Chapter Three: The Round Room

Sarah felt consciousness prying her away from the warm and comfortable darkness of sleep. She tried to resist it, curling up more tightly and burying her face in the soft blanket in which she was wrapped. Eventually, however she could no longer keep her mind in the pleasant state of blankness where it had been resting. Thoughts intruded, and she became aware of light shining in the room beyond her closed eyelids. She sighed. Sleep was too wonderful to last forever. Idly she wondered what time it was. She had probably overslept and missed breakfast despite all her good intentions. That being the case, it wouldn't hurt anything to lie here for a few moments more. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting to see the sloping ceiling of her own tiny bedroom under the eaves. Instead she saw a high, domed ceiling with curling patterns of intricate stonework carved into it. Her heart skipped a beat as her mind struggled to adjust to the unexpected proportions of the space she found herself in. Where was she? Where had she gone to sleep last night? The barn. Yes, she had gone to the barn last night, and she didn't remember leaving it, so she must have fallen asleep there. But what was this place? As she struggled to sit upright the memories flooded back with dizzying speed. Waking in the barn to heat and smoke and the deafening crackle of the flames. The sudden, almost uncontrollable panic. Had it been a nightmare? No, it was far too real. And then . . . Jareth. Yes, he had been there; the same dazzling, unearthly, maleficent Goblin King –mocking her terror, laying down his ultimatum, trying to trap her again, just as he had before. It was characteristic of him to appear, just when she was the most frightened and vulnerable, and try to twist the situation to serve his own ends. She had thought she had defeated him once and for all, but it seemed he wasn't to be so easily banished. Sarah suddenly found herself wondering if his appearances were to become a recurring menace, if the threat of his insatiable desire to control her was to hang over her for the rest of her life.

Even as these thoughts were unfurling in her brain, Sarah's eyes were moving all over the room trying to figure out where she was. It was a round room with, as she had noticed before, a domed ceiling soaring up thirty feet or more above her head. The room itself was quite large – perhaps forty feet in diameter. The bed she was sitting on was like the room itself in some ways. Like the ceiling it was made of intricately carved stone, but it was covered with a soft mattress under layers of silky coverings which were somewhere between the color of stone and the color of water. They had tones of grey, green, blue and purple. The bed was rounded – almost an oval – and it fit perfectly against the curve of the wall. It was also quite high – as she discovered when she looked down. It sat on a rounded stone dais with three shallow steps leading down to the floor. The floor itself was one great mosaic of slate tiles comprising wild shapes and unexpected patterns, all in muted tones of purplish, bluish, and greenish grey. The bed was the only piece of furniture visible. The light she had sensed upon waking shafted into the room from tall mullioned windows set at intervals all around its circumference. They alternated with wrought iron candle sconces bearing spherical blue and green candles – unlit. Directly across from where Sarah sat there was a large stone fireplace. That too was unlit, although there was a fire laid. More than anything else in the room, Sarah was intrigued by the figures carved into the fireplace. Forgetting for a moment the strangeness of her surroundings and the puzzle of how she had come to be here she swung her feet down to the dais, untangling herself from the blanket which was wrapped around her. It was warm but surprisingly light and silky, and when she pushed it away it slid to the floor like water flowing down a rock face.

The floor was cool and soothing to her feet, which still remembered too well the almost unbearable heat of the loft floor. Sarah approached the fireplace, staring at the fascinating shapes. The stone sides were carved in a pattern similar to that of the ceiling and floor, but the mantle was covered with representations of the intertwined bodies of gargoyles – some large, some small, no two alike. They all were shown in different attitudes of sleep. Sarah reached out a hand to touch one of the littlest ones. There was something familiar about them. They were . . . they were . . . not gargoyles. Goblins.

Sarah snatched her hand away as the one she had been about to touch suddenly opened its eyes. It let out a squeal of terror even as she jumped back in fright. Untangling itself from its fellows it scurried away from her, running with its stubby legs along the underside of the mantle, diving into the fireplace and disappearing up the chimney. In the process it woke many of the other goblins which, upon seeing Sarah, all reacted with various expressions of exaggerated panic. Soon a mini riot and mass exodus from the mantelpiece was occurring before Sarah's startled eyes. Goblins were pushing and shoving and running in several directions at once. Evidently the single-minded purpose of every one of them was to flee her terrifying presence by the only available egress. One or two of the smaller goblins had wings and vanished up the chimney in a twinkling. The others were left to scramble up as best they were able. Some of the more agile ones clambered up the bare rock. Others climbed up using each other as hand and footholds. A few of them used their peers as a means of transport. One of the larger goblins fought his way up with no fewer than five smaller ones clinging to his back. In less than half a minute they were all gone.

The spectacle was actually a rather comical one, but the humor was lost to Sarah. The blood had drained from her face, and she could feel herself shaking. She knew where she was now. It should have been obvious from the beginning. Other than the presence of the goblins the room was not in any way reminiscent of anything she had encountered here before, but of course that meant nothing. Familiarity and predictability were the last things to expect here. The bizarre, the confusing, and above all, the unexpected—these were the hallmarks of this place. As if to seal her worst fears she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled to find Jareth, his arms folded, leaning against the wall in the shadow of the fireplace. Had he been there the whole time, her mind demanded? Jareth straightened up, moving out of the shadows and resting one gloved hand on the now vacant mantelpiece. He smiled his dazzling smile. His eyes glittered unpleasantly.

"Welcome back to the Labyrinth, Sarah."