Chapter Four
* * * * * * * *
Touch my tears,
with your lips.
Touch my world,
with your fingertips.
* * * * * * * *
A young prince's childhood is brief, to say the very least. For, they must at once
be taught the ways of the kingdom that shall one day be theirs. In Thomas' case, he had
but ten years to comprehend the ways of magic, and harness its wild, tricky aspects. In
addition to that horridly difficult practice, he had the normal duties to attend to as well.
For there was much to understand about the Underground and the subjects he was to rule.
Jareth himself had only known magic, and nothing else, when he took control of
the throne. He had been thrown, floundering into the title of King, only to fight his way
back to the top. All in all, the entire struggle had not been something he would ever wish
for his son.
Jareth paused and glanced back at Thomas. They had been in the Underground for
only a year, not truly long enough to even call it home, and already it had affected them
all. The magical atmosphere seemed to enhance appearance, and offered a slight tinge of
regal attributes to all who dwelled within its wondrous boundaries.
His son, for instance, had taken to dressing in the finely crafted, silk and velvet,
clothes that had been specially made by expert seamstresses. The attire certainly made the
young seven-year old seem more mature, in appearance and actions. Childhood was done,
and the lessons had only just begun.
"Come to me Thomas," Jareth called and motioned for the prince to rush to his
side.
Tommy did as he was commanded, and even waited patiently for his father to
address him. No longer did he adhere to certain strange rules that seemed to apply to
young children. They were not discouraged from running about, playing, dirtying their
clothes in soil and mud. None of those things held much interest for Thomas any longer,
though he occasionally regretted the fact that he would never experience the joy of having
a good friend.
Jareth pointed to the large, well kept stables directly ahead of them, and instantly
Thomas' eyes brightened. He had always adored horses, and had even gone for a ride or
two on his mother's sweet mare, by the name of Tripix. The horse had been brought
along when the three had come to the Underground. Now Tommy had dozens of horses
that would one day be his, and only his.
"Are we going to ride today, Father?" Thomas asked, his voice nearly bubbling
over with excitement.
Jareth nodded in response and then continued to walk to the stables. He was no
longer Daddy, as he had been only a few months earlier. Tommy had decided, by himself,
that the title seemed too babyish, and then had taken to addressing his parents as Father
and Mother. Only when in times of great pain or anguish did he resort back to the terms
of baby days.
Jareth truly adored the time he was able to spend with his son. However, at every
instant he could hear the eternal ticking of a clock, as time wound down. He could only
guess what his and Sarah's destiny would be, once Tommy was crowned the king of the
Underground. He could only hope that fate would be kind and grant their family a chance
to be together, at least for a while.
"Today you shall see the many distant realms of the kingdom. Places that will
soon forget you, if you chose to ignore them, and life will go on just the same no matter
what you do. Most of the time the royalty becomes but a character in some phony tales
that are crafted by bored teenagers," Jareth stated, placing a gloved hand on the arched
neck of his trusted black steed.
The horse allowed a deep calm breath to pass over Jareth's arm, and rested his
head down so that the king might stroke it. Jareth simply ran his hand over the wide
forehead, pushing aside the forelock in the process.
Thomas watched his father closely, taking in all that he did, and the way he
performed the most simple tasks with an air of dignity. Jareth was someone he would
always consider bigger than life. If asked how he knew his father was perfect, Tommy
would simply say that he was king, and everything a king did was flawless. So, it made
sense to deduce that the entire character of his father was perfect.
"Don't dawdle," Jareth scolded as he mounted and quickly drew the reins from the
stable boy, who had since then been meekly holding both horses.
Tommy was startled, but mounted with some struggling. He had not become as
graceful as his father. However, he was quite shorter, and the horse was just so very tall.
Tommy groaned as he gathered the reins up, and managed to nearly tangle them together.
He had much to learn, and was constantly reminded as he witnessed just how much he
messed up.
Already his father had urged the gallant black stallion to trot away from the
comforting stable, and Tommy had only just gotten control of his horse. He was only able
to rush out of the castle grounds, and found that Jareth was no where to be seen. Tommy
allowed a sigh to escape his mouth and gradually turned the steed about to head home.
There would be much punishment later on.
* * * * * * * *
"Don't be so hard on the boy, Jareth. He's just learning," Sarah's soft, but
determined voice drifted out of the open door.
Thomas sat, curled in the shadows, just down the hallway. There had been Hell to
pay when Jareth had returned, angered that his son had not attempted to follow, or keep
up, or even call out to wait a moment while he gathered himself together. His father had
stormed home, and had nearly taken his rage out on Thomas. His mother had grabbed
Jareth aside at that time, and led him to the room, where they now talked.
The voices raised another octave, and soon would be near the yelling decibel.
Tommy hugged his legs tighter against his chest and wiped away a few tear drops as they
traced wet trails down his cheeks. He bit his lip to keep the sobs inside, and silent. All he
needed now was to be discovered and face a larger punishment on top of the other he
would receive shortly.
"You don't understand, Sarah. He is to be king!" Jareth roared.
"No! I suppose I would not know about this, but neither does he. Do you expect
him to be perfect after a short year of half-hearted training?" she asked, trying to keep
herself calm.
Jareth paused in the lazy orange glow offered by a near torch, that was hung in a
rusted metal cup on the stone wall. The fire cast highlights across the King's noble face,
and accentuated the anger that had overwhelmed him that night. Sarah, however, would
not be frightened, she stood tall and proud beside the bed.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Jareth relented. His dignified stance
fell and he promptly sat upon the bed. He placed his head into his hands, trying
desperately to ignore the nagging headache that would shortly be transformed into a
migraine.
"He is just a boy, but the boy will be king and then will not be able to ask what is
right and what is wrong. Sarah, I understand that you are protective, but he shall be hurt
worse after we can no longer stand at his side," Jareth explained.
He did not look up, but could hear the gentle sobs coming from the other side of
the room. Sarah had once again been struck by the loss of her child. Tommy would soon
be King, and then his life would revolve around the Underground. Jareth and she had no
clue as to their futures, but she had not been hopeful.
With a sigh, Jareth rose to his feet and grasped Sarah about her waist, holding her
close to him as she cried. Her entire body shuddered with the tears and the gasps for air
that she struggled to gather through her hitching throat. Jareth too could feel the
overwhelming somberness that seemed to cover the castle, but forced a smile on his face
and then nudged her chin up, so that they might look eye to eye.
"I shall always be here for you, my love," Jareth stated.
Sarah managed a shaking smile to reply to his kind words and then pressed her
trembling lips to his. With a gentleness that felt almost like butterflies brushing her
cheeks, he kissed her tears away and then returned her passion.
"And you will forever be my king," Sarah stated as she wrapped her arms around
his neck.
Out in the hallway, Tommy crept further and further away. He did not want to be
noticed, and the fight had ended. He was relieved to know that his father would not
punish him, for Thomas had never meant any harm. His parent's door shut, echoing
through the bleak hallway. With a single glance down towards the room, and the eerily lit
passage, cast with flitting orange illumination, Tommy rushed into his room and closed the
door.
* * * * * * * *
Thomas thrust his sword forward, forgetting the vulnerable position in which he
had managed to place himself. He felt the tap on the back of his neck, cold metal that
could very easily had killed him, had it not been blunted. He bit back the foul language
that immediately rose to mind and tossed his weapon to the ground. This had been the
fifth time in a row, and the losses were becoming quite monotonous.
"Do you understand what has been done wrong?" the deep accented voice
questioned from behind him.
Thomas nodded, but could not help but feel anger towards his instructor. There
was never any easy lesson, and never could he receive some form of a handicap, when his
inexperience was considered. No, Thomas was simply required to know all at the moment
it was taught, and become the expert a few short minutes after.
The tip of the sword touched his back once again, and Thomas reached back to
snatch it away. He did not feel up to participating in these studies about swordmanship
any longer. He did not know a time when the art would be needed, for he was to be king,
and the king had soldiers to protect his castle. Thomas did not feel that he should have to
stoop so low as to be forced to fight.
