Disclaimer: Labyrinth and all its characters are original ideas and do not belong to me. "A New Career in a New Town" is written by David Bowie and appears on Low.
A New Career in a New Town
The cool evening breeze of the Underground's autumn air felt pleasant on the hot faces of the twelve men seated round the large oaken table in the middle of the castle's dining room. As they relaxed with the much-welcomed lull in chatter, a smattering of starlight shone through the windows and lit up their stuffed faces. Some were dwarfish with wide features, one was adorned with thick crimson fur and whiskers, while others held the very refined look of fey men-thin, elegant lips standing out against the pale richness of shimmering skin lined with high brows and otherworldly eyes.
A lazy serenity fell upon the group while a few goblin servants idled about, clearing the food from the surrounding tables. The discussions and laughter became less vibrant, and several of the gentlemen were nodding off from overloaded stomachs. It was during this hiatus, that the assembled party seemed a placid, quiet lot.
A small red-faced man at the head of the table withdrew a stout, intricately carved pipe from the inside pocket of his jacket, and bringing it to his nose, he sniffed, testing it for usage.
"If I may say a word before we discuss politics any further," Fritz said. "I'd like to announce the upcoming arrival of our new sovereign in the Launfal Province, west of the Labyrinth."
In an instant, the serenity had fled the loafing horde, and something electric snapped through the air. The mortal woman must have accepted the offer! Murmurs and faint applause channeled through the crowd, and a tall, thin man, lounging lazily against a wall with arms crossed negligently over his chest, scanned the assembly at their rejoinder, while his mouth went up in one corner in slight gratification.
"Miss Williams will arrive the evening next and be sworn in the following morning." Fritz lit his pipe and took a puff before continuing. "I hope you all will welcome her with warm regards at the inauguration ceremony."
A great upheaval of "Here, heres" could be heard throughout the comfortable room, and above all the voices, one voice that was swelling with the slur of too much drink suddenly boomed.
"She'll get an even warmer welcome if she can settle the score with the bleedin' rebels!"
Without delay, the men sprang up from the table and goblins that were sitting in chairs across the room soon followed suit. Shouts clashed to be heard over the clanking of pint glasses that clattered together in agreement. The celebrated dignitary was soon forgotten as talk of impending war sizzled through the thick air.
"No more settlements-" "We'll teach them a lesson or two-" "They want war? We're ready-" "Rebel bastards-" "Nothing but a passel of Sudlicher rebs-"
The group continued to mill about with dirty proclamations, budding ever more excited with each passing comment, but the man leaning against the wall had not uttered a single word as the conversation grew hotter. His mouth curled down at one corner, and there was a glint of amused disdain showing in his eyes, as if he was listening to the foolish boastings of small children. He listened fixedly, twirling a crystal between the fingers of one hand with the practiced caress of a bad habit.
Finally, he spoke.
"Gentlemen," he said without moving his position or stance, "may I put a quick word in?"
"Well that hadn't gone well at all," Sarah thought as she trudged up the stairs. It was an unusually warm night for late October, and the thick sweltering evening air rising throughout the house did nothing to alleviate Sarah's sour mood. "You'd think your own family would at least support your decisions!"
She was hot and tired, and her body felt leaden with fatigue. She took each stair one step at a time, lifting her heavy feet in a slow, exaggerated fashion. She stopped on the landing, her clammy palm clutching harshly to the banister, to wipe away her dark, sticky locks from the dampness on her forehead and neck.
She had expected more from them. Anything more than a stifled approval for her "winter internship." Sarah rolled her eyes at the lie. And what a lie it was! An internship at a magazine in New York City, indeed. But she couldn't very well tell them the truth, could she? "I've become the substitute ruler of a province in a completely different world, but don't worry! I'll come back to visit!"
Wouldn't she?
Well, it wasn't time to think about that now. Maybe some other time. There was too much on her mind to deal with tonight. The painful expressions from her family members would surely be enough to haunt her dreams. Her father could have told her to expect the worst from her brother and stepmother, but he noticed nothing. He sat solemnly, at one end of the table, suddenly an old gray man, with absent eyes fastened beyond Sarah, hardly hearing her words.
At least they would be out of the house tomorrow night when she would "depart."
