Sarah lays an egg
by Tichfield
Disclaimer: Labyrinth and associated characters and situations are the property of Jim Henson Productions, and not mine.
Pappara funi-funi eggs
Pappara funi-funi pappara hoe-hoe
If I don't boil them, they're still raw eggs
-Dragon Half
"Bloody 'egg!" Sarah sputtered toothpaste as she took in the sight for the forty-fifth time in twelve minutes.
"Considering where it came from, I don't think that's entirely surprising." Jareth sat on the window ledge, reclining against the sill in a pose that flattered his legs and had been specially planned by his tailor. This was neither unusual, nor alarming. That the window in question happened to be that to the bathroom, and that Sarah wore only a large T-shirt with a pink duck on it, were.
And of course, there was also the matter of the rather large egg (white, stained slightly pink) in its porcelain nest.
"I'll never understand," continued the goblin king, "how you ever convinced Hoggle to build you a bidet."
"Look, I had a plastic clown nose, and if I was going to stay here then- no! Wait a minute! You are NOT getting away with this!" Sarah spat the rest of the toothpaste into the sink and wiped her mouth with her forearm. She hoped her eyes were fierce. He often caved in when they were. And on those rare occasions when he refused to budge, it led to... "What's THIS?!?" She pointed.
"An egg," answered Jareth.
"I KNOW it's an egg!"
"I should hope so, seeing how you laid it."
"Jareth." She drew her breath. "WHY did I just lay an egg?"
"I'm surprised you've forgotten so quickly." She blushed - furiously, she hoped. It was important to keep furious. "It's rather complicated to explain - perhaps if I gave a demonstration..." He hopped off the window and stepped toward her. She stepped back. He snapped his fingers and half the buttons on his shirt popped off in a way that looked completely accidental but of course wasn't. She forced herself to look at his teeth. Those, at least, he could never fix. A witch had predicted at his birth that toothpaste would be his downfall.
A-ha! Now THERE was an idea.
Sarah grabbed the tube of minty gel from the sink and brandished it before her like a torch.
"Don't come any closer, or I'll... I'll..."
He smiled.
"Or you'll do what, Sarah?" He smiled his widest smile.
She glared at him... then quickly squeezed a glob of paste onto her finger and rammed it onto his front teeth, scrubbing vigorously.
Jareth drew back as if burned, grabbing his mouth and spitting frantically, trying to rid himself of every last particle of fate-tempting Sensitive Gums Formula.
"That's not fair, Sarah!"
"And THIS is, then? I freaking laid an EGG and you have the... the... the utter ARROGANCE and INDECENCY to come on to me!"
"You asked!"
"Did not!"
"Oh. As if you REALLY didn't know why this happened."
"I-"
"What did you EXPECT would happen? Magic contraception? Or perhaps a nice and normal human baby?"
"You should have warned me!"
"That you were bedding an owl? What, the wings and feathers weren't clue enough? What about the beak-bites? You had THOSE welts for a week. Plenty of time to think about it." Sarah muttered something under her breath, which may or may not have ended with 'rapscallion'. "I credited you with more intelligence. Perhaps I was mistaken in my choice of queen."
"This isn't fair! I wanted a... well..." Another blush. She was getting good at those - and at making them appear to be rage-fueled flushes when it suited her. "A little baby, you know... with... golden hair that I could comb. And..."
"Your hair is dark. Surely the human world has learned that raven hair will always leave its imprint on a child?"
"... I thought... maybe... magic hair?" She looked away from Jareth's own triumphant mop. "In any case, I didn't want a parrot!"
It was Jareth's turn to sputter.
"Parrot? PARROT?" Jareth straightened himself. His chest expanded to nearly twice his size, and his eyes glittered with a fierceness that would approximate sparkles, if sparkles were even slightly manlier than they actually are. Undoubtedly the rest of him had also done its best to look impressive. Sarah refused to check. "No child of mine will ever be a... a... parrot."
"Well, it has feathers and it talks, doesn't it?"
"Call it raven, then, or macaw. Something more dignified."
"Ravens don't talk."
"Not to YOU, maybe. Have you thought that perhaps they did not think you worth their time?"
"Why of all the insufferable... don't change the subject; this is SERIOUS!"
She waved her hand, and with it toothpaste, sending globs across the bathroom in an arc.
Jareth ducked for cover and finally settled on wrapping himself in the shower curtain. The pictures of frogs in compromising situations rather suited him, thought Sarah. She would have to ask the tailor if he'd make his highness a night-robe in that material.
But that could wait until AFTER this matter was settled.
She still ached. At first, she'd mistaken it for cramps.
"Will it..." she was almost afraid to ask. "Is it a... a..." she made a gesture with her hand. Jareth peeked through a gap in the curtain, not trusting her while she was armed.
