Chapter 2: Nothing tralala

Jareth felt something pull at him, like his body was being jerked slowly across a plane made of rock. He opened his eyes, unaware he had even closed them and he could see the back of a small child, clutching his hand and dragging him toward what look to be a drop. Around him he could see he was indeed on a rock flat, with a huge drop off not three spaces away form where the child now was. It was a little girl, he could see, with long tousled curls near the darkness of Sarah's hair and a little pink dress with a strawberry print. She was unearthly strong for a child, able to drag him a good foot or so with each step she took. He wrenched his hand from her hold, an idea that at the time he considered good, for they were getting quite near the edge and it was not oblivious to him that the girl had the idea of throwing him off the side. But she stopped dead in her tracks when he dislodged his hand and turned with eerie stealth and grace and looked down at him with a terrifying face.

Jareth jumped and tried to crawl away from her. It was not the expression that scared him, it was the face itself. Her skin was chalky, a striking contradiction to her dark hair, and her eyes were gaping hole in her head. Her mouth was open, her lips a deep cherry red, covered in little bite-like scabs. The scabs he was sure were from her fangs, three times shaper and more deadly then his own. She squealed angrily and held out her hand to him with a fierce exaggerated shake, like a parent demanding their child to let them control them. Instead of heeding to the monster-child's demand, he stood, and before her stretched out into his tall form, his looming structure shadowing the child from the grey streams of light, too silver to be sunshine that peeked through the clouds. She did not move in response, but a dark, fanged smile crossed her face and he frowned as she held out her hand one final time.

Her nails, which had previously gone beyond his notice, had grown, long and sharp, like little talons and they curled inward. A handshake like that would scar you for life. Is first urge was to kick the child, but he refrained seeing as they were so close to the edge. Considering the cliff he stood near he looked over the brim to find only fog and mist, no indication of how far a jump would be. The child noticed his caution and the smile grew wider until he was sure it could spread no more. She turned from him then and tipping her face back to smile once more she danced across the edge of the cliff and vanished into oblivion.

Jareth swore and dived forward; trying the grasp the child's wild curls before they slipped away into the fog. But he found then that his fingers grazed the ground and he blew some air into the fog below him and saw the ground plain as day not a foot below the edge. Without thinking he stood and aimed to step down onto the earth but was swallowed into the mist where he dived feet first into the nothingness the child had fallen down.

Around him in the silvery air he began to see shapes form, figures of people, young and old, tall and short, ugly and beautiful, all twinkling slightly as if made of dust. Some reached toward him, others faded away from him, faces turned. Some even whispered in the rush of the wind in his ears. Some sang with the wind itself.

Lost in these faces and sounds he hardly noticed the figure of the child hanging in suspended falling, hair untouched by the wind, eyes suddenly full of bright blue iris's. She was watching him curiously, the odd somber expression on her frightening face diminished, replaced by a common wise gaze that was shared with many high Fae. Though she was no Fae in the least.

Finally, his notice came to the child and her smile grew again this time with no fangs, no talon nails and a very clear stare with a soul. He cocked his head and squinted, knowing that more of her had changed then what he could plainly see. In return she mirrored his expression and smiled. The smile said what his mind could not piece together; her expression and even body language and maybe her body also was motherly. The form of her eyes was round and wide, but lazily half closed to give off an almost sweet romantic look. Her smile, with it's straight row of clean teeth was slightly imperfect, but had a loving nature. Her body had evidently grown taller as well, rounder with supple hips. She appeared then to be more of an adolescent then a child, growing into a woman.

Unconsciously, he reached out for her and she reached for him and took his hand and his falling slowed until he was hanging just over a rushing river of violet water. She floated, taking steps in the air and tugged him gently along.

When she spoke, his ears did not seem to receive the sound, the air around him seemed full of its meaning and the world around them echoed with it.

"You are not meant to be here, Goblin King," She said. "Nor is your precious meant to be in Hell."

"Where am I exactly?" He asked.

"Some people call this place the world in between, others may name it Limbo, but in short it is my home." She turned to face him. "Here souls may find their will's to be tested, their heart tried and their minds strung out before them in all their own mystery."

Most of what she said only confused Jareth further, but he nodded to indicate he was listening.

"Now," She continued. "I cannot help you leave this place; the one who trapped you here has a power beyond my own. However, I may assist you in finding the one who is searching for you."

"Sarah?" He asked eagerly. "Has she escaped?"

The woman's face softened in apology. "No, king, but another has snuck from Hell to retrieve you for her. One who also has been cursed by Hell."

"Who?" He asked, but she only smiled. "Who?" He demanded again and this time she was gone and he was left in the air, held by an unmovable force, only the echoes of his cries there to answer him.

Sasha peeked over the grass It was tall grass, smelling like spring and sunshine, but it was also her hiding place as she crouched not a foot from the door to Limbo. It had not taken her long to find it, just ask the angel who lives by the gates of heaven and you're there. She ruffled her fur and ran a clawed hand through her hair, her lovely hair that had reappeared when she had left Hell. It was long and soft and very blonde, a crisp moonbeam. She loved to play with it, to braid it and run its ends across her nose. She had not remembered she'd even had a beautiful head of hair until then. Every smell in the world above was sweet and fresh, every word was soft and kind, nothing was sharp or hot, nothing too sharp or hot anyway. It seemed that everything there was kind and gentle. She had been in Hell for too many years.

She felt a tickle in her mind, some traces of stolen memory coming back to life in her for a brief moment. She was looking for something…wasn't she?

"Jareth," She said firmly to herself. "For Sarah, you were looking for Jareth." That's not it. She frowned deeply and thumbed the slight bridge of her nose in frustration. She would need to figure out what she was really looking for later.

