"Oh, my poor dear! Have you hurt yourself?" Jen rolled over onto her back and looked up into the eyes of a thin old lady with brown and silver ringlets in a green gown with a white ruff collar and cuffs. All this plus a pair of square-rimmed spectacles made her look so much like the cover of an old Mother Goose book that that's what Jen mentally christened her.
"Um…" Jen paused to take stock of the situation. She was lying on the floor of the gingerbread cottage, her right ankle throbbed, and Ludo was nowhere to be seen. "Yeah, my ankle hurts…"
"Ah, allow me!" Mother Goose ran cool hands over Jen's ankle, feeling for breaks. Jen winced a couple of times and squeezed her eyes and teeth together to keep from making a sound.
Click!
Jen looked down to behold a thin golden shackle around her suddenly-healed ankle. A thin but magically strong gold chain ran from the shackle to Mother Goose's hands to a ring set in the wall.
"Hahaha!" Mother Goose cackled. "I've been waiting for years to get some help! You'll do quite well!"
"No, I won't!" Jen scrambled to her feet, towering above the bent-backed old woman. "I've got less than 8 hours to get to the castle and save my son!"
"Oh, so you're a challenger, are you?" Mother Goose's smile became a wicked grin. "You can't have wanted the child that much if you wished him away!"
"I didn't wish -him- away, I wished us -both- away!" Jen was furious at the presumption (again) that she was trying to get rid of Aiden.
"Well, what did you go and do a silly thing like that for, dear?" Mother Goose planted her hands on her hips and gazed with steely eyes at Jen, although her elevated eyebrows hinted at true surprise.
"Well... because…" Jen sputtered, "Wait, I don't have to explain myself to you!"
"As you like, child, but in the meantime I'll have you sweep the floor!" Mother Goose tutted and thrust a nearby broom into her hands. "And before you think of it, you'll be able to do no harm to me as long as that piece of jewelry is on your ankle."
"Fine," Jen gripped the broom handle with her enraged thoughts all over her face. She decided to seize the opportunity to both explore the cottage and buy time to figure out her escape. As she worked, Jen noticed a few fairies, dressed in leaves so Jen assumed a different type than the rose- and people-biting kind, zip into the cottage and converse briefly in an unknown language with Mother Goose. The latter, when not conversing, seemed to be occupied with sorting through scores of glass jars filled with herbs. Drying herbs hung in bunches from every rafter. Apart from the tiny bed in one corner with a small side table and a trunk for clothing, the cottage seemed to be almost entirely kitchen. Jen was relieved to note that the oven was definitely not person-sized, as memories of reading Hansel and Gretel ran across her mind.
Jen tried to avoid becoming depressed by her captive situation through focusing on being angry. Being angry at herself for her wish, angry at Mother Goose for capturing her, and most of all angry at the tall, skinny, over-dressed Goblin King for kidnapping Aiden and forcing her to solve his stupid, impossible Labyrinth to get him back.
The gong signaled that she was down to 7 hours by the time Jen finished sweeping the floor, scrubbing gingerbread pans, and wiping down the table. There was no sign of a key, a hacksaw, or even a big knife to help get rid of the gilded restraint on her ankle. She angrily threw the detritus she'd wiped from the table out an open window.
"Nicely done, dear, now let us have a cuppa tea," Mother Goose set the table with delicate China teacups and saucers plus a plate with a thick slice of bread topped with cheese.
Wearied from taking out her frustration on the chores, Jen plopped down on a stool and dipped a corner of her bread and cheese in her tea before eagerly cramming it into her mouth. It tasted like artisanal bread full of whole grains, and she hummed in appreciation.
Mother Goose sat daintily upon the stool on the other side of the table with her own tea and bread, "Thank you for all your hard work, my dear. I would never have gotten those pans clean by myself - you have wonderful strong hands!"
Jen looked at the old woman's wrinkled hands, "Oh, it was nothing."
"The fairies tell me you're a fine singer!"
Jen blushed, "Well, I do alright."
"Won't you sing me a ditty, then, love?"
Mother Goose looked so eager that Jen nodded and tapped her chin as she thought of a tune. The drying bunches of herbs over her head inspired her song choice.
O the summer time has come
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows along the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, go?
The elderly lady leaned back on her stool and smiled widely as Jen sang, clapping her hands at the end of the tune. "Well done, my dear, well done! A lovely voice indeed!"
Jen ducked her head and mumbled, "Thanks! It... helps me sing Aiden to sleep."
