Written for The Maw contest: "Calling All SHIPPERS"

Note for admins: This is an obscure ship in Star Wars Legends between Ronderu lij Kummar and a pre-cyborg Grievous (named Qymaen jai Sheelal in Legends). It's available on Wookieepedia under "Grievous/Legends" or "Ronderu lij Kummar" if you need proof that this isn't an OC ship.

Book Clubbers: Please bear in mind that just like Anakin, Grievous was not always how he exists in the Clone Wars/RotS. The version I am using is taken from the articles "Unknown Soldier: The Story of General Grievous" and "The Story of General Grievous: Lord of War".

"....The bond that [Sheelal and Kummar] shared

Was sacred and total.

They were twin demigods,

Blessed by their ancestors."

~ "Unknown Soldier: The Story of General Grievous"

The Kaleesh sun Iminec's rose-hued fingers kindled the horizon, bringing an end to the wet summer's night, contrasting the setting moon glinting like sea glass over the small jungle planet. The land, having been deprived of rain for almost six months, now drank showers of warm water, a small gift from the gray heavens, a small break from the war.

Vibrations whispered past clay huts, tents made from mumuu hides - reminiscent of the melody of a shoni-fish shell if one placed it near his ear. The commonly choking stench of blood was washed away by the motherly aroma of soil, a rebirth from chaos into order, if only for a single moment.

This rain soaked into the sand-colored scales of Ronderu lij Kummar as she kept vigil over the border of the Kharankhui settlement. Her gold eyes preyed on the shades of red and yellow dashing the sky, as if she could by sheer willpower cause the day to come more quickly.

Nights bothered her. Whether from the shameful jobs she'd taken as a child or from the way the word night was synonymous with Huk - or Yam'rii, as they were formally called - she didn't know. She was constantly pacing her post, practicing positions with her twin swords, always doing something to relieve her incessant energy till dawn arrived and she could play in the rain.

And train Sheelal too, the less logical part of her whispered. Sheelal, the khan of her tribe. A skilled sniper, the youngest soldier ever to be inducted into the Kaleesh kolkpravis.

Someone her age, but who had suffered more war than she ever would, in a way. Someone who had been fighting alongside his appa and his appa's comrades from the age of eight, racking up Yam'rii kills so much that the people considered him to be a supernatural deity of some sort. And due to her connections with him, she'd been lumped in the same camp.

Kummar had heard of him before meeting him - she'd heard of practically every public figure on Kalee, for she had amassed many stories in her travels as a young girl. But she'd assumed that it was all nonsense; how could an enraged eight-year-old fight at his father's side in a full-blown war? Yet when she'd finally set eyes on his lean form, seen how acutely intelligent he was and his skill, she had come to believe it as truth.

There were things about Sheelal that had always drawn her to him, though outwardly she flaunted his attempts to woo her. Though he was famous, he was still incredibly young in mind. He felt so deeply and strongly that sometimes she worried what would happen should those emotions turn against him one day (such as, should he lose her, she often thought).

But these emotions also allowed him to be the person she'd come to regard as her closest comrade: a kind boy who could understand in an instant if she was upset, even if she could not grasp it herself. A boy whose smile was shy and smart and confident all at once. Someone who had been forming battle plans from the age of fifteen, becoming a khan the same year, and taking up his calling to lead his people to victory against the vile invaders who wished to turn them into their slaves. The invaders whom she'd joined him to obliterate - the Yam'rii.

And yet, she mused to herself, he had taken almost three years to master basic Lig training. She would say what she would about his kindness and intelligence, but he was a dolt in the realm of hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps, one day, he would understand the art of wielding multiple blades. Perhaps so.

She had been aware of her infatuation for him for a fair amount of time. It was something she allowed herself to get drunk on when she was alone, those feelings for him, sweeter than incense and warmer than summer rain. Sometimes she wondered if she had something wrong with her, from how much she secretly longed for him to tell her he felt the same way, how often she'd dreamed of kissing him.

She was well aware that he himself had had a fancy for her from the very start, but she hadn't found herself returning it till....when? She wasn't sure - it had been at least three years. It was an improper time, but even now, five years prior to becoming an adult, she already wanted to marry him. They were both afraid, she knew, although neither of them knew what to do about it.

She shouldn't have been afraid, for she did not suffer under his wrath as the Yam'rii did. But the very thing that Sheelal was - intelligent, handsome, innocent - drove her into a silly frenzy that she had to beat down whenever he was around. In spite of this, she kept her feelings hidden, tucked away along with her other secrets.

There was still the warm memory of his hugs, the meals they shared at his house, and all the battles they'd fought together over the years. The little things, such as bonfire dances with his hands on her shoulders and waist, listening to his deepening, strong voice sing about the history and adventures of their people. The way his focused eyes gazed out over the horizon to focus on his next kill, and his patience with her as he tried to tame her hyperactive mind to the feel of an Outlands rifle.

It didn't help that she inadvertently found his sense of drama to be adorable.

The war drums banged in the distance, signaling a shift in watchmen. She let out a long sigh and stood. Soon, another soldier would take her post for the day shift, so she could afford to leave early and find her friend in the Kunbal clearing, where they would train together.