"This training tires me," Thomas bit the words out and then turned to look at the
man behind him, yet no one was there.
Now his sword was tossed through the air, and plummeted to the ground. It stuck
the pile of old, yellowed leaves, right before Thomas' feet. These tiresome tricks were
pointless, and quite annoying to say the least. However, the adolescent reached down and
retrieved the sword. It would not be wise to deny the King's wishes.
"Ready yourself, Thomas," Jareth stated as he strode before his son.
Thomas sighed, and then found himself taking up the proper stance. Yet, all the
while, he could feel a dull pain in his arm, for he was not used to holding a sword for such
a long period of time. Actually, he had not ever truly fought with a sword before.
Jareth struck his son in the shoulder, just with enough force to draw the boy's
mind back to the practice. All he received in return was a scowl, and Thomas went
forward, fighting with anger and not thinking about the hazards in which he would soon
place himself.
"When will this lesson be over?" Thomas questioned through clenched teeth.
Jareth's eyes darkened at the rude attitude that had overtaken his son. With a snap
of his wrist, Thomas' sword flew through the air, leaving the boy vulnerable. Jareth
quickly knocked him off balance and then pushed the sword to his son's throat.
"The lesson is done, and you are dead," Jareth stated seriously, and then
resheathed the sword as he offered Thomas a hand.
The boy refused the help and instead struggled to his own feet, though his ankle
ached from the fall he had taken. It was sure to be swollen shortly and bruised by the next
day. Yet, Jareth would not take it easy, even with the injury Thomas had sustained. They
would be out early, and Jareth would be prepared to teach all new lessons, and perhaps try
to tune up his son's poor sword skills.
Jareth mounted his horse and then waited, impatiently, for Thomas to gather his
weapon and catch up. It seemed as if his son was always behind, always lagging in one
way or another. However, Jareth could only expect the best, for if he did not, then it
could be quite costly in the end. Thomas would soon understand that this all was for his
own benefit.
"You must take these lessons seriously, Thomas!" Jareth called to his boy.
Thomas replied with a slurred word, but Jareth chose to ignore it. Thomas had
acquired his mother's stubbornness, and what with being fifteen, he was in his rebellious
years. Unfortunately, Tommy did not have time to live as any normal teenager would. He
was considered an adult, and so would adhere to the adult world. After all, in only a
single short year he would be crowned the king of the Underground, and no longer would
Jareth be able to help.
Thomas swung himself into the saddle and then walked up to his father. He did
not grant Jareth with a single word, but instead continued on into the forest, and towards
the castle. Lessons would be over for the day. They ended an hour before supper, so that
there was time to reach the table before all the food had been thrown to the dogs.
"Wait!" Jareth called.
Thomas stopped, truly upset at the entire day and the way it had transformed into
such a damn, annoying, useless.... he could go on and on. However, Tommy turned
around and noticed that Jareth had yet to move from the spot in which he now stood.
Usually it was Thomas who was forced to rush to catch up to his quickly disappearing
father.
A strange foreign expression had overcome Jareth's features. His lively, sparkling
eyes had dulled considerably and seemed almost as if they were only chunks of colored
stone. His mouth was set, and his gaze fixed on something in the near distance. For he
searched through the thick foliage with quick sweeping glances.
"What is it this time, father?" Thomas inquired, as he reluctantly approached
Jareth.
However, the Goblin King did not speak. Instead he dismounted, leaving his horse
to graze as he wandered through the overgrown forest. Thomas had only enough time to
jump to the ground, as his father disappeared behind a surprisingly thick clump of berry
bushes.
The boy cringed at the sight of those awful plants. The vines were covered in
viscous thorns, that would certainly jump out for any flesh that should pass nearby.
Nonetheless, he could not simply leave and not expect some form of punishment. It was
best to risk the thorns and discover just what had caught his father's attention.
"Father! Oh, damnit!" Thomas yelped as a thorn scratched across his face, and
another brutally attacked his hand.
A fine trail of crimson blood trickled down his cheek, as if Thomas was crying
tears of the substance. He wiped it away carelessly, but only succeeded in smearing the
life-giving substance over his cheek. It did not matter, for his mind was still set on the
direction his father had taken. After all, Tommy had seen Jareth enter, but now there was
no sign of any other soul, other than the boy himself.
Then, almost taking Thomas by surprise, the forest was cleared away. He broke
through to a path, one that had been maintained surprisingly well, which certainly was an
oddity in the Underground. He did not dwell long on the road, for Thomas caught sight
of his father, just ducking under another series of vines that had grown over some strange
stone structure, that almost resembled a broken-down wall.
"Father!" Thomas called again, but still received no answer.
He rushed to the section of wall that Jareth had disappeared through and followed
right behind. The moment he found himself inside, whatever it was that the dilapidated
wall surrounded, his breath caught in his throat.
It was a town, all destroyed for quite some time. However, Thomas could easily
see the massive stone remnants of a grand mansion that sat right at the head of the society.
There were even a few wooden homes that half-stood. A wondrous fountain stood in the
center of the weed choked road, that ran through the middle of the village. Perhaps that
had been where the marketplace was held on certain days. Thomas stood in awe at the
ruins, his mouth slack and his eyes widened.
"Does it interest you?" a soft voice asked from behind him.
Thomas jumped in surprise. He had not heard anyone sneak behind him during the
entire time he had been admiring the village. He twisted about and offered Jareth a sly
grin. This had certainly been a great treat, for Thomas had always been interested in the
past. The village appeared to be hundreds of years old.
"It is amazing," Thomas replied, still too awe-struck to say anymore.
"It was my home," Jareth stated and then walked towards the destroyed mansion.
Thomas watched, his shock portrayed through the expression that had plastered
itself to his face. He could not understand why, if this had been his father's home, had it
been allowed to be left to the forest, to become nothing more than ruins. Why would
Jareth ever wish to let his house fall apart, and what could have happened to everyone
who had once lived there? Thomas was overcome with questions.
Yet, Jareth did not ever address his son. He merely touched the one remaining
side of his childhood home. Even the ruins sang of a life that had been joyful, happy,
merry, and innocent. It had been a far better existence than eternity within the confines of
the corrupting castle. He silently wished he had never come, but knew that Thomas
should hear the tale and understand the price of one's actions.
"What happened here?" Thomas questioned, walking over to an object that had
glimmered when hit by the sun's rays.
The young prince sifted aside piles of old leaves, some corroded, while others still
fresh with brilliant hues of reds and oranges. Beneath nature, shone a slightly tarnished
silver mirror. The glass had been cracked nearly in two, and had shattered a bit in the
middle, but it was still quite a find.
"I did it," Jareth stated bluntly.
Thomas jerked his head over to face his father, and very nearly dropped the
antique mirror. His hand felt weak, and he only caught the artifact with quick reflexes and
quite a bit of luck. Jareth offered his son a sobering look and then glanced all around
himself, at all he had caused.
"I was not aware of the horrid side-effects that my actions would have. This is the
outcome of my ruling the Underground," Jareth smiled as he thought about his life that
had been anything but perfect.
Thomas was silent. He could not think of a single thing that would add to the
conversation. Instead he turned the mirror around in his hands and then promptly placed
it back on the ground. It was best to leave it in the place of carnage, for nothing here was
free of blood. Thomas could suddenly feel all the death, and not the strange serenity that
had originally drifted to his senses.
He broke into a sprint and raced beneath the hole in the wall, to the open forest.
Even to touch the place would feel like a sin. It was a place of murder, of deceit,
treachery, and more than anything else, evil. He wiped his hand across his face, trying to
calm his nerves and gather his wits before Jareth reappeared beyond the village walls.
A tender hand fell on Thomas' shoulder, and he gladly let his father comfort him.
He might have been a man in the Underground standards, but his entire being wanted to
only be treated as he might have at the age of five, held and consoled.
"I understand," Thomas stated, "I understand, I understand."
He could only find those two words, and repeated them again and again. All the
while Jareth waited at his son's side, for his calm demeanor to set back in. After long last
Thomas managed to look into Jareth's face and smiled, though his face was drained of any
and all color.
