Disclaimer: Sarah, Jareth, the Labyrinth, and its other characters are owned by the Jim Henson Company.

Talespinner

Chapter 3: lt Will Show You Your Dreams (Part 1)

The office-lined hallway was chilly and quiet at this hour of the evening. Sarah had been surprised when Dr. Casas had suggested a meeting so late – most of the other professors she knew went home by five or six. Now, at nearly eight, all the offices on the hallway were closed and their windows dark, except one near the end of the row whose cracked door spilled a welcoming, buttery light across the smooth stone floor.

Sarah reached the open office, confirming with a slightly nervous glance at the burnished brass nameplate that this was the correct one before knocking softly on the aged wood paneling.

"Come on in!" Her creative writing professor's cheerful, lilting voice came from inside.

Dr. Casas's office was as warm and pleasant as its occupant, with paintings on the walls and a soft yellow desk lamp favored over the harsh, fluorescent fixtures that were ubiquitous in the university's rooms. Miranda Casas herself was seated comfortably in an upholstered leather chair, and nearly surrounded by her expansive desk, almost none of which was visible under the stacks of papers and books that paved it. Her liquidly black eyes sparkled as she smiled at Sarah.

"Have a seat, Sarah, please. How was your winter break?"

Sarah smiled in return, and took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. "It was great, actually. Very productive." She had spent almost the entirety of the holidays writing furiously, as if to make up for the stagnancy of the last semester. The pages had flowed like water, and showed no signs of slowing except as strictly necessary for school – a fact that had Sarah almost euphoric. She had also done a great deal of thinking, which had slowly crystallized into a firm resolve that prompted her to email her favorite professor and request this meeting on the first day back at school.

Dr. Casas laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Now that's not something I hear students say very often about a break between semesters. What were you working on?"

"I started writing what I hope will be a novel last summer. It… I'm a lot happier with it than anything I turned in for your class last semester." A faint blush bloomed on Sarah's cheeks. She hadn't turned in anything terrible for the class, but she certainly didn't think any of it had been particularly good, either.

Dr. Casas was regarding her intently, simply waiting for Sarah to continue. Embarrassed, she explained further. "I guess I was having a lot of trouble adjusting to school these last few months, because I couldn't seem to make any progress on my novel, and every time I wrote something for class, it felt like I was trying to squeeze toothpaste out of an almost-empty tube. But right before the break, my brain started working again, and I worked on the novel all through the holidays."

"Your work for my class was perfectly fine, and better than most, in fact. Please don't let yourself think that it wasn't worthwhile – judging from the assignments it looked like at the very least your use of language became a lot more sophisticated over the semester, even if you felt uninspired. That said, I'd love to have a look at this novel of yours, if that's what you wanted to talk about," her professor said, warmly. Sarah smiled a bit in spite of herself, grateful.

"I'd love your thoughts on it, definitely," she replied. "That's… actually not quite what I'm here for right now, though. I was hoping you could give me some advice about classes, and part-time work on campus."

"Oh? I think I can help you quite a bit with the latter, but I don't know much about the Economics department requirements. Maybe one of your other professors would be a better choice for that."

Sarah laughed, now relaxed. "That's alright, because I want to get out of that department." It was the first time she had voiced the decision that she had made on New Year's Eve. "You probably didn't know, but I was a Mythology major when I started. My dad didn't think that was very useful, so he made me change most of my classes, and yours was the only one I kept that I really wanted to take."

Dr. Casas considered this for a moment before the corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Ahh, I think I understand. You are looking for a job so that your parents will no longer control the purse-strings, and you can study what you like, yes?"

Sarah nodded, surprised that she hadn't had to use her anxiously-prepared and lengthy explanation for the decision. "Yes, that's it, exactly. I don't need to make a lot of money – my scholarships cover most of my expenses already, so I figured it would be doable."

"It is a pretty drastic step to potentially cut yourself off from your parents like that, Sarah," the professor said. "I…" She pursed her lips, considering her next words. "I definitely do not think you should be stuck in a major you don't like for their sake, but have you tried talking the issue out with them, already?"