She reached the clearing where they had met a few moments later, sat down with her swords crossed over her knees, and inhaled the smells of rain, smoke, and soil. Everything natural brought deadly power to her bones. Rain poured down, plastering her curtain of ebony-and-chestnut hair about her neck, and her muscular arms performed the ritual stretches necessary for avoiding injury.

The stomping of leather boots echoed through the clearance - a few meters off, Kummar assumed. She doubted he would ever learn stealth, for desire to show off was in his blood. Nonetheless, she played along, closing her eyes and stamping down the fluttering anticipation in her gut.

Abruptly, the stomping stopped. She counted down from five. Her muscles tensed. Hands reaching for her swords, she prepared to strike....

She spun around, her swords clashing with Sheelal's. "Try better next time. You're noisier than a Kowakian monkey-lizard."

He chuckled, accomplishing a simple block with the dual blades. "What an accolade, Kummar. You must admit I've made some progress, however."

"You know me. How'd you sleep?"

"The most prospective night in a while," he said, stretching. His dark hands fingered the end of the linens tied about his head to keep his headscarf and mask in place. "You were on night duty. You need to rest."

"You aren't my ama," she said. "I'll rest once I'm ready." The sleepless night had not caught up to her yet, but they both knew that even she only had so much energy.

He gave a soft bark of a laugh. "Then there's no better time than the present to train. What are we doing?"

She pointed up at the tree. "Come on. We're practicing climbing again."

He huffed. "But -"

"If you think you can succeed at Lig combat without knowing how to climb a karking tree, you've lost your mind. And this is the last major thing we have to get you over. Afterward, you'll be ready to spar a mumuu with dual blades."

She paced to a large tree with bark the color of crimson, placed her hand on a branch, and raised herself up to it. Beckoning silently to him with a bemused look, she reflected on how she'd sworn to be kinder to him in recent years. During the first year of their training, he'd learned every insult in the book from how she treated him when she was his trainer, not his friend.

Yet her flaunts - the insults, the unorthodox methods, the distractions - were to his benefit. He would never succeed in the world if his sensitivity had been at the same level as fifteen-year-old Sheelal's. He'd become hardened by years of fighting at her side, like a scab with an old wound beneath.

He wasn't looking at the tree now. His gaze was on her. Not the kummar, the murderer of tribes; not the tenger, the angel expected to be perfect. Her. Ronderu. Not Kummar; Ronderu. It reminded her of how impressed she'd been that his pursuits of her had lasted.

She scowled and tossed the idea from her mind. "Get over here, Sheelal. Don't make me come for you."

"What's so bad about coming for me?" he replied playfully.

"This is not a game," she shot back.

"I'm aware," he replied wryly; obviously he'd intended to play with her. Swallowing, he stepped on the same branch. The fat bough of the crimson-wood tree supported them as he gripped her arms to keep himself steady.

His clutch shook, and Ronderu was worried he would have a panic attack. "Deep breaths. I'm here, and I won't let you fall."

To her surprise, he straightened instantly. "I....I won't let you fall either, Kummar." Her heart twisted in vain at those words, and had they not had a task to do, she would have been glad to kiss him then and there.

She laughed smoothly. "Don't say such things. You wouldn't be able to stop me."

And looking into those golden reptilian eyes that matched her own (beautiful eyes, she thought in a daze), a vision of an angry haze in those same topaz orbs, and a strange robotic mask over that face, flashed in her mind. She swallowed, forced herself to regain focus. It's just a dream. Dreams pass in time.

"I'm going to climb up each branch, and you're going to follow me. Got that?"

"How far up is that?"

"It's not important," she said, pulling a snagged branch from her green skirt as she ascended to the next bough.

"Will it be far enough up to kill us?" he asked, looking up and squinting as rain pelted his eyes.

"Qymaen!"

She sighed; she hadn't meant for his first name to slip out. "I mean....Sheelal. Take my hand. If you fall from up here, the tree will catch you." She held out her hand, callous from training with the Lig swords. "Let me help you."

He studied her four-fingered hand for a moment before setting his own dark palm in hers, curling his thumbs and fingers around her golden scales. Her left thumb stroked his hand almost involuntarily, and her gaze softened as he came to rest beside her. He was still trembling, yet she was almost certain it wasn't due to the height now.

The only way to overcome fear is to be exposed to it. She ascended again, and he followed reluctantly.

They may have climbed for ten minutes or five hours before reaching the top third of the tree, at least forty-five meters off the ground. Sighing, she settled with him on a long, thick bough that was shaped like a seat.

Kummar picked a daelfruit off a nearby branch and handed it to Sheelal. "Peel this for practice," she said, handing him a sword. "It's the best way to get accustomed to the blade." She studied his eyes. "Hand me your mask."

"Why?"

"You'll need it off to eat," she said with amusement.

"You just want to see my face."

"Don't flatter yourself, friend," she said with a snort. "But I wouldn't....particularly mind it."

"Alright, have it your way," he teased, taking the fruit in his hand.He pulled off the mumuu skull that concealed his features, and handed it to her.

