a/n: aaaaaas alwayyyys, I have penniless fun with fanbases. I don't own squat from Jim Henson. This fic comes from personal-life uncertainty and the resulting state of mind.
*Thanks again to the Reviewer who corrected my dollardollar calculation goof. I apologize for typos, vocab. CC is welcome and encouraged. I make every effort to avoid my curse of long-term-project plot inconsistencies (groans)
*Chapter 2 is dedicated to those who've been jumped by a cat unawares. rip.
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Chapter 2: Merlin Matters
"She Moved Thru the Fair" Celtic Woman
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Sera. Seraphim… Merlin.
The name struck Sarah as she typed the greeting practice email. The last stage of editing came with the Subject line and the greeting after the date.
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"[Subject: Follow up to Biting Fairy Hire]
Date
Hello Sera,
This is my practice email for job contact and all other purposes. I am excited to work in Biting Fairy Apothecary
Have a nice day,
Sarah Williams"
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Sent. Her sable hair pulled through a ponytail. Now onto drinking her cold tea. Then dishes, and looking for another job online. Maybe. She stretched and stood to do a lumbar twist and shoulder pull. Exercise needed to happen soon. Today, check.
"Well, Merlin, you and Sera got something in common." Sarah swallowed and looked to the floor after the reality reminded her of her beloved pet. Family member. Even if Steed was his honorific title. She looked to her tea, the Darjeeling bitter from accidental over brewing. No sugar sweetened the taste. Her stiff legs stood aside from the small rolling chair, sending the seat to bump into the chintzy wooden laptop table. She paced out of her room into the adjacent hallway. The house was empty save for the reclusive tabby Junebug…always kept downstairs.
Toby adopted the cat in the last year from a shelter. Sarah knew it was due to his increasing need for recognition as a pre-teen.
/ Did it take Merlin's place? Why did her mind move to the day, years back, when she ran from the bridge in the park green? She remembered in waves—the cold nipping at her billow shirt, her worry that the jeans would soak. The mud she tracked onto her flats.
Now if Sarah ran in the rain her beloved scraggly dog Merlin would not be near. Years back Sarah's father called her in a torn voice. She knew it was time, as Merlin endured years of old-dog arthritis, pain, and loss of appetite. While Sarah was away doing her undergrad.
Ever the Steed. Her dad sounded broken over the phone those years later. The dog passed after a violent hacking fit. He threw up bile, and fell into a coma on the car-ride to the veterinarian. Almost like he knew being with her father was the last thing he wanted instead of a sterile office.
The car floor was apparently covered in paw dirt and mud that day, as Karen in a hush, had informed Sarah over a late night phone call.
Robert informed Sarah that Toby was going to grief counseling over the loss of a pet. /
Sarah scrunched her nose. Her dad at the time would not have paid for her to go to counseling for a dog.
/But maybe Dad would send her there for her head to be examined by a dismissive Doc of Teen Psych. The Docs that deal with the teens highschools never had the resources or money to address… chronic liars, juvies, and ones that habitually had unprotected drug-laden sex. Teens brought to the psych world by affluent family members or by medical mandate./
Her socked feet slipped a bit on the laminate floor. Karen kept it pristine upstairs. Even if it was less so downstairs thanks to the litter tracking kitty. Only when potential guests came did she hire a housekeeper service. Sarah held fast to the railing to walk down. She sensed a swipe of dust from the railing. More came as she moved her hand with steps. The dust track felt like finding a vodka stash in the freezer—a spiral waiting to happen.
She completed the turn down the last ones. Halted. Her eyes drifted to the golden clock. She checked it on occasion to see if the thirteen returned. But to no avail. This is people time, not delusion time.
/The mud, dirt, and grime disappeared the moment she materialized in the Goblin Lands. Or wherever that place outside the Labyrinth was. Of course she got filthy after the stressful perils with her rambunctious friends. She recalled that one of the first things she did after the Labyrinth ordeal was deep clean her room, then wash two loads of laundry and scrub her shoes, dry them./
Karen was initially stunned that her step daughter would clean with determination. But in days she understood that fifteen year old Sarah Williams had some sort of reckoning.