"They cut off the conversation when I objected the first time, and after that, my dad was angry with me for not trying to be enthusiastic about the new classes. I'm sure this is what I want to do."

The professor nodded slowly. "Well, then allow me to say two things: First, it is definitely doable, though scheduling work hours with school may be a headache at times." She paused, and Sarah nodded in acknowledgment. She didn't expect it to be easy, but the prospect of juggling work and school was infinitely preferable to continuing in a major she didn't enjoy. "Secondly," Dr. Casas continued, "…good for you. You seemed like the most enthusiastic student in the class when the semester began, but then almost immediately that changed. It is obvious to me you were not happy with what you were doing, and I will be delighted to help you correct that."

"Thank you so, so much, Dr. Casas!" Sarah said effusively.

The professor smiled at her, and pulled out a copy of the school's course listings and a large pad of paper. "You are very welcome. Now, let's have a look at these classes."

The brass gate stood open before her, its rich luster picking up even the last, faint rays of evening sunlight as if to hoard them greedily through the night. Sarah's eyes wandered up and down its complex construction, which struck a masterful balance between strength and delicate ornamentation. Stylized birds soared between sturdy crossbars, and curling, metallic vines snaked around them, studded with sharp-looking thorns. The latch that Sarah remembered lifting a moment before was embellished in a lacey silver overlay that stood out like ice against the brass.

This time, when Sarah stepped across the threshold of the gate and into the Labyrinth, the world remained solid around her, and she could see that she was standing an endless-looking, featureless corridor that reminded her sharply of her first journey here. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, no small bit amused.

Really now? This again?

The walls shimmered lightly, as if seen from across a bonfire, and Sarah blinked. When her eyes came fully open again, the lines had re-formed, and she could see the myriad bends and openings and corners that characterized the enormous maze, and she laughed aloud.

If stone walls could look sheepish… I think these just did. I wonder if I'll end up in an oubliette this time, too. Sarah shook her head, still chuckling, as she chose an archway flanked by weathered stone sphinxes that lounged in indolent, immobile boredom against the wall.

As the twilight dimmed into full night, Sarah walked onward, nearly oblivious to the passage of time until torches suddenly flickered to life along the walls that flanked her. Startled, she quickly scanned the area for goblins, goblin monarchs, or any of the other, less glittery denizens of the Underground. By all appearances, though, she was still quite alone on the path, and she suspected she would be grateful for the torchlight soon, despite its faintly green cast. The flames themselves had a flash of emerald at their cores, as if they were burning something other than wax-soaked wood, and she wondered whether these used some kind of spiked mundane fuel, or were simply magic.

When Sarah turned a corner and found the new section of path awash in cool blue illumination instead, she decided that it must be the latter.

She was walking at a brisk clip, looking for some pattern in the colors, when she began to hear the music.

At first, it was only the slightest, tinkling chime, like the strands of a glass suncatcher clinking together in a soft breeze far away. Gradually, a percussive rhythm began to distinguish itself from Sarah's lightly scraping footsteps, later joined by the sharper beat of a tambourine. Finally, the faint, bright tones of what sounded like a wood flute skipped and trickled amidst the other sounds, and Sarah thought that the source seemed a little closer.

Minutes later, she rounded another bend in the path, where the wall threw bruised shadows through otherwise cheerful violet light, and was certain that the musicians were through an archway a few dozen yards ahead. Sarah reached the archway and paused, hesitant less from any thought of danger than from a worry of interrupting what sounded like a revel of some sort. Still, curiosity won that sortie by a landslide – a moment later, she ducked under a low-hanging ivy creeper and stepped quietly through the arch.

Then the bubble burst, and she opened her eyes to winter sunlight and the insistent bleating of her alarm. Sarah almost threw it across the room.

"Hey, weren't you in English 302 with me last semester?" Sarah looked up from her textbook in surprise. The speaker was a petite girl with short, sand-colored hair and friendly, grey eyes that she did, come to think of it, remember from the creative writing class.

Sarah quickly ran through as much of the class roster as she could remember, trying to recall the girl's name. "Yes, I was… Lauren, right?"

