See author's note at end for more details.
Summary:
Sarah's journey was one chapter in a centuries old tale. It's now a new generation's last chance to break a curse that threatens the fate of a dying realm. As a young girl is unwittingly forced into something bigger than herself, she will uncover an ancient secret that holds the key to saving a Kingdom's future. But some battles cannot be fought alone, and in the Underground, nothing comes without a price.
Sarah named her daughter after the stars, but never told her that she had danced among them once. Be it protectiveness or simple fear, The Girl Who Ate The Peach sent her children out into a world they could hardly comprehend, and Goblin Kings love teaching simple girls lessons. But Celeste has her mother's blood running through her veins, and a girl whose blood has run the Labyrinth once is sure to win... right?
The fair folk dance, the fair folk sing
Dare not step in the magic ring
Tread not here til the light of day lest
The fair folk steal your soul away!
- The Fair Folk by Heather Dale
Chapter 1: A Conversation With an Old Friend
"I don't know, Hoggle," Sarah said. "I haven't crossed over to your side in five years. It's too dangerous. We almost got caught last time!"
Sarah Williams-Ryan was sitting at the vanity in her bedroom and looking through her mirror.
Her other friends were busy with the day's work and had said they would visit later. She barely talked to her friends on the Other Side anymore. Over the years, she had not needed them as much as she had when she was younger. Now that she was busy with her career and children, she only contacted them on the anniversary of her visit to their world. She used to contact them a lot and sometimes she would even cross over for a cup of tea, some cake, and a nice story from Sir Dydimus.
"Yeah. You're prob'ly right." the dwarf said in his gruff manner. "I just wanted to do something fer' ya. We thought it might be nice t' throw ya a big party. Ya know, like the first time. If ya could just stop by, see all of us."
"I understand that, but why now, Hoggle? Why, after all these years?" Sarah said, confused. "Why are you so desperate this year? This is the third time you've asked me. I mean, it's not even an important anniversary! Twenty-two isn't a particularly special number here Aboveground. Is it special down there, or am I right in my assumption that you are hiding something from me?"
Hoggle had been acting strange throughout their entire conversation. This upset Sarah: never since her first time in the Underground had there been a secret between them.
Hoggle looked down at his little grubby shoes, guilt written all over his face. He really did need to wash them. His shoes, that is. Sir Didymus said that he needed to take care of himself. "If one treats oneself with humility and respect," Didymus said, "their peers will respect them and they will be made all the more humble." Hoggle had tried to understand him, but he had never had much respect for himself. Not many people respected Hoggle. Sarah did.
Sarah was special.
The image in the mirror started to flicker and fade. "Earth to Hoggle! Come in Hoggle!" Sarah snapped. She didn't want to be angry at her friend, but she knew she was being left out of something big. "If that blond peacock is doing anything to you, I will personally pull all the hair out of that egotistical head of his! Don't think I won't!"
Hoggle snapped out out of his train of thought. "Sarah, Th' Rat hasn't done anythin' to us."
Sarah looked relieved.
"But this does involve 'im."
Sarah drew herself up, the familiar defiant gleam still lived in her eyes. "What about him?"
"He's... changin'. He's growin' desperate. Don't ask me, I don't know why. All I know is that he's not 'imself and th-"
"Under normal circumstances, I would think that a good thing. But not now... You sound worried, and with all the-" She cut herself off almost as abruptly as she had interrupted him. Her head drooped, her bottom lip trembled, and her emerald eyes began to sting. Sarah closed her eyes, telling herself she would not cry in front of Hoggle. She felt a small, old, weathered hand clasp hers. She looked up in surprise. Hoggle was sitting on her vanity now, clutching her hand and looking at her, his face serious.
"What's happenin', Sarah? What's got ya scared?"
"Robert-" She took a deep breath, "Robert has The Sight."
"That... don't sound so bad."
