What is mine is mine, what is Henson's is Hensons.
Morgan took the opportunity of Sarah's brief absence to study the two fae sitting opposite her across the small table in the roadside café. Both were prime examples of the alpha male. The ruler, the one that Sarah called Jareth had a lithe body and a mane of white blonde hair and strange mis- matched eyes. One a warm green the other an ice blue. The other looked like a hungry predator. Every fibre of him screamed out warrior. His golden hair reflecting the rays of the sun like liquid gold framed a young looking face. There was no doubt about it; both of them were fine examples of man or in their case fae. Looking round, Morgan realised that other females in the room agreed with her, as they were staring in their direction. Morgan was glad that they brought modern clothes for the two fae. Their normal outfits would have been more at home in Jane Austin's England. Not the 21st century.
At the same time that Morgan was watching Jareth and Owain, Jareth was making his own impressions on the mortal girl. Something about her was not right. She was hiding something, but what he was not sure about. She was Sarah's friend, the first she made when she came to England and for that he allowed her to come on this journey. The other reasons being that she knew the land and that she was druid; a practitioner of the old ways. Still something did not sit right with him. He would keep his guard up around her, he decided.
Feeling Jareth's eyes upon her Morgan lowered her eyes. She feared Jareth; something about him was cold and calculating. She felt that he would be cruel to his enemies and yet loyal to his friends. Ether way she would not get on the wrong side of him, yet she knew that he would die for Sarah. She looked up as Sarah sat back in her seat; she was pale and did not seem to be fully alert. Looking at the two fae, it seems that that where thinking similar thoughts.
"Sarah" Morgan looked to her friend. Sarah's eyes had a far away look to them that even with Morgan waving her hand in front of them would not shift. "What the hell is wrong with her?" She asked Jareth.
Jareth looked at the young mortal, she looked as if she was in a trace, reaching across the table to grab her hand
The room suddenly came alive as a thousand candles and torches lit together in unison. The light driving the black shadows were dancing in a rainbow of colours as the flames reflected off the crystal surface that made up the space around her. A woman sat upon a crystal rock, her hair as fair as the light, her eyes as blue as the sky. Next to her stood a handsome young man. His hair was as golden as the sun and his eyes as green as the forest. Both had a gold torc round their necks and upper arms. The hairstyle on each was the same. Both had long flowing hair (Hers reached down beyond her waist. His just above the waist.). Plaits were weaved into their hairs at various places.
The image struck in his head
"You must listen Sarah," said a second voice this time a female. "For there is much for you to know. It is at lughnasadh, the time of harvest that is the full force of the danger you face will appear. In a few days hence it will be the summer solstice. After that you only have weeks to gather an army large enough to defeat them. You only have weeks to find the four treasures.
He was seeing the events as Sarah saw them.
"Whom are we fighting?"
He could not escape the visions he was not strong enough.
"The fomorii."
"Hear this Jareth, King of Albion. Heed this warning; the time for war is near, yet nothing is done. You travel slowly, and have yet to gain a single item. Without them, your world and Sarah's will die. They are coming Jareth they will soon be here." The strange voice vanished, as had the last of the pictures. Morgan and Owain looked at the king with confusion written across their faces. Sarah's eyes were being to focus and her skin was becoming more colourful. Yet it was with Jareth that their interest lay.
Jareth sat there not moving and unblinking for what seemed like eternity yet was only a few seconds. He appeared on the outside to be calm yet inside he was a jumble of nerves and emotions. What had just happened there all he did was to touch Sarah's hand, it was only a brief touch. Yet he had seen deep inside her mind, a memory that he was sure that she was not meant to remember, at least not yet. Then that voice, a voice that he remembered, yet could not name. He knew that it was magic, he could see the remains of it when Sarah had walked back into the room. It was not that, that was worrying him, to put it simply, what was worry him was someone was that powerful to pull Sarah from her own world, without Owain or him knowing about it.
"Come with me Owain," he commanded, "You stay here with Sarah," he ordered Morgan "If anything happens to her, you will live to regret it."
"...Then I take it you all agree." The two silent ones nodded. "So be it."