30th Jansplur [Jareth is seven. Simplicity is writing from the Castle in the Goblin City

I can hardly believe it. I have returned, after weeks of travelling and hardship I am here. I once more tread the dirt encrusted flagstones of the Goblin King's castle. There is crisis. The Goblin King has severed all contact with Fjorda – he has determined that his children will never again be allowed freedom from his sovereignty, let alone allowed to visit their Uncle and cousin as they had grown use to. No one else was prepared to take any meaningful action to help them, so I took it upon myself to do something – and that something has ended up with me sat here, in my old room and writing with a passion I can never remember possessing before.

My being here is proof that I am better, more just, than any of those wrapped in their monster skin furs back in the icy wastes of Fjorda. To experience superiority over all those born into luxury and excess, despite feeling somewhat guilty for to be proud is a failing, is strangely, well, exhilarating.

Last Octopu, when the children were due to return, we heard nothing. There is usually a deluge of commerce, telegrams and letters, detailing the possessions, the preparations that need to be began etc. But this time there was not even a scrap of information. On the day of exchange the Queen was fully prepared to depart, luggage packed, goodbyes said and she lingered in the front hall waiting for a carriage that never came.

After it became apparent there was no carriage coming she immediately demanded that her brother send a messenger to the Goblin City, accordingly, a messenger was dispatched with great speed. We waited a torturous week without news – until contact arose in the form of the following telegram:

To His Royal Highness the King of Fjorda

From now on my children will remain in the land of their birth. They have been restricted from returning to your pit of lies and treachery.

Tell my wife she is no longer welcome. Should she attempt entry onto my property – she will suffer for her stupidity.

His Imperial Majesty, the Goblin King.

P.S. My daughter Olga is now a wife. She was married at midsummer. You need not expect any letters from her from this time forward. Please inform your scheming whore of a sister not to enquire as to her whereabouts.

There was an immediate outpouring of defiance against his rash, selfish, actions. A barrage of telegrams, emissaries and diplomats were sent in an attempt to regain access to the children – but we heard nothing more from the Goblin King. The messengers who were dispatched never returned. There were rumours, chilling rumours that any Fjordan subject in the Goblin City had been arrested and thrown into the dankest, most squalid oubliettes the King possessed. Now I live here, I know it to be so terribly true. Their pathetic, faceless cries linger through the cold, desolate nights.

The Queen crumbled. She broke down, became distraught and ultimately had Tatyana share a room with her to suppress the hellish nightmares that ensured her a fitful sleep every night. I thought, at the time, Tatyana could have been of little use due to the extremity of the Queen's grief and Tatyana's severe level of detachment from her mother due to previously detailed points of conflict. Ultimately I was proven wrong, Tatyana's almost frustratingly level headed, practical approach to life despite her inclinations to dabble in flamboyance proved to be the Queen's salvation. Tatyana gave her a tie to reality, a reason to be strong for the daughters who remained and eventually the Queen returned to some sense of normality in that she ate once more with her family and occasionally ventured beyond her rooms – but she was only to change after months of overwrought grief.

As the court gradually returned to normal after an extended period of tension and awkwardness surrounding the Queen's near manic fervour, I felt nothing but the weight of my heart as it grew yet heavier with the passage of time. I thought of the children, those poor, frightened little children ensnared within their father's reach forever without relief. I thought of my poor, talented little boy – of how lost and lonely he must have been, how starved of love and affection he was sure to be with no one to support him spare his tyrant of a father.

By Scrabbleday, I could bear it no longer, with the festivities and the merry making for the festival in full swing I could pay no attention to joy when haunted by such dark, troublesome thoughts.

I took the decision to write a letter, with no one's knowledge let alone the King's for I held no wish to inspire his rage by attempting to desert his own child as by Scrabbleday I was her only nurse for Hatchet had passed away early in Novelesta. I never for an instant could have guessed the King's response to my attempts to depart would involve so much more than annoyance over the departure of his child's nurse.

I drafted the letter many, many times, repeatedly crushing every failed attempt and sending it ricocheting into a wastepaper basket. Ultimately, I settled upon the following. Decided that knowing the Goblin King's wild temperament it would be unwise to craft too long a plea:

Your Imperial Highness

I do not know if you remember me, but until the events of recent times I was the nurse to your younger son, Jareth.