"But it is. He's not afraid, not nervous at all. Celeste was never afraid either, but at least she was wary. She never approached them or played with them. She was young, but I was able to teach her to pretend they weren't there. She never played with them. Robert is. Dancing and singing with them as if they were his friends."
She said the last few words with anger and a hint of regret. Hoggle was hurt by her tone of voice.
"Not all of us are bad, remember that. No one in Th' Rat's kingdom wishes ya' harm. I'm sure that th' pixies mean no danger."
"Hoggle, he was talking with a dryad. A dryad that approached him, not the other way around."
"Did ya see the dryad?"
"No, not really." She shifted, uncomfortable. "But he was talking to a tree. My Sight's not as strong as theirs."
"What was 'e talkin' about?"
"It wasn't anything important. He was talking about a toy car he wants. Fire truck, I think. He's been telling everyone that. I'm scared though. With Toby, it was a few goblins under the bed when he was five. With Celeste, there were goblins that pulled her hair at night and pixies that wanted to teach her to dance. Now there are pixies, dryads, and all sorts talking with Robert. It worries me."
She let that sink in. It did not, however have the desired effect. She wanted him to understand, and he did. He just didn't agree with her completely.
"Th' little fella has always been bold. They prob'ly like th' little spitfire, thats all."
Sarah couldn't help agreeing with that. Her little four year old had more mouth than a Hollywood diva. There was something bothering her.
"Hoggle, I've never told you this, but I think it's time. I never thought it was important enough to tell, since it's something no one can help, but-" Sarah took a breath and recited the memory she had relived hundreds of times until she knew it wouldn't be difficult to say outloud.
"When Celeste was little we went downtown to the park for a picnic. I had been reading to her under the old oak tree near the little bridge. For some reason, I fell asleep. It was as if I were being forced to feel tired. Lance was sitting on a bench downstream writing, so I wasn't worried about Celeste that much. It was a safe neighborhood and her father could keep an eye on her."
She smiled as she remembered what a daddy's girl her daughter had been.
"Anyway, I fell asleep just as the wind started to pick up. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the sight of a bright green... something out of the corner of my eye. I woke up to Lance leaning over me telling me he was finished for the day. Celeste was standing by the obelisk staring at the sky. Lance went to put the picnic things in the car and I went after her. It wasn't until I got near that I realized what she was doing. She was singing that damn song."
Sarah was crying now. She was scared and angry at herself for endangering her children. As a mother, she felt like a failure, exposing them to dangers that should remain untold.
"She told us later that a Faerie lady taught her the song. That was not like her at all. She is a brave girl, but she never talked to strangers or let them approach her, especially Faeries!
"This is all my fault Hoggle! I'm scared that something will happen to them and I won't be there with them. I thought this was over. I won! I don't need this!"
Hoggle had been growing increasingly upset throughout Sarah's story. She was wrong. This was his fault. The peach had given her The Sight, which she passed on to her children.
The peach he had given her. This was his fault. He had lived with that guilt ever since the moment her pale hands had grasped the seductive, fleshy fruit. He had heard the terrible sound of her teeth tearing the sensuous skin. He didn't know what had happened in that dream of hers, but he imagined it was the stuff of nightmares. Her forgiveness did nothing for his guilt.
"Sarah, don't blame yourself. Celeste can't See anymore. Th' same will happen with Robert. You'll see. After he grows up a little, he won't See us. I promise."
She sniffled. "Thanks Hoggle. I know you're always here for m-"
CRASH!
A loud noise came from downstairs, followed by a boy's voice calling out, "CELESTE DID IT!"
This was then followed by a young woman's voice coming from upstairs, "I DID NOT!"
"IT WAS YOUR BOX THAT MADE ME FALL!"
"MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION!"
By this time, Sarah's expression had changed from that of maternal guilt to a look of mother jaded and exhausted after a good day's work. It was interesting how much she looked like Karen in that moment. After a split second of observing the phenomenon of Nature vs. Nurture present in her expression in the mirror, she did what any mom in her situation would do: she yelled back. "QUIEEEEEET!"
