"So? What have you accomplished you good for nothing waste-of-valuable-space," Jareth prodded his magician with his riding crop, to accomplish the overall effect of perpetually ungrateful dictator.
"I am just adding the final touches the the transfiguration potion, m' lord," the magician, a skinny, weak and oily looking fellow added some fluorescent orange powder to the mix in front of him, as Jareth looked on, leaning in with keen interest, "Oh no sir, stay back you do not wish for your -"
"Charming face to be covered with residue," the magician twitched and fidgeted as Jareth stood, his face a text-book picture of fury, as he began to smear off the brilliant green slime from his face.
"You leave the room in one – two – thr -" The magician was gone from sight before Jareth was given chance to complete his lethal countdown. This magician was clever, of that he was sure, for a start he had some inkling of common sense. "And the next time you disturb me it had better with for good reason!" Jareth flopped down on his throne, feeling isolated and depressed, before immediately rising once again when he came to the realisation that being in his throne room, observing his Goblinian subjects guzzling down quarts of alcohol, depressed him far more than the possible alternatives, dipping his head into a vat of boiling oil for example, it would pain him, but not act to depress him.
So he set about wandering again. He had not had a good look round the rambling structure for a good long time, for him is castle consisted of the throne room, the Escher room and his bedroom. And then stairs. There were lot's of stairs and moth-eaten tapestries draped over the part decrepit areas of the castle, beyond the areas that he had played out almost all his entire (and extremely lengthy) life in, he knew nothing of his home.
So instead of taking the left door to his room, he continued up the passageway, occasionally barking at any stray Goblins who wandered in his path, being an evil malovelant overlord takes some degree of practice. The first place of any significance he came across was a library, now Jareth had never shown an interest in reading, however, his long-dead brother had shown a curious interest in literacy and manuscripts by authors from distant kingdoms (simply because the only pieces of writing produced by Goblins were atrociously spelt political decrees and 'quaint' folk rhymes that focused only on one subject – alcohol, and as you can imagine neither were of any interest to any soul-searching heir worth their salt.) It was eerie, like stepping back into the time of life, when the balls and the banquets had taken place daily. It gave him a chill, his brother's quill and half-finished manuscripts still lay as he must of left them days before he died. Jareth did not venture to look on the words scrawled onto the page, he was afraid of what he might find. Jareth turned away from the library and moved on once more, strangely disconcerted.
Unknown to Jareth, his dead brother was currently conversing with a rather drunken Goblin back in the throne room. Being of limited perception, Jareth could not notice the ethereal shadow of his brother's visage, but that was not to say Goblins couldn't. For they were too simple minded for it to be necessary to erase the post-mortality personage from their vision. "So, old Jareth has taken it upon himself to expand his horizons beyond this hay lined hovel. His mind must be positively close to self-combusting from the effort of it all." He gave a ghostly sigh, emitting a sharp cold cloud through the air, a sigh with no source to the casual observer.
His Goblin companion responded, "yeah. He went dat way." He burped crudely, before settling back to the comfort of the dripping tap from the beer barrel.
"So? Do you think I should follow him?"
"Whatever." The Goblin responded to the the enquiry dismissively, being far more interested in the steady drips from the rotten barrel of ale. So the ghost of Jareth's brother, the long since expired ex-heir apparent, floated away surrounded by an aura of depressive cold air, mainly to ensure Jareth didn't do anything to idiotic or act without thinking, something Jareth did many a time.
And so Jareth ploughed on, so far he had discovered his parents' master bedroom, which came complete with a ridiculously oversized four poster bed, carved with the jeering and mocking faces of Goblins. They were surprisingly accurate snatches of reality, especially considering the extremely limited skill base in the Underground. It was a miracle (Jareth mused) that his mother had not fled on her wedding night, with the deformed images from the bed posts leering at her, and no, Jareth was not thinking of his father.
He had also came across his sisters rooms. All were extremely similar, indeed most were monotonous in the extreme. All were decorated with flaking pink walls, all were equipped with an expansive wardrobe, all were quipped with a cuddly Unicorn toy atop the pillow. His brother's room however had not been apparent to him, not until the end of his tour, it was at the back of the castle, and it was locked. Being Jareth he immediately attempted to kick it down, but this was one barrier his steel toed boots would not overcome.
"You have never heard of subtlety have you Jareth?" Jareth looked vague and puzzled, as if trying to hear something out of reach, but shrugged and continued trying to bang down the door. "Oh for the love of mercy! You were always an imbecile Jareth, far more interested in the serving wrenches than Shakespeare. You have no taste! Your a brutish incompetent! And your poetry is the bane of all – it is your poetry that leads the wolves to howl at night with the pain of having to endure your atrocious rhyme schemes!" Nothing, totally unresponsive. Nothing for Jareth either, the door would just not budge. It was when both deceased and living had given up, that Jareth's magician came racing up the halls, one hand grasping hold of his ridiculously elongated wizard's hat, the other gripped around a vial of bubbling indigo mixture, that fizzed energetically.
"You! I thought I warned you not to approach me unless - " Jareth's mind slowly kicked into gear, and he quickly gripped hold of the magicians shoulders, utilising his (significant) resources of strength to lift him several inches off the ground in anticipation, "the formula! You have my formula my wonderful, multi talented man of the wizarding profession!"
"It's just wizard you fool, there is no need to add 'ing' onto the end of it, let along 'profession'!" His brother shook his head in incomprehension of Jareth's foul grasp of the use of the good noun.
"Give it to me now you foul excuse for a wizard! Gimme, gimme , gimme!" Jareth hopped about like an excited child, and the magician disconcerted by Jareth's changeability hurriedly passed him the container.
"The vial of dreams..." Jareth raised the potion to his lips.
"Stop trying to be poetic Jareth, you're failing. And failing badly."
Jareth bent over double, choking, at first he thought he was dying, and his brother agreed with him on that count as Jareth had turned a brilliant shade of green. But he was not, mainly because any magician worth his gold knows that payment is likely not to be forthcoming if the employer in question is deceased. It was working, Jareth's shape blurred then elongated and twisted, as if he were a clay composite being pulled to pieces, his shape ultimately became that of a snowy owl, keen and sharp eyed, arching it's wings in preparation for flight.
"That's Jareth for you, always so showy..." His brother turned away with disgust at Jareth's frivolity as the owl soared from the window, as the owl soared up to the far reaches of the aboveground.
This is actually one of my favourites chapters. It was very fun to write. I had best warn you all I will not be writing again until the new year - it's getting to be a busy time now!
Right, and onto my lovely reviewers.
Miharu Kawashi – Thank-you very much for the review, I'm glad you find it funny! And yes, I will most certainly be covering Sarah's run. That will be covered in this story, and then there will (hopefully) be a sequel where I cover Sarah's life after Labyrinth. It will probably be more serious than this, but I'll still try to make it funny!
Irresistible Malaria - Thanks, and I like your attitude! It's nice that you can be bothered to take the time to review. As for the steel toed boots, I got that from my brother, he's a gardener and he has to wear them sometimes, he was telling me how painful they were if anyone hit you with them, and voilà! Inspiration.
InuLvr7 – Thank-you for the review, I'm glad you're keeping with the story! Hope you like this chapter!
Enjoy this chapter everyone, and please review, all reviews are welcome!
EDIT: I forgot one very important thing before...
Merry Christmas and Happy new year to you all!