I am now aware they are to remain in your residence permanently, and considered that now his sisters are all becoming of marriageable age and Jareth is still young enough to be in need of female care, you may require the services of a servant to meet his emotional needs.

I am skilled in childcare, mathematics and literacy and believe my presence would be beneficial to the child's general well being and development into a prince of your illustrious realm.

I ask only for food and lodging in return and have resources enough to travel to the Goblin City without any trouble to yourself or your expenses.

Yours in Service

Ms. Simplicity Battleaxe

My hand trembled when I placed it in the possession of the castle's messenger, and I immediately regretted acting with such impulse at the sight of him leaving promptly (the service continued although messengers refused point blank to set foot within the boundaries of the Goblin Kingdom itself – messages were left at a drop off point by the boundary).

It is not in my nature or that of my people to allow the heart to take precedence over logical thought - it troubled me that I was loosing my head so utterly over the welfare of a child. It was over a bright and loveable child, certainly, but a child to whom I bear no relation and who actively sought to undermine my authority and was known to be an excessively naughty little boy when I was in his company. There is something magnetic about the boy, something that makes it impossible for me to push him from my thoughts.

Even when I am old and lined, cursed with weak, tired eyes and feeble limbs I will never be able to forget him. I can't help but ask myself if he will remember me. If I do my job well I believe he will recall me with fondness, and his sense of fondness will have been won through the right means if I teach him well.

Weeks passed. The New Year was celebrated with great merriment and excess by the greater majority of the court, excluding the Queen and her daughters, all of whom were dressed in excessive black and spoke in low, mournful whispers, apart from Tatyana who simply said nothing at all – preferring to read rather than immerse herself in her mother's overblown grief. Maria adopted mourning attire with great reluctance and insisted on keeping her jewels close at hand and was careful to wear mourning robes of a stylish cut. The Queen wore a flimsy veil and skirts that skimmed the ground and were complimented by innumerable ribbons, brooches and orders as if she was attempting to compensate for the loss of her children by lavishing herself with attractive, costly, trinkets.

It was the 9th of Jansplur when everything changed, when I got the reply I had prayed for and was made all too aware of the true nature of all those I had served with unwavering devotion.

A messenger boy came in at breakfast time, as was usual, with the daily post – an eagerly anticipated aspect of the day to day monotony of life in Fjorda. I was sat with Sophia at the end of the table, my charge sat propped up by a stack of silken pillows whilst I sat on a low stool, my head just below the level of the table top, besides her.

With room for retrospective commentary, their treatment of me was degrading, despite my initial pleasure at being included in their little gatherings I now realize I was there for no other reason than to maintain a firm leash on Sophia. They all seemed to be totally ignorant of how I was different to them and how in some cases such differences made my position a somewhat awkward one when no one was prepared to help me when I was not in a position to help myself.

Everyone's heads lifted attentively as he announced his presence, and the King prompted him to announce who the day's post was for.

The boy read out in a high, clear voice the name on the only letter, "Miss Battleaxe, your Highness."

The King looked utterly dumbfounded, "Battleaxe? Who by the Gods is Battleaxe?"

I answered in a modest whisper, "It's for me sir."

Sophia piped up as the King's expression suggested my existence was a shocking revelation, "but you're Nurse Simplicity! Not Bladdlease!" There was a flurry of cultured laughter over her mangling of my family name.

"That's my surname, dear." I veiled my annoyance as the messenger trotted towards me and handed me a wax sealed letter; one has to learn how to be skilled at such discretion in such a profession as mine if not wishing to be dismissed for 'misconduct'.

"Do open it Simplicity! Read it out – is it from your family?" Maria strained across the table to take a closer look. She gasped dramatically as she sighted the handwriting. "Mama! That's Papa's handwriting!"

A terrible, pregnant silence fell over the room. Forks stopped in their paths towards eager mouths, waiting imps scurrying about the tabletop froze in their busy servitude and the Queen's mouth stretched to be chasm like at the revelation.

"Maria, tell me this is a jest…" the Queen's voice trailed off allowing the silence to resume.

