Sarah's second time in the Labyrinth was a completely different situation than her first in numerous ways. She spent several moments staring gawp-mouthed at the sights around her. It was as if everything was in black and white before and now she could see in color—literally. There were iridescent shimmering waves of light which she had no conceptual way of describing except, perhaps, that one of them was ultraviolet.

Ricky was equally enchanted, but considerably more used to feeling completely at a loss for a way to describe his lived experience. "Extra colors! Nice. I usually only see these fuckers on 'shrooms."

Sarah rounded on him to give him another look of equal parts bewilderment and awe. She had taken two heroic doses of psilocybin within the Underground herself (Sir Didymus and Hoggle made excellent trip-sitters) but never before had she seen new colors. She'd mostly seen all her worst fears come to life and try to kill her, which had put her off the whole psychedelic experience thing. She feared a third time might lead to her own friends turning on her, or worse. Before she could even utter a 'what?' however, Ricky continued his seemingly inane ramblings.

"Well, come on feet," he mumbled, and started walking, fumbling for a non-existent cigarette behind his ear where he'd recently plucked the joint. For the third time, Sarah found herself dumbfounded by what seemed to be either the stupidest or the smartest man she'd ever met. Several paces ahead, he turned around to cock an eyebrow at her. "You comin' or what?"

Now it was her turn to have her friends stare at her in utter confusion. Hoggle, ever the talkative one in his own way, was the first to break the groups silence. "Did he just say… what I think he just said?"

But as usual, it was Sir Didymus who was the first to march forward. "Well, you heard the man, My Lady. Let's start walking." Ludo nodded his assent and the four began their journey anew, in vivid technicolor.

Sarah soon found herself jogging to keep up, noticing that her own feet felt heavier than usual, as though something like fear tried to root her to the spot. She knew she wasn't sure what was happening, and she'd never forgotten that things in the Labyrinth weren't always what they seemed. The fact that this trailer park boy had somehow found his way into her circle of trust so simply was deeply alarming, but in the back of her mind, something stronger than fear was screaming at her to keep up the pace.

She would need to, as even more inexplicably, he'd opened the gate to the Labyrinth on his own, and was already wandering in. He might be an idiot, but she didn't want him to end up in the Oubliette or worse. She'd just have to keep moving—besides, she needed to find out what had happened to Linda's sister.

An hour later found her winded, having taken nothing but left turns throughout the Labyrinth at a breakneck pace. Hoggle was similarly struggling, and she paused with him for a breather against the lichen covered walls. "Wow, for someone so out of shape, he sure can walk fast," she mumbled as she tried to catch her breath. Hoggle glared at her, a glare she hadn't seen from him in years, and she instantly felt like a real monster; the kind of monster she'd always had nightmares of. 'Sorry,' she mouthed to him, her eyes full of mollification. His glare grew deeper, and he cocked an eyebrow at Ricky. She knew she was apologizing to the wrong person, but she also hoped he hadn't heard what she'd said. She'd said it quietly, after all. She was trying to be polite, in her own way.

But she needn't have complained about the pace at all, because just on the periphery of what they could see of the maze, Ricky had slumped down against a wall himself, his breathing now heavier than her own had been. Suddenly her feet felt lighter then they had before, and she found herself running to him.

"I-," she began, almost ready to blurt her apology, but something stopped her. "Are you okay?" she asked instead, crouching down to look into his eyes. He met her gaze for only a brief moment before looking away again.

"I'm fine. Just winded. I'm a smoker, you know," he grumbled, looking down at the stone floors and once again reaching behind his ear for a cigarette. Still finding none there, he looked up and searched the gazes of the three fantastical creatures he'd recently met. "Don't reckon any of you have a pack on you, do you?"

Ludo and Sir Didymus shook their heads in plain confusion, while Hoggle grumbled and began to fumble with his hip bag. Several moments later, he pulled out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco, and handed them to Ricky, shooting Sarah another glare in the process. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to melt into the floor in shame overtook her, and soon she found herself crosslegged on the ground next to the young man she'd just insulted. He was fumbling with the pipe tobacco, and looked like he might be on the verge of tears. She reached out the take the pipe and tobacco, her right eyebrow cocked slightly.

