Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth. Nor do I own a working Word program with a spell check. So excuse any minor speling errors. I've tried to catch them all.
Interview With A Goblin King
Interview Number One:
Jareth.
When I first stepped through the mirror I had set up to lean against my wall, I was positive of two things. One, I was going to leave Ohio and enter the Underground. Two, I was scared somewhat shitless of what I might or might not uncover during this interview.
How I even managed to arrange this interview is beyond me, as is the reason why I decided to conduct it in the first place. So maybe I am a bit nosy when it comes to peoples' private lives, but that is usually reserved for friends-of-friends and celebrities. Most of the other information is either given to me, or I don't care enough to bud in.
Friendship and trust are two of the elements that are key in executing the perfect interview. As the interviewer, I have to be on the same level as the interviewee. This particular interviewee I have only known personally for about a year and a half. Going into great detail as to how we met isn't necessary nor do I have the time to do so; all you need to know that we have, over the time we have known each other, formed a tight, if somewhat strained friendship.
Arriving in the Underground, I take the path that had been explained to me. A few turns, some walking, and a small leap later, I am standing outside of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. (Really, if Sarah had the common sense to ask for simple directions...) Pressing my whole body up against the heavy iron doors, I turn to my left, walking down the dusty hallway. As I approach the stairs that I knew would get me to where I wanted to be, I feel the anticipation rising in me. The backs of my knees become moist and tingle with excitement, as my right hand shoves itself into the front pocket on my denim shorts. Nervously, I straighten the white tank of which I had thrown a black zip up hoodie over, shake the hair from my eyes, and make my way up the stair case.
As I turn the corner that led into the tower, my hands instinctively fly up to shield my eyes from the sun, currently shining through the single window. Once my eyes adjust to the orange-yellow light, I blink back the remaining bits of colorful specks flooding my vision, and take a seat on the window bench.
Two, three, four minutes passed, and I am still alone in the room. Rolling my eyes, I set down my large bag, pen and notebook, and stand up, crossing my arms. Facing the door that I had previously walked through, I am prepared to call my interviewee's name when that familar English drawl fills the room.
"Patience is a virtue, dear friend." Turning around, I find that he is sitting where I had been sitting, one booted ankle crossed over the other. With an annoyed sigh, I lean against the brick wall.
"You're late." I say, trying my hardest to lace venom in my words. He merely laughs, a half-hearted chuckle that barely registers in my mind as a sound.
"Who is to say that you aren't early?" He flashes his predator-like teeth in a brilliant show of self-admiration, to which I only pinch the bridge of my nose, in a vain attempt to fight away the uncoming migraine. Eyes closed, I hear the distinct sound of a body rising, and I see that he has stood as well, and is making his way towards the door. Fighting confusion, I admit defeat, before gathering my things and following my first subject.
As we make our way down the winding stair case, I resist the urge to make a joke at the normality of the stairs, instead opting to clear my throat. "I thought," I begin, licking my suddenly dry lips, "I thought we were going to do this up there?" My voice shakes slightly, and I promptly shut my mouth, wondering why it is that I am so nervous.
"I'm letting you do this, it is only fair that I choose as to where it happens." And with that, we are off of the stairs, and walking through the corridors of the castle-a labyrinth in itself.
In silence, he leads me to the back of the castle. He disappears behind a large oak door, and I make it through with just barely enough time as to miss the door slamming shut. Spinning around, my eyes widen at the noise the door made, my mind whirling with the possiblity that I could have been lodged between it and the wall. At this, my brows furrow together. Sure, he's not the nicest person, but I'm sure he usually would have held the door. Shaking my head, I turn again, to find him sitting on a large rock.
Looking around, I see that we are in a garden of sorts, a garden you would not expect to see behind the Goblin King's castle. The colors aren't dull and angry; on the contrary, the flowers and grasses are lively and vibrant. Instantly, I feel myself warming up to the idea of doing the interview out here. Perhaps the splendidness of it all will lighten the mood.