She had tied the crystals around her waist, each in a small sack bound tightly to her belt. If one hadn't been standing very near her the crystals would almost be invisible against her waist-line, something that came to a great advantage. Now, laying in the grass, twirling her hair and concentrating on the door she focused all her attention.

The door was not really a door; it was instead an arch between tree branches, one that had you not been paying much mind to would look like any ordinary pair of trees. But when taken to mind and sincerely considered it became apparent quite quickly that the bend of the trees was just so and the vines and ivy hanging from the branches were twisted to exaggerate the entrance. Sasha waited a moment before moving again, the cat side of her insisting that this was a bad idea, wholly unnatural and without a purpose that was concerning her. The other side of her said, plainly and very loud with a rich command: go in there now! And go in she did.

Passing through the door was the definition of passing through worlds. She had heard of teleportation, transportation of the mental kind, body switching and world hopping, but this was a different and separate form of motion where her spirit seemed to gain control over her body and she moved like a ghost into a world opposite the world she had started from. The grand secret gardens where the arch was ad been lush, full of color and life, but the world she stepped into was plain, grey and ever-changing in such subtle ways that you didn't notice until that change was complete and where you had been no longer was and where you were was stranger then before.

Her first step was tentative and quick, the sky above her was a constant stream of flowing clouds the colors of silver and grey, the shadows from unseen figures and obstacles the only hint that she may bump into something. The ground was made of rock, but it was not a hard rock, but it appeared to be molten lava, hardened by the cool air, smooth by the fierce wind that polished it. There were no little rock pebble or shards about, only smooth sheer space to walk, but nowhere to get to. Sasha turned to look back at the arch when she was a few yards away, thinking to use it as a vantage pint for how far she'd traveled when she realized it had vanished. Sighing angrily and letting a growl scramble out into the silent unbearable sound around her she pressed further, hoping that she was getting farther, knowing it appeared she had not taken a single step.

She talked aloud to keep herself from going batty, useless small talk with the wind, shapeless gab with the stone ground beneath her. It was enough to drive any intelligent person off their rocker. Sasha knew if she did not come across something soon, she could very end up screaming. Screaming would not do her much good though, she remembered. Only one hope could be of use, the crystals she carried. Yet she had no guarantee they could get her out of here, if here was there or three steps back was here and she hadn't moved at all, and she had no guarantee she would have a safe place to go to if she did get out of here/there/wherever. In life, she supposed, there was no guarantee of anything. She laughed to herself. Well, this isn't exactly life is it? It's Limbo. And it is nothing.

Jareth opened his eyes, realizing that he had fallen asleep, again. Grumbling he sat up and jumped. The child, no the woman was sitting ext to him. She had grown again; much lovelier with each phase of growth and by now she was fully mature, smiling and playing with the ends of her long dark hair.

"Good morning," She said. "I trust you slept well?"

In all honesty, he did not feel he had slept at all. But he answered. "Indubitably well."

She smiled again and stood, smoothing out her dress with the strawberry print, the strawberries having begun to take on the looks of roses, the pale pink of the base color deepening only slightly.

"Ready to jump," She gestured to the edge. He hadn't realize that he was back where he had been the first time, lying near the edge of the cliff with nothing and nowhere to say or go. He sighed and looked up at her.

"That didn't exactly work the first time." He said.

She was unfazed by his sarcasm but he thought he saw a muscle near her left eye twitch, as if greatly annoyed by what he'd said making her body had stiffen.

"Maybe you'll learn something this time." She held out her hand. No talons were present.

"What have I left to learn?" He snapped and turned from her. His anger, unbeknownst to him until that moment of defiance had kindled deep inside him. He was not going to jump.

"Nothing tra la la," She answered. "Or everything."

He just ignored her, though his mind jumped to Sarah at the mention of his favorite words. He waited for her to jump so he could be left by his lonesome, but she did not move.

"Don't make me force you." She said. He looked up at her and gave her no indication that he would obey.

Her movements next were so fast and so agile he did not have a moment to react and the next thing he knew he was falling, down and down in the silver shaft again only this time she did not fall with him and when he reached the violet river and saw it's rushing rapids all within a matter of a second he knew that she was angry with him.

Before his feet could meet the water, sleep swallowed him once again and he loitered in slumber-land, hoping that when he woke up he would not be at that stupid cliff again.

When he did wake again, and saw what was around him he cussed so bad that she didn't even wait for him to take her hand. She tossed him over the edge once more and down he fell, swearing as loud as his voice could stand.

It continued like that, for a very long period of time and he did not budge from his stubbornness. He was sure that at one point she would give up on him and the point she was trying to make and vanish away with the headache the sounds and pressure of the winds had given him.

When after a fall that nearly knocked the breath from him he reached to take her hand upon awakening she smiled and did not jump or throw him off the edge. Almost out of new forced nature he very nearly walked right off the edge of the cliff but stopped himself and turned to her. She was smiling so brightly and her dress had clearly changed from strawberries to roses.

"You have learned." She said. "You may see her now."

"What?" But he need not have asked, for before him had formed in the place of the vanishing woman a mirror, very large with odd angles and no frame and from the shadows of the reflection he saw Sarah. His heart leapt and his eyes widened and he almost tried to walk through the glass to her.

Then he only watched, gloved hands pressed against the glass, as she slept, spread across a bed of red and white, looking small and pale. But he would take what he could, watch his loved one when he was granted it by the strange teacher here and hope that he could someday get out of this place and reach her again. Hope it seemed in his case did not have wings.

Maybe it had whiskers.

I don't usually make demands my goblins, but can we please see some reviews? This poor story is getting lonely. Lots of love, Virgin Queen. 3