PROLOGUE
In Back to the Labyrinth we pick up some 15 years after Sarah's encounter with the Goblin King. We open as she faces her 30th birthday dissatisfied with her personal and professional life and waging a mental war between the life she wants and the life she once imagined. In an attempt to utilize the advice a wiseman (literally) once gave her - "the way forward is also the way back" - she requests a visit from a very important friend from her youth. Much has changed in the labyrinth and much is yet to change as another careless wish stemming from emotion sets Sarah out to make amends which takes her back to the mythical, magical land of her dreams on a journey of self discovery and awareness that prepares her for challenges she never thought she'd face above or under ground. She finds new friends and some old ones and discovers real happiness in them and within herself. As ever, what would a Labyrinth fan fiction be if Jareth didn't make an appearance. He's got some adventuring of his own to do, like navigation his way through New York City without his magic and opening up a heart that's been closed since he watched love cost his parents their lives.
CHAPTER ONE - THIRTY
Sarah Williams let the rich blackness of the room envelope her. No one could see that her simulated smile had melted into a smirk of regret and resentment. For a moment she thought of running out, under the cover of night that had been invited indoors, but she stayed. The coolness of the dark soothed her like a lullaby. Her feet shuffled as her memory played a tune that made her sway secure in the knowledge that she was surrounded by eyes which could not see. A flicker caught her interest, an amber glow comprised of tiny lights organized in a perfectly circular pattern threatening to disrupt her euphoria. She shut her eyes and focused on the music playing in her memory only to find her reverie impregnated by the poorly coordinated and significantly off key collaboration of what were supposed to be talented musicians.
"Happy Birthday, dear Sarah! Happy Birthday to you!" the voices stung more than they rang really and Sarah winced in the glow of the 30 flames thrust beneath her nose.
Christian Standyne, Sarah's companion of three years and former co-star from an off Broadway production of CATS, leaned into her right side and whispered, "Make a wish."
She contemplated the hilarity of a grown man making such a demand as she hung her head and proclaimed, "I don't make wishes," a thought of Toby crossed her mind, "not since I was a very young and foolish girl." Her lips pursed and she exhaled, long, slow, and deliberate. Each of the flames surrendered, as though Sarah squelched them with her proclamation that wishes were not comprised of the magic that gave birthday candles their glow, but rather a senseless endeavor reserved for children or imbeciles.
The lights in the room came up as quickly as the candles on the cake had gone out, as quickly as the last fifteen years had passed. Rich blackness was cruelly replaced by 100 watts of soft white light. Sarah sighed, the light really wasn't soft and it was more yellow than white, truthfully. Life was so polluted by little lies that everyone accepted. She closed her eyes in an effort to make the adjustment easier, but even closed tightly, there was that yellowish green spot still clinging in her vision.
Cheers and whistles filled her ears making her feel obligated to re-open her eyes and don her phony smile once more. Before she had time to read the message on the cake, a knife was thrust into her hand and she was instructed to begin cutting. A second voice urged her to make yet another wish. Sarah felt like screaming. 'Didn't your parents tell you about Santa Claus, didn't they explain the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny? Do you still pick up pennies from the side walk? Do you knock on wood to protect yourself from the evils your own big mouth spits out? Do you still make wishes? And worse yet, do you honestly believe that they come true?' Instead, she cut through the double layer of white cake, covered in white silk frosting and separated by a raspberry filling. "Who wants the first slice?" she inquired.
The last of the goodbyes had been said. The last of the guests had gone. The last of the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher. Christian pushed a few buttons and turned the dial as it began a barely noticeable cycle, no more than a hum in the background. He drew two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker, which had just finished brewing. He filled both of them with bold, black coffee and smiled contentedly to himself as he brought them into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch next to Sarah, he offered her the mug from his left hand. She smiled back weakly, appreciative of the effort, but continuously amazed that Christian failed to remember she preferred tea. Even on the rare occasions when she did drink coffee, she had to deaden its bitterness with copious amounts of milk or cream.
"Did you enjoy your party?"
"Yes Christian," she lied. Perhaps not totally lied. She'd enjoyed the cake. Without the party there'd have been no cake and so to some degree she must have enjoyed the party. Still, it seemed silly having everyone gather around to celebrate an event that made her feel more miserable than anything, but their intent had been good.
Christian smiled at his success in pulling off the surprise and in pleasing Sarah, or so he believed. "There are more surprises in store for you Sarah Williams."