He reached back and unsheathed his sword, taking up the natural fencing stance,
and then signaling for his father to do the same. Jareth was surprised, to say the least, for
Thomas had seemed to hate swordplay with a passion. However, he produced his sword
and then nodded to his son that it was time for the lessons to begin again.
Thomas cleared his mind and then sliced his sword through the air. Time and
again Jareth easily blocked, and returned with his own fancy moves that had been
practiced to perfection through the many years. However, Jareth could feel his youth
slipping away, and knew well that he had lost a bit of his usual grace and speed.
"You're slowing down, father," Thomas chided as he surged forward with
renewed strength and speed.
"Yes, but I still know a few things that you have yet to learn," Jareth replied with a
grin and twisted his sword around his son's.
Thomas suddenly found himself without protection, as his sword flew through the
air. Jareth offered his son a smile and then thrust forward with his sword. However, the
prince leapt backwards and tumbled down to gather his lost fencing foil. He grabbed it
and quickly turned to face the amused king.
Jareth jumped down, and then continued with the game, for no longer was it a
lesson. Thomas had natural skill, and used it to his advantage. With a sudden sharp blow,
Jareth's sword clattered to the ground and Jareth managed to only stumble backwards
against a nearby tree.
"Lesson over," Thomas said as he touched his father's neck with the blunted
sword, "You are dead."
The final words seemed to hang in the air and sent shivers down both of their
spines. However, Jareth smiled and clapped his son on the back. Perhaps Thomas would
be a king yet.
Chapter Five
* * * * * * * *
And we can have forever.
And we can love forever.
Forever is our today!
* * * * * * * *
The coronation of Thomas was filled with pride and joy, and masked tears.
Crowds of onlookers watched in awe as the prince walked to the throne, that had been
moved to the grand hall just for the occasion. The crown of gold and jewels was placed
atop his head, and Jareth (the great Goblin King himself) stepped aside for his son to take
the throne. It was a new reign, a fresh beginning, and youthful ideals.
However, all in attendence had to admit that Thomas was the exact image of his
father. The young man was tall and slender, and truly handsome. His blonde hair shone
with a gleaming quality that put even the most pure gold to shame. Even his eyes, though
not of two different colors, were as deep and intoxicating as Jareth's were. Thomas sat
proudly in his throne, respledent in a jet leather vest that had been adorned with golden
medals. He wore a silken, flowing shirt, the color of midnight. Then, around his
shoulders, a cape made especially for this ceremony, that had been inlaid with magical
designs that were crafted from delicate silver threading. He was the king, and not a single
one could deny that fact.
It was followed by a ball, truly magnificent in its overhwelming splendor.
Countless young woman, mostly of noble blood, came in hopes of receiving a dance with
the handsome young King. All knew that the time would come soon when he would
choose a wife, and surely every available lady dreamed that she would be the one to catch
Thomas' eye.
The ceremonies lasted far into the early morning, and Thomas himself was not able
to relax until the sun had begun to peak over the mountain range in the far East. He was
exhausted, but a certain thrill of excitement still rushed through his entire body at the mere
thought of ruling the Underground. He was in charge, and he had the power to command
all to do what he thought best. It was overwhelming.
He slept, but only fitfully. For his sleep was plagued with dreams of doom and
death. They seemed out of place, considering that happiness that had engulfed the entire
coronation. However, the nightmares continued until Thomas finally arose from bed and
struggled to change, despite the grumpy nature the lack of sleep had placed upon him.
A series of loud knocks on his door came shortly later, and did not help to brighten
Thomas' mood. Surely the searvants would understand that, since he had yet to leave his
room, then he would not want to be disturbed. However, the persistent noise continued
and finally, with a sigh, Thomas threw the door open.
"I certainly hope....," Thomas stopped in the midst of his sentence as he looked at
the robed figure before him.
The person wore a hood over his or her head. Thomas could not quite tell what
the gender might be, for the entire outfit was bulky and dark. Yet, the figure lifted its face
and then pulled back the hood, revealing the mystery.
A man stood there, with dark hair, as black as the night, that hung down beneath
his robe. His face was quite strange, for Thomas almost believed that he had seen the man
before, but could not remember a thing about his features. He waited a moment for the
stranger to introduce himself, and when there was only silence, made to shut the door on
the rude person.
"My King, forgive my rudeness, but you bear such a likeness to your father, that I
truly believed I had stopped at the wrong room," the strange man stated quickly and
grasped the door to prevent Thomas from closing it.
Thomas was tempted to still shut this man out, but hesitated a moment too long.
Obviously the stranger took the open door as an invatation to enter into the room, and
then bowed deeply in respect to the king. Thomas only closed the door and crossed his
arms over his chest. This was all quite interesting, but he wished only to know the name
of this new man.
"I returned to see the new king. You must understand Thomas, that I was once
Queen Cyria's most trusted council. I was called simply Flagg in those times, and have
chosen to keep the quaint title. I wish to offer my services to you, considering that a new
ruler could have quite a few instances of confusion, and what with Jareth leaving....,"the
magician paused, feigning shock at having spoken something Thomas was not to know.
The young King's calm, if not irritated, attitude broke to that of surprise at what
this Flagg had said. He rushed forward and gripped Flagg by the robe that he had worn
since the dawn of time. A light of fear, only slightly overshadowed by that of anger,
dawned in Thomas' eyes and he took a single deep breath.
"Tell me about Jareth's departure!"
* * * * * * * *
"Father! I must speak to you!" Thomas demanded as he caught sight of Jareth
leaning against the throne and gazing out the nearby window.
Jareth turned his attention to his son and offered the young man a strained smile.
There was no point in adding fear to the obvious anger that had overcome the new King.
Jareth straightened himself and then offered Thomas a slight bow of respect, and then rose
to look at the white palor of his son's face.
Thomas could only sputter for a short time, as he tried to gather his thoughts
together. It was like attempting to gather pieces of a puzzle and form them together so
that they might create a whole, something he could understand. Even as the picture
flashed in completion, Thomas feared what it revealed to him, and he could only pray that
he had misunderstood what he had been told.
"Tell me truthfully, are you to leave me this very day? You have never told me
anything of the sort," Thomas declared.
Jareth looked at his son for such a very long time, his eyes saddened and somewhat
dulled. Thomas could easily remember a time when he had seen such an expression, and
that had been when Cyria had died. Now his own father, so very old and no longer
needed as the king of the Underground, appeared as if his life was drawing to an end as
well.
Jareth finally turned to look back out the window, and towards the distant horizon
where the forests end and only flat soil remained. It was there that his mind now
wandered as his son was faced with the largest burden of his life, how to say goodbye.
"Do you see that vast place, where no tree dares to dwell and the sun's rays beat
down upon the sand? It seems sometimes that millions of crystals, shattered and sprayed
across the land are out there, when the light strikes just perfectly. I once ventured out
there, just to see what it was that had always shone with such intensity. When, after long
last I arrived, I found nothing, and had decided that the entire trip was for naught.
However, I did happen across something that stood all alone, in the middle of sand as far
as the eye could see. It was a single Peach tree, ailing and near dead, and struggling to
survive in the poor conditions. On it's withered branches was a single ripened fruit, that
was truly the most lush peach I ever saw," Jareth paused in his story and allowed a sigh to
escape his lips.
Thomas collapsed to the throne and turned his own eyes out towards the lands that
had so attracted his father's curiousity. However, it had held nothing but death, according
to Jareth. Yet, the entire tale did not seem to hold any form of an answer to the question
he had originally asked when first entering the room. Perhaps Jareth simply wanted to
avoid the entire question, and the tale was his way of doing so.
After a pause of some ten or fifteen seconds, Jareth continued on with his story,
still gazing out of the window.
"I plucked the single remained fruit, the only living thing from the tree and then
made to eat it. However, something stopped me, and I decided that it was not meant to
be this way. So, instead, I took the pit from the center of the peach, and buried it near it's
father, the old tree that had been a pioneer in that wasteland, and then left the place to
itself."
