A/N: Chapter Two! A more in depth perspective of the goblin king.
Blind
Chapter Two: The Choice of the King
A man with wild feathery hair, paced back and forth before a throne. He paused in his pacing, and the crescent pendant he wore swung back and forth before settling at last against his pale chest. He had on a brown leather jacket, and beneath it, a white poets shirt that fluttered in the wind his pacing had caused. The man's long legs flexed beneath white leggings; and his brown leather heeled boots shifted anxiously. He looked at the large thirteen-hour clock on the wall behind his throne, and frowned, his brown-gloved hands clenching into fists, and then unclenching, before again returning to fists. "Jareth, you are an absolute fool!" He growled quietly, his English accent clipped in annoyance at himself. He sighed and began pacing once again.
The man only made it a few more rounds before he growled in frustration and stopped, making a flourishing motion with his hand before him. He felt the magic gathering at his fingertips, where it quickly formed into a clear crystal orb. The man turned it impatiently, and peered inside at a dark haired woman lying in a hospital bed. She didn't look good. Her head and eyes were covered with bandages, and her right arm and leg were in thick braces; a doctor fluttered around her as if confirming what Jareth's eyes had already observed. "Sarah..." He whispered, his eyes showing a flash of concern. Raucous laughter around him quickly snuffed out that concern-to be replaced suddenly by anger.
"Quiet!" He snarled, clutching the crystal in his fist as he glared around at the little creatures that littered his throne room. He had been able to tune them out, until their usual noise level had suddenly increased. Jareth glared as goblins throughout the room went silent instantaneously. A large party of their dirty, mismatched, armored little bodies, had been fitting various clothing onto a black chicken. Somehow they'd successfully squeezed the animal into a baby bonnet and jumper. The poor creature struggled to walk—or rather make a run for it—when one of the goblins tried to give it a pacifier. The chicken had pecked his hand hard, and the goblin yowled in pain.
The goblins had then burst into laughter and jeering at their injured comrade, who then tried to catch the chicken. Instead, the animal pecked the goblin's nose, and set the group to laughing even harder. Jareth interrupted their poultry antagonizing, and the creatures went silent. All save the chicken—whom successfully wriggled through their legs and made a mad dash for the nearest exit. Two goblins chased after it, and the three vanished through a doorway, their shouts and squawking heard fading away. Jareth raised his eyes to the ceiling in silent exasperation. "Er—" The smallest of the goblins—and apparently one of the brightest, called. "Sorry Kingy!" And the others around him echoed his words at varying volumes. Jareth sighed and fought down the desire to rub his temples in an attempt to lessen the headache settling in between them. "Goodness sake!" He groused.
He pinched the bridge of his nose instead and that seemed to help a little. Then he lifted the crystal to peer through it again. He frowned and his blue and brown eyes, respectfully, narrowed. What was the doctor saying? Jareth stared hard at the crystal, but he couldn't make out what the medical man was telling Sarah's crying family. After a moment longer, Jareth spun the crystal in his hand impatiently, and flicked it away. It vanished immediately after it left his hand, and the King of the Goblins sat down in his throne to think.
But the goblins began again to grow rowdy, and Jareth clenched his teeth in irritation. Without a word, he stood up, and the king strode past the goblins and out through the throne room doors. The two burly guards outside the doors straightened and saluted, but Jareth barely spared them a glance. His mind was moving ahead of him, making and breaking plans. He'd go to his private study and there figure out what needed to be done. He wished—he snorted at the irony of his own words—that he could do something. But even if he were able to aid Sarah, it was highly unlikely that she'd accept his help. If he wanted to assist her, it'd have to be in a subtle way—in a way where she wouldn't suspect. She'd experienced magic enough that even blind, she might recognize the feel of it; so that was out. So what could he do?
He turned up a hallway and once he'd reached his study, magically locked himself inside, and then turned to the wall across the room. There beside the window, hung a round mirror that was roughly two feet in diameter. It was made up of wrought iron vines that were braided and twisted round its edges; and at the top sat the large—and rather grotesque—face of a woman, set into a sheet of iron at the top of the mirror. Her beady eyes peered down at him, and her wide lips already unhappily curved down at the corners, furthered their downward trajectory.
The already unhappy face became serious at the king's expression. "What can I show you, My King?" She asked, and Jareth held up the crystal before her. She peered at it, hummed as a response, then two strands of the braided wrought iron bars—one from either side of the mirror—untwisted and slowly stretched down to fold and wrap around each other and form a sort of pocket up over the mirror's surface; looking like half of a woven basket. Jareth stretched out his hand and placed the crystal there. "Sound, too?" She asked and he nodded impatiently. Seeing his agitation, she got to work and closed her eyes. The crystal glowed faintly, and the images of the crystal swirled like mist, rising up to the top of the crystal. The surface of the mirror then rippled upward from the bottom to the upper half of the mirror; the image from the crystal rippling and at last settling there.