'Dear God. No.' she thought. Anymore surprises like today and she vowed she'd pack up everything precious to her and move away to Siberia. She lifted the mug from her lap to her lips, realizing it was black coffee and praying it would somehow morph into something stronger, like a whiskey sour maybe. Dissatisfied, she swallowed hard, "really?"
Intent hands grabbed the mug from hers and set it on the coffee table. Christian reached passed her to the end table for a remote. He fumbled with remotes for the television, the VCR, the cable box and a host of other electronic what-nots, finally locating the control for the stereo. A few button presses later the sound of Alphaville's 'Forever Young' began to fill the room around them. It was a song Sarah loved, but she couldn't help thinking how drastically inappropriate it was given the feelings about youth welling up inside her. "Forever young, I want to be forever young. Do you really want to live forever, forever?" it mocked. Sarah couldn't help wondering what all this was leading up to.
"Dance with me?" Christian requested as he reached out for her hand.
She gave it to him mindlessly permitting him to help lift her off the couch. With a grin on his lips, he guided her around to an open area that had been intended to be used as a dining room. Instead, the couple had purchased a breakfast table for the kitchen, using the free space for rehearsing scenes. His arms engulfed her waist and pulled her close, in turn, her forearms rested on his shoulders, her fingers mangled in a few strands of wavy blonde hair. 'Christ,' she thought. Even three years Sarah's senior, he looked so young. Even when he allowed his facial hair to grow, it was baby soft and blonde, so blonde it blended with his skin so that it became almost indistinguishable. She wandered, 'People probably wonder if I'm his mother, well, at least an older aunt.'
"Sarah?"
"Yes Christian."
"Are you alright? You seem a million miles away."
In some respect she was. She'd been wallowing in her own self pity, consumed with the thought that growing up was little more than growing old and annoyed with the fact that the world around her had lost its mystery. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm still overwhelmed from the party," she lied, completely this time.
Her partner smiled again, curling his lips in a way that made him seem cocky. His head bent slightly so that his lips could make a grab for hers. Softly he kissed the woman in his arms and instinctively she reciprocated. Her eyes closed, but rather than leaning into his kiss and using her energies to concentrate on how it felt to taste his mouth with her own, she fell into another day dream. The music in her head conflicted with the music in her ears, making her feel like she was swimming more than dancing. "Though we were strangers till now, we're choosing a path between the stars." a familiar voice sang. She opened her eyes, which met with Christian's immediately. For some reason that wasn't clear to her, things didn't seem right suddenly. This was how teenagers danced. He should have been holding her properly and gliding her about the floor, not pushing her back and forth, his hands resting on her backside as though she hadn't noticed their migration. The music too, was all wrong, and who on earth kissed with their eyes open. She gave Christian a gentle shove back, breaking their kiss. Stumbling back, Christian caught his balance and smiled devilishly down at his girlfriend. "I have something for you," he said, lifting her chin with his left index finger. "Close your eyes."
Sarah complied. There was that damnable music again, making her want to keep her eyes closed and get lost in its gypsy rhythms. "Falling. Falling. Falling." And that voice, this time it wasn't singing. This time it offered her things, promised her dreams, but not for a ordinary girl that takes care of a screaming baby. Her hands reached up almost involuntarily. She gasped.
"Don't jump darling," Christian soothed, placing a small box in her extended hands. "Okay, open your eyes."
Though she was shaken, Sarah managed to fulfill his requests a second time. A fair amount of blinking later, she was able to make out the small box, tooled in red leather, he had placed in her hand. Where had she seen that shade of leather before? She shook it off. "Christian, is this a,"
Before she could complete her inquiry, he interrupted, "Just open it."
Quaking she held the box in the palm of her left hand as she worked its hinged lid with the right. Another series of thoughts streamed though her mind. What would she say? Yes. No. I really need some time to think this over. Or maybe he'd do something terribly romantic. Would he drop to one knee and express his undying love for her, or perhaps, tug at her heart strings with something even more sincere, like his world tumbling down were she to deny him? It all seemed very unlike Christian to do any of those things. For all the effort she was putting into lifting that lid, it may as well have been a giant, wooden, castle door on old, rusted, metal hinges. Then with a creak and a snap, the lid was perpendicular to its base and between two red velvet folds, sat a golden band, filigree, with a green gem chip glittering back at her.
The smile on Christian's face parted as he pointed out, "It's just like your mother's. The one you're always regretting having given away."
"My mother's ring had a red gem."