/Sarah considered the thoughts the French-updo'd matriarch must have had. One, that Sarah finally grew gratitude or some chrisitanity. Two, that Sarah had it with her birthmother and needed to rid herself of material reminders.
It was speculation. More based from her own teen knowledge of Karen's opinions. And her own understanding of how it might seem. Reminiscing as an adult about things she'd already mulled over? Was it decided?
But things aren't always…
stop that.
don't do this.
it's past time to reconsider./
Sarah walked into the dim foyer and down the hall. Into the kitchen. She wanted real food. And there was time to make a healthful dinner dish if wanted. Neither parent would be in the mood to cook. Just simmer and let it be.
On the table she found a half round loaf of rosemary olive bread. The serrated knife sat, egging her on. In no time he messily scraped a slice off and crammed the largest bite in mouth. Chewed. It was slightly bitter, savory, and stale. She'd choke without liquid. She rushed to the fridge and yanked the nearest jug out, twisted cap. Chewed, chewed. Don't swallow or it'll be self-Heimlich time. With a wash she realized in a cheek tingle that it was Robert's grapefruit juice. More bitter but not bad at all as a pairing. Inhale.
Sarah knew she needed to have that conversation with Karen. The one she dreaded for fear of the Psych center. What really happened. Or just fudge it, and say she had a dream that she saved Toby. For godsake it was ten years after the Run. And Sarah clammed up since. Scratch the dream. It'll add to the cover up. Could she discuss it?
She searched for cannellini beans, any beans. Ah, in Robert's 'health joke' cabinet. Complete with hemp seeds. Like he'd ever do it if Karen didn't pressure him. His high stress job and erratic food didn't help the case. In the pantry cabinet there were diced tomatoes. Tiny tube pasta. And spices up the butt, thank heck. Looks like its soup night.
Her hair wisped into her face. Her wrist hairband did the tight trick. Now was the time to clean the counters and make minestrone.
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Sarah bided time by reading two lifestyle magazines, complete with peppy instructions on how to craft with grandkids, and pinch off pounds using the elimination diet of the week. Her interest piqued when an article on family of the week mentioned an eleven year old's story of his brother.
/He wished his brother would go away. And the twin brother went missing.
The shorter twin slipped into a fever, two days into the incident. Awoke only after his brother turned up. /
Her green irises skimmed.
/Dramadrama…three days later the brother turns up. Literally on the doorstep.
Filthy, with nothing but a dazed look and a strange crest-shaped pin on his pajama top.
The mother argued it was likely "triggered by shock and guilt, thinking a tragedy was his fault."
Sarah ogled the gritty magazine image on the grinning family. Their mother wearing flattering mauve hijab that emphasized her sleek eyebrows. The taller twin bore the crest on his lapel. A close-up image below showed a dull brass color. The word "WARD".
The mother said in the article—she tried to turn the crest into the police, or throw it in the trash, but the twin screamed mad when she took it away. Screamed that 'Crawlies told him to keep it no matter what'. They've kept it ever since. The mother's last words of the article: "every moment with children is 'precious', because they might feel forgotten"./
Sarah flipped away from the article and moved to the house design section.
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After some twenty minutes of simmering, the timer rang. Add the measly handful of some not-dead-yet chopped spinach. She opened the billowing pot, and tossed it in. With spices. Stirred.
She heard the cat rumble from a room away. Sarah didn't pay mind . A distinct warning growl. She tapped the spoon, rested it, and closed the lid of the searing pot. A hiss.
Something was not good. In haste she turned the heat off. A loud vocalization chilled her. Something was really wrong. Without thought she yanked a colander from the lineup of decorative copperwares. She scooted in socks down the hall. It was dimmer now. How long was she in the kitchen?
Don't breathe too loud. Don't freak June out. June might just be stuck somewhere, her claws hooked to something. And the colander won't help except as swiping kitty armor.
Poking head in the tile laundry room, Sarah tiptoed to avoid stepping on the tabby. No cat yet.