"It's alright. I used to pack them for my dad," she said by way of explanation, muscle memory taking over as she expertly filled the bowl with tobacco. She held it to her lips and took several puffs to light it, coughing lightly as she did so. "Peace pipe?" she asked, handing the meerschaum back to him apologetically.

He gave her a quick smile before inhaling deeply, coughing loudly and expelling a potent cloud of whatever Underground tobacco was. Hoggle looked fit to be tied at the misuse of his equipment, but he decided to explain that you weren't supposed to breathe pipe smoke at another time, as it was clear the luddite had no idea. It was abundantly clear, because he was staring at the piece in the same wonderment he'd exhibited when meeting talking worms or casually wandering into a dangerous Labyrinth.

"Wow, I never tried one of these old-timey things before. That thing hits hard!" he exclaimed with a chuckle, before turning to finally meet the young Miss Williams' gaze for the first time in several long minutes. "Thanks for packing it for me, Sarah. Should we keep moving, or do you want to sit here for a while?" It was Sarah's turn to stare at the ground in shame, before she darted a quick look back up at him, a light grin curving the corners of her mouth.

"Well, I've been here before. Do you want to take in the scenery, or head for the center of the Labyrinth?"

Finally, a genuine grin lit his face. "I'd like to hang out, if you don't mind. It's nice to see the colors without all the bikini women." Once again, she had no idea what he was talking about. That did seem to keep happening.

"Bikini women?" she queried, genuinely curious. After all, things aren't always what they seem.

He nodded, his brow furrowing in certainty. "Yeah, the bikini women. My dad always used to see 'em on 'shrooms too. He liked 'em, but I think they're kinda mean. I just like the colors, you know." Something internally clicked for her, like a secret unlocked that she couldn't understand just yet, and she spoke without thinking, a strange look in her eyes as she met his.

"Yeah. I like the colors too." They grinned at each other, as if they both had a secret that neither fully understood.

Ricky LaFluer continued to lead the traveling party, and made three more left turns before Hoggle finally spoke up. It was always better to let people figure things out for themselves, but sometimes you run into the sort of person who just needs to be clued in. Ricky LaFluer was that sort of person.

"I thought you said you wanted to take the scenic route," Hoggle ventured carefully, eyes darting up nervously as he did so, as if he were afraid some unseen wrath might reign down. A moment later he breathed a sigh of relief as no trap doors fell open beneath him.

The young Canadian nodded, eyes suddenly alight with more suspicion and canny than typical. "Yeah, I do, thanks. I guess it makes sense you know the way around here. But what's up this way?" He scrubbed at his temple with one hand while pointing with the other. He was trying to consider what Hoggle had said, but it was clearly flying over his head.

Hoggle's face turned from suspicion to private amusement and he rolled his eyes. "This is how you get to that Castle." At this, Sarah whirled on him, eyes ablaze.

"You always took me down right hand turns the whole way! I can't believe you, Hoggle! I could have saved Toby from him in no time at all!"

Hoggle guffawed at the young lass, and now fixed her with the same look of bemusement. "Maybe, Sarah. Do you think you would have had the sense to save Toby if you took the easy route to the castle?"

Her fury intensified. "I CAME here to save Toby! It was the entire reason I ever entered the Underground!"

Once again, Hoggle realized he was going to have to explain things extremely simply for the two humans in his charge. Rolling his eyes closed and taking a deep breath, and continued patiently: "Yes Sarah, and that's why everyone told you to take the right hand path. Everyone who wanted to help you. Lots of people take the easy route, and most of them fail."

At this, the anger drained out of her face, and she blushed. The Williams women had always been quick to anger, and even quicker to forgive. It was one of their saving graces.

"I… I'm sorry, Hoggle. I already know you're my friend, I shouldn't have questioned your intentions," she murmured, green eyes once again filled with emotion.