"Red, green, what's the big deal?" The wicked smirk from earlier was making a repeat performance. He was actually proud, proud that he'd screwed it up. "Honestly Sarah, I get so tired of trying to live up to your expectations of me."
Where had she heard that before? "It's lovely Christian. Thank you." Sarah struggled with the words, trying not to sound ungrateful or to reveal that she thought this box might have contained a little something else. Something more along the lines of a diamond. After all, they'd spent three years together, one and a half of them in the same apartment, the same bed. What was she supposed to think? That they'd just go steady and maybe some day she'd get to wear his letterman's jacket?
Almost brutally, he forced the ring over the second knuckle of the ring finger on her right hand. It didn't seem to fit quite so uncomfortably once it made it passed her knuckle. He reached for her again, pulling her to him. His mouth covered hers before she could object. Anxious fingers worked at the zipper on the back of her dress as he moaned her name almost breathlessly, "Come on, let's do it." A few more desperate clicks of the remote and the stereo sputtered off. Christian led her to their bedroom, removing his shirt in route.
It would be just like any other time they'd 'done it', though it had been much less frequent recently. The lights would go out, Christian would do all those things to her body and his own which he'd deemed satisfying. Sarah, instead, would fantasize about all those things that brought her pleasure. A bit of arching and gratuitous cries of praise, then she'd wait out his orgasm and her obligations would be complete until the next time. The sexual relationship shared between them was less than fulfilling, but there were other things, things that made Christian a good catch, even if Sarah couldn't think of any of them right now. Right now, Sarah couldn't think of anything.
2:13am. Blue lights formed the digits just inches from Sarah's eyes. All the clocks she owned were digital display: the alarm clock, the stereo, the microwave, even her watch. Clock faces bothered her. She'd never told anyone why. In the dark, Sarah was entranced by the numbers. The way they joined at perfectly fit together corners, but still seemed rounded. "But that can't be." She whispered.
"Sometimes things are not always as they seem," a voice in her head commented.
Glancing over at Christian, who was still asleep, Sarah couldn't help but wonder what she had let become of her life. Straight out of high school, she'd left the home she shared with her father, step-mother and half-brother to attend Julliard, in the hopes of following in her mother's footsteps. She wanted to become a star, maybe fall in love with one of her male leads and have him whisk her away, the same way Linda had been led away from home and family. Led by a man who knew how to use romance like a lethal weapon. Somewhere along the way Sarah had managed to fall for the first understudy she'd ever seen make it to stage on an opening night. Those fleeting three seconds of charm that existed in Christian came to his surface at just the right time and disappeared all too fast. Still, she stayed with him. Maybe she hoped he would change. Maybe it was just better than being alone.
An absent finger trolled through the locks of his hair, pushing them back from his eyes. Sometimes she could still find that charm when he was sleeping, but morning would come and his mouth would open up putting a quick end to any of the warm feelings which may have remained for him. He put a certain bind on her in many respects. Their friends were his friends. What had once been her friends, had abandoned her when despite their advice, she moved in with him anyway. No longer did Sarah audition for the lead roles, the challenging parts she knew she could bring to life, because Christian didn't find it appropriate that a woman be more prominent financially than her mate. He was unadventurous with art, with food, with travel and especially with sex. For Sarah this meant that what had once been the creative open mind of an artist was rapidly becoming the cynical, sarcastic soul of a slave.
She'd dated, after a little provocation from her stepmother, but really this had been her first long-term, adult, if you could use that word in connection with Christian, relationship. No, that's not true. Once long ago, in a realm she'd invented in her mind, she had been loved by another man. Pity was she was too young to return his love then. Now, at this age, such dreams could not sustain her. Yet Sarah never found someone who had intrigued her as much as he had, who both frightened and excited her. Then again, in many ways, the man of her fantasies was much like Christian. He loved in his own kind of way. He wanted to control. He wanted to possess, even if his emotions were real and his intentions good. Maybe that's why she stayed with this man who lie beside her, for that faint reminder.
Releasing a heavy sigh, the defeated actress threw back the blankets and slid her feet into the slippers which waited for her on the floor. She plucked her robe from the back of the door and slid her naked body inside, tying the belt. The silk was cold on her body, but warmer than that bed had seemed only hours earlier. Quietly as she could, she opened the top right drawer of her old dressing table. She'd kept it when she had left home. She was only 18 and wanted something familiar around her. No, that wasn't entirely true. As a girl she would summon her imaginary friends in the looking glass, they would come and comfort her in times of trouble or loneliness. They were more reliable than any of her friends from school and certainly more considerate than her parents. The dressing table no longer matched any of her furniture making it all the more special. For Sarah no longer felt as though she matched her surroundings either. Her small hands wrapped around something inside the drawer and drew it out fluidly, quickly shoving the object deep in the pocket of her robe. One last turn to assure that Christian remained asleep and she slipped out of the bedroom they shared. Well, that she had wanted them to share, but it never really felt that way.