Jareth turned to his son, and took Thomas by surprise. The young man had not
expected the tale to end so very abruptly. He still could not make any sense of the strange
story, and he could only hope that Jareth would explain the relationship it had to anything
that mattered.
The old King realized that his son was lost as to a meaning. He allowed a smile,
only a ghost of the usual seductive grin that had once graced Jareth's handsome face, to
cross his features. There was so much that Thomas still had to learn, but all he would
have to do alone. Time had run down, and now Jareth simply existed on borrowed
moments.
"You don't hear what I'm trying to tell you, Thomas. This is the answer to your
question, if you would allow your mind to open a bit, just to allow some of the light to
enter. We consider death the end, where nothing else shall follow. The peach tree did die,
and was nevermore seen on this world, but from it came a life. The end is only the
beginning, my son. One day, venture to that land, and see what lies within its bouderies,"
Jareth commanded and then patted Thomas' shoulder with fatherly love.
Jareth sighed yet again, and offered the land of nothing one more backwards
glance. He would leave his son alone with his own thoughts for the time being. Soon
Thomas would face the adult world, something that he had only caught glimpes of before,
and all the while had been under the proective wing of his father.
With a shaking smile the great king, who had now stepped down from his throne,
in order for Thomas to claim the rule of the kingdom, walked out of the throne room. It
had been his for hudreds of years, far too long, and now he would never re-enter the place
that had signified his leadership, and his rule as the infamous Goblin King.
* * * * * * * *
Sarah sat on her bed with a book laid out on her lap. The story had not been
meant for her, for she had never found much of a plot in picture books. However, the
young child, barely three, who now had drifted off to sleep, had enjoyed every last page.
Sarah ran her hand through the girl's thick chestnut hair and touched her soft angelic face
tenderly.
"Sleep well, my sweet," Sarah stated and kissed the child's soft cheek.
The little girl only made a single movement in reponse to her mother's departure.
She did not waken, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief for that small gift. She was utterly
exhausted, and wished only to go to sleep for several days. However, a single night of
unbroken slumber would do quite nicely.
She stopped at the doorway to her room, and nearly gasped at the ghostly sight
that stood before the window. Jareth gazed out into the sky, the moonlight highlighted his
features, and gave a strange eerieness to his calm face. He turned at the sound of his wife
entering the room and offered her the most serene smile she had ever seen upon his face.
"You frightened me," Sarah remarked and then quickly closed the door behind
herself, so as not to wake their sleeping child in the next room.
Jareth left the window and walked, so very slowly, over to his wife. There was
something about him that night, something that was not quite right. Sarah could not put
her finger on it, but the change frightened her nonetheless. She would not tell him though,
for Jareth seemed in particularly good spirits that night. It was far different from the
somber attitude he had been enveloped by as of lately.
Jareth wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly, releasing so many
emotions in that moment that Sarah was barely able to stay on her feet. Tears suddenly
sprang into her eyes, though she had no idea why she should be sad. She had already
accepted their son's fate as king, and the fact that he was now immortal. Yet, she weeped
into Jareth's shoulder.
"I feel such peace tonight, Sarah," Jareth whispered, patting her back with the
same gentleness that he used on their daughter.
Sarah turned her tear-stained face to look at her husband and the almost holy light
that surrounded him. It was the moon, she understood that, but something about it made
everything so very ethereal. She touched his caring face just to assure herself that this was
Jareth, and not some strange apparation that had come to pose as her husband.
He took her hand into his and kissed it. The kiss sent a shiver down her spine and
Sarah could once again feel the magical aura surrounding Jareth. It had been quite some
time since she had lest felt this raw energy that was held within his body. However, now,
it almost felt stronger, more powerful than ever, and she loved it. It felt as if she was held
by the magic, instead of Jareth.
"I love you," Sarah whispered as she closed her eyes and simply adored the feeling
of being together with him.
"Forever," Jareth said and brushed his face against her thick chestnut hair.
They went together to their bed, and shared their love that night, as the crystal
moon hung overhead in the dark velvet sky. The tender white illumination that was cast
by the moon played over the room, and sent a spell of pure magical illusions all around.
Later, as Sarah slept soundly by Jareth's side, he thought about his life, and about
the castle that was no longer his. He dwelled on the time he had been king, and the
countless children that had been turned into horrid little goblins at his hands. However, at
that hour of the night nothing seemed important. It was as if all the wrongs he had
committed were suddenly swept away, and his slate was clean once again, for all of
eternity.
* * * * * * * *
Thomas slept, though he did not do so silently. His slumber was attacked by
countless nightmares that portrayed all he had ever feared. He witnessed deaths of those
close to him, and destruction of the entire Underground. He felt as if his entire world had
simly fallen down around him, and he was helpless to stop it. He had no control, and that
was another lesson he had finally learned.
Yet, in his mind he heard a voice, one so full of power, but also covered in love. It
was his father, soothing him through the horrid dreams, and taking Thomas into a sleep
that no longer attacked his mind. He was free to rest, and do so comfortably.
When he yearned to thank his father, Thomas already knew that it was too late, for
the voice had left while he sank into sweet oblivion. It had only helped him that one night,
and could not take all the reality of life away forever. Thomas understood that he would
now be in charge, and that now he would face everything and be forced to decide with his
own mind.
As the young King finally found rest, a clock somewhere, in some hallway, or
some corridor, perhaps in an empty room, or the grand one in the throne room, or all at
once...began to chime the thirteenth hour.
Several villagers who dwelled in the former Goblin City awakened at the sound of
the thirteen chimes. It was said that the weather suddenly turned cold as ice, and a wind
whipped through the streets, but only for a moment. All who experienced the strange
phenomenon agreed that it had occured at the same time, thirteen o'clock.
And in the castle, as the final chime of the thirteenth hour rang through the
sleeping hallways, echoing on and on, the mighty Jareth, who had become a legend during
the time he had ruled as Goblin King, died peacefully in his sleep.
Chapter Six
* * * * * * * *
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today.
Who waits forever anyway?
* * * * * * * *
Thomas stood before the two gravestones, so very perfect in the creation, for he
had called upon the finest mason to craft both. One was aged ten years, and the other
fresh. The dirt had been only just softened down upon the newer of the two, for the
funeral services had takan place that afternoon, beneath a cold grey sky.
The King managed a slight smile, though he truly did not wish to pretend that joy
was something in his body. He was but twenty-six and could feel his maturing had
stopped. He had not changed for two years already, and believed that any other aging
would be insignificant. This was his age, twenty-six, for the rest of his life.
"I am so very lost, and there is much chaos in the Underground," Thomas stated to
the elder of the two graves.
Buried beneath the modest headstone was his father, the former Goblin King.
Jareth had been right, that being king was difficult, and ruling without help was near to
impossible. There had been so many mistakes that Thomas had made, and he felt as if
there would soon be war between some of the rebelling groups. What little control
Thomas had had, was now gone.
Life had seemed unbearable after Jareth's death. His mother had nearly gone
hysterical as she realized her one true love was gone forever. She had locked herself away
in her room for a good month, refusing to eat anything, save a single meal a day and drank
only at that time as well. She wept uncontrollably, and soon, when all sounds had fallen
away from the room, many speculated that she had died.
However, shortly later Sarah had emerged from the room, quite thin and ragged in
appearance, but she had her normal personality back. She was, also, pregnant, and only a
month along. Many told Sarah that she was not thinking properly, and that she could not
possibly be only a month, for that would date the conception back to the night the former
king had died.
The child, a boy which she named Jareth, had been born precisely nine months, to
the day, from the night his father had died. The child was a compete mix of both parents.
He had his father's golden locks, but Sarah's deep chocolate eyes. The child was recieved
with celebration, for many believed it to be a sign, that a part of Jareth had returned with
the child, and the prince would one day be a great leader, if not a king.
Thomas went on with life, struggling to gain respect in a world where so many
considered him far too young. Most of his advisors felt that they ruled the kingdom, and
tried to take control, but Thomas was stronger than they had believed. He was witty and
intelligent, and stubborn above all else. He was his father's son, and was determined to be
a good king.