At this, Sir Didymus cut in. "Of course we are your friends, My Lady! But it isn't a bad idea to question someone's intentions if they don't make sense to you. You might learn something new!"

Hoggle grumbled a laugh. "Besides, people can change their mind at the drop of a hat."

Ludo shook his head at this, a low rumble coming from his chest. "Sarah friend," he intoned, stomping his foot lightly (for him). At this, a spray of gravel tumbled down from a nearby wall, as if to punctuate his statement.

Grumbling, Hoggle continued haranguing the young woman. "I sent you to the Oubliette. I gave you that poisoned peach. You forgave me twice… but what if I kept hurting you? What if I kept sending you to the Oubliette, even if I was doing it on Jareth's orders?"

At this, Sarah looked like her whole world might collapse. This was what she'd always feared when she'd taken those mushroom trips, trying to remember everything that had happened. She'd always been afraid that if she looked too closely, she'd find that her friends weren't her friends at all… that they were her enemies, that they were using her for some sick sport.

Ricky seemed as though he wanted to say something, but the concept was too disparate for him to put into words. Fortunately, he had more time than usual to assemble his thoughts, because Sarah had being blinking forcefully and sniffing back what seemed like tears.

Finally, he spoke. "Well, then you'd be a real dick, and your friends would tell you. Bubbles and Julian always tell me when I'm bein' a dick. 'Cause when you're being' a dick, you don't think you're bein' a dick. Except sometimes you do, but that's 'cause you think somebody else was bein' a bigger dick, so ya gotta swing your dick around and show 'em who's got a bigger dick. Sometimes you're bein' the bigger dick. That's what friends are for, you know. To tell you how big of a dick you are." At this, he fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a haggard-looking roach glistening with resin. He paused to light it before completing his oration. "Plus, you know, people to get high and drunk with."

Sir Didymus' bushy eyebrows leapt up at this. He turned to Hoggle and placed a furred paw gently on his compatriots arm, eyes shining with that wild Don Quixote energy he seemed to produce endlessly. "Exactly, Sir Hoggle! I would always warn you if I believed you to be… 'bein' a dick' as Sir Ricky so… elegantly explained?" He seemed to struggle with the final part of that entreaty, unsure exactly what Ricky had said, but fairly certain it was inappropriate language for the ears of a Lady such as Sarah.

Another stomp echoed throughout the part of the maze they were in, sending three spherical boulders of decreasing size rolling into view from around the corner, where they stacked atop each other like a snowman. Ludo spoke with a roar: "Ludo tell Hoggle. Hoggle not be dick."

Ricky's roach now spent, he flicked it at the snowman-like stack of rocks. It stuck to to top rock as if it were the carrot nose. Suddenly, the craters and scuffs of the stone took on the appearance of a face. 'Pareidolia,' Sarah recalled vaguely, still processing the interaction that had just occurred but feeling infinitely more assured of her place in the world than she had moments ago.

Several more hours passed in what was more or less companionable silence, occasionally broken by Ricky asking the Underground natives about various flora and fauna. He seemed primarily interested in what could be smoked, snorted, or scoffed to produce an altered state, though his off-hand comment that the Fierys would probably be good grilled had disconcerted both Ludo and Sir Didymus. Hoggle wisely chose not to mention that he was, in fact, correct.

Sarah had never been this quiet in the Underground, she usually found herself talking a mile-a-minute when she was with her real friends in their realm. Aboveground, she kept to herself and seemed to value her privacy more than her peers, who all seemed to spend hours a day chained to the phone. Sir Didymus was too busy gallantly showing the latest tourist all the in-the-know nooks and crannies to realize that his friend was lost in thought, and Hoggle still seemed grim about having his moralizing shut down by a dick joke.

