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AN: In this chapter, a two hundred eighty dollar bra is stolen. If you find yourself wondering what a bra that expensive looks like, refer to this website: .com/USA/servlet/SetIDWebObject?ID=9952&IDType=prd&&ColorValueID=0050

When you pick up your jaw, and begin wondering why she even has a bra that expensive, I completely chalk it up to Sarah's ever so repressed inner princess.

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Chapter 1

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Sarah Williams loved to cook and she was quite good at it. She liked making dinner, she enjoyed creating cakes and cookies, and she even relished coming up with her own recipes, regardless of the outcome. She was a passable enough chef that her step-mother sometimes let her prepare dinners on nights when Karen and her father wouldn't be home until late, rather than submitting she and Toby to the endless supplies of pizza and take-out.

Unfortunately, she also loathed the cleaning process that was required after her forays into creating these culinary delights. As Sarah was currently possessed of a consuming impulse to go downstairs and whip up her famous seven layer chocolate cake this abhorrence was a bit of a problem at the moment. Gigantic gooey cake equaled an equally large mess that she simply did not have the energy to clean up. 'Well, it is midnight after all...' she mused, 'give a girl a break.'

This quandary is what had her still sitting up in her room rather than going downstairs to do said cooking in her step-mother's kitchen. Oh, that chocolate called to her! But, she really didn't want to have to clean up the mess she'd undoubtedly kick up in her whirlwind of movement through the room. Perhaps she'd make do with one of Toby's favorite cans of chicken noodle soup – she was hungry enough.

Unfortunately, she knew if she did, that's still one bowl, one spoon and a pan that would require washing.

So, instead she did nothing and lay on her bed, pretending she didn't hear the errant growling in her stomach. Pretense, after all, was something she was very good at. Always had been, as a matter of fact. Her father liked to joke that she was born to strange sights, and she wondered idly, if her father really had any idea about just how strange the sights she was born to really were.

'Highly unlikely,' she thought with a grin.

Now and then he'd jest that she was destined for a life of adventure, but she'd never told him that she'd already had the escapade of a lifetime five years ago, long before entering college, and even before starting her first job. In fact, she'd go as far as to say that despite her sometimes boring life, the urge to go adventuring again still hit her gently now and then, a subtle pang in her heart. Usually she ignored it, as there was little she could do to indulge it, save participating in Toby's frequent flights of fancy.

That was – and always had been – a sore point between she and Karen. When Sarah had disregarded her feelings about college, suggesting she dedicate herself to something which might pay her bills rather than acting, which had always been her dream and passion. While she could understand Karen's reasoning, Sarah had learned ages ago that things you didn't fight for were probably not as important to you as you let on.

Eventually, Karen had given up her fight, not expecting Sarah to encourage her brother to follow the path of a 'failure' as well. She always grew very cross when she heard Sarah telling Toby stories, saw them playing games together, often questioning what Toby learned at school. She'd never told him school wasn't important, had never implied that fantasy was more important than reality, however, Toby's imagination was as keen as hers had always been, possibly due to their five years of near constant contact.

It wasn't like their parents intentionally ignored them. Sarah knew that. It was simply something she'd grown to accept as an inevitability. Her father had been promoted to partner at the firm two years prior, and so nearly every party, Karen and Robert Williams were expected to show up. Now and then those parties strayed into the Williams home and during those, the true friction between Karen and Sarah would peak.

Karen had been telling her since she was fifteen that she should date, find a decent man so that she could learn what a relationship between a man and woman should be like. So she could learn how to solve relationship problems and to help her mature that last little bit which Sarah hadn't quite grown into yet. It always frustrated Sarah because she didn't want a relationship with any of the twenty-somethings Karen shoved at her. These were people that Karen thought would provide her with the money required to pay the bills.

Sarah often retreated to her room and locked the door during those parties, calling upon her friends to help her deal with her frustration. Hoggle would point out that the older woman was simply worried about her, which she knew. Sir Didymus would pat her hand and remind her that her step-mother wasn't expecting her to marry any of these younger men. Sarah would shrug helplessly and say that she didn't feel anything with them. No anger, no anticipation, not even the tiniest modicum of affection.

She'd told them both she'd just as soon date a goblin before she'd date one of these men that were mostly boys, who thought that just because they made a little money she'd drop into their beds in a heart beat. Karen had sworn they didn't have that on their mind, but Karen hadn't had to go on the pointless dates which always seemed to end with them trying to stick their hand up her shirt or tongue down her throat.

It was detestable, disgusting. She often found herself relieved that her little brother waited up for her on nights when she had dates. It gave her a reason to cut contact short at eight thirty, much to Karen's consternation. Still, Sarah did tell him a story every night, if from the trip through the Labyrinth or something that was a mental flight of fancy. His particular favorites were and always had been stories about the Labyrinth and the creatures within it.

So every day she'd look up something to spin a story about, telling him about the story of her own trip through the Labyrinth, sometimes weaving stories from what she'd learned from books regarding goblins and other mythical creatures. She'd even drawn illustrations for these creatures, some of which were genuinely gruesome in both description and character.