A year later, when Thomas had finally turned eighteen and could call himself an
adult, the kingdom seemed to be in top condition. All was peaceful, and there had not
been a problem for over a month. It seemed that at that time, things could not go wrong.
Thomas soon fell in love with a young lady, who was the daughter of a serveant.
Her name was Lily, and she had captured the King's heart. Though the relationship was
frowned upon, Thomas would not lose his love. He would surely have left the kingdom
before allowing the girl to leave him. It was soon accepted by most of his subjects, and
the two were married shortly later.
However, things soon took a turn for the worse. A horrible outbreak of a viscous
strain of influenza struck the castle, and the surrounding village that had once been called
the Goblin City. Lily came down with the flu, and thier infant son soon contacted it.
Though Lily came through, Thomas' son died shortly later, and the kingdom mourned for
the loss of the heir.
Thomas' sister, then seven, was soon betrothed to a distant prince in a land
bordering the Underground. He hoped that the marriage would settle the stormy
situations between the two kingdoms, but knew that his sister would not be sent there for
a good eight years, and that was ample time for a war to begin.
On young Jareth's eighth birthday, Sarah succumbed to a illness that was unknown
by any of the physicians and mystics from all corners of the Underground. They knew
only that she was terribly weak, and her health was failing quickly. She raged with a fever
for several days, until it would break, only to return again to attack her weakened body.
The family knew that it would only be so long before Sarah would pass away.
During the two years in which Sarah's condition worsened, the Underground fell
into dark times. Thomas could not think, and knew that he was making poor decisions.
Taxes were raised, and hundreds went homeless and hungry as a result. Shortly later
bands of rebels formed and planned to drive Thomas away, and set a new king on the
throne. Thomas silently wished that he ruled over goblins, like his father had, and that his
magic was more powerful. However, neither dream came true.
There was one time, Thomas could remember in perfect detail, when he had
walked into Sarah's room to speak to her. Many had believed that she would die that
night, for her body raged with a fever and she had begun to hallucinate and speak in
strange dialects.
"Mother?" Thomas had asked as he approached her tossing figure in the bed.
Sarah had not noticed him, but instead continued with her ranting and violent
movements. Her face had been ashen and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her once
deep thoughtful eyes, rolled wildly about, as she was consumed by the disease.
"Jareth!" she shouted suddenly, between the snatches of moans and incoherent
words.
Thomas startled at the name and immediately bent in closer to his mother. Sarah
had stopped her movements for the time being and turned to look at her son, as if he had
only just happened in. In reality the King had been by her bed for a good half hour, just
watching the disease take its toll.
"My son, why do you come to see me in this state?" she asked, tears forming in
her reddened eyes and slipping slowly down her cheeks.
Thomas could think of nothing to say, so he took her clammy hand into his and
patted it ever so gently. Sarah closed her eyes and laid back agaist her pillows, resting
calmly for the first time in weeks. Even the fever, that had been so very high that Thomas
could feel the heat radiating off of her as he sat by the bed, was lowered considerably.
She snapped her eyes back open and fixed her gaze on her still silent son. Sarah
managed a smile and then took her hand from his. She did not need him to worry so, for
this was not the end. It was only the beginning.
"Your father came to me, and told me that my suffering is nearly over. I felt so
peaceful when he looked down at me, almost as if I was in heaven. He said that you have
forgotten all he taught you, and what he told you the final time you two spoke. Then, he
kissed me, and I felt the magic all around him as I had before. Tommy, I miss him so, and
I know that soon I will be with him forever," another tear rolled down her sunken cheeks
as she stopped her speach and looked at her son.
Thomas smiled and rose to his feet. It was time to leave. He would not admit
how much his mother's words had affected him for some time. However, even as he
stood in her room he knew that the strange rolling feeling in his stomach was brought on
by what she had said. All he knew was that he needed to be away, and he turned to leave
after kissing her forehead and bidding her a good rest.
As he walked from the door Sarah's sweet voice drifted to him. She was humming
a song she had once heard during her years on Earth. It was an enchanting melody, but so
very sad. Thomas paused and listened to the tune raise and fall with her voice.
"Forever is our today....Who waits forever anyway?"
That was all he heard of the song, for the next moment Thomas closed the door
and drudged back to his throne. A month later Sarah died, and was laid to rest in a grave
beside Jareth's. They would be together, as Sarah had said, in the afterlife. A love as true
as theirs was not to be seperated for such a long time.
Thomas ran a single finger over Sarah's gravestone and then managed a smile. He
had asked the mason to write a special inscription on it, so that all who would ever see the
two graves would have a hint as to how special the love had been. Written in fine cursive,
flowing letters, at the bottom of the headstone was the single phrase Thomas had heard his
mother sing.
"Forever is our today," he whispered and then rose back to his feet, carelessly
wiping away the dirt that had found its way to his knees.
Overhead thunder rumbled, warning of an oncoming storm. It was the first in
quite some time. As a matter of fact, Thomas had only seen one other instance of poor
weather in the whole time he lived in the Underground. It was rare, but he thought
nothing of it. Most of his mind was still wallowing in utter grief. His only consolence was
the knowledge that his mother was at last out of her pain.
A slender figure stood in the back doorway, looking at the King as he approached.
She wore a silken robe, that flowed in the wind that had begun to whip through the
courtyard. It made her seem almost as if she was a ghost, and not Thomas' beloved wife.
Yet, the sight of her, and the concern that was plastered in her lovely face, caused some of
his sadness to slip away.
"Many of your counselors were searching for you. I figured that I could find you
out here," Lily stated and then offered Thomas a struggled smile.
Thomas stopped in front of her, watching the way the silken robe drifted about her
body. She truly seemed to be an angel, come down from heaven to console his broken
heart. Thomas took his wife into his arms and laid his head against her shoulder, burying
his face in her luxurious hair.
"I have failed my father," Thomas moaned in desperation.
Lily stroked his back and slowly led her husband into the safety of the castle, and
away from the bad weather that was obviously on the way. It felt as if this could very well
be a storm that would be considered the worst in the history of the Underground. Behind
them lightening traced a path across the sky and thunder rolled shortly after.
"He would be proud of you. We are all proud of you," she reminded and pulled
herself out of the embrace.
"My mother told me once that I had forgotten all Jareth ever told me, and what we
had spoken about. Do you believe that I have failed that horridly? I remember him
speaking about a tree in some desert land in the far distance," Thomas stopped with a
shocked expression formed on his whitened face.
The tree! That was what Jareth had said so many years before. He had spoken
about a dead peach tree in the middle of desert lands, and the fruit that it had bore. Jareth
had told Thomas to venture there sometime, and then he would understand what the story
had meant. Now was the time he needed to leave, for now was when he doubted
everything about himself, and the decisions he had made.
Lilly looked at him with the beginnings of fear embedded deep within her eyes.
She tried to grab ahold of his sleeve, perhaps in understanding of what he meant to do.
However, Thomas was too quick. He was soon free from her grasp and rushing down the
hallways. He offered his wife a single glance back and waved. Lilly could only return the
gesture, and pray that he would not get himself killed.
* * * * * * * *
He rode through the raging wind, and past sparks that were sprayed across the
trail, as lightning hit a nearby tree. The thunder sounded relentlessly, and more than once
his horse lost its nerve and reared in protest of being out in such a storm as was coming to
the Underground.
Thomas only urged the steed forward, trying to hold back the anxiety that
threatened to burst over in his soul. He knew what he had to see, and what it would mean
for his entire life. Everything else did not matter. The storm could have very well swept
him up inside of it, and still the young King would have continued on with his journey to
the lands about which his father had spoken.
Now the trees grew sparse, and he could see the sand covering the ground, where
once emerald grass had grown to knee-level. He could see the shimmering crystal dust,
that Jareth had witnessed when he had been young. This was the place that held the
answer, and he could only wish that the answer would be for his benifit.
"Easy," Thomas called as the horse reared wildly into the air in reaction to the
stormy weather.