Sarah finished her trek up the stairs, entered her bedroom hurriedly, and fell face-down onto the softness of her bed. Tomorrow would be one to really try her nerves. She turned drowsily onto her side, a slow slinking blackness enveloping her mind, and with a soundless breath, she fell asleep.
"Let's hear from the leader of our troops, then," Fritz spoke as all eyes turned toward the addressed man. "Speak up, Jareth, you have not yet favored us with your opinion."
There was the littlest manifestation of contempt in his face as he faced the group, but somehow, his gracious charisma covered up the disdain. A tense moment of utter silence greeted him as Jareth shoved himself up from his reclining stance and the crystal that he twirled in his right hand was suddenly crushed as black leather-encased fingers collapsed against his palm in a graceful gesture.
"If we fight the Sudlicher Isle, I'll go with," he said, "but has it occurred to any of you gentlemen that we are not prepared? Since the collapse of the Labyrinth, our supplies have gone to its renovation." Jareth stopped and pinched his eyes shut for a moment, as if trying to block out a bad memory. Then, surveying the room, he watched as two goblins attempted to free a third from a helmet that was placed on his rear end. He sighed audibly.
"And I shouldn't have to mention what a sad military we have."
He grinned then, bearing pointed white teeth in a feral, animal smile. Then, shoving his thumbs into the fissures of his trouser waistband, he shrugged.
"But of course, all of you have already thought of this."
With hot blood rushing to their cheeks, the men sitting about the table shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
"Your Majesty!" one voice shouted out. "You are insulting us!"
"Not insulting, Didymus," Jareth corrected slowly, as if reprimanding a spoiled child, "just merely stating a fact. The rebels have all the essentials of which I spoke, and all we have is an overgrown hedge-growth of a maze that refuses to heal-even with my magic. If we were to fight, they'd defeat us in a heartbeat."
There was a startled silence, and then Jareth walked towards the group.
"I believe, gentlemen," Jareth said in a deeply polished voice that reflected his well-bred accent, "that you were discussing the upcoming arrival of our new governor. If you'll excuse me, I have other business in which to attend."
He swung about, and with a quick nod of reverence at Fritz, he turned to the group and bowed deeply, elegantly, a bow so cordial and yet so full of impudence that every man in the room felt a slap in the face at the very gesture.
And with that, he exited the room, his flaxen head held high in the air.
"Jareth!" Fritz called after the retreating form, scurrying as fast as his short, stubby legs could carry him. "Jareth! Do slow down, lad. I'm not as able-bodied as I used to...be," he said between loud, enumerating gasps.
"What is it?" Jareth answered back without hindering his stride or giving a backwards glance.
"Oh, dear...I must say, it must be all that brandy I drink on the quiet. I've lost most of my youthful vigor. But Jareth-"
"Yes?" he answered, finally stopping. Jareth swung about on heavy black heels that tapered up into black leather, distressed from riding. They cupped each of his calves snugly and didn't dare move with the flex of his muscles as he tapped his toe impatiently. He was agitated with the meeting as well as the unabashed braggadocio that dripped from his council members. As much as he liked to flaunt his own self-confidence, he knew when to let priggish words dissolve and let staidness prosper. The reconstruction of the labyrinth hadn't progressed at all in a decade, leaving the castle beyond the Goblin City open to attack from the Sidhe that used dark magic. His labyrinth, his fortress was broken, dying, and as vulnerable as a mortal with its skin removed and wouldn't be able to keep out anyone with magic if and when they decided to attack.
Face red from running, and breath coming in husky spasms, Fritz looked around, taking in the surroundings, and noticed they had entered the throne room. Raising his hand in dismissal, Jareth waved two goblin guards away to give the matter at hand a little privacy. He strode over to his throne, and sinking into the friendly suppleness, he let his head fall back over the rim, breathing a sigh of exhaustion.
"Jareth, you mustn't grow angry with them. They're just a bunch of fire-eating young chaps, and they'll do anything to protect your kingdom." Fritz's gasping had finally quieted, but he stood slouched with his hand drawn across his abdomen. "But, I say, I've never seen you in a state quite like this. What's got into you, you arrogant devil?"