Karen despised those pictures repeatedly stating she wished Sarah would take them down. Her father however teased about her ability to find beauty in the ugliest of figurines, and find light in the even darkest of pictures. She grinned, wondering what he'd think if he ever met Hoggle, her dearest, oldest friend from her time in the Underground. Sure, he was old, cranky, and was deathly afraid of the sovereign ruler of the Labyrinth, but he had gotten her out of some very tight spots.

Like the Humongous. Sarah thought fondly of that moment in the Goblin City when she had seen the terrifying guard brought low by the dwarf. He was so much braver than he gave himself credit for...

He was the first true friend she'd ever had. She'd tried making friends in high school, after her trip through the Labyrinth, as well as in college, but most of the students viewed her as a little strange. They would speak to her, would work with her on projects, but she didn't feel particularly close to any of them. Often, she found that in large crowds, she still felt rather alone.

To them she was strange, to herself she was unique. That was perfectly okay with her.

She smiled, rolling onto her side, looking at the single bookend on her desk. She'd found it about eight years ago at a yard sale, and the other had been slightly damaged, so she took the single whole one home, not knowing that it shared a face with someone who would one day be her best friend. In fact, her friend of five years had noticed it a few times and given her a look of perplexed puzzlement. She simply smiled and waved it off.

That same desk was strewn with gauzy silk scarves, glittery costume jewelry, Mardi Gras beads – earned on a trip to New Orleans, not that she'd ever tell her father HOW she got them – her music box from her birth mother's new husband, and that curious figurine that greatly resembled a certain Goblin King. Her gaze focused on the wild mass of platinum blond hair and for the umpteenth time, teased around the few memories she had of the egotistical, slightly fascinating, overdressed megalomaniac.

As she stared, she caught sight of something rummaging in the dark through the top drawer of her dresser out of the corner of her eye. She frowned, sitting up slowly. She grabbed the cord on the light by her bed, giving it a swift jerk. The light came on, and she found a goblin, for it was too small to be much else, stiffen and turn slowly towards her. Big, wide watery eyes stared at her, planted in the middle of a rather frog-like face. She didn't take a moment to notice how petrified it looked. Instead, she acted.

She lunged for it, reaching for it's ankle, but it dove head first into the back of her drawer. She reached her drawer, driving her hand into it, but it only hit the wood at the back. There was no goblin was hiding amongst her intimates. She frowned faintly, digging a little harder, trying to find any hint of how exactly that goblin had gotten into, or more importantly out of her room.

Oddly, she found nothing.

With a shrug, she simply decided they must be able to get in and out in similar fashion to the Goblin King. Essentially poofing in and out of existence, perhaps with a shower of glitter, or the faintest hint of that (rather enticing) spicy scent which followed him. She took a moment to inventory her underwear, making sure none were missing. As she turned, she noticed that her closet door was slightly cracked and with a shrug, she pushed it closed till it latched fully.

Well, now that she was vertical, she noticed that chewing hunger in her stomach all the more. It gave a loud, almost grumbling sound and she sighed, patting her belly.

She should just go on downstairs, help herself to a sandwich, and see what was on the television. First, it would get something into her, while giving minimal cleanup, and perhaps a bit of television would help her finally get to sleep.

She snatched up her bathrobe, wrapping it around herself, and headed towards the door. There was the faintest flickering light from the lower level, telling her that her six year old brother was out of bed, and quite possibly as hungry as she. With a broad grin, she crept downstairs, finding her brother was indeed sitting and watching a movie featuring a large scaled monster destroying a city.

Ah yes, her brother's intense love for monster movies strikes again. Then again, she'd probably only fed his love of monsters with her nearly constant tales of her trip through the Labyrinth. For whatever reason, ten hours of pain and misery made a damn good story in hindsight.

She leaned against the doorway. "Hiya, Toby."

He let out a startled cry and whirled on her. "Don't do that, Sarah!" he whispered fiercely. In his lap was a bowl of popcorn. He was munching on it by the fistful.

She grinned, going over and sitting down beside him. She divested him of the bowl, and leaned towards him. "What ya watching?" she asked, feeling like the cat that cornered a canary.

He huffed. "Two hundred channels and the only thing on at midnight is telemarketing, TV Evangelists, and porn. They should show something better for spring break!" he complained. "But there's a Godzilla marathon, so I guess it's not completely hopeless."

She looked at him, startled. "Toby, how do you know what porn is?"

He looked at her, knowingly. "Been in dad's office lately?" he asked evenly. "Bootylicious just got added to his collection." He looked at her. "I'm six. I'm not stupid."

Sarah covered her mouth to keep from roaring with laughter and made a mental note to tell her dad he needed to relocate his collection because her baby brother had managed to find it. The boy had always been a little too sharp for the adults comfort, even before he'd developed the ability to speak. Now and then he'd give this look that said 'don't treat me like a child because of my age. A frown turned down her lips as she realized that her brother wasn't supposed to be in that particular room in the first place. "Wait a second, what were you doing in Dad's office? You know he doesn't let you play in there..."

