorable.”

The creature’s voice was soft, like a child’s. Just three words used to describe a pantheon of gods? Marcus smiled to himself. The words he would have chosen for his own gods were capricious, spiteful, and proud. He liked the daemon’s words better.

“It must make you proud to be part of those people. Can they all float as we do?”

Marcus regretted asking that question as soon as he did. No good would come from helping the daemon understand that he was never not a soldier. He would always care about the people of Rome, as he had sworn to defend them against all foes.

“Yup.”

Well. The daemon either considered it to be information of so little value that providing it required no other words, or… it recognized that verifying status of a vastly superior force would act as a deterrent all on its own. It had been a foolish question. It’s answer had only produced more questions.

“Your people are fortunate then. We have horses, ox carts, litters, and carts that we use to carry goods and people along these roads, but nothing quite like this. I am surprised we have not yet seen any. Normally this road would see significant use on a day such as this. When we reach the city, we will have to walk. I do not believe that the law would permit even this miracle to float along the narrow path that this road will become.”

Marcus paused to see how his companion would handle that information. It had clearly been annoyed when it had tripped and dropped all that it was holding. Certainly a god or god-ling did not trip. That was what convinced him that Grogu Jedi was actually a daemon sent to convey him somewhere. He didn’t know why or how, but that didn’t really matter at this point.

“You? Statue?”

The creature pointed at a milliaria. It was almost as tall as Marcus, made out a slab of limestone and to the creatures obvious delight, it bore an image that was strikingly like his own, with a good deal of text below it.

“Halt. I must examine this.”

Once a legate, always a legate.

The creature moved his hand and their floating seat came to a halt. Marcus climbed off it carefully, not wanting to disrupt or disturb the daemon or any of the possessions it held close to its body. He walked over to the marker of distance traveled and caught his breath. It was a memorial stone. For him. It told of his exploits and his death and what had become of the people he knew and the few he loved. He felt unable to move on. He no longer felt like a man who had woken in the Tiber, but one who was caught in a harrowing dream that wouldn’t change.

“Sad?”

But the creature was still with him. How could he dream of a thing he had never known or heard about? None of this made any sense to him.

“Yes. I am sad. I am lost and found and lost again. Have you any idea how that feels?”

Marcus could not stop the tears from filling his eyes or clogging his nose. To lose it all again… it was too much.

“I do, Justus Marcus Acacius. I have been both lost and found and lost again. But I was also found again. As you are found again. I have found you to set you upon a new path. Try not to lose your way this time. There is no honor in working for those who have no honor. I have other things to do. Return to Rome and the people who need you. I will be checking in on you, from time to time.”

Marcus believed his ears, but his eyes were enthralled by the change that had come over his companion. No longer a small green daemon with the round face and full cheeks of a child. A tall, slender goddess stood before him, her face and arms decorated with marks that he recognized as the pattern of the stars in the night’s sky. She wore simple clothes and her long hair was tied back in a braid. If she didn’t seem to glow with intensity of sun, he would have thought her an emissary of a the Vestals or some other cult.

He had no words to say but simply nodded.

Just that action was enough and his eyes closed against the tears and when they opened he found himself caught up in the blankets on his sleeping couch. He pushed them roughly aside and found himself in his own clothing. No strange boots on his feet. No armor. No scratchy collar vexing his neck. He was home. As himself. He looked across the space and saw Lucilla on her own couch, sleeping peacefully. He really was home and safe from that strange dream.

Epilogue

“Djarin, I think you are being too harsh with Grogu. He didn’t mean to get your armor all covered with dirt and fish guts. He was pretending that he was Pedro’s character from that new movie. He just wanted to see what it was like to be a hero, like you.”

Ta’lan stood before him, her scars almost glowing from her concern for Grogu, who was crying in his room as he clutched his stuffed rancor.

The Mandalorian looked at his partner and shook his head. He’d watched that movie with Grogu and it hadn’t inspired him to run around in park while it was raining, dragging his helmet across the mud, like he was brining a captured prisoner back to Rome.

“Fine, but he can’t keep calling me Marcus. I don’t even see the resemblance.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think he has your eyes.”

Ta’lan just smiled at him. The Force really was strange and mysterious.

A map of Ancient Rome, depicts various sites of significance and the location of the Tiber River. Map published by Anness Publishing.

Note: This story was inspired by a suggestion from @porgsandpops. Hope you enjoy it.

Grogu had been sound asleep when the Razor Crest landed. Well, if you call something of sharp thump, a slide, and a crashing sound a landing. He had called it unfair, but that was mostly due to the fact that he had landed on the floor of cabin with a thump of his own. Now his head hurt. Normally his dad didn’t just crash the ship if he could possibly avoid it, so something bigger must have happened and the Mandalorian hadn’t thought to wake him up for it. Meany.