"They're all fools," Jareth replied in a quiet voice, without lifting his head. "A peaceable settlement with the Sudlichers is out of the question with a stubborn brood like them." Producing a crystal, he tossed it repeatedly over his head while awaiting Fritz's response.
Fritz looked at his feet momentarily and played nervously with his hands. "The truth is, Jareth," he said softly, "there's no stopping the ensuing conflict. We can't hold back our boys and your Labyrinth isn't healing. The only thing we can do is await commencement."
Jareth caught the crystal, holding it above his head, and there was a moment of silent discomfort as he stared into it, letting Fritz's words sink into his mind. His mind was a sponge, soaked to its absolute capacity of surface tension with the gnawing onset of warfare and defeat, and he was struggling underwater to gain some sense of rationality and judgment. Jareth clenched his eyes shut for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly with his free hand. And then he resumed his tossing.
"When does the girl come?"
"The girl?"
"Yes, Fritz, the girl. Sarah."
"Oh yes, yes, Sarah. Well, my boy, she's not much of a girl any longer! Quite charming. But at any rate, I shall meet her tomorrow and bring her to the Launfal estate."
Jareth sat up suddenly and sighed, allowing the crystal to disappear with a flick of his wrist.
"I hope this isn't a mistake bringing her here. Have you mentioned to her anything about rebuilding the Labyrinth or using this dying monstrosity as our only defense in the war?"
A slight cough and a fat little boot drawing a circular pattern on the ground was Jareth's only response.
"No? Shame. Then I suppose I shall be the one to hand her a hoe and scythe and cover her lovely hands with blisters and calluses."
Fritz looked up at this and met Jareth's eyes, icy with bitter emotion.
"Your majesty, we can't lead her to believe we've blackmailed her into coming."
"That's what you're damn well doing," Jareth cut in, "isn't it, my dear friend? Giving her something in return for her slave work on the Labyrinth, hmm?" His voice was like saccharine, but his eyes still held a cold sparkle. Like fire and ice, Fritz thought, like fire and ice. "Let her clean up the mess that she made."
Jareth's words were snarling, dripping with the bitterness of a sore memory.
"She was a mere child," Fritz interrupted, as if seeing through Jareth's mind like crystal. "She didn't know what harm she could have been causing. And if I know you, you were probably out acting the tempting scoundrel! She must have been shaking in her boots, the poor girl, on whether she should love you or fear you!"
Jareth smiled impishly, and his eyes took on a look of momentary recollection.
"She never did fear me," he said, still smiling, and then his face fell and his eyes turned remote and gray.
Fritz smiled at the king. He wanted Jareth to be happy, the poor boy. If the stress of running a kingdom wasn't enough to bring the man down, the pressure of the looming war surely would.
"She will succeed, Jareth," Fritz said, his smile softening. "Well, my boy, I hate to run off, but it is growing late, and I should go home and see the missus before she thinks I'm off gallivanting around with some young sprite!" he said with a wink.
Jareth laughed openly, a loud laugh that caused him to throw back his head and left his wild mane tossing unevenly around his shoulders. "You rogue. Come, I'll show you to the door. I'm on way out anyway."
"And where are you off to at this hour?" Fritz teased with pseudo curiosity.
"Ahh," Jareth remarked decisively as he tapped his finger on his lower lip, and thought with mock intensity, "I thought I could do with some gallivanting."
"What's the matter, lad? I wasn't company enough for one evening?" laughed Fritz heading for the front gate.
Jareth gave a slow smile, revealing his sharp, white grin. "You're not quite the kind of company I had in mind, sir."
Fritz looked at him quickly, his eyes widened in revelation, and then he chortled shortly. "Oh Jareth!" he said, "Who's the rogue now, my boy?" And he laughed again.
The day passed in a blur for Sarah. She was an unthinking machine, passing the time idly, saying her goodbyes to her family, and subconsciously, her life as she knew it. Now, as she looked out the window and saw the sky turning a soft purple indicating the onset of a pleasant autumn twilight, she awaited her departure fretfully.