A growl. Sarah instinctively turned on heel to look behind her.
Nothing. Back to the dim room.
Sarah screeched as Junebug flew off the dryer, ran at her foot. Her socked foot was frozen in place as Junebug play-gnawed and clawed enough to scratch her skin. Junebug jumped and clawed at her pants, dropped down, and leapt behind Sarah, galloping away. She turned to see, then slipped on the tile, and dropped the colander. Her hip, butt, and elbow jammed onto floor. Tears flowed and she whimpered.
Fuck the cat. She wiped eyes with arm. It only blurred everything. Sarah rolled over onto her stomach, clutched her hip, and slowly crawled on fours out of the room. She looked June's way and widened eyes.
Turning a corner, the rear deck screen door was open. Sarah felt her neckhair bristle. A chill in the air. Oh god. Junebug must have escaped.
Or… Someone was in the house.
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"Ma'am, could I ask a question?"
"...What do you want?" Karen held the logo clad cup fast as she jolted into herself. The lid contained the chaos. Through its paper sleeve it radiated warmth into her palms. They'll sweat in no time. Just after she applied rapid repair lotion.
"Apologies, ma'am. I am Bobbi, I'm here to do a quick survey on working mothers. Care to participate?"
Karen wasn't prepared for this pierced woman, stranger, to prevent her from getting to her PTA meeting on time. Who would have the audacity to show up unannounced outside her go-to franchise? And frighten her like Halloween ?
"No thanks. I am nearly late to my meeting," she pushed forward in her twill slacks. Balmy evening air swished her cheekbones.
'"Alright. Have a nice day, then-" The gauge eared woman chirped from behind her.
Damn people asking for people's info like it's a college campus. Those days were in her faraway past! And to think she herself was a shifty minded girl in her formative college years. She strode to her car and strapped herself in at record speed. She would be ten minutes late if she took the usual route due to local construction.
Karen the 'never held onto one boyfriend' girl. She was partial to binge drinking, parties, and even odd piercings too at that age. She'll never forget the short lived cartilage piercing that caught on hair, tore through skin, and stained a favorite tank top from the boutique.
Her fingers flexed as she remembered the twinge of pain when it caught on her then long blonde hair. And the trip to the student health facility was a story in itself. And it cost her a date with the scraggly sandals guy from Environmental Studies, back when it was a budding degree field. Karen stood him up by complete accident and never talked to him again.
When her mind refocused, she realized that the school was just a half mile turn away. Damn this mile-long speedway, the rush hour traffic looked exhausting. She was four minutes from the meeting start. She couldn't be late—Marina from the PTA would nosily whisper 'traffic?', or 'what coffee is that?' despite the round table meeting. And she'd get stares. And Marina would shift continuously in her seat in that poorly fit spandex skirt…
A car nearly rammed into Karen's right side as she turned into the left exit from the speedway. Sped in front of her and tore rubber at an impossible speed. Karen shrieked then swerved, bumping over the lump lane barriers and barely running into standstill turn lane traffic. Her heart thudded as she tore to the other side, Her acrylic nail broke and yanked itself off her finger with steering wheel impact. Horns blared at her. That dirtbag. She drove ahead into a calm lane, straightened the car.
But no sirens. Shook, she drove to the school parking lot, finger throbbing, and found the nearest spot to the door.
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A creak sounded behind her. With another head switch her hair whipped out of the ponytail band and temporarily blinded her. Nothing behind, peripheral. Sarah brushed hair aside in the few seconds. Back to the screen door. She creeped with colander to the open latch. June better not play pounce on her this time while she's still shaky. Well, if June even stayed in the house.
At this time Sarah welcomed a crowbar murderer to jump at her. Seems more justifiable than a cat pounce.
But none came.
The whiskey brown curtains budged with wind movement. She peeked outside onto the quiet porch without touching the screen. No animal in sight. Nothing in sight. Just distant children's voices, cars.
"Jun…" She shut up when she remembered to keep quiet if someone was here.
But there was no use. Someone would've found her and attacked by now. During cooking or something, Or upstairs. Or maybe it was petty theft so slick there was no noise. Nothing was remotely out of order from her limited scope.