"Laurel, but that's closer than most people get," she corrected with a chuckle. "I'm terrible with names myself, so what's yours?"

Sarah turned slightly pink despite Laurel's attempt at making her comfortable. She hated calling someone by the wrong name. "Sorry, nonetheless – I'd almost rather forget a name than remember the wrong one. And I'm Sarah."

"Sorry to bother you," Laurel said, nodding toward Sarah's textbook. "I just wondered if you knew anything about what happened to that last short story assignment we were supposed to turn in. I never got mine back."

"Oh, no worries – I'm glad for the distraction. The history elective this is for puts me to sleep." Sarah made a face at the book and set it aside. "There was an email after classes ended, you must have missed it. Dr. Casas has the hardcopies, with comments, at her office for us to pick up."

Laurel nodded. "Alright, thanks. I guess I'll swing by her office today or tomorrow and get it." She turned to go.

Noticing the lunchbag Laurel was carrying, Sarah made an impulsive suggestion. "Have a seat if you like, I was just about to put the book away and eat some lunch," she offered, moving her backpack off the other end of the bench.

"Okay, I'd love to, actually." Laurel grinned and sat down, cross-legged. "I normally eat in the north dining hall with some people from my eleven o'clock, but they can't freaking stop talking about the homework that's already been assigned, and I'm getting tired of listening. I'll think about the damn thing when I sit down to do it, not on my lunch break."

Sarah smiled, liking the girl already. She could certainly sympathize with a desire to escape from dwelling on work.

"What class is the homework for?" she asked.

"It's a problem set for Physics 102. I'm a chemistry major, and it seems like half the people in my class get their panties in a wad at the first mention of calculus." She snorted derisively.

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Really? Hell, I was supposedly an econ major and most of them even could handle the basics."

"Yeah, I get the impression a lot of these guys thought chemistry was all funny squiggle-drawings and explosions. They're pretty disappointed now – we spent the first two entire sessions in lab learning how to AVOID blowing things up… which is a shame, but still!" Laurel added the last thought with a giggle. She cocked her head slightly to the side, inquisitively. "But you said 'was' an econ major. What are you now?"

"Back to Mythology, where I wanted to be in the first place. My dad didn't think much of that, so he made me change most of my classes last semester before registration closed. I've gotten a job at the library now, though, and Dr. Casas put me in touch with a high school to do some paid English tutoring, so… I don't need the little money he was giving me anymore."

Laurel gave her an admiring look. "Wow. And to think everyone in the sciences tells me you liberal artsies are lazy. That's pretty kickass. How'd he take it?"

Sarah sighed. "I'll find that out when I go home for the long weekend coming up. I made the decision over winter break, but only just got the work lined up last week. I wanted to have that bit nailed down before I said anything."

"Probably smart," Laurel said with a small nod.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty nervous about telling him, still, to be honest," Sarah admitted.

"Eh, you'd be a robot or something if you weren't. It sounds like you've made up your mind, though – just have to stick to your guns."

Sarah picked at her neglected turkey sandwich as she nodded, and Laurel started inhaling a bag of grapes.

"So if you're a chemistry major," Sarah asked after a short, comfortable silence, "what was with the creative writing class? What else do you like to do?"

Between bites, Laurel answered. "They forced me to take some English class, and it fit. Turned out to be kinda awesome; Dr. Casas was cool. And I was able to dig up some of the old stories I wrote as a kid and clean them up for some of the assignments. As for the rest, if I'm not in class, I'm usually in a theater. Sound tech, set, props, costumes – something backstage needs doing, I do it. I'm going to try to latch onto one of the drama clubs' lighting people and brush up on that, too."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "That's really neat! I dabbled in theatre like you said you did writing, when I was younger and had more free time. What plays are you working on this semester?"

Laurel blinked at her, lips twitching up into another quicksilver grin. "Much Ado About Nothing, and Waiting for Godot… so far. I'm kinda looking for more, even though I know I really shouldn't. You should come see them when they go up!"

"I would love to," Sarah replied, lunch forgotten again. "I adore Shakespeare, and Godot is pretty strange, but leaves so much room for interpretation."

