All I ask of you, is that when I cannot, would you . . .
Dance?
Sarah perched the grocery bags between her arm and the wall and leaned around to unlock her front door. She juggled bags, keys and the door to get inside successfully. It was a relief to have it closed behind her. She tottered through; she could hear the TV on, and the afternoon soap playing. She smiled, wonderful; she needed to ask the goblins their opinion on a piece of frankly rancid critique on her work that had appeared in the paper a few days back. Only, when she entered the kitchen she found a whole hoard of them on the kitchen counter, all nibbling at Oreos.
"That looks like a bad day remedy, what happened?" she asked as she set the milk in her fridge then refilled her fruit bowl.
There was an immediate clamour, but she couldn't make out any word, except 'Kingy!'"
"Did he bog someone?" They usually complained when he did.
"No! Kingy is here!" They seemed somewhat alarmed at that.
Several fingers pointed in the direction of her living room.
"Oh?" Sarah coughed as her voice squeaked. She jammed the unpacked bags into the cupboard. She no longer had the leisure to unpack. Who knew what Jareth could do in the meantime?
She hurried through and found him slouched right down in the best couch, his feet on the magazines on her coffee table and his hands folded over his stomach. His eyes were glassy as he stared at the television. She glanced at the show, she hadn't seen it in a few days, but it seemed they were still all agonising about the possible infidelity of the most handsome man on the show. This meant it showed more of others talking about him, rather than him starring on screen, until this arc was resolved she wouldn't go back to watching it.
He hadn't noticed her.
She slipped back to the kitchen and made tea. She had to hand out milky cups of the stuff to the goblins as they all wanted cups on hearing the King was to drink some. She didn't have a tray, so stuffed everything into a plastic lunch box, two cups, a box of Oreos and the sugar bowl.
She set it on the upturned crate that was her oh so elegant side table and stuck one cup in front of his face to block his vision.
"You'll rot your brain on that stuff," she told him cheerfully.
He closed his long gloved fingers around the cup.
"I'm forming such an opinion," he said drily.
She settled into the chair beside him. He sipped at the tea and grimaced.
"Sugar? Or don't you take it with milk?"
"Three spoons," he held out his cup.
She added sugar and handed him an Oreo to dunk.
He went back to staring at the TV.
"Bad day?" she asked when the commercials came on.
"In comparison to what's his name on that TV of yours, fine and dandy. I'd have bogged the lot of them for spreading such swill around!" He said it in such a flat tone; she could see he was still smothered by whatever had upset him. He finished his Oreo and tea and listlessly watched the commercials. She knew the feeling of such a funk, flipping one's self out of it usually took a drastic thing, like dumping her in an unexpected hot pool fully clothed.
"Do you want to see the end of the soap, or do you want to do something?"
He lifted a hand in what could be a shrug.
"Alright, mister, up and at 'em!"
"What do you mean?" He asked blankly.
She darted out of the room, grabbed her bag and added a few things from her wardrobe. She returned to the living room and inspected him. He wore one of his less pretentious outfits, a simple cotton shirt, tight grey trousers and boots. No one would look twice, she hoped. She walked over and held out a hand, he took it when she wriggled her fingers at him and pulled him to his feet. She blinked up at him. She kept forgetting how tall he was. She did an abrupt about turn with her cheeks going pink.
"This way!"
He followed, out of her fourth story flat and down to her car in the lot below. He listlessly watched the scenery go by as they headed down town. She pulled into a half-full lot and grinned.
"This way!" She headed for the flat roofed warehouse ahead.
They could hear the music thumping all the way from the doors, growing louder as they approached the booth.
"What size are your feet?"
"My feet?" he echoed blankly, then his eyes flickered into that old fire she remembered in them, "if you are slyly asking for other measurements…"
"No need," she smirked, "you advertise too well."
He grinned broadly at her.
"There's a chart to the right of the booth," the booth attendant said in disgust.
They walked over to the nearby chairs.
"Here put extra socks on or you'll have blisters on your ankles." She handed him a pair of thick sports socks.
He eyed the plastic chair with distaste and held up the pair of roller skates in the other hand.
"Skating?"
"Yes," she pulled her own hired pair on and tightened the laces. "Ever been?"
"Not this roller skating," he sat down gingerly as if the chair were covered in something sticky, and pulled his own pair onto his feet.
He stood up and used her shoulder to settle his balance.
She laughed as she helped him totter to the edge of the rink. The lights flickered and flashed, as the mirror ball twinkled all colours across the walls as the disco music thumped. He edged out along the wall, wobbling around several young children doing the same thing.