"No Mama! I recognize it as plain as day! Look," she attempted to snatch the letter away as I held it closer to my chest, intimidated and isolated by their overstated shock, "if Simplicity would kindly pass me the letter I'd show you Mama. Look! – it even has his seal!"

The King shot up, his usually impassive features turning positively vengeful as he brought his fists down upon the table prompting it to quake violently. He made Sophia burst into frightened tears and the women squealed in shock at the drama. "What is this? Dwarf – have you been scheming with that, that," he paused to select the right words before speaking them with venom, "despicable tyrant?" He seemed to revel in the opportunity to exercise power, no matter how petty that power may have been - him only possessing the courage to attack a victim half his height.

I was speechless, knew not what to say from the shame. I knew then, at that moment, that my life in Fjorda had ceased. My reputation lay in rags as that of a scheming traitor. I cannot say by that time I felt overly miserable at the prospect of leaving, having grown immeasurably tired of the rigid formality and the snobbery that ran rampant in Fjorda. The glamour I had been ensnared by in the beginning, the thrill and the sense of privilege I took in being in the employ of those of royal blood had weakened with time upon discovering they suffer from as many vices, if not more, than any simple man in the street – take away their magic and they are nothing like the Gods they parade themselves as.

Also, I was, to be frank, bored of caring for a child as dull and irritating as Sophia was and probably still is, to even summon her voice to my memory makes my head ache most dreadfully.

He barked an order to the messenger who had remained poised awkwardly waiting to be dismissed, "you boy! Take the letter from her!" I protested and attempted to keep my grip on the letter but could not as it was wrenched from my hand as I was left in consumed by disbelief for their cruelty and total disregard for my pleas for composure.

The letter was swiftly passed to the King who resumed his seat and lounged upon his gilt throne; his voice spoke bitterly and was harsh and accusing as he read out every word - as if the Goblin King's response to my letter was clarification of me being responsible for all the ill brought onto the Queen and her family.

To Ms. Battleaxe

How very amusing. You wish to return? Here? I will inform you now my son is perfectly well without the interference of a stunted busybody such as yourself. But if you do wish to attempt the journey to my Kingdom, challenge my Labyrinth, I see no reason to stand in your way trusting that you are not some unlikely spy for my oh so beloved wife. In which case you would not wish to know of the consequences.

Show this letter at the gates and you are unlikely to be shot at or run through by one of the guards – who knows? If you do succeed I may even be able to find a use for you in the castle. There – is that not generous? To think my wife accuses me of cruelty!

His Imperial Majesty, The Goblin King

"Proof! It is blatant proof of the Dwarf's schemes and lies! Look how the detestable warmonger refers to her with fondness! No doubt it is you who have engineered all the grief that has fallen upon my sister! Hmm?" His eyes bore down upon me accusingly, as did those of everyone else. Even Sophia looked down with an alien remoteness in her eyes from besides me. It chilled me to feel such terrible isolation and threat from those I had thought of almost as being a family to me when I lacked one of my own.

I felt like a persecuted citizen from the infamous Beings of Inconsistent Psychical Stature purges committed by those terrible, elitist Trolls of my grandfather's time (a time best not discussed, terrible, terrible memories are said to be known amongst the elders) – my knees knocked and I clutched my hands together as I quivered like an autumn leaf under attack from a harsh, unforgiving wind.

I was screamed at, shouted at in outrage from a cluster of horrified faces, even the seemingly kindly Maria seemed to delight in exclaiming; 'oh how could you Simplicity!' in accompaniment to the Queen's expression of unmitigated disgust and cruel, spiteful remarks I refuse to repeat here.

Tatyana was the only one who did not participate in the general persecution of me as a suitable target for blame, only acting to remain silent and bow her head in the midst of the uproar. For that she deserves my thanks, in retrospect, maybe I was too harsh on her before – her husband is something of a love struck bore.

The next day I found myself dismissed in disgrace without as much as a thank you for three years of unwavering service. I was left alone in the height of the bitter Fjordan winter with a threadbare bag containing you, my diary, several much mended pieces of clothing and little else.

For the first time I can remember, I was scared; I had little money, as always I had sent the greater portion of my recent earning's home to support my family and left only a few copper coins for my purse. The winter was bitter, the cold made me teeth chatter, and despite by dog eared furs I was freezing. I was left outside the front gates, the portcullis having been brought down with a crash behind me.