Early fall had brought the full moon with it, casting silver light into the room. Sarah followed a metallic beam to the sofa and settled into the far corner, an end table supporting a small lamp was at her back. She reached around and gave the knob two quick snaps until light shone over her shoulders. Still chilly, she pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over her legs, brought her knees to her chest and dug in her pocket for the item she had placed there only moments earlier. Her fingers ran over the red leather, tracing the Celtic knots which formed a border around the edge of the book, Labyrinth.
"This is ridiculous," she said to no one, tossing the book onto the coffee table at her side. It was nothing more than an adolescent fantasy. A way for her to escape her home, escape herself, to find magic and romance. Instead, she'd learned that you couldn't run, not from others, not from yourself. She learned to stand strong, pick her battles, ripple the water only when it was necessary. Magic and romance were tricks of light, simple words repeated in the appropriate sequence. Most of the time without any feeling behind them. After all, words were meager, anyone could say them. They could fall from lips as rain from the sky. Often going unnoticed or unappreciated.
Frustrated, she reached for the remote, using it to bring the television to life. Fruitlessly she scanned for something, anything that would even briefly hold her attention. To her great dismay, she found nothing. Nothing that is to say that intrigued her more than the four by five red leather novelette which shown murky black in the basking of lights which randomly changed intensity as they radiated from the television set. She grabbed at it, sighing heavily at her own childishness.
After all, it had been a dream. Hadn't it? A day dream, in the night time? Then a nightmare. But somehow, she didn't remember being frightened, not the entire time anyway. She remembered Ludo and Didymus, and of course Hoggle. Much as it frustrated her, she remembered Jareth too, cruel as he was. He and his mismatched eyes managed to penetrate and seed themselves into her memory. Could anybody dream so vividly? Dream well enough that she could recall the awful smell from the bog of stench. That she could remember the taste of a magic peach so clearly it had turned her from the fruit entirely. That her body would sometimes recollect Jareth's arms encircling her waist. That her mind was still mesmerized by the fluid movements of his hands as they manipulated the spinning crystals before her eyes. It was a dream she decided, one she fed with her imagination, but it had seemed so damned real.
Frantically, she began to flip the pages of the book. If it was real, then she'd find a way to conjure them again. Some way to prove these impossible notions could be tactile. But how? She had no child to wish away. She tried a string of magic words from her childhood. Hocus pocus. Abracadabra. Alacazam. "For Christ's sake I need help," she decided, running one hand through her thick dark hair, which she'd kept long, even all these years later. She found she could do more with it when it was long. Made her more versatile when it came to the stage and increased the number of roles available to her. The Goblin King had liked it long, she thought. When he had dressed her for their masquerade he had left it long, pulled up at the sides giving it a little more fullness and body, but it had still hung down her back. In fact, she swore she'd felt him rest his glove covered fingers in the strands. "I really do need help."
Her memory was working overtime. Help. In the Labyrinth, Sarah had been helped by so many new friends, but none who risked as much as Hoggle. She glanced around the room. "What the hell?" Sarah conceded. No one was there to see her acting foolish. If only she could remember how she had called them as a child. "I wish," it had been so long since her mouth had used that word, it almost seemed wrong, at least foreign, "I wish I could see Hoggle."
Sarah's eyes closed tight. Afraid the tunic topped, leather head cap wearing dwarf would really appear before her. Seconds later, she opened her eyes and to her relief, or perhaps disappointment, she remained alone. "Rubbish!" Feeling moronic, she cast the book down again. "I was a child the last time I let my overactive imagination run away with me like this. I sat before that mirror in my room each time my step-mother had inflicted another of her emotional wounds on me. I'd read that book three hundred times and to a fifteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to escape reality, it became reality. Then when I found myself wishing that I could relive some adventure I had never lived in the first place, I would peer into the glass and say, 'I need you Hoggle.'" Sarah's hand caught her head as it toppled over forward, the palms grinding at her tired, but not sleepy eyes. "I even talked to the little thing. Oh, why didn't my father have me locked up?"
"I resent that now. You said we was friends."
At first Sarah's head didn't move from its folded over position. She stayed there tucked in a ball trying to ignore what she had heard.