She skated in little circles nearby as his attention fixed on his skates. He pushed away from the wall with a slight smile as he worked out how to propel himself, and then it suddenly seemed to click. He launched himself into the flow of people circling the rink. Sarah scrambled after him, shocked. The Goblin King could skate very well. He practised a turn and narrowly missed slamming into the wall, but skimmed it with his skate and twisted himself out into the flow again. By his third circuit he had worked out how to go backwards. He flowed in to skate before her with a grin on his face.
"Do these things work on the pavements that cover your cities?"
"Yes!"
"Excellent!"
"Why do I get the impression that the ballroom of the castle is going to be covered in skate wheel marks?"
The delight that lit in his eyes at that made her laugh. He held out his hands to her and dragged her along just faster than she was comfortable.
"You've skated before!" she yelled over the music.
"There's not much to do in the Labyrinth in winter!" he retorted with a grin. "Want to join us next time? It is somewhat hilarious watching goblins ice skate."
"They're bad?"
"No! They're chaotic, which makes for the most manic game of dodge you ever played!"
"I'd love it!"
They left the rink exhausted. Jareth had purchased half the shop in skates. The Goblin King had a credit card in the name of Jareth King. She wondered, but did not dare to ask, what he did for an income. They hauled the bags of skates up to her apartment and found the goblins and Hoggle all watching football.
"Kingy!" The goblins chorused to Hoggle's rather dismayed "Your Majesty?" with a betrayed stare in Sarah's direction.
"After the quite frankly abysmal runner we've all had to deal with, I've bought everyone gifts!" Jareth dumped the bags at his feet and struck a pose inviting their praise. The goblins yelped and clapped and clustered around him in a clump.
"It's just going to bite them, they never learn," Hoggle grumbled.
"Ever skated on a smooth stone floor?" Sarah asked as Jareth eyed each goblin and handed selected skates to each.
"Of course not!" Hoggle grumbled.
"Want to try?"
"In little wheeled boots?" He wasn't as disinterested as he pretended.
"With disco music, and I'm sure we can persuade His Majesty to provide lights," Sarah declared. She ran through to her room, grabbed her stereo and own pair of skates she'd had from high school.
Jareth was busy ordering everyone through the mirror and she hopped through.
"Sarah?" he stumbled after and everyone left in her apartment hurried after her.
She held up her stereo and skates.
"Roller disco!" she declared. "You saw the lights, do a little magic!"
The odd expression on his face of disbelief, twisted around incredulity made her laugh. The ballroom had a sprung floor; the varnish job covering the wood would be thoroughly marked by the time they were done. She hoped his magic could fix such things. She set her stereo onto a windowsill, pressed play and cranked up the volume. The goblins scrambled into their skates and pandemonium ensued. Hoggle caught on quickly enough and skated little circles in a free area of the room while Jareth walked slowly around the room, setting crystals in place into sconces apparently for that very purpose. He then sat primly and pulled on his own black skates, then stood and stretched out his hands, in a glittering moment the room transformed into a midnight glade with stars twinkling across the ceiling. The music, while still her disco tape, somehow became alive, calling to the heart and soul to dance. She skated through the goblins as they went every which way, despite Hoggle trying to heard them in a clockwise direction. Jareth wove his way through them all with a grace only a soaring bird could match.
She sank into one of the velvet covered chairs at the side of the room to catch her breath, struggling to ignore the music that twitched at her feet to continue. The Goblin King glided to a precise halt before her.
"You've done something magic to the music," she panted.
He tilted his head like a bird, listening.
"The usual enchantments, nothing more," he shrugged.
"Us mortals can only take so much before we tire ourselves out," she smiled at his relaxed manner.
"It," he frowned, "it doesn't invigorate you?"
"For a time, then it is just exhausting, I have no energy left."
"That spell is supposed to feed energy to us; it does feed energy to us, but not you, how peculiar."
"Bring my stereo when you're done here. I have to head home. I hope you're feeling better?"
He smiled and held out a hand to pull her to her feet.
"Much, and I thank you, today, it was bad."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
He looked away.
"Don't force yourself," she said softly. "Go and have fun." She pushed him in the direction of the floor and headed towards the nearest mirror.
She stepped through to her apartment and skated through her short hall.
"Sarah?"
She almost slipped as Toby stuck his head out of the kitchen. She hadn't realised how late it was, she had invited Toby to dinner that evening and hadn't even started cooking yet.
"Bad day?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of Oreo packets.
"No," she skated into the room to remove her skates. "It was actually a very good one."