She'd have to face the music by telling Toby and Karen and Dad that she'd accidentally let the cat out. She doubted they'd believe her if she said the screen was ajar. But enough of that. Her trembling free hand shut and locked the screen door. Replaced the wood push bar. She'd wait to die by shame-blame-game.
"I fuckin welcome all the Labyrinth…bullshit…over this cat right now. Where's Merlin when I need him…"
Tears threatened her eyes again. She half-slid herself hunched on socks into the kitchen. It was silent as ever. She tromped in and placed the colander on the hang shelf. The minestrone aroma welcomed her.
"Huh! I swear to god. Junebug is a goblin in disguise. Fight me. Bring the damn armies out while you're at it." She yanked a bowl and spoon out, slammed cabinetry.
/Damn, it was a table spoon, not a larger soup spoon. It'll do. /
"I wish I had a damn break from my feelings."
A ladle was forced out of the lower drawer. She tromped over and clattered open the lid with a billow of steam. Three heaping scoops later, Sarah felt it was enough to place her into a food high.
Her eyes tore at the loaf of bread, during her intensive blowing on soup portions between bites. It splashed her chin a few times.
RRRawwwrrmmrwaoow…
/Are you kidding? The cat…Where the hell…?/
Sarah dropped her spoon in soup and turned scowling.
She gasped.
Atop the cat was a Goblin. In metallic armor.
She wiped invisible residue from her face. Stunned.
/It's a hallucination. Oh godnonono…/
"Wha-" Sarah was cut off by the shrill pipsqueak of a voice. "Drompo give Champy respects."
The Goblin moved its hand in an arc, waving her to stay silent. Its demeanor was alarmingly composed. Junebug stretched. Goblin uncharacteristically balanced as if perched on a steed. Her mind went to Sir Didymus and Ambrosius.
But this twerp wasn't her trusted comrades.
"Champy listen to Drompo." It gestured to itself. "Champy don't offense Labyrinth like that, Brings bad things."
"Insult? No I—I…" her green irises turned sepia in frustration. She was speechless.
"Drompo have message. Accept, or no?"
/This took a turn. What's it want?/
Sarah breathed in. And closed eyes. Opened, concluded she was having a delusion brought on by psychosis. Better go with it.
"I accept," she moved to sit sideways in chair with the wood back as some bolster for her nerves. The Goblin caught on, and nudged Junebug. Who pawed forward and sat. Drompo hopped off, and made springy metal strides to stand in front of Sarah.
"Here Message: Champy called on Kingdom. Drompo speak for Kingdom. Do Champy have Time of Need?"
Sarah scooted and frowned in confusion. "Champy? Called on Kingdom?"
Nodding, "You title Champy in Kingdom, Labyrinth, and Goblins Realm." Junebug lied down on the floor.
Sarah blinked with incredulity. A Goblin Diplomat.
"Drompo cannot say full Champy title, for title given only by Royal Highness. Kingy."
"Oh. Oh t-thanks for telling me. I am Champy?"
Drompo nodded with clanks. "Champy also call Goblin Armies. Champy have Foe to defeat?"
"Urghhh-No. No Foe." She botched. /Digging a grave with each moment.../
It blinked, shuffled. "Then Champy wish for Break from Feelings. Champy need Kingdom Healer?"
Her hair flitted in her face, she moved it away. Swallowed. She was getting flushed. "You mean, I have to go back?"
"That Champy choice. Say right Words. Kingdom Healer walk between Realms if need."
Sarah was dumbfounded; she pushed into a stand on bent knees for balance. A cryptic answer for an impossible situation.
"Who, or what, is the Kingdom Walker?"
"Healer make medicine, help Goblins, help make potions for Court. Kingy of Goblins employ Healer in Court.
The mere mention of the second being made her bitter. But…Drompo…seemed accessible enough to talk to.
Said Goblin tapped his foot. "Champy not have Time of Need?"
Sarah recalled she was zoning out. "Sorry, nono. I mean. Yes, I have a time of need. But no, I do not need the Healer. Thank you."