"If you don't mind my asking, why did you wish yourself away with the child? I've never heard of it done."
Jen took a deep breath and rested her arms on the table, "I dunno. No, I do, I just…" she glanced up at Mother Goose, who seemed to have genuine concern in her eyes, and decided she may as well talk since she wasn't getting anywhere fast.
"We're homeless," she sighed, turning her teacup around and around in her hands. "I lost my job, and Aiden's daddy isn't in the picture, so we don't have anywhere to live except shelters."
"But what about your family, love? Surely they wouldn't turn out a young mother in need?"
Jen scoffed, "Yeah, they would. Mom's been dead for five years, Dad's drunk and living on disability in an asbestos-ridden trailer in another state, and my only uncle… well... let's just say I wasn't safe in his vicinity since even before I hit puberty." She shoved the bread and cheese in her mouth and chewed a bite-full of it harshly, keeping her eyes on her tea.
Mother Goose's mouth formed a horrified O, "Good heavens! How dreadful! I can't imagine how hard life must have been for you."
"Yeah, well, that's life. Nobody promised it'd be fair, did they?" Jen sipped her first-ever cup of tea, finding it much easier to drink than the left-behind coffees she'd picked up at train stations the last several weeks.
"Indeed…" the old woman tapped absently on her teacup, frowning deeply. "Where did Aiden's father go, I wonder?"
"Back to France?" Jen shrugged. "Michel was a guitarist in a band from 'across the pond' as they say. It was a one-night stand after a concert in a bar where I worked. I never had any way of telling him about Aiden. I don't even know Michel's last name."
"You worked in a what, dear?" Mother Goose leaned in curiously.
"A bar… I suppose you'd call it a pub or tavern," Jen clarified, reaching for the last remaining hunk of bread and cheese on her plate.
"That's no fitting place for a young mother to work!" Mother Goose looked indignant.
"That's about what the manager said when I couldn't hide the baby bump anymore," Jen dunked the bread in her tea and began nibbling. "I've hardly had a job since then… no one'll hire you when you'll have to take time off to give birth."
"What a cruel world you come from!" the older woman frowned. "It's no wonder you wanted to come Underground."
"Underground?" Jen tilted her head to one side. "It don't look like we're underground."
"That's what this world has been called for some years now."
"What else was it called?"
"Oh, Fairy-land, Hy-Brasil, Tir-nan-Og… and many other things besides," Mother Goose nodded sagely.
Jen gulped, "I thought Tir-nan-Og was the Celtic afterlife… the ghosts of the dead aren't around here are they?"
"No, dear, not at all!" Mother Goose quickly reassured her. "Tir-nan-Og is merely a different kingdom in the Underground. The afterlife is a different realm altogether and further from this world than yours."
"So… this is Fairy-land?" Jen let out her breath.
"One part of it, yes," Mother Goose refilled Jen's teacup from her porcelain pot. "The Labyrinth and the Goblin City, along with some other territories, are part of King Jareth's realm. "
"Oh, is that his name?" Jen blinked, "I didn't know… I hadn't read that far in the book."
"Mmm… drink up my dear," Mother Goose arose and rummaged around in a cupboard.
"What's he like… when he's not kidnapping kids and running people through his labyrinth?" Jen was glad Mother Goose's back was turned as she didn't quite want to meet the old lady's eyes. She furrowed her brow at her teacup instead, and so missed her hostess' slight pause before resuming her rummaging.
"Oh, I'm quite fond of Jareth really," the older woman said. "He doesn't exactly kidnap, you know; he's obligated by his office to take the wished-away children. The distinction is somewhat narrow, but important."
"But if the person didn't –mean- to wish the child away... isn't that kidnapping?" Jen pressed. She'd spent the last hour stewing over this and she wanted some answers.
"If there is even the slightest amount of intent behind the words, the magic works and Jareth will come. Should the wisher decides they 'didn't mean it', then they have the opportunity to prove it by solving the labyrinth," Mother Goose matter-of-factly explained. "To return to your question, though, Jareth is witty, proud, musical, and sometimes stern, but I think the last is just because he's a tad lonely."
Jen sputtered into her teacup, "Lonely?!"
"Aye, dearie, ruling over goblins is not easy for one with many more talents than just herding chickens," Mother Goose returned to the table with a plate full of a variety of delicious-looking cookies. "...and his pride has not endeared him to many."
