Blessed Competence

I'd finally found an employment prospect. I decided brazen was my best face for selling my novice skill set.

"Why don't they simply create some device to make copies mechanically? Wouldn't it be more efficient?" I challenged.

"You don't understand, and frankly that worries me if you're planning to stay in this industry. Books, scrolls, parchments are not merely words, they are also magic. The only way to transmit the magic is through the efforts of a bone fide scribe. It takes magic to reproduce a text. I thought this would have already been obvious to you."

"Oh, I just thought for a moment it might also be done differently." I blinked, certain that somewhere people replicated books without the use of scribes. But all that was foggy, and I still doubted myself in many things.

"I hope you are able to write."

"Yes of course," I retorted, gulping at the thought that I'd never tried to write something infused with magic before. Still, I wasn't going to let that fact stop me from attempting. Who knows, perhaps I just couldn't remember it correctly. I had read the books in Jareth's study, had I not? He'd shown me the different scripts, helping me to understand the ones less familiar. And then you read a book and got angry at him, how considerate. I shrugged the pang of guilt from my chest and looked into the scrutinizing eyes of my future employer. Grimble was the supervisor for the copyist. He was a tall dwarf, but still considerably shorter than me. His gruff voice and bulbous nose gave me the feeling I'd seen him somewhere before. I did my best to look determined and un-intimidated, waiting for the lines in Grimble's face to soften.

"We'll start you with something simple. I don't want you ruining any important commissions." Relief swept over me at the realization that I was indeed hired.

By the end of the day, I'd signed a piece of paper that recognized me as an official employee of the publishing house. This also meant I'd be earning a wage. Triumph filled my limbs and chest. I lit up with the knowledge I'd be able to pay my promised rent to Dardinian and his family. It felt good to be able to do my part.

Within a week I'd more than mastered the technique. At first I'd been nervous, afraid I wouldn't be able to infuse writing with magic, but to my surprise, once my pen had made initial contact with the page something wonderful snapped in the center of my being. I could feel the magic pouring out of me. It was a delicious sensation. Moreover, my penmanship improved with frightening speed. Within two weeks I was the top scribe in my section. By the end of the month I was the favorite of the whole floor.

You see, the building was divided into floors. The first floor held all the scribes. The basement stored supplies. And the upper two floors were for business and administrative offices. There was a fancy stairwell in the back of the building for ushering in high end clientele and sparing them the sight of us motley page boys scribbling away at work.

For the first time that I could remember, I savored my own competence and sense of responsibility. I read many scripts, memorizing large portions of them as I carefully copied each one. My knowledge of the world grew in scope and depth, enriching my own sense of self. I came to understand that many differing opinions floated in the world of Underground learning, and I learned to analyze each one with a critical and well-informed eye. Whatever I had initially read in the library in Jareth's library I now saw in a different light. Maybe there had been some explanation. At least, that was how I made sense of the conflict between my memories of the Goblin King and the dark picture I read in that book.

One day, sitting amongst my fellow scribes busy at our midmorning task, a memory rushed back into my mind. I blotted out the vision of cobble stone streets outside and journeyed back to the Goblin Castle. Jareth's voice was coddling me. I felt weak, but his embrace held me. I sat on his lap pressed warmly into his firm chest and stared out a window over his labyrinth. He told me stories of his subjects as he pointed out the different regions visible to the naked eye. Sultry silken voice resonated against my ribcage. A finger fiddled with my hair, his cheek against my ear, a hand moved softly down the side of my neck, and a kiss upon my temple. Even in that cold, hard desk, with my hand sore from copying, I could still feel my body melt at the recollection. The unspoken sensual awoke in me, and my body called to be sitting there again, pressed snugly against him, bathing in his oddly patient, nurturing yet profoundly intimate affection. For the first time in nearly a year I felt a different sort of aloneness—not lost, but this time as though missing a piece of myself. Jareth, I'm sorry. Perhaps you really did love me, and I just couldn't understand. My imagination persisted and I wondered what the nip of his lips against my ear might have felt like… We had been like lovers yet somehow innocent of lovers' games. At last, the strength of my desire for him dawned on me, overwhelming my senses and my heart.

"Ahem…"

Grimble'd caught me staring off into space. His bald head floated level with my writing desk. Rules were strict here, and I swallowed hard pretending to look fully engrossed in my task. Seeing I my renewed zeal, he let me alone to my task. I tried to be more careful about letting my daydreams get the best of me that day. Once finished with my work, I left to go stroll along the boardwalk by the sea—my thinking spot—before returning home. Reflections wrapped around my weary mind like tangled scarves fluttering in the breeze.

It is a sad but true occurrence that we visit the demons of our past upon the faces of those who love us in the present.

And in my case, it had been only a matter of time. Yes, I see it now finally. I wonder if I will ever get the chance to tell him.

I'm certain now in my past life I must have been known for my temper. I've managed to temper it since, but one of the first emotional challenges of my new life was coming to grips with my own raging impatience and impetuosity.