I hurried away and did not take as much as a look back as I attempted not to cry for how terribly ruthless they had all been. I had only just came to accept I was nothing more to them than a paid slave serving no other use than to be present when summoned and to submit obediently to every petty, impulsive demand.

I then recalled a vital detail with a stab of panic that stilled me – the letter, the letter had been taken from me - and he had told me, the Goblin King himself had as much as told me I stood no chance of even seeing the castle without confirmation I had some semblance of permission from him. I felt like crying out, shouting to the skies in sorrow for how unfair and cruel the world was being to me when all I was only doing was what I thought to be right. There seemed to be no relief in store for me away from my role as a target of unwarranted cruelty and exploitation. I didn't of course, shouting, screaming and crying earns one nothing except a reputation as an excitable, overly emotional child.

I began to walk away, stiff from the cold towards the town I remembered how we'd barrelled our way through in such frantic desperation to escape the madman I was about to try and return to. I couldn't help but wonder if I myself had been relieved of all sense to attempt such folly but as I reached the end of the bridge to the town I felt a tug at the end of my cloak, halting my step as well as my thoughts.

I turned with a gasp, bleary eyed from the cold to find a tall, graceful figure stood before me. My breathe rose in plumes as the stranger said nothing, a slender, polished hand passed me a snatch of paper and a small, weighty, knotted bag. Then, the figure bent double to speak to me softly.

"Good luck Simplicity. You're brave, to go away and try to go back to a place you know you'll hate. You're braver than I am – you deserve more respect than any of those jabbering fools back in the castle." Tatyana gave a snort and straightened, beginning to walk away.

I stood stupefied, looking on at her in amazement, I gasped in surprise as she spun around in the blink of an eye. She smiled a beautiful, wild smile that tugged at the corners of her lips and said; 'maybe one day I'll have learned enough of this to do as you do now." A gush of violent wind sent me ricocheting backwards and away in a harmless exhibition of unmeant wrath. The cloaked figure was lost in a violent spray of sparkle and stars as Tatyana vanished back to the castle utilizing all her signature flair. I gazed at the empty space she had occupied a moment before, my mouth held wide open like that of a fool.

All I could think of as I walked away, warmed by some show of compassion from the figure I thought most unlikely to even recognize it was 'that clever, clever girl,' as I looked down in disbelief at the Goblin King's letter of invitation and a bag reassuringly weighty for it's load of two dozen silver pieces. More money than I had ever had possessed in my entire life.

I scurried away with renewed vigour and drive, feeling warm for simply having the knowledge that even those seemingly the remotest and coldest of all can prove to be so much more compassionate than the rest when they are truly needed.

It took me two weeks to return, two highly eventful and challenging weeks that despite great adversity I feel helped go a great way towards building my character. I had curious emotions, notions I had scorned as foolish before during my journey that I took seriously for the first time. I became somewhat selfish, would think bitterly of all those I had trusted so wholly when they had emerged as cruel and uncaring from a sense of self indulgent pity. But nothing changed how I felt towards Jareth, if anything the revelations at Fjorda strengthened my resolve to make sure he did not emerge to be as corrupt and cruel as all his family (with Tatyana as a hugely notable exception) seemed to be.

Thanks to Tatyana's somewhat excessive generosity, I was able to travel in comfort for the greater portion of the way. I rented a carriage or cart for each stage of the journey; I needed one carriage to the borders alongside the Elfin Kingdoms that seemed to be more distant than I seemed to remember and due to the endless territorial disputes. This was by far the most straightforward and comfortable of all the stages of my progress, the carriage was heated and upholstered – it was so comfortable in fact, I feel asleep, catching up on too many nights spent sleepless from despair.

I had to pass the border by foot and hire yet another carriage on the other side of the border. There was no carriage – only a crude, rickety cart alone in a small clearing amidst a congregation of trees. The atmosphere was intimidating, extended alien cries could be heard in the distance rising over the birdsong and the rustling of branches high in the trees above me. It was late, and I was prepared to accept any ride that happened to be on offer before my legs collapsed beneath me.