My eyes land on Jareth, who is staring absentmindedly at me. Suddenly, his face becomes marred with something of impatience, and I take the hint. Realizing that the King is the only one to have a seemingly-proper seating arrangement, I slowly lower myself onto the ground, making the observation that no matter how pretty the garden, dirt is dirt.
"Well, before I start, let me assure that I do not wish to cross any boundaries and anything that you do not want to tell me, you do not need to tell me," I say, before again shaking my dark brown away from my eyes, and re-tying it in a messy bun at the left base of my neck. Taking out a pen, I sigh. "That being said, for the sole purpose of this interview, we are going to have to go back twenty years, give or take a few months." Looking at him through a curtain of eyelashes, I cocked up one eyebrow, and he nodded in approval.
Rubbing a small hand over my eyes, I release a small sigh, looking contently out into the horizon. Eyes still looking out, I address Jareth.
"When did you first take notice of her?" I say, not specifying who I am talking about. I'm positive he knew.
"I'll estimate she was around twelve or thirteen years of age in your time," He says, staring at his gloves. He begins a process, tugging them loose, then pulling them back down; loose, down, loose, down. "Her parents were getting a divorce, and she had recently bought the book." He stops, seemingly suprised that I hadn't been writing a thing. Shaking his head, he continues. "She became rather enthralled with the tale, as it was so familiar to her-"
"In what way?" I interrupt, placing my head in my hands, elbows on my knees.
He considers for a moment, "A young maiden, upset by her world crumbling before her, having to be her own support system. It was all relevent to her." I nod, and he carries on with his previous thoughts. "It was when her father met that woman, who was completely opposite of her birth mother in every aspect, that things seemed to become to heated for her. As the years went on, her father remarried, had a new child. She began to feel very distant. The man who once loved her and only her now had a loving wife and a bouncing baby boy. The three of them made the perfect family unit."
"She began reciting the words in the tale?"
He nods his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Yes, she could recite it perfectly, every cue was just right. Except for that blasted last line...Not that it is something I wanted her to remember." A casual shrug, and he seems to zone out.
"And then she said the words. You thought it was perfect, no?"
"I thought we were both going to find happiness. I thought she would have gladly accepted the crystal-"
"Were you a part of her dreams?" I nterrupt for the second time.
"I assumed so...Though, looking back on it now, her dream was to play the heroine in her own fairy tale. So, in all actuality, she not only got the babe in the end, but her dreams as well." I notice his says his last thought with a trace of bitterness, as I lean back, supporting my weight with my hands.
"Did you punish her friends?" I ask, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"No," he says simply, shaking his head, "I knew that if I did, that it would get back to her some way or another." I furrow my eyebrows, biting my tongue in thought.
"Everyone paints you differently," I say, staring off behind Jareth, "Some make you an angst-ridden, battered soul, some make a love-blinded crazy fool, some make you a selfish bastard with a lack of any ounce of undertsanding what-so-ever." He laughs a bit, once again a hollow chuckle, "Yet, you refused to carry out a promised punishment because of what she would think...What do you have to say about all those characterizations, Jareth?"
He takes a long pause, and I take the time to truly look him over. Jareth, the Goblin King; the man who haunted my thoughts and play-time since I was just a three year old in my grandmother's basement. The man I used to drool over, the man who I tried again and again to say the words and wish something away-a pencil, a rock, a plate of stroganoff. Here we both were, eleven years after I first tasted the forbidden fruit that is Labyrinth. The King and the Girl. No longer humorous "enemies", or the self-proclaimed, courtesy of myself, "frenemies", but two people trying to understand one's past, when neither of us really do.
"I'd say," He finally replies, breaking me out of my thought process, "Don't judge a book by it's cover."
I tilt my head to one side, repositioning my legs so that my hand can support my head, while still having my elbow resting on my knee. I open my mouth, close it, and open it again.
"That's, uh...that's really all I needed to know." I get up, hastily throwing my things into my bag. "Thank you for your time." Making my way back into the castle, I find my way to the front, and, speed-walking through the Goblin City, I prepare to find my next subject. Where ever he may be.
06/27/09: I did a small rewrite, it's nothing major!