Best Story Winner:     &nb sp; Holiday Winter Fanfic Challenge 2004

      &nbs p;      &n bsp;                 &nbs p;     from TheForce.net

The candle in the window could be seen in the distance, a beacon of warmth and welcome to the weary travelers.

At least that was what she had hoped. The plain-looking, tanned woman anxiously stared out of the darkened window across the stormy Tatooine desert floor as the pair of solitary headlamps grew closer and closer to her homestead.  The fact that they appeared to be on a direct intersect course for her property must have meant that through the blinding squalls of sand that blasted against her home, their visitors had seen her light.

Just down the hall, her husband pulled a blaster rifle out of its lockbox and verified its loaded charge.

Arching a brow in his direction, she asked, “Is that really necessary?”

Gruffly, he retorted, “You know we can never be too certain. Tuskins don’t care if there’s a sandstorm brewing or not. They might be out there. Besides, what if it’s not the Guerers? If I’m going out there, I plan on being armed… just in case.”

Pursing her lips tightly shut, she knew better than anyone as to why he hated and feared the Tuskin Raiders so much. She knew better than to argue with his logic. However she highly doubted they needed to worry about being attacked by the fierce nomads this evening, not with a full-blown sandstorm about to kick into high gear.

“Who else would it be? We rarely receive visitors as it is,” she reminded him. Noting that her husband’s determined expression refused to waiver, she folded her arms across her chest and added, “I just believe it’s ill mannered to greet your expectant party while carrying a rifle is all.”

Boring his always cautious blue eyes in her direction, he huffed, “Yes, well, if they aren’t who we think they are, I’d just prefer to err on the side of caution. Stay inside. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sighing, she watched him trudge towards their home’s exit. A blast of icy wind roared through the hallways, signaling that he had exited their abode. Gazing back towards the window, she rubbed the squeaking heel of her fist over the icy duraglass pane and wiped away the condensation that had formed there from her breath. As the headlamps entered their moisture farm’s perimeter her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Anxiously she watched as her husband cautiously walked towards the approaching landspeeder. She witnessed the icy wind cut straight through his many layers of natural clothing, and noted that he had started shivering. Not deterred by the insufferable cold, he shielded his eyes from the glare of the lamps and the gritty sand that pulsated around his body.

“Aunt Beru, what’s going on?”

Yelping from fright, Beru Lars’s heart raced in her chest at the unexpected sound of her seven-year old nephew’s voice. Placing a shaking hand over her heart, Beru scolded, “Don’t sneak up on someone like that Luke. You nearly frightened me to death!”

Rubbing his hands vigorously up and down his arms in attempts to generate some warmth, Luke apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Why’s it so cold in here?”

Peering around their modest, home, the flaxen-haired boy noticed that his Aunt had illuminated the entire place with candles. He then noted that the only sound he could hear was that of the howling wind and scratching, blowing sand outside. The usual, reassuring hum of electricity was absent from their house.

Placing a finger up to still any more of Luke’s questions and peeking out the window, Beru watched as Owen lowered his rifle and swung it casually over his shoulder after talking with the landspeeder’s driver.  She breathed a sigh of relief as she watched her neighbors Truney and Donio Guerer vacate their transportation device and openly approach Owen. Each carried a couple of overnight bags as they would be staying overnight during the storm. Seeing that all was well outside, Beru blissfully returned her attention to her nephew.

Outside a third human form crawled out of the back of the speeder and advanced upon her husband. The wind sent Owen’s angry words away from the house, leaving Beru no wiser that trouble was afoot.

Pulling a shawl off her shoulders she wrapped it around Luke’s shivering body, she picked up the candle from the window ledge and gently prodded him down the hall back towards his tiny bedroom. Guiding him into bed, she removed the shawl and tucked him tightly under the sheets. She explained, “Our generator’s shifter coil blew out and Uncle Owen contacted the Guerers to see if they had a replacement part on hand. Luckily, they had one. We’re without power at the moment. Knowing we’d freeze with it, they wonderfully agreed to come over to help him get the generator back on track.”