Once he was on his feet, Grogu crossed the lower deck as quickly as he could and made his way up the ladder to the bridge. Fortunately his dad seemed to be all in one piece, but it was clear from the crack in the Razor Crest’s canopy that it wasn’t. It was also clear that wherever the ship had ‘landed’, it wasn’t Nevarro or Tatooine, or any planet Grogu had ever been on before. Weird.

Grogu touched his dad to make sure that he didn’t need any healing and was happy to find that Din Djarin was just cross. Annoyed. Angry even. And, a bit puzzled. He probably didn’t recognize where they were either. At least that made two of them.

“Hey, Buddy, sorry about the hard landing. It seems like we passed through an anomaly in hyperspace and got dumped out like yesterday’s yard waste. Are you okay?”

Grogu nodded his head as he watched his dad take off his helmet, look it over, and then put it back on again. What the heck? Was Din Djarin okay? Grogu didn’t think so, but when he touched the bounty hunter’s hand, his body didn’t seem to be hurt at all. Should he touch it again and check on his brain? That seemed wasteful. In human’s the brain was part of the body. If one was fine, the other was fine, right?

“Come on. You can help me check out the ship and make sure that cracked canopy is the only major repair we’ll have to make.”

Grogu nodded his head again as his dad left the bridge and slid down the ladder to the lower deck. What the heck! Why not just run a quick diagnostic from the bridge and then verify it’s output? Mandalorians didn’t usually waste time like this. But then this wasn’t normal and Grogu decided, for the sake of expediency, to just go along with his dad. It was almost as if Din Djarin had forgotten that he was a Mandalorian.

A few minutes later and they had completed a traverse of the ship. The canopy being cracked was the one big problem they found. Now they needed to find a solution to it. The tools that the Mandalorian might normally use to fuse the crystalline structure back in place were damaged. The tools that he needed to fix those tools were back on Tatooine in Peli’s repair bay. Uff.

“Come on. Let’s see if there are any villages or towns near by. They must have a smith or a trading post or something around here.”

Grogu wondered why his dad didn’t just use the scanners built into his helmet to collect that data. Din Djarin must have taken a pretty good bump to his head and it affected his memory. Or something like that. It was weird.

Rather than explain how to use the scanners to his dad, the Mandalorian bounty hunter sworn to the Creed, who’d been using the silly things most of his life, Grogu lifted his left hand and reached out to the Force.

Womp!

What the heck!

There was a lot of life on this planet and it was everywhere, all around them. The Force had knocked Grogu on his butt with just a little bit of ‘hey, what’s going on’ as its impetus for action. That was very weird.

Grogu lifted his hand again and used his softest internal voice to ask ‘what’s the deal here’ and found himself surrounded by more information than he’d ever encountered anywhere. Even the Jedi Library on Coruscant didn’t have this much information! Wow.

Grogu took a deep breath and let the information continue to flow to him until he just had to stop it because two things were happening over which he had no control. First, he realized that he desperately needed to use the privy. Then he noticed that his dad was just walking away from him, going down a path with his helmet tucked under his arm. Under his arm! Dank Farrik!

Grogu trotted after Din Djarin and tried to keep an eye out for a good sheltered place where he could do what he needed to do without losing sight of his dad. Something on this strange planet had affected them both and he really didn’t want to be separated from the Mandalorian. What if he forgot he was Grogu’s dad? What if he forgot that they were supposed to be on their way to Naboo? What if he forgot that going through ‘Cin Vhetin’ hadn’t been all it was cracked up to be? Din Djarin still couldn’t swim and Grogu didn’t think the mythosaur in the waters of Mandalore was going to be as sympathetic the second time around. The best Grogu could hope for was that they could fix the canopy and get back where they belonged, sooner, rather than later.

He pushed those thoughts aside as he watched his dad drop his helmet on the ground and begin to strip off the rest of his armor. It wasn’t hot out. It wasn’t actually cold out either. It was just pleasant. Why the heck was his dad doing this? Grogu trotted up to the helmet and collected it as he called to the Mandalorian. Din Djarin didn’t even look back at him. He just kept walking. And stripping. Now his second layer was on the ground next to his boots and Grogu suddenly noticed what his dad could see, but he couldn’t.

A river!

Oh, no! Why did this have to be the day that Din Djarin decided to go for a swim!

To be continued...

#grogu #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #Ancient Rome #Marcus Acacius #strange and mysterious

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