A/N: Chapter Seven! (I don't have much else to say, haha. ^^') Oh well. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Usual, 'nope don't own it' shtick.
Blind
Chapter Seven: The Mirror and the Clock
Sarah arrived in the throne room of the Goblin Castle, at the center of the Labyrinth. She only knew this because she could smell the sudden scent of some form of Goblin alcohol, chickens that were currently absent, and a unique, faint but distinct kind of cologne. It was very faint, though; so maybe the Goblin King wasn't there. 'That's right,' Sarah thought in remembrance, 'He offered me a chance to beat the Labyrinth. So he'll do the same for that boy. But... will he accept the challenge?..' Sarah's stomach dropped worriedly. She doubted it. He didn't know her, didn't have any ties to her. But maybe his guilt would press him to help her?
It seemed unlikely, though, and Sarah's hope was promptly squashed. She brought her attention back to the present when she noticed something odd. The assumed usual noise of the throne room was missing. Nothing but silence greeted her here. She'd expected goblins to be everywhere. Using her walking stick, she went around the room in search for the doors. She found the double doors to be locked, and could find no sign of the arched doorway and spiral staircase that had led to the Escher room. The only doors that she could tell, were the ones she'd already found.
Sarah was walking along the wall where she could swear the stairs to the Escher room used to be, when her hand grazed something cold, and a gravelly female voice above her gave an alarmed laugh. "Goodness! Stop that, that tickles!" Laughed the voice, and Sarah lurched away from it with a yelp, pulling her hand back and pressing it against her chest in fright.
"Who-Who's there!?" She cried.
The female voice's laugh faded away with a huff, and she answered in irritation. "I, young Lady, happen to be the king's personal looking glass-!" She started proudly, only to come to an abrupt stop. Sarah shifted warily on her feet, and the mirror went on. "Wait-you're Her, aren't you? The one the king's been worried about?"
Sarah's eyebrows came together in question. "What do you mean?"
"You know, the one he's gone to so much trouble to help?" The mirror hummed, saying almost to herself. "He's been awfully concerned-I don't think I've ever seen him so distressed.." A short silence passed between them almost as though the voice were shrugging. "I don't know all the details-just bits and pieces."
The blind woman thought hard on this. Jareth had been upset? About her? It seemed unlikely to Sarah. But then, she hadn't seen him in years, and it had been made clear the last time they met, that he had had strong feelings for her. So what exactly did that all mean for her now? Had Jareth continued to feel that way for her? Or was this all some elaborate scheme to get back at her for rebuffing his ill-timed affections?
"Miss, are you alright?" The mirror jogged Sarah from her thoughts, and she took a shaky breath.
"Yes-I'm fine. Sorry for tickling you, it was an accident."
The mirror chortled. "I know, it just surprised me-it would've surprised you, too, had you been asleep like I was. In any case, no harm done!"
Sarah nodded, hesitated, then at last continued. "Do you have a name?"
The mirror said. "The King calls me Mirra."
Sarah smiled, "Nice to meet you Mirra, I'm Sarah." the air around the mirror turned surprised and suddenly very interested.
"Oh? Nice to meet you, Sarah." Mirra's tone had a strange undercurrent, and Sarah cleared her throat in discomfort. Clearly the mirror knew something she didn't-and wasn't going to share.
"There wouldn't by any chance be another exit besides the double doors in here, would there?" Sarah asked hopefully.
The mirror immediately answered, downing any hopes Sarah had of getting out of there. "No, there's only those doors."
Her stomach sank to her shoes. "Oh. Well, thanks anyway." The mirror apologized, then fell silent, and Sarah began once more to wander around the room.
She came across a raised corner of stone, and she explored it with her walking stick. It appeared to be a step. What was it?
She found two more, shallower steps that ended against a short, but wide circular stone. Brow furrowing, Sarah reached out and her hand brushed against thick fabric hanging from metal rings wrapped around a sort of railing made up of smooth, cold stone. She paused, then followed it in a half circle, before she realized what it was. It was the Goblin King's throne. Her hand had been following the back of it. Quickly she pulled her hand away and got down, stumbling a little. But then an idea occurred to her. Could there be a door hidden behind the throne? She'd heard about things like that in other countries in her world, that had secret escape passages behind the throne for the king, should there be an attack or threat against him.