A demand for half a silver piece was painted crudely on the side as I moved closer to inspect my transportation. It looked ready to depart, the horse snorted and stamped its hooves impatiently and I darted my head around in search of a driver. I pulled at the trailing cloak of an odd, marble faced, sad eyed creature sat solemn and silent towards the end and asked for the driver – he said nothing (unsurprisingly, I later realized he was a member of the cult of the eternal silence – they are forbidden to speak) he only made to gesture towards the horse. I moved closer in curiosity. The horse was a tubby, well fed creature with a tawny coat, he had wide, dark eyes that sparkled with liveliness and intelligence I failed to notice until it spoke with a roughish snap;

"Well? Are yer getting on or not shorty? Some of us are in a hurry." The horse tossed its head towards its burden as I looked on in amazement. The wonders of my world never seem to cease – it is strange times in which we live for a horse to speak. I asked in a weak, tired voice where I was to pay.

He bent his head before he opened his mouth, his breath reeked terribly as the horse breathed heavily into my face, I attempting not to recoil in revulsion "'ere, it's the only place I trust the buggers not to take more than they give." The horse spoke with its mouth held wide. I was momentarily repulsed by the excessive measures he was using to ensure he kept a firm, unchallengeable possession of his wealth, but overcoming my apprehension, I reached for a coin from my purse and placed it onto the creature's hot, slick tongue.

I hurried away to settle on the coach, jolting to a stop as I heard the animal's bizarrely unnatural voice call to me, "eh! Don't you want your change then missus?" He was very well mannered, that was undeniable.

"No. Think of it as yours," I shuddered to think in what way I would be delivered of money that had travelled through the creature's amazingly complicated inner workings.

"Bless yer love." I sat down and shook my head in disbelief; not only could it speak – but it knew the tricks of the trade, how to con and to charm all those unsuspecting better than many of the best learned tradesmen.

There was a great assortment of various characters who accompanied on my journey, some joining our party half way through, some leaving at the same time and others taking the cart the entire way.

There was an impoverished, wizened elf man who occasionally surveyed us all with a look of utter contempt; his expression radiated a sense of innate superiority. A Troll was sat towards the end and I was convinced it would overbalance the rest of the cart with his weight (thankfully, the cart proved to be sturdier than it appeared) – I was later to learn the hulking monstrosity was nothing more than a child in Troll years!

I could swear I saw a Shade sat looking impossibly immaterial and morose in a corner, but then again it could of simply been a shadow, you can never tell with the more curious of races – the boundary line between those who exist in the physical sense and those who occupy the spiritual realm is shockingly slender.

There were also several rogue imps who had quite obviously sneaked aboard without first buying passage – it was more than once I had to bat the nuisances away as they attempted to dive into my purse! Most of the passengers spent their time asleep, dozing as we passed endless forests and woodland glades, I was one of the few to remain awake to listen to the horse's unsuppressed rush of speech. Funnily enough, he spoke Dwarfish, though for him it was simply one language amongst an entire catalogue of linguistic knowledge. His fluency in my tongue made me feel at ease with his otherwise jarring ability.

Our driver spoke constantly throughout the entire journey to the stop for the night, he gabbled on about anything and everything under the sun as if all he carried were his bosom companions. He proved to be very good natured, and I learned his name was Tullus, or 'Tullus the horse' to give him his full name and preferred name. He went into some detail over his past, spoke irritably over how he had once been a perfectly happy horse, eating grass, roaming fields as horses do. His voice became sorrowful when he told of how his peace had been shattered when he was captured by a deranged Elfin enchanter intent on committing experimentation into the fusion of intelligent elements of conscience with the duller workings of a dumb beast (to quote his comments on the subject 'who did he think he was I tell yer? Stupid? Hah! We're not all galloping and chewing grass like all you back there think, we have a culture I'll have you know!').

Tullus was, of course, given the gift of speech, and told us somewhat proudly how he gave the man a significant piece of his mind as soon as he first prised open his mouth. Ultimately, the enchanter was driven to insanity by Tullus's boundless sarcasm and complaints, and threw himself from the top of his own tower into the raging sea below. Tullus spoke, somewhat smugly I thought, of how he'd commented 'good riddance' and trotted away to establish a self sufficient transportation enterprise, whilst also raising general awareness of the plight of horses in relation to the exploitive tendencies of those possessed of magical ability. I believe his tongue must have been taken from a very learned man.