"Shakespeare's a favorite of mine, too, though what I really want to work on of his is Macbeth. It's popular enough that I think there's a good chance it will happen sometime before we graduate."

Laurel's lunchbag joined Sarah's in a dejected heap on the ground beside them, as they continued to chatter about books and plays until the clock in the quad noisily intruded. The two girls hurried in separate directions to their afternoon classes, but not before a quick exchange of email addresses and a promise to eat lunch together again.

Sarah took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and took the plunge.

"Dad? Karen? I need to talk to you about something," she said as she entered the living room, doing her best to sound calm and sure of herself, though she felt anything but.

Robert Williams looked up from his magazine, and Karen from her book, both seated comfortably on the overstuffed couch in front of the flickering TV. An aging rock band was giving a live-televised performance; Sarah didn't recognize the musicians, but the lead singer had a shock of (definitely dyed) scarlet hair that made her want to giggle. "Well, we're listening," her father said as he put aside the glossy pages. "Something to do with school?"

"Yeah, it's about my major and my classes," Sarah nodded and sat down in the easy chair, willing herself not to clench her hand in the thick upholstery of the armrest. "You know I got to skip the entry-level math classes, so I was into the thick of econ last semester." Her parents waited in silence. "I understood the material and did well with it, but… I hated everything about it, and the thought of doing any of that for a living is… just awful." She pressed on quickly, not wanting to be stopped before she said what she needed to, the statement that had required the conversation in the first place.

"I put a lot of thought into it, and talked to my professors, and decided to switch back to Mythology in the English department. Several of the faculty there actually have a pretty wide network of contacts in the workforce for writing and editing local publications, so I'm confident that I'll be able to use that to help me find a job after I graduate." Sarah opened her mouth to say more, but closed it instead, not wanting to babble. She'd see what they had to say, then respond to their arguments or play her trump, as necessary.

Her father was frowning, but Karen looked unconcerned. Sarah made a note of that, hoping that her stepmother might prove at least a partial ally if she kept her head and argued well. Karen's book joined her husband's on the dark oak side table.

"Sarah, we've been over this already, and I'm disappointed that you seem bent on wasting your time in college," Robert began, severely.

Oh dear, that's not a great start.

"The fact that some people, somewhere got jobs with that sort of frivolity does not mean it is reasonable for you to expect to do so," he added.

"You should know by now that if I care about something, I'll put in whatever effort it takes to make it work. Remember all the advanced classes in high school, and the writing I was doing at the same time? I'm already applying that to this. I'm planning on building a network all through college, as well as my writing portfolio, so I'll have options when I finish."

"That's an impressive amount of forethought on how you might make the mythology major work, Sarah," Karen put in. Robert threw her a brief, scorching glare at the encouragement, but she ignored it. "But have you put the same thought into other options in school?"

"I've talked to professors and an academic advisor about the options and what the different departments are like, yes," Sarah replied firmly, before her father could voice the sentence that looked to be on the tip of his tongue. "Obviously I can't sample every major at the school before I choose, but I did as much research as I could on the topic even back during last semester. I'm sure this is what I want to do."

Robert spoke up, anger coloring his voice. "The discussion we had last semester about this issue was not a suggestion, young lady, to be used or discarded as it pleased you. It sounds like you've forgotten that I am your father, you are my daughter, and Karen and I are paying for your education. We do not want to see our money and your time going to waste."

So that's how it's going to be. Alright then, here goes…

Sarah kept her tone utterly calm, though her anger flashed from her eyes, she was sure. "I have tried to explain why I am wasting neither time nor money, but if you don't believe me, then keep your money. I've got a part-time job at the school library, and Dr. Casas also helped me get set up in a paid tutoring program with one of the local high schools. I'll be making enough money to cover what my scholarships don't."

There. Now for the fireworks.

Karen looked surprised, and even a touch amused, at Sarah's revelation. It was a welcome contrast to the colors her father was turning.

Robert surprised his daughter, however, with silence. He didn't yell, as she had expected – only sat with a look that made both Sarah and Karen fear for his blood pressure.