He steadied the frightened animal and finally leapt down to the ground. The
steed's eyes rolled about, searching the blowing bushes for potential predators. Thomas
merely stroked the horse's nose and took a firm grip on the reins. He would need the
animal, for Thomas had never mastered the technique of transforming into the owl, or
simply appearing in specified areas. Jareth had not had enough time to teach all about the
Underground magic, for there was much more that the young king had needed to know.
The final tree passed by, and Thomas was left surrounded only by shimmering sand
for miles and miles, as far as the eyes could see. Just behind him was the forest, perhaps
frightened to enter these deserted lands.
His entire spirit drooped at the sight of the nothingness. It was much the same as
his father, when Jareth had originally beheld this desolate area. He had hoped for a sign,
an omen of sorts that things would eventually start seeming a little more hopeful.
However, there was only despair, and more sadness to greet his already depressed and
greivious mood.
Thomas very nearly remounted at that time, to put this whole silly idea behind him,
yet something caught his eye. The King stopped, still ready to leave and not dissapoint
himself to a greater extent, but could not push aside the gnawing curiousity that rose
within himself. He whipped around and squinted into the darkness to see what had shown
itself for only a brief time.
A flash of lightning cut across the dark forboding skies overhead, and lit the desert
with an eerie white illumination. For only that moment, when the flash spread out across
the land, Thomas saw it reflected on a tall object, placed further out in the dead lands. His
heart beat sped up, and his stomach twisted about uncomfortably, as the possibilities laid
themselves out.
"Have I based my life on this one moment, whether I see what my Father spoke
about or not?" Thomas thought to himself, as he urged his horse forward and closer to the
strange object he had seen.
The answer did not come, but the thing he had seen slowly grew with each
approaching step he dared to take. Thomas paused as another trace of lightning shone
down, and reflected with green intensity off of the something he now headed towards.
Surely the green could only be one thing.
He dropped the reins, entirely forgetting the horse who now was free and could
easily rush home leaving Thomas out here to face the storm. However, that was the least
of his worries, and the thought never once entered his mind. He sprinted on, fighting
through the gusting wind that tore at his cape and tried to push him back.
With a burst of energy he surged forward and fell to the ground, the sand biting
into his palms of his hands with a fierce agony. Yet, the pain was not noticed, and would
not be until much later. Instead he looked down at what laid directly before him. It was a
simple dark root, jutting just slightly out of the sand, but was enough to tell him what was
position directly overhead.
Thomas turned his gaze upwards, and gasped in awe at the sight that he beheld.
The King jumped to his feet and stood there, before the grand peach tree that had been
growing for what seemed like centuries. It reached far into the sky, with emerald leaves
adorning each branch, only broken by lush, ripe peaches.
Thomas reached upwards with a shaking hand and gripped one of the fruits. It
came off easily, and he gazed at the lovely thing with a sort of awe. It was so very simple,
so easily overlooked, but it was the most beautiful sight he had seen for such a long time.
Just to hold the peach, was like having a piece of his Father back, for Jareth had planted
the seed that had grown into this magnificent tree.
With great ease, Thomas pried the pit from the fruit, though it hurt him to toss the
Peach to the ground. He found himself lacking any form of hunger, and knew that he
would probably vomit if he attempted to eat the luscious fruit. Yet, he had other plans,
and quickly bent down to the ground.
"The end is only the beginning," Thomas whispered as he dug a hole in the sand.
The mighty king looked at the insignificant peach pit for a short while longer,
wondering how such massive life could come from a tiny thing such as the seed.
However, that was the way life was, mysterious and filled with hundreds of questions.
With that final thought Thomas placed the seed into the ground and covered it with the
sand.
A roar of thunder tore across the sky, and then the clouds opened. The rain
poured down, relentlessly and attacking all the while. Thomas rose to his feet and turned
his face to the sky, and the showering rain. It quickly soaked him to the bone, but he did
not care.
"I will remember always," Thomas said and then broke into tears, that soon
formed into bouts of joyful laughter.
* * * * * * * *
So Thomas ruled the Underground for many years, and was considered a just and
good King. Many loved him, and he kept peace during his entire rule. Lilly soon bore
twins, one a boy and one a girl, which would be heirs to the throne. The kingdom rejoiced
in that age, and found themselves in a rich time, filled with good crops and ample money.
No one went hungry, and the homeless soon found themselves with shelter.
One day Thomas' son did take over the throne, and his daughter recieved a portion
of the kingdom in the far east, where she ruled for many years. However, that is another
tale, for another time. Perhaps some day it will be told. Until then we can simply say that
the story of the Underground has as many twists and turns as the great Labyrinth itself,
and no one shall ever know all about it, for it is constantly changing, and we shall always
have forever in these tales of fantasy and magic.
The End
* * * * * * * *
Touch my tears,
with your lips.
Touch my world,
with your fingertips.
* * * * * * * *
A young prince's childhood is brief, to say the very least. For, they must at once
be taught the ways of the kingdom that shall one day be theirs. In Thomas' case, he had
but ten years to comprehend the ways of magic, and harness its wild, tricky aspects. In
addition to that horridly difficult practice, he had the normal duties to attend to as well.
For there was much to understand about the Underground and the subjects he was to rule.
Jareth himself had only known magic, and nothing else, when he took control of
the throne. He had been thrown, floundering into the title of King, only to fight his way
back to the top. All in all, the entire struggle had not been something he would ever wish
for his son.
Jareth paused and glanced back at Thomas. They had been in the Underground for
only a year, not truly long enough to even call it home, and already it had affected them
all. The magical atmosphere seemed to enhance appearance, and offered a slight tinge of
regal attributes to all who dwelled within its wondrous boundaries.
His son, for instance, had taken to dressing in the finely crafted, silk and velvet,
clothes that had been specially made by expert seamstresses. The attire certainly made the
young seven-year old seem more mature, in appearance and actions. Childhood was done,
and the lessons had only just begun.
"Come to me Thomas," Jareth called and motioned for the prince to rush to his
side.
Tommy did as he was commanded, and even waited patiently for his father to
address him. No longer did he adhere to certain strange rules that seemed to apply to
young children. They were not discouraged from running about, playing, dirtying their
clothes in soil and mud. None of those things held much interest for Thomas any longer,
though he occasionally regretted the fact that he would never experience the joy of having
a good friend.
Jareth pointed to the large, well kept stables directly ahead of them, and instantly
Thomas' eyes brightened. He had always adored horses, and had even gone for a ride or
two on his mother's sweet mare, by the name of Tripix. The horse had been brought
along when the three had come to the Underground. Now Tommy had dozens of horses
that would one day be his, and only his.
"Are we going to ride today, Father?" Thomas asked, his voice nearly bubbling
over with excitement.
Jareth nodded in response and then continued to walk to the stables. He was no
longer Daddy, as he had been only a few months earlier. Tommy had decided, by himself,
that the title seemed too babyish, and then had taken to addressing his parents as Father
and Mother. Only when in times of great pain or anguish did he resort back to the terms
of baby days.
Jareth truly adored the time he was able to spend with his son. However, at every
instant he could hear the eternal ticking of a clock, as time wound down. He could only
guess what his and Sarah's destiny would be, once Tommy was crowned the king of the
Underground. He could only hope that fate would be kind and grant their family a chance
to be together, at least for a while.
"Today you shall see the many distant realms of the kingdom. Places that will
soon forget you, if you chose to ignore them, and life will go on just the same no matter
what you do. Most of the time the royalty becomes but a character in some phony tales
that are crafted by bored teenagers," Jareth stated, placing a gloved hand on the arched
neck of his trusted black steed.
The horse allowed a deep calm breath to pass over Jareth's arm, and rested his
head down so that the king might stroke it. Jareth simply ran his hand over the wide
forehead, pushing aside the forelock in the process.
Thomas watched his father closely, taking in all that he did, and the way he
performed the most simple tasks with an air of dignity. Jareth was someone he would
always consider bigger than life. If asked how he knew his father was perfect, Tommy
would simply say that he was king, and everything a king did was flawless. So, it made
sense to deduce that the entire character of his father was perfect.