"Sarah?" A small and tender voice continued. "Are you alright? You haven't called on me in a long time you know."
It seemed to take hours, but Sarah managed to straighten her neck and raise her head to meet the big blue eyes that stared intently at her. She reached forward for his shoulders. "Hoggle?" Her hands tightened on his body. "You're real."
"I am." He was still wearing a mixture of hurt and confusion in his face. "As real as I have always been."
Hoggle found himself pulled to Sarah's chest. Her long arms folding around him in a warm embrace. Tears filled her eyes and emotion choked up in her throat. "Hoggle," she repeated. "I'm sorry, so sorry that I haven't kept in better touch."
The dwarf tried to speak to her, but her grasp was tight. Upon hearing him choke, she released him and he stood back, straightening his cap and vest. "S'got nothin' to do with keepin' in touch and you know it as well as I do. You gave up your dreams, your wishes. You stopped believin' in magic." He rolled his eyes and snorted, crossing his arms around his chest defensively.
"I...I didn't want...I didn't mean..."
"Save your excuses. I'd have paid you a visit on my own if I coulda." Hoggle released his posture some, beginning to feel somewhat responsible for the break in their relationship. "There's no taxi out of the Underground you know. I needed you to believe in magic. It was my only way to you."
"What about the mirror?" she asked.
"The mirror," Hoggle waved his hand as if to say the object were useless. "The mirror was an easy way to explain magic to a child without having to explain anything at all. The real magic's in you Sarah." He pointed at her, "Always has been."
Sarah's eyes were no longer strong enough to hold back the tears she'd been damming up inside them. Freely, they fell down her cheeks, ran over her chin. She tried to wipe them away, but her hands were too slow to keep up. Hoggle plucked a tissue from the box on the table and passed it to her. "I'm more sorry than I can tell you, honestly, I am"
Anger was not what he wanted to share with his friend after all these years. His chubby fingers and stalky legs worked together desperately to scuttle up on the couch next to the hysterical Sarah. As he brought her head to his shoulder, he ran his hands over her hair smoothing it. "It's all right then," Hoggle said. "I forgive you."
"I thought I was losing my mind, that I'd imagined everything," she confessed.
"I can see why you might have wanted to Sarah. It wasn't all that pleasant an experience for you." Hoggle looked away remembering how Jareth had forced him to give her that peach.
"Nonsense!" Sarah said, perhaps a bit too loud and eagerly. She moved in closer to Hoggle and lowered her voice. "Nonsense. I made so many great friends while I was there. Ludo and Didymus. Ambrosious and that charming little worm with the English accent."
He smiled at her. For the first time since he'd arrived, he was just now noticing how beautiful she had become. Something in her eyes was electric and curious. She had grown, from a selfish, thoughtless child into a loving young woman whose emotions were so easily read. He'd bet they were as easily hurt. Knowing her as he had, he felt confident that someone had been responsible for quenching her magic and quelling her belief. The Sarah he had known would have kept those two things too sacred to be destroyed.
He wanted to tell her so much, about her friends, about the Underground, but he decided that he was too uncertain what she'd want to know and what would only serve to upset her more. He knew one thing undoubtedly. There was a bit of news he needed to deliver now, something he had waited so long to tell her and Hoggle was afraid this might be his only opportunity. "Speaking of your friends, I've got someone to introduce you to." Sarah sat up straighter, eager for him to continue. He dug in the pocket of his pants and produced a worn leather wallet stitched out of scraps. Opening its folds, he revealed a picture of a woman dwarf who held a child in her arms. The child wore a long off white gown.
Needless to say he had peaked her curiosity by exposing the photograph. There was something familiar in the infant's face. "Hoggle, is that your baby?"
Hoggle nodded, a wide grin of pride making all his teeth show as water welled in his eyes.
"When did you get married?" Sarah cocked an eyebrow at her confidant, but beneath her smile there was a sadness. Hoggle had saved her in the Labyrinth many times. Freed her from the oubliette, rescued her from the fire gang, did his best to get her to the castle so she could rescue her baby brother. Now he was a husband, a father and she hadn't been there for any of it. Instead, she'd forgotten everything he'd meant to her and went along with her own life and her own priorities which hadn't brought her a fraction of the joy she felt now, holding this picture in her hands and seeing the look on his face.
