16th Jansplur
Betrayal. Mother always told me to never trust a Troll, and I should of lived by her word, my mam never told anything but a truth – and in my relief for gaining a safe haven for the night I forgot all I had ever been taught, my perception of truth clouded by my desperate hunger and weariness.
It is to my relief that I can write that we escaped by the skin of our teeth, though of course I will at first have to explain what we were escaping from.
Last night, I wrote that it may be a thankful situation to find myself suffering such discomfort during my slumber, and I was right, though not in a sense I had remotely anticipated. As I drowsed, desperately trying to gain some badly needed rest and replenishment, I heard low, conspiring voices below. At first I tried to ignore, for as a child I was brought up not to intrude on personal converse (the virtuous names of I and my sisters do not exist without due reason), but the voices were so persistent, and I found something menacing and dastardly in their tone, so I roused myself and crept to the peak of the stairs, allowing myself an insight to their speak.
I heard then speak of riders, strange, mystical apparitions, cloaked all in the deepest black riding astride strange half-beasts. Heard them spoke of how they must be demons, devils – they were most certainly not sentient in any sense of the word. I heard them whisper lightly of how they had rode about the town, reciting powerfully, all penetratingly, the names of the Imperial Family of the Goblin Kingdom and tempting all inmates of the wretched pit of a town with the promise of a rich reward for the betrayal of their sanctuary.
I almost recoiled to hear the reference – us, discovered, and by the King's men (he appears to be a fearful sorcerer, as well as a truly monstrous King and husband, exhibiting evidence of his power -f or he can give life to nothing but shadows.) I felt like running immediately to the Queen, waking her to inform her of the development, but knew the panic and mayhem such a warning would induce, knew of the rashness of such a course of action. So I waited, for further information to be delivered to my ears desperately awaiting any form of development.
They continued on the subject, spoke of us, of our fine clothes, our strange manner – and above all, our foreign race. They are not fools these Trolls, they knew exactly who we were, it was only left to the measure of the goodness to lead to their choice. My blood rose from the outrage to here them discuss us as if hunks of meat, discussing our value, they spoke clearly of how me, Hoggle and the stable-boy where of no use, being not of noble blood – totally worthless. They spoke of how they would capture the rest, after our murders to quiet us, of how it would be easy, our party consisting of mere children and weak willed, jaundiced women. I knew then that they knew no loyalty, knew the danger we were in. I heard them discuss of how they would give us our breakfast, feeding us unsuspecting on our breakfast, drugged to insure the simplicity and ease of our imprisonment.
I had heard enough at that point, and I only listened to hear them prepare for their own short rest before an early rise to make the preparations for our submission. I secreted myself in the broom cupboard, stuffing my blanket with my pillow to give the illusion of my presence there, waiting till I heard their heavy lumbering footsteps pass me by, and the heavy door of their chamber grate across the floor to a close.
Giving them mere minutes to ensure their sound slumber, I chanced my escape, and immediately progressed to the Queen's room that she shared with four of her elder daughters. She looked troubled in her sleep, a frown creasing her brown, her form twisting and writhing beneath the covers. I gently, yet urgently tapped her arm, and she woke after a series of incoherent mumbles, that from what I could discern were unconscious voicing of the fears she dared not speak in waking hours.
I informed her in low tones, so as not to disturb the girls, of our betrayal of how the King's men were searching. She immediately clung to me, almost as if to shake me, asked me to deny my words as folly, as a twisted jest. But I could not, and she saw from my stony face that I told not a lie – I spoke nothing but truth.
She reacted immediately at the revelation, dressing herself hurriedly, pulling a comb roughly through her thick, sleep tangled coils of golden hair before proceeding to gently rouse each daughter, and informed me to do the same with the other girls.
I advanced quickly, and attempted to rouse each child without disturbing their senses, though to little avail in the case of Alexandra, who became excessively excited at the prospect of 'midnight escape.' I gave a little sigh at her blind enthusiasm, it's as if she sees all our hardship as a happy, sugar coated adventure, she sees not the potential for harm and pain.