Once the ripples cleared away from the mirror, the iron woman sighed and opened her mouth wide. The sound for what Jareth had been viewing gradually came from the mirror woman's mouth like a speaker. It initially came in a little wobbly; but quickly resolved itself. The doctor was speaking. "—Your best option is to rest for now. As you heal, we'll start you in on physical therapy for your arm and leg." The doctor said. He paused, before continuing with less certainty. Poor Sarah's hands were clasped together tightly; her knuckles pale. The part of her face that was visible was as white as the sheets of her hospital bed. "I'll see if I can find an ophthalmologist nearby that can have a look at your eyes—but honestly I doubt any more can be done." He said, and he really looked like he believed it. Jareth bristled. What a doctor!
"Heavily endowed with bed side manner, that one is." Snorted the face above the mirror. She said it just as Sarah's father started to speak to the doctor and Jareth glared at her. "If you would kindly do your job..." She ducked her head a little guiltily and opened her mouth again, and Jareth turned his eyes to the scene unfolding before him once more. The father was still speaking to the doctor. "—re's really nothing more you can do?" He demanded; his jaw flexed as his teeth clenched together. One of his hands was holding onto Sarah's, while the other was fisted at his side and he looked really quite angry.
The doctor turned defensive and frowned a little at the other man. "I'm sorry—I wish I could tell you differently." He gestured at the nurse be his side, "She will walk you through what to expect over the following months. Please excuse me, I've another patient waiting." That said, the doctor nodded curtly at the other man and left the room. Sarah's father made angrily to follow, but Sarah lurched forward with a cry and gripped his hand tightly with both of hers, and her heart monitor went crazy. "Don't leave me!" Her throat constricted painfully and he immediately stopped, his brow wrinkled in agony and fury at his daughter's terrified cry. Her voice cracked, "Please—Daddy, don't leave me!" She sniffed, and a sob escaped her. The man went quickly to his daughter's side, and wrapped his arms around her, his eyes tearing up as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "It'll be alright, Sarah. You'll make it through this." And though his words were reassuring; his eyes were worried and his heart was aching.
Jareth didn't know it, but his own expression was identical to that of her father—and the king's resolve to do something to help the woman he loved was set in stone. After a moment of pondering this, he looked to the mirror and waved his hand. The crystal popped like a bubble and the mirror rippled again and cleared to reflect his face and the study behind him. He would help—in any way that he could. He just had to figure out how. How in the Underground was he going to help a woman—a whole world away?
Just before Jareth turned away from the mirror, and as it was untwining and folding its tendrils of iron back up into place, the face above it implored him. "Wait! Please, Your Majesty, I'm in here all day, every day—can't I be somewhere where I can talk to someone? It gets terribly lonely in here by myself." Jareth stared at her a moment in surprise. The face looked so pathetic, that Jareth paused, and actually contemplated the request. "Did you have somewhere in mind?" He asked. The mirror gaped at him briefly—not quite believing that he had agreed to it. He raised his eyebrows, prompting her to respond, and she hurriedly spoke. "Anywhere—so long as I'm not alone—I want to be with people. A lot of people."
Jareth folded his arms and tapped a gloved digit on his lips, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the mirror. "I suppose I could manage something… You're certain you want to be around a lot of people?" He questioned, and the mirror nodded. Finally he settled on the throne room; deciding privately that if she changed her mind about it—and she would change her mind about it—then he could offer to return her here or somewhere else if he discovered a better location.
He came back to the present to see the mirror anxiously awaiting his answer, and he smiled a little at her, one corner of his mouth turning up. "I know just the place. Shall I send you there now?" He asked, and the mirror nodded enthusiastically in gratitude—but then had to stop to avoid shaking herself off of the wall. "Yes please!" Jareth said, "Very well." Then he bounced the crystal off of his hand at her, and as soon as it touched the mirror's surface, the crystal popped like a bubble, but the mirror vanished.
He gave her an hour, tops, before she'd ask to be removed.
His smile faded and he went to his desk as his thoughts turned back to Sarah. Standing there a moment, the goblin king thought about how he could help her. Grimacing, he turned to the bookcase beside his desk and plucked several books down from where they rested, settled into his chair, and began pouring over them in hopes of discovering a way to get to the Aboveground. There had to be something he could do—some way that he could aid and bring comfort to her—but how?
A/N: There's chapter two—hopefully it lived up to your expectations. Not sure if the mirror should have had such a long-ish part in the chapter. I actually shortened it a bunch because I was afraid it'd take away from Sarah and Jareth's dilemmas. But what do you think? Yea or nay?
Disclaimer: Don't own it.