Hoggle had only a moment's warning before he ducked down and covered his ears. When he got back up the house was completely still.
The stillness was broken by the sound of two sheepish inside voices. "Yes ma'am."
Sarah heard a door upstairs slam followed by the the annoying loud thumps of electronic music. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Some battles weren't worth fighting. Celeste would have to learn eventually, and it was better for her to learn the lessons she needed herself, not in another speech from her mother. As if that ever did any good, she thought.
A sigh escaped her. It was so hard sometimes, walking the line between encouraging her daughter's imagination and wily spirit without letting her know that the Fae were real or risking her daughter needing the same lessons she had.
"Hoggle, you need to go. Crossing over was a risk, you can't try again."
The moment was over. Hoggle turned to go back through the mirror, only to find it black and warped. He blinked in surprise and the mirror cleared as if it had never been in any other state. Shrugging it off as age catching up to him, he climbed through into his little house. He turned to get one last look at the woman who held his heart, but she was already gone.
Sarah left the room with a thousand thoughts and feelings running through her head. Sure, her half-human, half-demon son just broke something, and knowing him it was something expensive. Her daughter seemed to be having a bad day; if the yelling and door slamming was any evidence, and her husband and his band were considering a new label that wanted them to tour.
Despite all of this she felt relatively safe. The pixies and dryads were a problem, but they were so far a small one. They had never hurt Celeste, and she had no reason to believe they would hurt Robert. It was only the thought of what they might do that frightened her.
But she had friends, a fantastic job, and a family that was still a family. None of the bad things were the reasons for her worry nor were the good things lifting her spirits.
She felt like something was going to happen, something she couldn't control. And Sarah had never liked that feeling one bit.
She had first started showing her need for control at the age of ten, when her mother left. She had started to keep her bedroom immaculate. Her toys and books had an order, everything had a place, a purpose, a home. As the world lost control and fell around her, the idea of books and stuffed toys staying the same through time was her greatest comfort. When her father came home with her stepmother, Karen, she was twelve. She learned that she hated control that wasn't her own. It was her world! What right did that woman with have to boss her around?
It had taken years to call her mom.
When she was thirteen, her mother sent her a book, The Labyrinth. Looking back, she probably should have burned that book, for all the trouble it caused her. In a way, she had disliked that place; it had no order, no logic or reason. It was nothing like the sparkling fairytale world she had wished for. Even the castle had been crumbling and empty, not that she had much time to notice it.
No, Toby had been her priority. And the glee the goblins had taken in slowing her down and confusing her caused a small amount of frustration.
Ithad been her own words that created the mess, she had no cause to hate the Realm.
She truly loved the friends she had made there, but she never wished to return past her companions' homes. It was a crumbling mass of rock, nothing more. It hadn't seemed that way on the page. The book had been a fairytale, a place to escape to where she was a princess. She had felt as if she had her own world.
She had been forced to let go of her dreams of a kingdom being handed to her. Sarah wanted her own kingdom as great . . .
As great as what?
As great as all the stars in the sky? No, I never wanted the stars. Just my own kingdom I could build for myself, and I did just that.
She smiled at that thought. Why was she so worried? She had quite a few reasons to smile. Her smile broke into a grin as she thought of something Linda used to say.
"The good is always underneath the bad. You may have to dig a little and dirty your nails, but you'll find the thing you were looking for."
Of course Linda had said that right before she left for the final time. Linda had found what made her happy, but left Sarah and her father behind in the process.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Sarah put on her Mom Face to lecture her son on breaking something. As she stepped into the living room, she looked over at Robert who was still staring at whatever he had broken...
And almost danced for joy. He had broken the one thing in the house that she absolutely loathed. The big, ugly vase that Karen had given her was now in a million pieces all over - was she seeing what she thought she saw? Yes, she was! The table runner Lance's mom had given them was covered in all the little sharp bits and jagged pieces.