After a long, awkward minute, he finally spoke. "I… see. I am not amused – " he said with another Look at his wife, " – but Karen and I will talk about this."

Sarah nodded, recognizing the dismissal, and quit the room with a grateful half-smile at Karen.

"I can't believe she pulled that," Robert Williams hissed out of nowhere as he and Karen were cooking dinner the next evening, after Sarah had returned to school.

Karen shrugged. "She's smart, mule-headed, and eighteen. You can't keep that tight of a leash on kids at that age, it just doesn't work."

"No one ever told my parents that when I was Sarah's age, and they did just fine at it."

Karen put down the carrot she was peeling and raised an eyebrow at him. "And how much did you resent them for it?" Robert didn't answer.

Eventually he sighed. "I'm not sure what to do. I don't think I can just back down, but I would feel like a terrible parent to just yank the funding, even if it wouldn't stop her."

"It may not be an easy choice, but from my point of view it's a pretty simple one," Karen said mildly. "Your pride, or your daughter. You get to keep one of them." More gently, she added, "and I think that in the future, being on speaking terms with Sarah will be more important to you than this."

The ivy creeper caught at Sarah's hair, scattering tiny, bright droplets of dew across its glossy length. She carefully disentangled herself and stepped forward through the archway into the fluttering orange glow of a new set of torches.

Fluttering? The witchlights were all steady…

Down a short pathway to her left, Sarah could see natural firelight set in what looked like a clearing, and goblinoid shapes thrown into dark silhouette in front of the bonfire. The eldritch music issued from these dancing shadows, and as she looked more closely, she noticed the suggested outline of instruments in their hands.

A touch of wariness invaded Sarah's unquenchable curiosity, as unwelcome as the feeling was. She turned toward the archway, and was only half surprised when she found that it had simply been erased. Only smooth, stone wall stood where she had entered, and the long ivy frond crawled down from the top of the wall, firmly anchored to its stones.

"No, that's the dead end behind you!" Sarah could almost hear the card-like door guards' laughter all over again. She sighed, squared her shoulders, and headed for the clearing instead.

The musicians did not notice her immediately, as she stood in the shadows of the wall, and she would have rather liked for them never to have noticed. They were goblins, but of a spindly, sharp sort of build that Sarah didn't recognize, and their faces were pinched and cunning rather than silly. Their heights and coloration differed, as did their skin tones, and the only thing that all seemed to have in common was a dark-colored, shapeless hat that hung down past their hairy, pointed ears.

Something urgent tugged at Sarah's memory, but she couldn't quite latch onto what it was. Misgivings aside, the only way out of the segment of maze she was in was the clearing, and she could see the outline of what looked to be a bridge on the far side, beyond the fire. She would have to cross the clearing, one way or another.

As Sarah eased her way into the circle of firelight, trying to keep as close to the walls (now thorny hedges instead of stone) as she could, one of the goblins stopped playing, and sniffed. Sarah froze.

The creature turned around slowly, letting its flute fall to its side, and a moment later, its companions noticed and followed suit. When they saw Sarah, their faces broke out into nearly identical leers.

"Why, it's a little lady, fellas! Why does the little lady stay in the shadows? She should join us by the fire, she should!" the first goblin crowed.

"Yes, yes! Join the Bog Gang for some fun tonight!" chorused the others. When Sarah didn't move, the first took a few paces toward her, plainly trying to look friendly, and failing utterly. She took a step to the side, instinctively inching toward the other end of the clearing, and the changed angle of the light allowed her to get a better glimpse of the group.

Their ugly hats, which Sarah had thought to be some shade of brown, were a deep, rusty red.

Redcaps! All the unpleasant things she'd read about this particular type of fae came crashing into her head at once, along with a heavy dose of fear.

"I… I can't, I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you, I just needed to pass through. I'm terribly late, you see," she managed.

"I thinks the little lady is late for supper," one of the redcaps called. "She should stay and haves it with us!" It started toward her from the far side of the fire.

"Ahh, no, thank you… my friend will be angry with me…"

They were all advancing on her, now, and Sarah promptly decided that speed would be a much better ally than lame excuses. She bolted to the left.