We were thankfully efficient in our preparations, for the girls are generally sensible, subdued creatures who understood the need for secrecy, though Alexandra and Maria needed to be hushed repeatedly to cease their chatter. It only took a quart of an hour for all to be roused, dress and quickly pack the bags they had been so very relieved to scatter about their little room.
I nearly forgot Jareth in the rush of preparation, only remembering him when all were silently descending the stairs. I whispered lowly to the mistress of him and hurried back to his tiny side room, with a roof so low that it could only just accommodate my size, something excessively rare in foreign climates.
Jareth, being yet more excitable than his girlish sisters, was somewhat problematic when I woke him. He immediately began trying to hit me with his little fists, as if anticipating an attack. I spoke urgently to him, holding the candle to my face so he could see it was I and I came to him with the best of intention. This quelled his blind aggression, and he proceeded to loudly question me as to 'what in the worlds is happening?' I drew my finger to my lips, silencing gesturing for silence, and lowly whispered to him to dress, told him of our imminent departure, as I packed the rest of his things that lay strewn about the floor.
I grew more anxious and fretful with each passing second, fearing those heavy creaks on the boards of the rickety floor, fearing the brutish rage of a Troll. I was able to have him ready in five minutes, and snatching hold of his hand, hurried from the room.
I could not hold back a squeal at the sight of our traitorous host standing before me, attired in his night robes, his huge towering form a sight of terror. I tried desperately to evade him, darting beneath his legs, running rings about him – all to no avail. He yanked hold of my neat bun, and Jareth's lengthy hair (I must get it cut, if anything to disguise his true identity) holding us both with one arm as thick as a tree trunk - as if we were nothing more than children's rag dolls.
I screamed loudly from the desperate pain, knew of the foolishness, of how the entire street would be roused, but I could not contain the upsurgence of dreadful anticipation for the worst. Jareth made a similar din, biting and kicking vainly at the air in his frenzy. He he held us as if marionettes, laughing cruelly, with a ignorant malice, cursing our cunning and lumbering down the stairs to halt the rest of our party in their escape.
Now, I believed at the exact moment of time - when the beast reached the foot of the stair, and saw the mistress and her daughters ransacking the food cupboards desperately for any form of lengthy provision - that it was our end. But it was not to be, thanked be the Gods.
I glanced over the Jareth, the child to whom I have sworn myself to the care of but was powerless to protect, and his eyes were closed, he was eerily calm – eyes screwed up tightly in concentration.
As I watched, he disappeared, literally vanished from the creatures grip, leaving our captor's huge hand coiled around nothing but a void. His recently acquired skill, I remembered it at once, had saved him from confinement. How thankful I was for that small mercy.
I tried to distract him from the mistress and the girls who were trapped in the kitchen, with my taunts and jeers that tried to draw his rage unto me, to distract his steadfast attention. All stood in a close knit ring for protection as he stood fast in the doorway - blocking their only means of escape. Irina however stood separate from the other, holding aloft a saucepan as if it were an extremely lethal bayonet, though her hands were trembling. The rest stood still, rigid with terror – certain in the knowledge all had been brought to an end. That all their effort and struggle had been for nothing.
It was then that the miracle happened. The Troll, having overcome his dim-witted astonishment at Jareth's disappearance, was approaching the family, who recoiled in terror, though Irina, brave girl, stood firm despite her clearly apparent fear. He spoke to her as she stood feet below him, her head raised to meet his near-blank gaze:
"Silly girl! Do you truly think you can harm me, you are nothing but a weakling!" He reached out to grab hold of her – but his hand stopped mid way in his approach, as a huge crash resounded through the room, and he toppled to the cobbled floor - my head only being saved from dashing against the floor by the creature's now-loosened grip. Stretching my head, I could see a weighty metal tray settling to a stop besides the cracked head of the monster – his eyes blanker than they ever were from their idiocy in life.
The mistress cried it was a miracle, and immediately ran forward to embrace Irina for her show of bravery, causing the girl to give a rosy blush of pleasure. I however, was occupied with looking up, and there I saw him, Jareth perched on the rafters, grinning at the sight of the fallen giant, legs dangling precariously a great height above the ground. I gave him a beam to reward his initiative, and called for him to come down – he promptly did so, and resuming our former secrecy and hush, with bags brimming over with food and varying other supplies – we quickly entered the stables.