Suddenly, a flurry of activity ahead caused Sarah to look up from her feet. She'd been staring at the cracks in the rock tiles as she walked, carefully avoiding them in the same habit she'd carried with her since her mother had left. It was something she always found herself doing when she was thinking thoughts too big to wrap her head around. She had a theory about ideas:

Every now and then, you meet a new one. Sometimes, you meet it through a friend, or a book, or a film, or just out of nowhere, some flash-bang of inspiration. They don't always take shape at first, and even when they do, they're prone to transfiguration. But often times, you meet a thought that isn't something you can hold, or pin down, or hang a name on. It's too tricksy, like the smoke Ricky kept producing. You could interact with it, pass your hand through the thing and watch it ripple around a physical form, but you couldn't catch it. Like a shadow that couldn't be sewn back on. You just had to wait, and enjoy the interplay of light as the thing danced before you. Eventually, sometimes years later, it finally held still, and you realized it was the easiest thing in the world, as natural as breathing.

These were the sorts of things Sarah had been pondering when she bumped into Ludo, just in time to watch Sir Didymus gesturing grandly to a filthy tarp which appeared to be thrown over a pile of garbage. Sarah thought she must be near where she'd had her encounter with the Junk Lady. "And this!," Sir Didymus exclaimed, beaming with the same sort of pride a New Yorker displays when introducing their out-of-town friends to a great hole-in-the-wall, "is the finest drinking establishment in all of the Underground!"

Suddenly, the tarp flew open, revealing rich purple silk lining. Outlined in the entrance was the shirtless form of a seemingly-human mustachioed man, who was wearing an elaborate mismatch of fine fabrics in jewel tones. His eyes were red and heavy with intoxication, and he looked dazed for a split second before blinking hard and shaking his head. It was as though he immediately sobered up—somewhat—and he took in their appearance suspiciously for a moment before lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome, come in, take off your shoes! Welcome to the Sly Fox!"

Ricky was on the ground the moment this mysterious figure said 'take off your shoes', already fumbling with the knotted laces. He was determined to get them off himself before Sarah figured out that he was more-or-less unable to do the knots himself. Usually Bubbles or Julian tied them for him in a double knot, and he just didn't take them off until he needed new ones. He showered with them on even. In his mind, this made more sense: his shoes were always clean and looked new. Apparently, the state of his feet when they were bare was something that both Bubbles and Julian required a stiff drink to tolerate, but that's why he kept his shoes on when he banged Lucy. She didn't care, she was usually too drunk to take her shoes off either. Her shoes were sexy things with too many buckles and sometimes the pointy heels stabbed him in the back, which he found he enjoyed.

Well, that wasn't going to help him remember how to untie shoes. However, he was saved from further embarrassment by the proprietor of the Sly Fox cutting into his reverie. "Actually, you one, you keep them on. It is best," said the bohemian gentleman. "Just wipe on the first rug. Everyone else, ready?" He held the entrance open and ushered the traveling party into a bohemian pocket of space and time which appeared to be a cross between a hookah lounge, a meditation room, and a bordello.

Sarah found her head on a swivel, completely flabbergasted that a place this chic had existed in the Labyrinth this entire time and her friends had never invited her before. She was pretty sure that she could actually abandon everything about her Aboveground life and just live here contently for the rest of her days, and she hadn't even decided which pouf to sit on yet. Intricate tapestries covered all the walls, with glistening threads of gold, silver, and other precious metals unique to the Underground. If she only looked at them out of the corner of her eye, she could swear they were moving. There was a certain trick to it, to look at them without looking, she knew that much.

The floors were lavishly covered in many intersecting rugs of every shape, color, and origin. She could recognize Arabian and Oriental rugs, and some with interconnected circles and spirals. She had the weirdest hunch they might be in the Goblin King's native tongue. That didn't make much sense because they were decorative rugs, but all the same, something about them spoke to her of language, and of time. Disconnecting from the conversation between her friends and this new acquaintance, she lost herself tracing patterns with her finger, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Ludo, Hoggle and Sir Didymus had seated themselves around a circular table, which had one side of the floor set much lower than the other, allowing Ludo to be roughly eye-level with his friends. This was, in fact, Ludo's regular spot, and if Sarah had examined it, she would have noticed that the threadbare rug had been worn down in the same shape as the yeti's posterior.