Reaching out again, she took hold of the railing and followed it to the side and back of the throne. But she and her stick discovered, to her dismay, that there was nothing there but several wavy kinds of odd outcroppings of expertly carved stone; that on one high up, apparently held a clock. It ticked and tocked at her as though to mock her, and she jumped when the apparently cuckoo clock chimed loudly and a grinding sound like an old metal gate for an equally old elevator sounded, and whatever was inside the clock, popped out. But instead of the customary 'cuckoo!' to announce the hour, the ticking grew a little louder and said in a melodic sing-song voice,
"Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock,
Little Sarah, Behind the Lock,
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock,
Coming here, The Goblin King
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock,
Who never, Has to knock."
Sarah stared up at where she thought it was coming from. Really to herself, she said, "You messed up that fourth line..." She jumped when the 'cuckoo' inside the clock sniffed and replied,
"Well excuse me, Little Miss!
You try and make a rhyme,
As witty as mine,
Just on a dime!"
It replied smugly, and after a moment of thought Sarah responded.
"You forgot to rhyme with 'Miss',
Forgive me for my slapdash rhyme,
But your poem comes from rust and grime,
Before I end I can't dismiss,
That your prose is quite remiss."
There was silence. And then the clock made a horrible dinging, grinding sound as though someone had dropped it, but clearly that was not the case, because it said, "Harrumph!" and fell quietly, though a little irritatedly, to ticking and tocking once again.
"Ha! She showed you, Tick-Tock; you ramshackle box of greasy gears!" Crowed the mirror from across the room, and Sarah flinched in surprise at the suddenness of it.
Above her the clock growled, and the mirror chortled across the room. "Do you know how to do anything other than tell badly written rhymes? Can you at least sing or something? You must be good for something other than telling the time." She snickered, and the clock called back waspishly.
"Well, excuse me! At least I can do something clever and reliable! Your images for the king are so difficult to make out, it's a miracle he doesn't have to wear strong spectacles just to decipher them!"
The mirror gasped in outrage. "Well I'm not the one who looks like a derailed train!"
The clock quickly followed her words with a dry laugh. "You don't even know what a derailed train is!" He then addressed Sarah. "That mirror knows about as much about human transportation, as a teaspoon knows about the moon!" He snorted, "She just thinks she's clever because she occasionally heard the king talking about how horrible trade relations are with the ogres!"
The mirror growled, clearly insulted. At length she returned, "I was wrong," she started, sounding all of a sudden contrite. Tick-Tock's pendulums slowed in suspicion.
"You are? About what..?" He asked.
"You are worth something-doesn't every throne room need a jester-?" She came to an abrupt stop, and a pregnant silence filled the room.
Sarah waited for Mirra to finish speaking, but when the looking glass and clock both remained silent, Sarah called to both of them. "Um... Mirra? Tick-Tock...?" Sarah called warily. But the mirror didn't answer, and the clock only ticked a little faster as though perhaps embarrassed. Bewildered, Sarah sighed. But she was feeling a little better at her successful encounter with the rhyming clock.
Sarah turned and went back toward the throne to retrace her steps. She found the throne and when she reached it, the smell of cologne that had once been faint, was now fairly strong-not overbearing-but it definitely had a presence. Following the rail around to the side of the royal seat, she froze when a loud 'click' resonated from across the room. The double doors were unlocking. With a great, creaking groan, the enormous doors swung slowly open, and a breeze carrying the Goblin King's scent swirled towards her.
His heeled boots clicked as he walked around the stone pit, nearing the throne. Face paling and heart beating in a panic, Sarah blurted out. "Hello?" The footsteps slowed to a halt before the throne, and Sarah could feel the coolness of his breath.
"Hello, Sarah. I hope Tick-Tock and Mirra were well behaved in my absence?" Jareth questioned, and there was a slight undertone aimed at the magicked objects. Tick-Tock ticked and tocked a bit louder.