She looked over her belongings placed upon her bed. She had packed a small duffle bag with several of her personal items in it. Who knew what she would find in the Underground? She didn't seem to remember a Macy's the last time she was there, so it was probably highly unlikely she would be able to run out and buy a pair of underwear, should she need them. And besides, who knew if she would even return to her world? Sarah sighed at the thought, and sat hard on the bed, desperately searching her mind to think of something else-anything else-to block out the notion.
Her thoughts once again turned to her imminent future in the Underground. She felt a slight tingling of excitement about her new life. Here was a new adventure. She'd get to see her old friends again. It would be fun.
But what about the Goblin King?
Sarah sucked in her lower lip between her teeth and crinkled her forehead in nervous apprehension.
It would certainly be awkward running into him again. He wasn't the most pleasant character she had encountered. Shit, hadn't he tried to kill her? Well, maybe she was exaggerating. He was just playing his stupid game.
Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them securely, she rested her head in the tiny hollow they made. There was something electrifying about the prospect of meeting with the Goblin King once again, and Sarah couldn't decide if it was the idea of being face to face with a former adversary, or because of the erratic way her heart raced when he held her in his arms in the opus of a dream, so long ago.
Probably the former.
"Dusk is certainly a beautiful time in your world, isn't it?"
Sarah's head jerked around hastily to find Fritz, elbows perched haphazardly on the sill, staring out the open window.
"I've always thought," he continued, without drawing his eyes away from the evening scenery, "that an autumn twilight is the closest thing to true splendor. There's nothing in the universe quite like it."
Touched by his sudden reverie, Sarah joined Fritz at the windowsill, and inhaling the mild ambiance of the autumn breeze, she smiled.
"That's my thought exactly," Sarah said. "It's one of the things I'll treasure most about this world."
Fritz turned and looked at Sarah peculiarly. "Well, don't be so melancholy about it! You're certainly capable of coming back and enjoying a beautiful evening such as tonight whenever your heart desires."
Oh thank God! Sarah's heart silently rejoiced.
She looked taken aback and her quizzical eyes caused Fritz to laugh with mirth.
"It's not as if you're going to be a prisoner! You are free to travel between worlds, and either I, or another escort with the proper skill, will transport you at your will."
"You don't know what a relief that is to hear that," Sarah sighed to Fritz, letting out a nervous laugh. But there was a nagging thought pittering away in the back of her brain, a drowning question trying to surface.
But will HE allow me to come back?
Fritz could read Sarah's thoughts on her face and pushed the conversation ahead, knowing that he wouldn't have a truthful answer for her.
"With that settled, shall we be on our way?" He held out his arm, awaiting Sarah's acceptance.
"Certainly."
She grabbed her bag off the bed, and within an instant of taking hold of Fritz's elbow, she found herself standing in the entryway of a cozy cottage. Still clutching Fritz's arm, her eyes widened as they took in her surroundings. They stood in front of a large set of French doors, presumably the front entrance of the house. Behind them was a wide staircase leading up to the second floor, stained in a dark wood.
"Welcome to Launfal, Sarah," Fritz said, motioning around him. "This will be your residence as sovereign of this province."
But Sarah did not hear his words, so lost in the grandeur of the front room was she. She ran through the French doors and stepped outside several paces to look over her new home. The approaching nightfall made it hard for her to see the exquisite details, but the cozy white house, with its shutter-lined dormers and flat shingled roof, reared its perfect magnificence before her.
"It's beautiful!" Sarah cried, with bubbling girlishness at the authenticity of having her first, real home after spending years traveling without a real home to call her own.
Like a dream come true, Sarah thought. It's not really your own home, her mind argued. This isn't even your world.
Shush! Sarah fought with herself. Don't spoil this. It's mine for the time being.
She turned around, and facing her yard, she found a wide brick entryway, lined on either side with looming willows. A small road ran in front of the estate where small, warmly lit cottages dotted the countryside. In the distance, she could spot the snaking curves of the dark Labyrinth-although, in the darkness of the sunset, it looked different than she remembered it. Before it, lay the proud inlet of the Goblin City. Sarah turned her head to the left and, looking down the winding road, she could see the castle beyond the Goblin City, what appeared to be less than a half-mile away. She felt an odd pang at the close proximity of the ominous citadel, but she shrugged off the feeling, and turning, she raced back inside.
"...is where you'll find the kitchens, and the dining room is just beyond them."