"No, of course he won't be an eight-legged horse. Wherever did you get that idea? Now, if you'll just put that ONE item down so we can talk this over properly..."
"Not an eight-legged horse! A goblin! Will our child be a goblin!?"
"Well, yes, of course. Half-goblin, technically."
"That's horrible!"
"But-"
"We played BALL with the goblins yesterday!"
"You see? Not bad at all."
"They were the balls!"
"True."
"Are they your children, too?!? All those... things about the castle? The one with the arm where his nose should be?"
"Is THAT what you're worried about? Of course not! If you'll put the tube AWAY, I'll explain things to you."
Sarah considered this. She compromised by squirting a quantity of paste into her mouth, but putting the tube back on the sink.
Jareth uncurled himself and carefully came forward.
"When a Goblin King loves a Goblin Queen very much..." She threatened to spit. He lifted his hand and cocked his head and thereby asked for patience. "Goblin royalty are different than the goblin rank and file. Like bees. The Queen is nothing like the drones, and her consorts are unlike either of those." Sarah turned a few shades of red in warning. "Did I say consortS? I meant consort. Singular. Silly me. Everyone... for an appropriate and non-standard definition of everyone... knows that Queen bees are monogamous, just like Goblin Kings." He held his breath, then let it out once it was clear the crisis had subsided. "You see? Nothing to worry about. Our child will look like... well, rather like a human child would. With a few differences in its endowments." Sarah's eyes bulged. "Is that ALL you think about? Honestly. I meant my beauty, your mind, if it's particularly unlucky your streak of stubbornness, as well... oh, and it will occasionally turn into an owl. Or perhaps a budgerigar. That pops up in the family every now and then."
Sarah swallowed.
"A BUDGIE?!?"
"They're very well-respected. Ask the rocks."
"Jareth, if our child turns out to be a budgie, I will-"
"Our child will never turn out to be anything unless it is hatched."
"You... you don't expect me to SIT on it, do you?"
"Oh, goodness no. With your weight? You'd shatter it!"
Sometimes, Jareth could be very foolish. This was one of those times. To her credit, Sarah forbore from the unfair use of toothpaste, but she did employ a bar of soap in suspect fashion while making her displeasure known. Once the Goblin King had applied liberal amounts of anaesthetic ointment to sensitive portions of his person, they continued.
"HOW are we to hatch it, then?"
"As I was ABOUT to tell you, before you became violent... and don't take that as a complaint, you're rather enticing when agered..." Sarah winced. "It is the MALES among goblin royalty who are responsible for hatching the egg."
"Wait. YOU'LL sit on it?"
"Don't be silly, Sarah. I'll merely furnish the means and labour, as established in custom immemorial."
"Means?"
Anyone who's ever caught a glimpse of the Goblin King has probably wondered about a certain area of his costume.
He reached into that area now, and pulled from within it a rolled-up sheet of scintillating fabric, coloured like a mix between a pearl, a rainbow and the scales of a salmon.
Sarah looked between the bundle in his hands, and the now-empty pouch that hung from his waist.
"Oh," she said. "I suppose that explains a lot."
"I suppose it does," agreed Jareth, "But I would rather never speak of it again."
"And you had that there because..."
"It is an heirloom, passed among the first-born males of my line. A hatching-robe, imbued with magic that will help the egg become the healthiest home that it can be for that which it houses."
"A magic hatching-robe."
"Yes."
"That you've kept in your pants for... HOW long?"
"You don't want to know."
"You know? You're actually right, on that one. I don't. So. Um. Isn't there an easier way?"
"No longer. I am the last of my line, and this is why I treasured it so. All our other arts that aid in such a birth are lost. All the physicians. All the women of my kind. You are beautiful, and wise, and any other adjective that I must voice in order to avoid a brushing of my teeth... but your blood is not the same as mine."
"True. My blood doesn't taste like cotton candy."
"You noticed."
"The first time I bit that hard WAS an accident..." Jareth smiled. "So now what do we do?"
"We lay the robe upon the child, and then I call my trusted goblins to carry it to the hatchery."
"And then?"
"I thought perhaps you still would like a demonstration of the reason for the egg." Sarah drew her breath, ready to explain exactly HOW one feels after laying a large egg. "Or a back massage," added the King quickly.
This, she agreed to.
They walked out of the bathroom, arm in arm, and never noticed when the tube of toothpaste fell and left a glob upon a corner of the bathtub - a glob that would prove nearly deadly, and would launch a war that spanned three worlds and thirty universes.
But that's another story.
The End
Author's note: A silly, short one-shot that grew out of a discarded idea for another story I'm working on.