Lying his head on his shoulder, Hoggle ground his toes into the air, like a small child who was embarrassed to admit to something. "I am 243, you know. Figured it was bout time I let some pretty girl settle me down." His finger pointed to the woman in the photograph, "That's my wife, Drema, and that's my daughter," he said. He paused until he could catch Sarah's gaze and then repeated, "my daughter Sarah."
Confusion swept her face and she looked on, unsure if he was referring to her or the child. Then something in the way his eyes softened, confirmed it for her. "After me?"
"Who else? Sarah ain't much of an Underground name you know." Realizing that he had sounded a bit harsh he went on, "You were my first friend, Sarah. I was proud for my girl to share your name. Drema agreed too. She's wanted to meet you for years."
"Oh yes, Hoggle. I would love to meet your wife." She folded the wallet in her hand and passed it back to her friend, "and your daughter."
The dwarf's expression grew solemn. "That's sweet, but it'll never happen."
Hurt, feeling like he doubted her promise, Sarah said, as sincerely as she could, "No Hoggle. I mean it. Now that I've remembered what to say. Now that you've allowed me to believe again, you can bring Drema with you... and little Sarah."
"So much you don't understand about your magic Sarah" His head wagged back and forth.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't need Drema." Emphasizing the word need, Hoggle continued, "You can only summon those of us you swore you needed. The words spoken outside the castle that day, theys the same as casting a spell. Means you can only call on those of us inside the Labyrinth you vowed to that day."
It seemed simple and difficult at the same time. "So then I'll just go to the Underground."
"You can't, not without a crystal."
"So bring me a crystal."
Hoggle grunted in frustration, "Jareth would soon as cut my arm off and make me bob it out of the bog of stench if he knew I stoled one of his crystals, 'specially for you."
Jareth. The name made something click in Sarah's head. It had been his mysterious voice singing to her earlier this night. His grasp she had longed for as she danced with Christian. His finesse on the dance floor she'd been recalling. "So have him summon me to the Underground," she said smugly. She had defeated him once, now she was older, stronger and she could defeat him again.
The far away look in her eyes did not go unnoticed. From a pouch on his hip he produced a steaming hot cup of tea. "Drink this Sarah. You'll feel better."
Weeping eyes looked at him. Someone she had known for so little time and had neglected for so long and he knew her preferences. Sarah accepted the beverage and meant to say thank you, but the sobs that had begun again prevented her from being as courteous as she might have liked.
"Oh please Sarah, don't cry. I can't stands to see a girl cry. How a'my gonna describe you to Drema when I get home and can't even tell her the color of your eyes? Why she'll think I'm makin' excuses to go out and spray for those damn fairies again."
She sipped at the tea. Suddenly the memory of how they first met came flooding back to Sarah forcing a smile. Hoggle had been just outside the door to the Labyrinth. He looked up at her and announced very matter-of-factly, 'Oh it's you.' Like he had somehow anticipated her arrival. The more she tried to recall the more her smile grew. Sarah always loved to act and she had often acted out the Labyrinth, but in the Labyrinth she was no longer a character brought to life, quite the contrary, she felt herself. It was more than she could say about life here with Christian. Sometimes she felt as though she hadn't left the stage in days. Her eyes started to go grey again and her smile faded.
Hoggle jumped down from the couch. A wave of his hand made the tea cup disappear from Sarah's grip and he pulled one of her hands into his own. "Jareth can't summon you back to the Labyrinth and don't bother asking me why either."
As Hoggle spoke, Sarah repositioned herself on the sofa with a yawn. For a moment, worry crossed her face. Things seemed to dance, just like when she'd eaten the peach. Sensing this Hoggle reassured her, "It's just the chamomile I put in yer tea. You need to sleep, you need to dream, to reignite yer magic and strengthen yer belief." He pulled the blanket closer to her shoulder. "I'll be back, my friend, any time you need me."
"What do you mean reignite my magic?"
The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and huffed a bit, "You've forgotten so much already." He handed her the open book, a stumpy finger pointed to one of the first lines, "What's it say right there?"
Slowly Sarah repeated the line, "But what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers."
"You've got magic in you Sarah, always have. You just haven't learned to use it's all."
"Can you teach me?"
Hoggle smiled gently at her, bringing the blanket up to her ears. "Not tonight. Tonight you need to rest. Now stop fighting the tea. I ain't singin' any lullabies, either."
"Thank you Hoggle."
He turned off the television and lamp before preparing to leave.
"Goodnight Hoggle." Sarah whispered, a sleepy haze taking her over.
"Goodnight Sarah," Hoggle replied as his lips moved in to place a gentle peck on her forehead, "Sweet dreams."