"Don't dawdle," Jareth scolded as he mounted and quickly drew the reins from the
stable boy, who had since then been meekly holding both horses.
Tommy was startled, but mounted with some struggling. He had not become as
graceful as his father. However, he was quite shorter, and the horse was just so very tall.
Tommy groaned as he gathered the reins up, and managed to nearly tangle them together.
He had much to learn, and was constantly reminded as he witnessed just how much he
messed up.
Already his father had urged the gallant black stallion to trot away from the
comforting stable, and Tommy had only just gotten control of his horse. He was only able
to rush out of the castle grounds, and found that Jareth was no where to be seen. Tommy
allowed a sigh to escape his mouth and gradually turned the steed about to head home.
There would be much punishment later on.
* * * * * * * *
"Don't be so hard on the boy, Jareth. He's just learning," Sarah's soft, but
determined voice drifted out of the open door.
Thomas sat, curled in the shadows, just down the hallway. There had been Hell to
pay when Jareth had returned, angered that his son had not attempted to follow, or keep
up, or even call out to wait a moment while he gathered himself together. His father had
stormed home, and had nearly taken his rage out on Thomas. His mother had grabbed
Jareth aside at that time, and led him to the room, where they now talked.
The voices raised another octave, and soon would be near the yelling decibel.
Tommy hugged his legs tighter against his chest and wiped away a few tear drops as they
traced wet trails down his cheeks. He bit his lip to keep the sobs inside, and silent. All he
needed now was to be discovered and face a larger punishment on top of the other he
would receive shortly.
"You don't understand, Sarah. He is to be king!" Jareth roared.
"No! I suppose I would not know about this, but neither does he. Do you expect
him to be perfect after a short year of half-hearted training?" she asked, trying to keep
herself calm.
Jareth paused in the lazy orange glow offered by a near torch, that was hung in a
rusted metal cup on the stone wall. The fire cast highlights across the King's noble face,
and accentuated the anger that had overwhelmed him that night. Sarah, however, would
not be frightened, she stood tall and proud beside the bed.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Jareth relented. His dignified stance
fell and he promptly sat upon the bed. He placed his head into his hands, trying
desperately to ignore the nagging headache that would shortly be transformed into a
migraine.
"He is just a boy, but the boy will be king and then will not be able to ask what is
right and what is wrong. Sarah, I understand that you are protective, but he shall be hurt
worse after we can no longer stand at his side," Jareth explained.
He did not look up, but could hear the gentle sobs coming from the other side of
the room. Sarah had once again been struck by the loss of her child. Tommy would soon
be King, and then his life would revolve around the Underground. Jareth and she had no
clue as to their futures, but she had not been hopeful.
With a sigh, Jareth rose to his feet and grasped Sarah about her waist, holding her
close to him as she cried. Her entire body shuddered with the tears and the gasps for air
that she struggled to gather through her hitching throat. Jareth too could feel the
overwhelming somberness that seemed to cover the castle, but forced a smile on his face
and then nudged her chin up, so that they might look eye to eye.
"I shall always be here for you, my love," Jareth stated.
Sarah managed a shaking smile to reply to his kind words and then pressed her
trembling lips to his. With a gentleness that felt almost like butterflies brushing her
cheeks, he kissed her tears away and then returned her passion.
"And you will forever be my king," Sarah stated as she wrapped her arms around
his neck.
Out in the hallway, Tommy crept further and further away. He did not want to be
noticed, and the fight had ended. He was relieved to know that his father would not
punish him, for Thomas had never meant any harm. His parent's door shut, echoing
through the bleak hallway. With a single glance down towards the room, and the eerily lit
passage, cast with flitting orange illumination, Tommy rushed into his room and closed the
door.
* * * * * * * *
Thomas thrust his sword forward, forgetting the vulnerable position in which he
had managed to place himself. He felt the tap on the back of his neck, cold metal that
could very easily had killed him, had it not been blunted. He bit back the foul language
that immediately rose to mind and tossed his weapon to the ground. This had been the
fifth time in a row, and the losses were becoming quite monotonous.
"Do you understand what has been done wrong?" the deep accented voice
questioned from behind him.
Thomas nodded, but could not help but feel anger towards his instructor. There
was never any easy lesson, and never could he receive some form of a handicap, when his
inexperience was considered. No, Thomas was simply required to know all at the moment
it was taught, and become the expert a few short minutes after.
The tip of the sword touched his back once again, and Thomas reached back to
snatch it away. He did not feel up to participating in these studies about swordmanship
any longer. He did not know a time when the art would be needed, for he was to be king,
and the king had soldiers to protect his castle. Thomas did not feel that he should have to
stoop so low as to be forced to fight.
"This training tires me," Thomas bit the words out and then turned to look at the
man behind him, yet no one was there.
Now his sword was tossed through the air, and plummeted to the ground. It stuck
the pile of old, yellowed leaves, right before Thomas' feet. These tiresome tricks were
pointless, and quite annoying to say the least. However, the adolescent reached down and
retrieved the sword. It would not be wise to deny the King's wishes.
"Ready yourself, Thomas," Jareth stated as he strode before his son.
Thomas sighed, and then found himself taking up the proper stance. Yet, all the
while, he could feel a dull pain in his arm, for he was not used to holding a sword for such
a long period of time. Actually, he had not ever truly fought with a sword before.
Jareth struck his son in the shoulder, just with enough force to draw the boy's
mind back to the practice. All he received in return was a scowl, and Thomas went
forward, fighting with anger and not thinking about the hazards in which he would soon
place himself.
"When will this lesson be over?" Thomas questioned through clenched teeth.
Jareth's eyes darkened at the rude attitude that had overtaken his son. With a snap
of his wrist, Thomas' sword flew through the air, leaving the boy vulnerable. Jareth
quickly knocked him off balance and then pushed the sword to his son's throat.
"The lesson is done, and you are dead," Jareth stated seriously, and then
resheathed the sword as he offered Thomas a hand.
The boy refused the help and instead struggled to his own feet, though his ankle
ached from the fall he had taken. It was sure to be swollen shortly and bruised by the next
day. Yet, Jareth would not take it easy, even with the injury Thomas had sustained. They
would be out early, and Jareth would be prepared to teach all new lessons, and perhaps try
to tune up his son's poor sword skills.
Jareth mounted his horse and then waited, impatiently, for Thomas to gather his
weapon and catch up. It seemed as if his son was always behind, always lagging in one
way or another. However, Jareth could only expect the best, for if he did not, then it
could be quite costly in the end. Thomas would soon understand that this all was for his
own benefit.
"You must take these lessons seriously, Thomas!" Jareth called to his boy.
Thomas replied with a slurred word, but Jareth chose to ignore it. Thomas had
acquired his mother's stubbornness, and what with being fifteen, he was in his rebellious
years. Unfortunately, Tommy did not have time to live as any normal teenager would. He
was considered an adult, and so would adhere to the adult world. After all, in only a
single short year he would be crowned the king of the Underground, and no longer would
Jareth be able to help.
Thomas swung himself into the saddle and then walked up to his father. He did
not grant Jareth with a single word, but instead continued on into the forest, and towards
the castle. Lessons would be over for the day. They ended an hour before supper, so that
there was time to reach the table before all the food had been thrown to the dogs.
"Wait!" Jareth called.
Thomas stopped, truly upset at the entire day and the way it had transformed into
such a damn, annoying, useless.... he could go on and on. However, Tommy turned
around and noticed that Jareth had yet to move from the spot in which he now stood.
Usually it was Thomas who was forced to rush to catch up to his quickly disappearing
father.
A strange foreign expression had overcome Jareth's features. His lively, sparkling
eyes had dulled considerably and seemed almost as if they were only chunks of colored
stone. His mouth was set, and his gaze fixed on something in the near distance. For he
searched through the thick foliage with quick sweeping glances.
"What is it this time, father?" Thomas inquired, as he reluctantly approached
Jareth.