At his voice, Sarah felt cold and sick all at once. She took a few hurried steps away from him, causing herself to bump into a stack of barrels. They apparently contained Goblin Ale, based on the sloshing they made, and she landed soundly on her backside. Her walking stick had flown from her hand as she fell. It dropped to the floor and rolled down into something. It sounded like it had fallen into the stone pit. Sarah froze in a panic. She'd never really walked anywhere without it except inside her dad's house.
"Stay there, I'll get it for you." Jareth said, his footsteps echoing in the goblin-less room.
"I'm fine, I can get it myself!" She cried, then quickly scrambled to her hands and knees to search for the stick. She turned in the direction she'd last heard it, her hand sliding across the stone floor in search of the edge of the pit. But Jareth's firm reply made her pause.
"No Sarah, you're not. Please allow me to help you." He said, but his voice and words were soothing instead of angry like she had expected them to be.
Sarah hesitated, frowning. "How do I know you won't 'help' me into an oubliette as soon as I'm upright?" She questioned, her tone laced with suspicion. The sound of her stick sliding over stone paused as he was picking it up. Sarah could feel his surprise in the air, and he sounded hurt when he replied.
"I thought you believed in second chances? You gave Hoggle one. Can't you give me one, as well?" She almost missed that he'd gotten Hoggle's name right. When she didn't reply, he lifted the walking stick up all the way and walked to her at a slow pace, adding. "I give you my word as Goblin King that I won't." He promised solemnly, and Sarah was rendered speechless by it. Surely this couldn't be the seductively sardonic Goblin King of her past?
"Here, lend me your hand so I can help you up." Jareth requested. Sarah slowly raised her hand and he carefully took it. His hand was warm, and surprisingly gloveless. With great care he lifted her to her feet, then returned her walking stick to her hand. She took it, relieved, and the tension Sarah felt toward him eased away a fraction. He wasn't as bad as she had expected, so far.
His voice brought her out of her reverie, and she focused on what he was saying. "You're no doubt tired from your journey. Why don't you allow me to lead you to my library? It has far more comfortable seating arrangements than this room-and I know you prefer the company of fine literature."
Sarah's eyebrows lifted high at Jareth's offer. The Goblin King's Library? What would that even be like? Her imagination couldn't quite get a hold of how the library would look. One version in her mind had it completely filthy and as goblin aplenty as the throne room; while the other version managed a small, elegant room. Neither quite felt right.
"Ok.."
Jareth's voice held a smile in it. "Excellent. Shall we?" He released her walking stick bearing hand, but threaded the other around his arm. They headed for the double doors, and Sarah felt Jareth make a gesture with his free hand. The doors creaked and closed behind them once they'd left the room. She frowned bitterly at the reminder of her predicament.
Jareth must've seen her expression. "I apologize for locking you in." He began, his voice truly regretful. "I was worried you'd make it into the Labyrinth. In your condition, the thought of something happening to you..." He trailed off, and his other hand came down to rest on hers briefly as though reassuring himself she was safe. Sarah realized that Jareth was entirely sincere, and she said nothing, trying to comprehend this new and strange Jareth. Why would he care what happened to her? Didn't he hate her-or at the very least harbor bitter feelings for when she turned him down the last time they'd parted ways?
She remembered Mirra's words from earlier, saying how he'd been going to a lot of effort for Sarah. Was this what Mirra had meant? Had he been arranging things for her to make her more comfortable? Sarah frowned and expressed her thoughts.
"Why are you doing this?"
Jareth's breath grazed her cheek as he turned his head to glance at her. "Doing what, Sarah?"
Sarah's lips thinned and she replied curtly. "This. Taking care of me. You could've let me sit in the throne room for the next thirteen hours until that boy comes, but instead you're trying to make me more comfortable?"
Jareth chuckled humorously. "I know it's difficult to believe, but this is how I treat most wished away. Usually, the both of us simply wait."
Sarah's eyebrows rose even as her lips curved discontentedly downwards. "So we sit and do nothing, then?"
Jareth laughed lightly. "Not unless you want to." Sarah remained silent and Jareth went on. "A lot can be accomplished in thirteen hours, Sarah. All you have to do is choose what you want to do first."
A/N: *Knocks on wood* I hope it's good. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.