He frowned deeply. "I heard giggling. I went in to see what was going on. All of his cabinet doors were open. Drawers too. Three of his videos were on the floor and the rest looked like they'd been flipped out every which way. Weird. I figure it was our home gnomes."

"Or hobgoblins." Sarah muttered. "I just caught one in my underwear drawer." .

"Why do you think they steal stuff from here, anyways?"

She scowled. "Beats me. But I know where it goes. Did I ever tell you about the junk heaps outside the city walls in the Underground?" She asked softly. She saw his eyes light up and knew she had his attention. Toby always enjoyed her tales of the Underground. There was something she'd almost call disbelief in those beautiful blue orbs as he turned the idea over in his head.

"Junk heaps?"

"Yeah. Piles of...junk. Pots, pans, the odd television set, and a few old toys. Seriously. Piles and piles. It was like a garbage mountain range," Sarah explained.

"Mount Trashmore?" he joked, giggling.

"Yup." She laughed at his pun, seeing the disbelieving expression on his face. "I really never told you about that part?"

He frowned faintly. "I'm beginning to feel like you gave me a edited version of your trip." He complained, glowering at her.

She choked. He stood staring at her, blond hair askew with his hands on his hips...and that glare. Ten hours in the presence of his His Royal Arrogance. Onlyten hours-at age one! So why was he doing the impression to end all impressions, t-shirt and baggy sleep pants non-withstanding? "Stop that. You look just like the Goblin King, Toby. Really. It's creepy-"

There was a shrill giggle from upstairs.

They both froze.

Sarah fumed. "If those creeps are in my freaking underwear drawer again, I swear by all that's holy when I get my hands on their stinking backsides...I'm going to kill 'em." She was up in less than a moment. "Toby, wait here. I should be back soon!" She took the stairs three at a time, and just as she opened her door, she saw a trail of lacy objects lying on the floor and clutched in a small green hand was her favorite, very expensive, lilac lace bra! She let out a shriek that sounded like steam leaving a tea kettle. "Oh that is it! You little snot, that's my best bra!" she practically screamed, chasing it as it darted into her closet.

She dove, missing its ankles by about an inch. She crawled into her closet, and crawled and crawled farther still. Sarah blinked. Wait a minute, her closet wasn't that deep. Frowning, she crept forward again, and then stretched her arm out in front of her. What the hell? She tried to look behind herself, but the space was too cramped. With a shrug, she began moving forward again, since it appeared that the only way to go backwards really was to go forwards. The thought made her grin a bit.

After a few minutes, she noticed that the closet was growing brighter, rather than darker. Where the hell was this going, she wondered, her brow furrowing in confusion.

She crawled farther still, noting that the sensation of something soft under her fingers. It vaguely reminded her of moss on a tree log. Bright light appeared before her as she turned around the last corner and she winced as her eyes had become adjusted to the intense darkness.

She crept out of the tunnel and gazed at her surroundings, stunned. Spread out in a lush valley was a small, peaceful looking village. In the field nearby, there was a charcoal brazier and at least thirty people. Between those people, Sarah caught sight of a small goblin with her pale lilac lace, two hundred eighty dollar bra trailing behind it. The wonder of the view died in an instant. "You cretin, give me back my bra!!" she cried, chasing after it, wishing desperately that she'd had the foresight to bring some kind of weapon.

Many people in the small group looked up and backed out of her way, as though to prove they were not a 'cretin', nor did they possess her 'bra'.

She picked up such great speed on the way down the hill that she was quite unable to stop. She ran, headlong into a tall woman with long, honey colored hair. Both cried out unintelligibly in surprise as Sarah bowled the woman over, rolled head over heals herself, then, finally, came to a stop. She'd rolled at least five feet and now had a pain in the ass where she'd flipped over a rock, and a wicked headache. She swore viciously. "Little bastard...the things I'll do when I get my hands on him!" She stood, rubbing her backside, turning to apologize to the woman she'd just knocked over.

She blinked and gaped in disbelief.

The woman's head was tilted back in laughter. Holding her sides, and practically guffawing. Sarah chuckled faintly, and allowed the amusement of the onlookers to give her perspective of how, exactly, she must have looked - tearing down that hill in her fuzzy slippers and with her bathrobe over her pajamas, screaming her head off, and shaking her first. She began giggling at the mental image, the forced herself to apologize. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to run into you."

The woman waved off her concern. "Trust me, dear, if that goblin has been in your intimates, bowling me over is the least of your concerns..." She laughed, accepting a hand and standing. "My name is Morghanne." She wiped the grass from her palms and offered her right hand in greeting. "I'm Sarah," she stated, shaking the woman's hand firmly. Sarah tried not to look jealous as she noted that the skin was smooth, clear, and freckle-free. The exact opposite of her own.

There were murmurs of interest and speculative looks among those gathered. Sarah looked around. "Where is this?"

Morghanne stepped back, extending her arms in a stance that looked both remarkably inclusive and hospitable at once. "This is Wiccadale. Come and be welcome."

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