She had never tried to throw those things away because Karen and her mother in-law, Gwen, stopped by often, and always wanted to see their donated decorations. Sometimes Sarah thought those two women had it out for her.
Now she finally had an excuse to throw them out. It was times like these she was grateful for the fact that her four year old was a tiny terror.
Well, not really, she corrected herself once she remembered the teacher's note she had read earlier. He still won't tell me how he got those cats to do that.
"What happened?" Sarah asked, looking expectantly at her son.
"I was just being a bird when my wing accidentally bumped the thing!" he answered.
"And where is your wing?" Sarah asked, fearing the worst.
Robert took a glance at the vase pieces scattered across the end table and floor before leaving for the kitchen. He came back with his "wing." It was, in reality, the kitchen broom with sand colored owl feathers taped to it.
Once the pieces had been picked up and thrown away - and her son had a talking to about rowdy behavior in the house, - Sarah went into the kitchen to start working on supper.
As she went about preparing the ingredients, she looked back on her conversation with Hoggle. It had not gone as she had hoped. Their annual conversations were the only connections to her childhood she had left. It was not ideal, but it was necessary.
The Goblin King could vaguely sense portals being opened. If he found them out, Hoggle would get in trouble. The only time they made an exception to their No Physical Contact rule before that very day was on the sixteenth of June, the anniversary of the day she had run the Labyrinth. Hoggle had put himself in danger by climbing through just to comfort a mother's shaken nerves.
Only months before she had given birth to Robert, Hoggle had invited her through for some tea. Lance had been asleep on the couch after a long night of holding Sarah's hair out of her face as she went through morning sickness. Almost as soon as she had crossed over, the Goblin Corps converged on his little home.
She remembered how she had to make a very quick exit without being caught. It hadn't always been like that. For the first few years after her little trip into The Underground, she had visited a lot, and her friends had visited her. Lately, her friends seemed to have more respect for The Goblin King's rules. It was almost as if they felt guilty and were trying to make up for all the times they had disobeyed. They never liked to answer her when she asked why their attitudes had changed. She sensed their respect, as if they were grateful for something.
This train of thought led to other trains of thought, which led to her thinking about the Goblin King himself. Hoggle had tried to tell her something about him earlier. She wished she hadn't interrupted him.
You still take too many things for granted. Even your friends, a voice whispered in her mind. She closed her eyes and stood there in her kitchen, up to her elbows in dishwater, thinking.
What is going on with Jareth?
Author's note:
The Women Who Run: Book One is currently finished and in its last editing phase. (Book One being 14 chapters long and having a cohesive plot that resolves at the end.) I'll try to upload every three weeks or so.
This was my first NaNoWriMo story, so it's a few years old, and was an exercise in plotting and keeping characters (both OC and not) in character. I worked on building a new backstory and environment from already-there material. I'll try to talk a little bit about behind the scenes thought processes at the end of each chapter. I am not saying this will be a work of art or a perfect fic, but I really enjoyed drawing from mythology and folklore to create what happens later, and wish to share that with you all.
Enjoy! And please, tell me what you think!
-"The Fair Folk" is a fun, dark song by Heather Dale about dancing with the Fae for a little too long. Appropriate for Sarah's fear of her children being too close to creatures she knows whisk children away, even while still being the sort of person who might get whisked away herself. Check it out and support her if you like it!
- Some people believe that the imaginary friends most children have might actually be the Fair Ones, inevitably forgotten and Unseen once the child grows up. Others say that to have the Sight puts even a child in danger, as the Fair Ones are drawn to those they know can See them.
- On Celeste's name: I know it's a little flowery, but Sarah strikes me as the sort who - even in adulthood - would want to name her daughter after the heavens. And for her son? A classic, princely name taken from her beloved father.