At the door, Ricky was the last straggler, once again sitting on the floor as he carefully cleaned his shoes with the first rug, using it like a dishrag instead of the much more obvious option of simply scuffling his feet along it as he entered. Finally, he seemed satisfied with his progress, and looked up at the dark-eyed man behind the bar, who nodded his approval. Clumsily rolling himself upright, he stood and made his way to Sarah's small square table, which was butted against the larger round table the locals were seated at.

She was now inspecting a nearby tapestry, which displayed a battle between a dozen unicorns in full suits of armor against one… thing, which she couldn't quite make out. It was both a shadow, and a black hole, and a spiderweb, and a very very old creature. It shifted, she couldn't make out what it really was, but she knew it was malevolent. The tapestry didn't frighten her though, far from it. She could just tell that those unicorn knights were on the verge of defeating the thing, and she felt thrilled and honored to witness their story.

"Ah," the Slavic-sounding barkeep interrupted, as he placed a drink on the table in front of her. "That was one hell of show! Thirteen unicorns versus one Бесомар! And they won, too! I suppose if you don't have hands, having a sword stuck in your head is good alternative." At this, he laughed, clearly amused by his own joke. "But I am being so rude, I do not even ask your name. So, what is your name, girl?"

He was now peering into her eyes as though he were reading her thoughts, and she felt a shiver of discomfort at the intensity of his gaze before she shook it off. The young woman met his eyes calmly, breathing in the perfumed air with confidence. She may be in a fairyland, but it was a fairyland she was victor of. "Sarah Williams," she answered warmly, offering him her hand. He took it with gusto, shaking her hand with both of his own, merriment spilling over as he grinned a madman's grin.

"Sarah Williams," he pronounced, trying the words out on his tongue in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of her own accent and intonation. "Well, I have heard much about you, ptitsa," he said, pointing at her with a slyly amused look. Suddenly, he turned to the companions at the round table, who were already working on their flagons. Throwing his arms up in the air in mock exasperation, he exclaimed:

"Hello, I did not get the memo that a living legend is to be visiting my humble establishment today!"

Hoggle grumbled at him and waved him off as though they were old friends while Ludo shrugged. Sir Didymus looked like he might actually apologize, before snorting a chuckle and disappearing behind a drink that was disproportionately large for the small fox.

"Wait though," ventured Ricky, who had not yet been introduced or even acknowledged since he finished cleaning his shoes. "What's your name then? I'm Ricky by the way. La Fleur if we're all using our whole government type official birth certificate names here." At this, the affable owner of the Sly Fox turned his attention back to his other human guest, who was now holding his hand out in greeting. The bartender grabbed Ricky's proffered hand with both of his own, but did not shake it yet.

Rather, he held for several minutes that seemed particularly long to the young La Fleur, as he peered intensely into the Canadian's green eyes. "Huh," he exhaled sharply through his nose, before flipping Ricky's hand over in his own and bending low to examine his palm. "Hnh," he mumbled again, dropping Ricky's right hand as though it were no longer of interest, before grabbing his left instead. Now he seemed more intrigued, his right eyebrow lifting almost comically high as he squinted his left eye, giving him a passing resemblance to Popeye.

He was nearly nose-to-palm with Ricky when the trailer park boy roughly pulled his hand away, spitting on his palm and wiping it on the side of his shirt as he tucked both of his arms behind the table. Now the gypsy man was truly laughing, a cacophonous sound that filled the room with buoyancy and ease, hinting at a truly hilarious joke which no one else was in on.

Ricky, used to being the butt of jokes he didn't understand, was further annoyed at this palm-reading fruitcake, and he seemed to slink down in his seat several inches before reaching abruptly for his beer. He drained half of it in one long gulp, and then glared at the man who'd served it to him. "What was all that hokey palm stuff and laughing about? My dad said never trust a gypsy palm reader, said they all have the clap."

Now both of the strange man's eyebrows shot up, and he made of face of dramatized shock before laughing again. "Wow, wow! Well, it sounds like your father is expert on venereal disease, yeah? Ha ha, do not worry, I am not having clap… and if I were, I would not be sharing it with you. No offense, but you lack the parts I am preferring the more, and not enough makeup to fool the beer goggles."