Had Fritz even noticed she was gone? Apparently not, if he was still presenting the first floor. Sarah smiled-widely-and felt at home. Her green eyes danced with a vibrant light and tiny freckles suddenly peaked across her nose as it wrinkled in her grin. "I love it, she said interrupting whatever it was Fritz was still explaining.
"I'm glad, my dear, but I'm afraid you won't have any servants for the night. Hopefully, the goblin help will arrive tomorrow for training."
Sarah shook her head in disapproval. "Oh, I don't need any servants. I've always been an independent person. I don't know if I could handle giving orders and receiving assistance with everything."
"But you shall have them, nonetheless," Fritz replied informatively. "It comes with your position, you know? Besides, the king insists."
Sarah sighed, and threw up her hands in defeat, a slight grimace appearing on her mouth. Hmm, so the king doesn't think I can take care of myself, does he?
"So what happens now? Sarah asked. I mean, shouldn't I be trained or something? I still don't know exactly what I'm doing here."
"Tomorrow will be the day, my dear. A very big day for you! I will arrive here on the morn and together we shall meet with the other cabinet members. Your position will be explained, you will be sworn in, and when evening falls, the festivities shall begin!"
Fritz raised his hand in an attempt to stifle a yawn, but Sarah took note and decided to wrap it up for the evening.
"Oh, she said and stretched her arms over her head as if to announce her own fatigue. Then I'm sure we can both use some rest. I think I can manage for a night." And with a genuine smile that showed her lovely white teeth and the smattering of freckles that peaked across her nose, "Thank you."
Fritz's heart melted.
"Oh, Sarah, you read my mind! Be ready bright and early tomorrow, my dear. It's going to be a big day."
He gave a short bow, and walking through the front doors, she saw him disappear into the sundown haze.
Sarah sighed and turned to explore her surroundings. She was standing in what appeared to be the dining room. Pale ivory walls with deep brown patterns etched into the corners of the walls surrounded her. She squinted to make out the art, but she couldn't identify the pattern. A heavy-looking rectangular mahogany table was in the center of the room. It wasn't large, just enough for four people, but it was beautiful to Sarah, nonetheless.
She looked to the wall opposite her and noticed a portrait of the Goblin King that hung directly above the table. His mismatched eyes bore directly into hers, seeming to rake over her body indecently, and he had the faintest hint of a smile across his smug lips. He looked menacing, yet proud of his animal magnetism. Almost exactly as he did right before he sent the cleaners after me, Sarah thought.
He stood at the top of a hill and his Labyrinth blazed in a glorious green spiral behind him. He was dressed all in black except for a vest of silver armor that clung tightly to his chest. Sarah noted that she didn't remember ever seeing him in armor during her trip, even though she noticed he must have had a dozen costume changes.
A gust of wind seemed to be whipping his cape about him, giving his stance a glorious, powerful look. His right gloved hand lay perched upon a riding crop, and in the crook of his left arm lay a baby, tightly swaddled in a black wrapping. Sarah moved closer to the portrait to see the babe's face, but noticed that no features peered out from the crop of wavy blond hair.
"Odd," she said aloud. "Why wouldn't the artist paint a face?"
Sarah moved backwards from the portrait a little, bumping into the table, but never took her eyes from the kings. "You like to watch me eat, huh?" she asked the portrait directly. "Such a creep." Sarah stuck her tongue out at the king, quickly, cocking her head to one side, then turned to walk upstairs.
"Ugh, well, at least I don't have to stay at the castle."
In a far, smoke-limned corner of the goblin tavern, Jareth sat, gloveless, running the tip of one slender finger around the rim of a short whiskey glass and beholding the pub's scene life unfolding before him this evening. Behind a low wooden counter, a husky goblin poured pints of ale and honey mead, sliding each down the bar in record time. He seemed to ignore the yelps of expostulation from the surrounding goblins and the shelled groundnuts they threw at his head. Interrupting his own prolific pouring every now and then, he grabbed his soiled apron to wipe the beads of perspiration gathering at his brow.
The stone walls of the room magnified the goblin chattering, making their voices sound tinny and nasal. Jareth sighed in annoyance and downed the last of his whiskey, signaling a small goblin woman with a tap of his finger on the table for another.