The redcaps abandoned their façade of politeness immediately, and jumped at her, baring sharp, mottled teeth.

Sarah dodged one's lunge, slipped sideways, and nearly got herself mired in the hedge, but managed to change direction quickly enough to avoid all but a scraped wrist from the briars. She kicked another squarely in the head as it came for her, but brief pause in forward motion allowed another to catch hold of her hair.

Shrieking, Sarah sprinted forward as suddenly as she could, and the redcap slid free. The bridge was just ahead of her now, and she stumbled onto it and tried not to notice the depth of the chasm that yawned beneath it.

The Bog of Eternal Stench was tame compared to this. Apparently this Labyrinth means business!

It was that much more alarming when she felt the ancient, moss-covered stones begin to give way beneath her.

Sarah gritted her teeth and grabbed the coarse rope handrail, prepared to climb up it if the bridge failed before she could make it across. The redcaps, strangely, were piled up at the base of the bridge, none of them setting foot on it. One of them had a knife working against her handrail, though.

Sarah cursed under her breath and switched hold to the other, but discarded the idea in favor of a flying leap to the far bank when she felt more stones dislodging.

She landed on her hands and knees against the muddy ledge, gasping, and staggered to her feet to keep running just as the bridge collapsed fully behind her. The hungry redcaps howled in frustration from across the chasm.

Sarah awoke in her bed at school in the predawn hours, still feeling winded, and her wrist ached faintly. A slightly alarmed glance downward confirmed that she had simply been sleeping on it strangely, and the skin was unbroken. Sarah slowly relaxed, and decided to use the extra time before class to get some writing done.

The crystal shimmered mutely on her nightstand.

"Alright, Sarah, you've got to help me," Laurel announced as she lowered her backpack to the floor with a groan of relief.

Sarah finished typing the sentence she had been in the middle of, saved her file, and looked up from the laptop screen, squinting up at her best friend in the afternoon sunlight.

"What with? It had better involve faeries – I think I've got too much pixie dust on the brain right now to be much use with anything else."

Laurel grinned, and ran her fingers through her sweat-streaked hair. It stood on end, making her look even more disheveled than her ripped jeans and dusty t-shirt did already. Sarah suspected she'd just come from rigging in the school's small theatre. "Lucky both of us, then – it involves faeries like my physical chemistry lab involves headaches."

Sarah gave her an incredulous look. "Really now? I'm listening!"

"Well, you know how I was only going to do the one play this semester, what with my department deciding that sophomores need to take nine thousand lab hours?" Sarah nodded. Her own second-tier classes were piling on the reading and essays more than ever, but it didn't particularly bother her. "Jen conned me into another one. She got the part in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and then found out they didn't have a costume designer. I was, uh, volunteered in absentia." Laurel made a face.

Sarah tilted back her head and laughed. "So here you are, to save the day, and you're calling in me as the expert on faerie regalia." Laurel's girlfriend was also active in theatre, in front of the curtain while Laurel stayed behind it. Jen had enlisted both Laurel and Sarah's help with props and other odds and ends several times over the last year.

"Exactly! Does that mean you'll help me out?" she asked, hopefully. "I really couldn't think of a better choice than you, with that novel you're working on, and all."

"If the faeries are supposed to actually look like faeries, and not some weird contemporary version where they're space aliens or something…"

Laurel nodded. "Oh yeah. I think it's set in modern times, but the faeries are totally still faeries, with wings, and feathers, and glittery shit."

"…feathers, and glittery shit…" This could be surreal. Sarah blinked at her friend bemusedly for a moment before answering. "Count me in, then. The image of Queen Maeve that I have in my head for the story would actually be close to perfect for Titania. I'd have to make it a bit less fierce, and more flighty… " She trailed off, already reaching for a notebook to start sketching. "And some kind of forest-lord theme for Oberon…"

"Sarah, you rock. This is going to look fantastic." Laurel flopped into an adjacent chair and started pulling out her own notes from her talk with the director. "Also," she added with a sly look at her friend, "just wait till you see the guy cast as Oberon. If I liked men, I'd be drooling all over him, just like half the girls in the cast."