It was my fast thinking that I told the mistress the devil-riders would of surely be searching for carriages matching the descriptions of the ones in which we occupied, and suggested that we move our occupancy to the two far more dilapidated affairs, little more than pony traps with extended hoods covering the whole breathe of the seating area, but perfectly serviceable. She agreed, praising me for my logic in thinking, and rousing a disgruntled Hoggle and stable boy from their rest in the hay to take control of the enemies vehicles, we swiftly departed the house in which we so nearly met our end. Straining my head back as we reached the end of the shadow shrouded lane, I saw a light flicker in the main bedroom of the place. Despite their cruel intentions – all I could feel was pity for the wife who would descend the stairs to find her love lying motionless on the cobbles.
Although certainly far less comfortable than the imperial carriages, they are far more safe in their masking of our true identity and purpose - and we can be sure in the knowledge that we have enough food supplies to last us a fair few days. The mistress also proudly presented a map she had pilfered from the trap, something of great use that we are in great need of, for from now on the roads we must follow (to avoid the riders) become more obscure, few are labelled – I can see this map will be our life line.
Jareth has spent most of the day gloating, and constantly makes mention of his bravado to gain yet more lavishes of praise. Though after a whole day of his self-trumpeting it has become somewhat tiresome, and because of our disturbed sleep I and the girls are most tired. Nothing, however, seems to quell Jareth's seemingly boundless vigour and energy – not even his demonstration of his power, which in itself points to one thing – his magic is growing stronger.
We now know with certainty the King is after us, he is clearly infuriated at my mistress's strength of mind and will – and will go to great measures to see about our return. Irina, a most solemn, logical girl for her twelve years, spoke to me of what she knows of her father, and said that he is a penny pincher despises expense, so the offer of monetary reward for our capture is a significant gesture on his part. This does not surprise me, casting my mind back to the poverty and squalor of the Kingdom from which we are fleeing.
I have been told by the mistress the next and final kingdom (before reaching her brother's land) through which we will pass is that of the Elfin Kingdom. It will without doubt be the most perilous kingdom through which we will pass for the King has strong family ties to the place – and there are many there in allegiance with him. The mistress however has informed me that she too has family there, and we will just have to be careful in choosing our allies there, and watch our step with more care than ever before.
Due to the mayhem at our last stop, we were unable to reach any reliable form of courier, so my message to my family remains undelivered. I do hope they do not worry for not receiving a letter from me for such a while, but until we reach safety – there is just so little I can do.
I thought that we were jolted about terribly on the last stretch of our journey, but this is far, far worse. The roads here are riddled with dips and trenches and there are all variety of spirits and ghoulies inhabiting the copses that litter the place. Hoggle will be most displeased. Still we retain our freedom of passage and have not yet been halted, and so I hold strong hope we will reach our destination in safety.
Have finished writing at seven in the evening (for I need to catch up on my sleep with an early rest) Jareth still refuses to settle. I would dare to declare he appears to be possessed of a sole aim – keeping me from slumber. Still, all I can do is attempt to ignore him and his childish attempts at disruption, there is nothing wrong with him (for he is not ill, and has eaten well enough to hold no hunger), and he is only squawking for the attention.
Chapter 10, wow is this going on forever! I never thought I was going to take it this far, still, I find it fun still, and have the time so I'll continue as long as I can.
For general interest, the tale of the Shadow I spoke of in the last chapter is a real fairy tale by Hans Christian Anderson, it's good, very dark though (for a fairy tale anyway)! And the love-talking spirit was taken from Brian Froud's book, Good Faeries, Bad Faeries (he did the design for the film.) So that's my acknowledgement, should of said about that last chapter, also the bit about the Pixies book was adapted from Froud's book.
As always, thank-you very much for reviewing, it's greatly appreciated and really gives me the drive to continue, I love to know what you think, so please review!
Oh yes, next chapter might be delayed, because I'm spending a few nights away from home, and won't be able to get on the computer to write – I'll try to get it up on time, but you'll have to wait and see...
Hope you like it, enjoy!