As he grasped the hilt of the sword to peel the fruit, she studied his features - his skin, the color of rich soil; the rounded shape of his nose and mouth; his cheeks, gaunt and lean. He was handsome, she observed for the thousandth time, which stoked the fire she was becoming consumed by.

The gold scales dashed around his eyes caught the sunlight through the soft morning shower, and water dripped from his tusks as a faint smile touched his lips. He passed a half of the yellow flesh of the daelfruit to her. But she shook her head and declined it.

She would have cared about being alone with Sheelal five years ago, when she was still trying to preserve the last hints of her reputation. The evils she'd committed in her youth had marred her with a name symbolizing infinite evil, but it had never been a topic of concern for her friend - though friend was a shallow word to describe all that Sheelal meant to her. Soulmate was a better term, though even that was strangely normalized, used as a platitude.

She sighed through her nose and stared out over the green foliage, her ears picking up the contrast of falling rain and screeching monkey-lizards in the distance. As he gently swung his legs back and forth on the branch, she reflected on how much of a child he still was.

But when she thought about his innocence, more of that strange squirming poked through her gut. She might as well have been five hundred years old, yet she herself longed for him to caress her in his arms as an equal in age and in heart.

Sheelal's hand reached up to touch her bare shoulder, and her heart pounded. We're alone together. The abrupt realization crashed over her. I could....I really could....She shifted silently in flustered confusion at the idea. But it was true. She really could, if he would take the opportunity.

If he was thinking the same thing she was, he would not say the words aloud. His nervous posture made her gut twist as he neared her. A hand reached out to touch where the tusk-bones beneath her cheeks curved on her face.

The rain around them seemed to grow distant; the raucous cries of wildlife around them became faint. Color splayed vibrantly in her vision. His other hand traveled from her shoulder to her neck, and finally to her jaw.

She flinched ever so slightly, but his voice came quietly, almost in an inaudible whisper over the sounds of the rainforest. "Don't be afraid. I would never try to harm you."

She wanted to respond, but her body was tighter than one's grip around their swords. His face drew close to hers, and she let herself close her eyes as his breath fluttered against her face. He was afraid too, she knew; terrified of her rejection.

Yet, as if understanding her consent through that beautiful, ethereal bond they shared, he set his lips against hers. Her head leaned back slightly to accept the gesture, and she kissed him back almost instantly.

Those feelings that she'd fought so hard beat her logical resolve to the ground for a short moment (or was it a lifetime that he was kissing her?). If the summer rain was warm, it was now cold compared to the sparks of electricity and pure heat that pulsated through her body, the tingle of blood that rose to her cheeks. Everything was safe, secure, sweet as she allowed her hands to rest over where his had landed on her face. Five years ago, she would have never thought she would be doing this. Now, she was unable to stop herself.

After a long time - she was unsure of how much time had passed - Sheelal drew away slowly. Her body trembled with satisfaction, love, passion. She had done it - had allowed the one she loved to wrap her in his affections and adorations. And it was the wisest (or the most foolish?) thing she had ever decided to do.

His hand lingered on her jaw, and as she brought her hand to his face, it appeared cold. Oh, Sheelal....my sweet, young Sheelal. Fear had shocked the blood from his face, and he would have appeared pale like the half-humans back home.

He spoke quietly. "Will you call me by my first name again?"

She nodded, closed her eyes. "Qymaen," she whispered breathlessly. She forced her voice to return. "I'll call you that from now on if you pretend that the name Kummar doesn't exist."

"Don't loathe yourself. There are much worse things to be."

His hand looked almost skeletal, and as cruel as duranium on her jaw, but for a single second in an alternate universe. He'll never be that cold, she told herself emphatically, now beating back terror. A maniacal laugh echoed in her mind, and an animalistic voice spoke, insistent as booming thunder.

"I submit to no one."

She twisted the vision to death. Dreams pass in time. It is nothing more than some random future.

A future in which I am cold in the grave.

A future where he is not mine.

"I don't feel anything for myself," she said firmly. It wasn't entirely untrue. The thought of what he would become without her....

His voice came back to her, almost melodic. "You know, that was the bravest thing I've ever done."

Looking at him - a child soldier from the age of eight, having slain so many Huk that the people considered him to be superhuman - she was almost aghast.

She stood up, forcing the dusty cobwebs of her nightmares to the back of her mind. "I think it's time we get down to ground-level, apprentice," she said in her no-nonsense tone. "We have much to do back at the settlement." She stepped onto a log just below them, and he followed suit, this time without a hint of trepidation.

Kummar - Ronderu - would keep that moment close to her heart as the day that she had faced an unbeatable foe. The last person she'd expected to lose to - the strong, yet still to be sorrowful warrior - Qymaen jai Sheelal.

And, someday, he may yet become truly unbeatable.

Even to the skilled warrior I would have been.

※※※

[Sheelal] eventually realized it was his destiny

To mourn his loss as long as he lived,

And he took the name

Grievous.

He also decided not to suffer

His endless agony

Alone.

~ "Unknown Soldier: The Story of General Grievous"

(3264 words)