"Drompo don't understand." The poor thing scratched its helmet in confusion. Junebug yawned.
"I am sorry, er, Drompo. But I made a mistake, I-"
"Champy no make mistake. Said words, said want. Champy mean it, if Kingdom feel Champy call."
Damn that filibuster. Sarah knew something like that grain of truth would trap her. Just not in this way. Does she have this kind of power? Power in a kingdom and place she left years ago?
"Drompo…can I ask a question? And you give me an honest answer?"
It nodded again with a clunk. "Drompo defy Code of Kingdom if lie. Give question."
"Does the-Goblin King—know I called?"
"Yes. Drompo sent in place of Kingy since no children wished away. Drompo come here as Goblin Messenger."
Sarah's throat closed. She swallowed cotton.
/God, you're making this a struggle. /
Cleared her throat. "I'm sorry Drompo. I am flattered you came all this way."
"Drompo job as Messenger is to travel."
"Right now. I wish I never called the Kingdom." Sarah blurted to herself. Out loud.
The atmosphere changed. Heavier, a storm front. A temperature and pressure flux.
Drompo, if even possible to the species, paled. In a low warning uttered, "No,no, Champy. Cannot take back wish. Kingy do not like that.
Junebug alerted, and Drompo looked around as of expecting rain. It hurdled itself onto the feline. With a clanging salute, it raised its voice over the distant rumbling. "Drompo must leave. Regards to Champy." A light tap of armored foot and Junebug was off. She skittered down the hall charging with the Goblin until there was no more metal or paw noises.
The electricity went out. Sarah felt the same dread she had when she first wished Toby away. It was the nightmare all over again. Her mind went into anxiety lockdown. She needed her friends, now.
It was sunset with vermillion glow outside as the only ambience. Trees shook with gusts. She feared what would come next. Her whole body shook with drain. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Hoggle, Ludo—I need you," Through clenched teeth. rattling of trees.
Sarah whimpered in a low voice and held onto herself, "No…The Labyrinth has… no power over me!"
A sudden arid wind current stripped into her bones through her layers. It sobered her brain enough to focus on her friends, her body.
Sarah felt a presence in front of her. The rumbling stopped. Was it Ludo?
She reached her hand forward, pushing her foot in a slide. Stopped. Waiting for a withered one to touch it.
Nothing brushed her hand. She stood straight again. Sarah dared not open eyes.
As she lowered her hand, the atmosphere changed once more. It felt as if she was in a wrong crosscurrent…warm air from the floor, cool air from the ceiling.
A circular chilled weight pushed into her palm.
She shrieked, threw hand up to make a run for it.
But it stuck. She jolted open eyes.
It was a crystal orb, glowing incandescent outside and swirling cream inside. A lilac edge beneath the orange pulsed in sync with her heartbeat in a swirl. Sarah was mesmerized. Frozen in place, but not unwillingly.
It felt like she carried the densest dumbbell and the most delicate porcelain. The crosscurrent seemed to hold her in place standing. She closed her lids to inhale the sublime feeling.
A light change hit her face, she sensed it beaming.
Another, unexpected, presence pushed into the crosscurrent. She felt it in her body. It pushed into the space of the orb in front of Sarah. Cut through the crosscurrent. Disrupted the light.
She was afraid to look under her scrunched lids, for fear of blinding herself.
It blocked out the radiance. She felt a chill again.
The crosscurrent halted.
The tingle of the orb faded gradually.
She shot her eyes open in anger.
Standing before her, the Goblin King held a splayed palm over the orb.
Her hand seemed magnetized in place. Only an eerie lilac glow of the orb remained.
Sarah's gaze ran up the hand and in darkness until it reached his face. Her forest irises reflected the light as she gasped, but could only muster a slight vocalization from sheer shock. Lilac ran in moving shadows onto his eyes and jawline.
Her mouth slightly ajar. The only movement she managed was a grimace that held back tears.
His resonant, raspy voice emerged.
"How dare you summon the powers of the Kingdom and Labyrinth, then deny them in the same breath."