"Righty then, yer majesty. Here y'ar," said the goblin woman, being very cautious as she poured whiskey into his glass, for her fingers were knotted and stumpy and barely grasped the base of the bottle.
Jareth nodded in thanks and produced a fat bronze coin with a snap of his fingers, handing it to the woman without so much as a glance in her direction.
The fat little woman's beady black eyes widened in relish, grabbing the coin and stuffing it deep into her apron pocket before any of the other servers noticed.
"Thank'ye, yer majesty. Thank'ye!"
The Goblin King didn't have to remit payment. The tavern was, after all, in his kingdom-just a short distance down a cobblestone path from the castle. He, sitting among his subjects at a commonplace tavern, warranted the same courtesy from the staff as if they were serving him in his royal dining room. Despite his quick temper and cold demeanor, thought the woman, the Goblin King was a loyal monarch to his subjects. With a grin plastered on her toothless mouth, the goblin server left Jareth to his devices as he seemed to be lost in thought. Besides, she'd have to deposit her coinage someplace safe before the other goblins noticed this nicety.
Jareth indeed was a great observer now of late. He had learned to be, at least. Perhaps it was the vigilant nature of the owl inside of him, but at times it pained him to have the knowledge to read someone's thoughts and dreams so plainly in their eyes. Magic could be a stupid thing, and he wished for one moment that his world was mortal: fabricated by free will rather than fate.
A fair-faced woman with hair a deep merlot and eyes as violet as an autumn morning stood near the bar gazing wantonly at him, a clear and devout hunger lingering there. She wasn't of slight frame, but her dress clung to her teeming breasts as if it were made for a much smaller figure.
Jareth felt the heat from her gaze and looked up, tilting his chin and arching an eyebrow in salutation. He recognized this look on this woman-and others-many times on his behalf. Although charged with electric sexuality, Jareth knew it was hollow and superficial. And so, he would never return to them the courtesy of a similar look, even when he had one's frontside pinned against the stone wall of one of the tavern's flats, and he would push himself into her quickly yet savagely and she'd say his name in a stormy whisper at the peak of her pleasure.
Even then, he would squeeze his eyelids shut over mismatched eyes and bury his head with cold sobriety in her shoulder until he found his release.
So when he looked at this woman, who was promising him a night of raw passion with a wet tongue that sidled over wine-colored lips, he raked his eyes over her curves, staring pointedly at the full breasts. They professed the fulfillment of a sordid act he'd like very much to perform on them.
Only then did he shoot her back a look that he used on any woman of this sort that crossed his path. A look completely devoid of any affection or romance.
A look that simply said "satisfy me".
Hello again, his mind called to her.
You look lonely, Goblin King.
That I am.
Send me upstairs?
A snap of his fingers removed the woman from the tavern floor with a trail of luster. He knew she'd be waiting for him, but he thought he'd enjoy his drink a moment longer. Women often requested a tarriance to his own personal bedchambers, but Jareth never brought anyone in there. That would be much too intimate, he thought, and he wasn't looking for intimacy.
And so he sat back for a moment, stretching his long legs in front of him and running his finger lightly on the rim of the tumbler. A gnawing pang of curiosity bubbled tightly in his chest and as he fought the urge to shake it, his hand-as if by its own free will-withdrew from the glass and produced a crystal. He looked into it with wavering curiosity and saw Sarah. Her eyes were bright and intense, and they were searching.
Searching for what, little girl?
He followed her eyes and saw them settle on his portrait. Jareth sat up as he saw Sarah narrow in on the picture. In her face, he saw a look of confusion….and something else.
What was it?
The Goblin King's mouth went up at one corner and he rested his chin in one hand in anxious curiosity as if he was watching an opponent take his next move in a chess tournament. His eyes danced.
And then Sarah spoke.
"You like to watch me eat, huh?" she asked the portrait directly. "Such a creep."
Jareth hurled the sphere at the stone wall in front of him, the image of Sarah's fat little tongue mocking him as it dissolved into a million tiny crystals.
Then, he was gone.
And despite the owl's heightened senses, he failed to notice a dark-haired man who sat alone, with fire in his eyes, sharpening a blade on his boot as he watched Jareth's entire performance.