Author's Notes: there has always been two stories that have battled for absolute favorite in my heart. Obviously I have proven how much I love Labyrinth with the current count at nineteen stories dedicated to that world. The other is Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. If memory serves me right I first read it around eleven years old, and only grasped parts of the story. I also remember watching with my mother the made for television movie with Timothy Dalton (I had such a crush on his Rochester!). I've re-read it over the best twenty plus years countless times and I feel I always find some new insight that makes me admire Jane all over again; or helps me understand St. John; or makes me be sympathetic or angry at Rochester.
I have even read several retellings: Jane Slayer with help from Sherri Browning Erwin was a bit of fun. Whereas Jane by April Linder left me very unfulfilled, that she made her versions of Jane and Edward do things completely out of character. Jane though quiet was not without opinion; though poor not without ambition. I have yet to come across one that really stirs me.
So here we have this little snippet. And yes, it is part of a bigger picture. It has been what has kept me quite distracted these last few months. I needed Jane in a modern twist with alternate universe problems. One of the other things that often gets ignored about Bronte's book is the supernatural/horror/fantasy elements. Slayer came close, but really, a vampire hunter? It was a little too cashing-in-on-whats-popular. I want fairies, I want magic, I want lust and danger; moody humor and a touch of gore. Intrigued? I hope so. This snippet has some of those elements. This AU involves "Normals"- those without magic, being forced into servitude. Magicians- those in control. And the Fair Folk- the fairies and sprites who live as a part of the natural world; denied to most normals and envied for their power by the human magicians. There is so much more and I am currently muddling my way through chapter eight even as I sidebared into this little tale.
All I ask is that you leave a little contribution in the little box or maybe a simple pearl as a sign of your affection. Either one works. Thanks in advance!
My jacket was inside out. I could feel the pouch with its seeds and bit of iron heavy in my pocket. But even with these talismans the otherwordly pull was strong. This one tugged just behind my navel as if an invisible cord was anchored there in my middle, it's long line disappearing into the air. It was nearing twilight, the hour right before shut down began. The tops of the trees were on fire in the setting sun and purple shadows were gathering in the shrubbery. I should be heading in doors, safe behind wreaths of mistletoe and engaged silver locks. But that pull!
My hand found my pocket and I closed a fist around the pouch. The tautness in my stomach eased. I could walk away from the magic now of my own free will. But then I saw him, a dark shape in a long coat that made him part of the shadows. His profile was unmistakable: Mr. Rochester was prowling the lower half of the garden. Something held his attention and in one smooth sudden motion, he dropped into a half crouch. My eyes followed his, searching in the thicker trees for an animal or a creature. I even squinted. I couldn't make out anything though the pull once more tugged at my middle. Something was out there.
My eyes went back to my master. He had risen to his full height again and had discovered me watching him. He raised a hand and beckoned me to come down and join him. I thought about the house rule; I thought about the unnamed reason we were locked up tight in the hall at night, and I thought about the compulsion ingrained in me to obey. All these ran through my mind in the few breaths I took as I did stood considering his offer. My master wanted me at his side, surely that overruled the house rule? With a spark of anticipation, I left the garden path and made my way down the short hill, the invisible cord leading me straight to him. Without a word of explanation he turned and moved into the trees. I followed close behind.
The shadows were more silver than gray, and there seemed to be a faint glow to their bark. A low hum filled every nook and crevice, flowing along the narrow path my master picked out among the trees. I gazed about me in wonder, as well as a touch of trepidation. We were clearly walking right into something regarding the Fair Folk. I wondered if he felt the same invisible tug and that was what was leading him.
Ahead of me Mr. Rochester slowed to a halt. Once more he raised his hand toward me and encouraged me closer still. I stood shoulder to shoulder with him now. In front of us the trunks of the trees were thicker, their branches fuller; older and ancient. As I looked faint orbs of yellow lights began blinking alive in the deep shadows. My face pinched in confusion. My mouth had just opened to form a question, when he leaned close and pressing a finger to his lips, hushed me ever so quietly. He gave his head a firm small shake: do not speak.
What was it he wanted me to see? I turned to look at him, my face clearly confused, and I realized how close were standing. His dark eyes caught the silver light to glisten back at me. For the first time I noticed that his long coat was also inside out, the under seams visible on his shoulders and the collar awkwardly flipped up against his neck. His thin lips were set tight together in a smile as if he were holding back a chuckle. If he had winked at me mischievous and lurid I wouldn't have been surprised. I smiled back, caught up in the mystery of the situation.
Gently he put a hand to my shoulder and guided my attention back to the scene in front of us. More lights had appeared, hovering or whizzing about, leaving streaks of golden haze. The humming took a melodic quality and then gradually it became a song. It was as if it always been. From out of the darkest depths a concentrated pale blue glow manifested, and from behind the ancient trees came a procession of such Fair Folk, the likes of which I had never known existed. Their bodies moved as human, with limbs that seemed familiar, but their parlor shimmered, their features took sharp turns, and their hair waved on unknown winds. Some wore simple tunics that flowed down their slim bodies, others were naked; both were adorned with strange flowers. They did not so much as walk, as danced their way through the foliage, their bodies and nature bending and arching in communion.
My chest was filled with the hammering of my heart and my head was brimming with the sweet song that filled the air. I was enchanted, absolutely enthralled. How did it feel to dance with such abandon, yet to move as one? To shed both clothes and reservedness, and to simply obey the call of one's heart? How did it feel to be free?
Just what would my master think or would he even care if I decided to join in the dance? Or better yet, if I just took with him me into the throng and forgot about stations and rules, ignored propriety, that he was a magician and I was a normal- what then? The Fair Folk wouldn't care. Some how I knew that they would embrace us; showering us in their foreign flowers, teaching us the words to their song.
I heard a voice. It was far away, muffed by the rustling of the leaves and the song that caressed my senses. The pale blue glow swelled as the dancers turned and moved towards the deeper part of the forest once more. I felt my body shift forward, crying out, wanting to join, desperately desiring their revelry.
"Jane!" This time the voice definitely said my name.
The dancers were leaving, taking with them their song and their glow. A pressure on my arm kept me from taking a step forward. I blinked, feeling a wetness spill down my cheeks. Dazed I realized I was crying as I watched the last Fair Folk vanish in to the shadows. All at once I was sad and angry. They couldn't leave me here to be normal, to be left alone!
I felt Mr. Rochester's presence next to me and his warm breath against my cheek. I understood now that it was him who had said my name; that it was him holding me back. Each whisper of my name brought me back from the edge, breaking the spell that had been woven. His hand found mine and lacing our fingers together began to back me out of the trees, threading our way towards the garden, to safety.
My feelings of frustration ebbed as we once more stood at the base of the hill. Really it had been beautiful, a truly unique and special sight to have been allowed to see. Some how I understood that as a normal I had been given a gift; a chance to see something that otherwise I would have been denied. I glanced down at the hand of my master that still clasped my own. He had shared this with me.
I looked for his face in the evening gloom. I could tell his lips were parted and he exhaled sharply through them. His eyes were down cast. He raised our hands. For a moment they seemed to intrigue him, as if their being together was as the result of a lingering bit of glamour. Then he suddenly let me go and turned away, facing the house. "Come," he said, his voice hoarse. "It is time to lock the doors."