"What did you mean, you never heard of it done before?" Jen decided to steer the conversation to topics that made her feel less… flustered.
"No one has ever wished -themselves- away along with a child," Mother Goose set the plate of cookies between them. "Always, the wisher has wanted to get rid of the wee one."
"What happens to the kids that are wished away?" despite having seen that Aiden was clearly well taken care of, Jen's anxiety at the separation came forcefully to mind.
"That's a great secret, now eat up," the older woman pointed at the plate.
"Thanks, but why's it a secret?" Jen chomped down happily on a snickerdoodle cookie that was so heavenly it nearly melted in her mouth.
"I can't say, except that the King has decreed it so," Mother Goose tilted her head back, examining Jen carefully.
Under the woman's weighty gaze, Jen tried to slow down her bites, but the cookies were -so- tasty!
"May I say that despite your lack of permanent employment, you seem a good and industrious young woman?"
"Mm… thanks?" Jen tried to pause eating long enough to answer without a full mouth.
Mother Goose nodded as if she had decided something, "Yes, and as my cottage is my own little realm of a sort, I believe I shall release you to continue your journey through the Labyrinth."
Jen choked on the last bite of a date pinwheel cookie, "Really? You will?"
"Yes, dear, although I do hate to lose a competent helper," Mother Goose reached down and grasped the gold chain where it ran past her stool. With a click, the ankle portion released and fell to the floor. "Just remember, if you should ever pass this way again, you are welcome as a guest in my home. And Aiden as well, of course."
Jen gulped the last of the tea and scrambled to her feet, "Thank you! Thank you!"
"One little bit of advice, dear," the old woman stared at her with more seriousness than Jen had ever seen in an elder's face, so she held stock still. "There are more choices than you realize."
The younger woman frowned thoughtfully at Mother Goose before throwing her arms around her, "Thanks! If I can come back to see you I will." Then she ran out the door and away from the cottage down the first path she saw, hoping it would lead her toward the castle.
"Your own little realm, eh?" Mother Goose turned to where Jareth's image and voice emanated from the small looking-glass on the wall.
"I trust you heard what you wanted?" the old woman ignored the question and gathered up the plates and teacups.
"What I heard won't be much help I'm afraid," Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. "You were supposed to find out her weaknesses - her fears and dreams - not her pathetic life story."
"You've lost your touch if you can't tell all that from her words," she tutted.
"What do you mean?" he dropped his hand and glared.
"It's perfectly obvious," Mother Goose waved a hand dismissively. "She fears losing her son and she dreams of security for them both."
"That won't help me come up with Labyrinth challenges for her," he scoffed. "The only thing I've found so far is that she's afraid of heights, although I may have inadvertently cured her of that."
"Such a pity," she crossed her arms and looked down her nose at him. "I never thought you'd be so short-sighted as to miss the fact that she's an adult and the usual children's games are inadequate for her."
"I would hardly call the Cleaners 'inadequate'," he snorted.
"They're good for scaring children, Jareth, but for a grown-up you need more," she firmly informed him.
Jareth sighed, "I suppose. Such a pity you aren't a cannibal."
"If I were, I might have eaten you when you were a mischievous child," Mother Goose laughed.
"Thank goodness for small favors," he rolled his eyes. "And thank you for doing what you could, Mother."
"Any day, dear," she smiled fondly at him before frowning. "But Jareth…"
"Yes?"
"Her life is hard, not pathetic," she corrected. "I'm quite certain she doesn't want anyone's pity - she has her own pride. She certainly didn't ask for pity from me."
"I'll keep that in mind," he frowned back at her.
"What I mean to say is… she's not the spoiled sibling or cruel step-parent we've always had in the Labyrinth."
"I'll keep that in mind," he repeated, wondering where she was going with this.
"Jareth… I like her, too," Mother Goose wrung her hands anxiously.
Too? Jareth decided not to pursue that thought just yet. "Which is why you compose nursery rhymes, not rule the Labyrinth," he rolled his eyes so hard he might have been able to juggle them along with his crystal balls. "I have my duty to challenge those who enter my Labyrinth and I'll not be derelict no matter how much you 'like' them. Good day, Mother."
She merely sighed and shook her head as he faded from the mirror, "Oh, my dear son… You rule a land of wonders and yet have become so jaded…."
Author's PS: to listen to "Wild Mountain Thyme", search for the title plus Ed Sheeren ;D You're welcome! To make up for the lack of action in this chapter, the next one will have more! See ya next weekend!