I was saddened when our journey came to an end. It took a week, involved hourly stops, water breaks, grass eating breaks and breaks for all those of less than four legs (essentially all his passengers.) It took much longer than my first journey through the Elfin lands – I personally believe Tullus drew it out to last as long as he could, being grateful for the company and a set of occasionally attentive ears.

He bid me goodbye with 'see ya another time Sweetheart! If you want favours ask anytime – ask for Tullus, they'll know!" Bless him, he proved to be ever so sweet and good company throughout the journey. I can't help but wonder what he used his earnings for – from the manner in which he spoke of himself, he seemed somewhat vain – so maybe he purchased a hat? I can picture that.

The next stage of the journey was infinitely less remarkable. Trolls, slow and lumbering though they are, are crafty devils and are set to rob you for all your worth and as a consequence upon passing the border I found a seemingly endless row of carts and carriages of various quality lined up in readiness to depart in order to entice as many passengers as possible. I selected the most rickety and tumbledown cart of them all and was careful to check I was not its only passenger.

The driver was a sullen fellow, acted only to draw out his huge, crudely made hand in readiness for my fee, I gave him a silver piece, and he gestured his fingers inward as if asking for more. I gave him one more and walked onto the back of the cart before he could bleed me dry of any more money I could not afford to give.

I began to feel a renewed sense of fear as we drew closer, the journey was short for the driver never once thought to stop for breaks. We were there within a day, and I looked out onto the sight of the Labyrinth lain out before me in all it's mind boggling splendour as the sun died in flares of crimson and amber on the distance.

Our final stop was by a small town besides the border, a strange half place, populated by an entire menagerie of odd people and creatures. I saw a man who rambled unintelligibly to himself with a bird's twittering away as it stood erectly attached to him like an added limb. I saw half creatures, small, hunch backed Trolls with the knotted features of the foulest of Goblins. I saw faceless spirits who lurked in the shadows and sipped from tall flutes of glass as if they were not in a dung scented hovel of an inn but immersed in the heights of cultural sophistication.

There was a place of commerce besides the inn where I slept the night after having successfully ignored the looks and cruel comments thrown at me at my every turn, and it was there I went the next morning to write a letter. I lay on the floor to keep my writing neat as I wrote a letter to my family, informing them of my change in circumstances, speaking hopefully of how I was travelling to be in the employ of another and would write again soon. I had to write with a significant degree of restraint for I had not the vaguest notion of whether or not life would afford me another chance to take pen to paper.

I carefully enquired as to if I could employ a messenger, and the mistress of the post screamed hoarsely for her son. I paid the boy one silver piece for taking the letter (to be true, it was too much, but I did so wish to give the letter the best chance of arriving safely) I told him the recipient would give him food and shelter for the night upon it's successful delivery. I prayed that father would pay attention to my mention of the messenger and instructions to be cordial to him whatever his race – though with father I fear his prejudices may overcome his senses, the hatred for Trolls amongst our people is simply to deep to be forgotten at the command of a humbly worded letter.

I returned to the inn and brought as much food and as many supplies as I could with the money I had before I departed for good, as well as a sack in which to carry them for I knew full well the one I already possessed could never bear their weight without the bottom finally falling through.

I knew I was to travel through the Labyrinth alone as I stood on the threshold of entering the territory of the Goblin King, observing as my heart sank the bleak, dully coloured landscape and the chilling absence of any life or motion.

There would be no helpful, amiable creatures to guide me, no waiting carriages and carts – for it is only fools who dare follow the twisting, treacherous paths of the Labyrinth.

And I was on my way to becoming one of them.

Boy this is long! I'm just in such a good mood today as I've finally found out I'VE GOT INTO UNIVERSITY :SCREAMS: and felt inspired (I have bizarre ways of digesting success in comparison to my friends – most of whom are down at the pub as I go to bed early because some of us have work the next morning) to write something very long and meaty to keep you all going. We're nearing the end now, a few chapters more and Simplicity will be signing out – it's quite sad really, but I'm pleased to be finishing!

Please note this chapter is part one of a larger entry.

Please excuse any spelling errors, I have checked but as this chapter is very long I may have missed some of them.

Please review! Your thoughts are always very welcome!