Now it was Ricky's turn to look shocked, his own eyebrow now raised nearly as high as the other man's had been moments ago. "I don't even think Bubbles' goggles would be thick enough for me to get that confused, and I've been blind drunk on…" he paused his tirade, mentally counting, "most days, come to think of it." With that, he shrugged lightly, and finished his beer in another long gulp.

"Blind drunk most day?!" exclaimed the gyspy punk, now much more impressed. "Ah then, we must be friends already!" At this, he sat down next to Ricky and clapped him on the back. From seemingly nowhere, he had produced a small and elegant golden goblet covered with intricate swirling patterns and inset with gems. It was filled with a clear liquid which those in the Above might call vodka—well, that's what they might call it the night before waking up with one of the worst hangovers of their life.

Ricky looked down at his own drink and saw that it had refilled its self, which he had actually expected. He smiled a crooked smile, chuckled to himself, and lifted his drink to toast this new friend.

"Za zdarovje!" shouted the owner of the Sly Fox, while at the same time Ricky wryly answered with a cheers of his own, the same one his dad always said.

"To your health!"

Both men shared their first laugh together, and then slammed their beverages with almost equal speed. "Again?" asked the proprietor with that same crazed look and raised eyebrow. Ricky leaned back and grinned.

"Alright," he agreed grudgingly, humor in his countenance, "but first, you gotta tell me who you are."

Sarah now looked up alertly again, having zoned out of the boys' conversation for a few moments as she luxuriated in the feeling of being intoxicated in such a magical place. She didn't care much for drinking usually, but when in Rome… Besides, if she had Ludo with her when she hit the Lower East Side, she might feel safer having more than two drinks. Her eyes fixed the bohemian man of indeterminate age, and she nodded with a slightly miffed noise. "Yeah, you never did give us your name," she accused without venom.

Once again, the room filled with laughter. "Ha ha, girl, and I will not give anyone my name. But I will tell you who I am, if that is good enough for fancy lady?" he asked this last question pointedly, and Sarah reddened slightly, unsure why she felt flustered. She swallowed her pride and some of her spicy-sweet beverage with a sharp nod at him to continue.

Now he stood up tall, at full height almost brushing the top of the low tent with his head, arms spread wide to best display his elegantly tattered and ethereally hued silks which hung abut him like a jacket. Sarah was not sure how they stayed put as she saw no stitching… it was as if every time he found a piece of beautiful fabric, he threw it on with the rest… as if all the different scraps had come to an agreement that they were, in fact, a beautiful jacket, and that made it so.

The candlelight of the room lit him from strange angles, heightening the wildness of his eyes and the louche countenance of his figure. In this moment, smoke swirled around him strangely, beguilingly, almost like an invitation (and not the sort Jareth had sent). There was, in an undercurrent that was so strong she didn't realize how she had missed it before, the distinct air of danger. Not danger to herself, but danger as a thrumming heartbeat of footsteps along the path. Of, and she didn't care for the term because it was low and uneducated, but she couldn't think of another phrase better suited, "unfuckwithability".

In that moment, when she truly saw him for the first time—while Ricky was trying to make sense of how he could do that neat trick with the smoke—he finally cocked his head toward her slightly with a harmlessly flirtatious smile, his eyes dancing with the reflections of burning candles. He almost sang his response, the room vibrating with gusto.

"I am the Wanderlust King!"

Disclaimer: Been out of practice with writing fanfiction, so thank you for bearing with me. I am aware that there are probably more reveries and eyebrows in this work than necessary, and am editing things as I get around to it. I don't own Labyrinth, the Goblin King's codpiece, Sarah's massive tits, any of the Trailer Park Boys, or Gogol Bordello and the concept of the Wanderlust King. I do, however, enjoy the song and decided to base a character off it and the lead singer of Gogol Bordello, which is a liberty I hope is acceptable. I also do not own Sly Fox, a beautiful LES dive bar which has temporarily shuttered during the pandemic. Za Vstrechu!