However, the Goblin King did not speak. Instead he dismounted, leaving his horse
to graze as he wandered through the overgrown forest. Thomas had only enough time to
jump to the ground, as his father disappeared behind a surprisingly thick clump of berry
bushes.
The boy cringed at the sight of those awful plants. The vines were covered in
viscous thorns, that would certainly jump out for any flesh that should pass nearby.
Nonetheless, he could not simply leave and not expect some form of punishment. It was
best to risk the thorns and discover just what had caught his father's attention.
"Father! Oh, damnit!" Thomas yelped as a thorn scratched across his face, and
another brutally attacked his hand.
A fine trail of crimson blood trickled down his cheek, as if Thomas was crying
tears of the substance. He wiped it away carelessly, but only succeeded in smearing the
life-giving substance over his cheek. It did not matter, for his mind was still set on the
direction his father had taken. After all, Tommy had seen Jareth enter, but now there was
no sign of any other soul, other than the boy himself.
Then, almost taking Thomas by surprise, the forest was cleared away. He broke
through to a path, one that had been maintained surprisingly well, which certainly was an
oddity in the Underground. He did not dwell long on the road, for Thomas caught sight
of his father, just ducking under another series of vines that had grown over some strange
stone structure, that almost resembled a broken-down wall.
"Father!" Thomas called again, but still received no answer.
He rushed to the section of wall that Jareth had disappeared through and followed
right behind. The moment he found himself inside, whatever it was that the dilapidated
wall surrounded, his breath caught in his throat.
It was a town, all destroyed for quite some time. However, Thomas could easily
see the massive stone remnants of a grand mansion that sat right at the head of the society.
There were even a few wooden homes that half-stood. A wondrous fountain stood in the
center of the weed choked road, that ran through the middle of the village. Perhaps that
had been where the marketplace was held on certain days. Thomas stood in awe at the
ruins, his mouth slack and his eyes widened.
"Does it interest you?" a soft voice asked from behind him.
Thomas jumped in surprise. He had not heard anyone sneak behind him during the
entire time he had been admiring the village. He twisted about and offered Jareth a sly
grin. This had certainly been a great treat, for Thomas had always been interested in the
past. The village appeared to be hundreds of years old.
"It is amazing," Thomas replied, still too awe-struck to say anymore.
"It was my home," Jareth stated and then walked towards the destroyed mansion.
Thomas watched, his shock portrayed through the expression that had plastered
itself to his face. He could not understand why, if this had been his father's home, had it
been allowed to be left to the forest, to become nothing more than ruins. Why would
Jareth ever wish to let his house fall apart, and what could have happened to everyone
who had once lived there? Thomas was overcome with questions.
Yet, Jareth did not ever address his son. He merely touched the one remaining
side of his childhood home. Even the ruins sang of a life that had been joyful, happy,
merry, and innocent. It had been a far better existence than eternity within the confines of
the corrupting castle. He silently wished he had never come, but knew that Thomas
should hear the tale and understand the price of one's actions.
"What happened here?" Thomas questioned, walking over to an object that had
glimmered when hit by the sun's rays.
The young prince sifted aside piles of old leaves, some corroded, while others still
fresh with brilliant hues of reds and oranges. Beneath nature, shone a slightly tarnished
silver mirror. The glass had been cracked nearly in two, and had shattered a bit in the
middle, but it was still quite a find.
"I did it," Jareth stated bluntly.
Thomas jerked his head over to face his father, and very nearly dropped the
antique mirror. His hand felt weak, and he only caught the artifact with quick reflexes and
quite a bit of luck. Jareth offered his son a sobering look and then glanced all around
himself, at all he had caused.
"I was not aware of the horrid side-effects that my actions would have. This is the
outcome of my ruling the Underground," Jareth smiled as he thought about his life that
had been anything but perfect.
Thomas was silent. He could not think of a single thing that would add to the
conversation. Instead he turned the mirror around in his hands and then promptly placed
it back on the ground. It was best to leave it in the place of carnage, for nothing here was
free of blood. Thomas could suddenly feel all the death, and not the strange serenity that
had originally drifted to his senses.
He broke into a sprint and raced beneath the hole in the wall, to the open forest.
Even to touch the place would feel like a sin. It was a place of murder, of deceit,
treachery, and more than anything else, evil. He wiped his hand across his face, trying to
calm his nerves and gather his wits before Jareth reappeared beyond the village walls.
A tender hand fell on Thomas' shoulder, and he gladly let his father comfort him.
He might have been a man in the Underground standards, but his entire being wanted to
only be treated as he might have at the age of five, held and consoled.
"I understand," Thomas stated, "I understand, I understand."
He could only find those two words, and repeated them again and again. All the
while Jareth waited at his son's side, for his calm demeanor to set back in. After long last
Thomas managed to look into Jareth's face and smiled, though his face was drained of any
and all color.
He reached back and unsheathed his sword, taking up the natural fencing stance,
and then signaling for his father to do the same. Jareth was surprised, to say the least, for
Thomas had seemed to hate swordplay with a passion. However, he produced his sword
and then nodded to his son that it was time for the lessons to begin again.
Thomas cleared his mind and then sliced his sword through the air. Time and
again Jareth easily blocked, and returned with his own fancy moves that had been
practiced to perfection through the many years. However, Jareth could feel his youth
slipping away, and knew well that he had lost a bit of his usual grace and speed.
"You're slowing down, father," Thomas chided as he surged forward with
renewed strength and speed.
"Yes, but I still know a few things that you have yet to learn," Jareth replied with a
grin and twisted his sword around his son's.
Thomas suddenly found himself without protection, as his sword flew through the
air. Jareth offered his son a smile and then thrust forward with his sword. However, the
prince leapt backwards and tumbled down to gather his lost fencing foil. He grabbed it
and quickly turned to face the amused king.
Jareth jumped down, and then continued with the game, for no longer was it a
lesson. Thomas had natural skill, and used it to his advantage. With a sudden sharp blow,
Jareth's sword clattered to the ground and Jareth managed to only stumble backwards
against a nearby tree.
"Lesson over," Thomas said as he touched his father's neck with the blunted
sword, "You are dead."
The final words seemed to hang in the air and sent shivers down both of their
spines. However, Jareth smiled and clapped his son on the back. Perhaps Thomas would
be a king yet.
Chapter Five
* * * * * * * *
And we can have forever.
And we can love forever.
Forever is our today!
* * * * * * * *
The coronation of Thomas was filled with pride and joy, and masked tears.
Crowds of onlookers watched in awe as the prince walked to the throne, that had been
moved to the grand hall just for the occasion. The crown of gold and jewels was placed
atop his head, and Jareth (the great Goblin King himself) stepped aside for his son to take
the throne. It was a new reign, a fresh beginning, and youthful ideals.
However, all in attendence had to admit that Thomas was the exact image of his
father. The young man was tall and slender, and truly handsome. His blonde hair shone
with a gleaming quality that put even the most pure gold to shame. Even his eyes, though
not of two different colors, were as deep and intoxicating as Jareth's were. Thomas sat
proudly in his throne, respledent in a jet leather vest that had been adorned with golden
medals. He wore a silken, flowing shirt, the color of midnight. Then, around his
shoulders, a cape made especially for this ceremony, that had been inlaid with magical
designs that were crafted from delicate silver threading. He was the king, and not a single
one could deny that fact.
It was followed by a ball, truly magnificent in its overhwelming splendor.
Countless young woman, mostly of noble blood, came in hopes of receiving a dance with
the handsome young King. All knew that the time would come soon when he would
choose a wife, and surely every available lady dreamed that she would be the one to catch
Thomas' eye.
The ceremonies lasted far into the early morning, and Thomas himself was not able
to relax until the sun had begun to peak over the mountain range in the far East. He was
exhausted, but a certain thrill of excitement still rushed through his entire body at the mere
thought of ruling the Underground. He was in charge, and he had the power to command
all to do what he thought best. It was overwhelming.
He slept, but only fitfully. For his sleep was plagued with dreams of doom and
death. They seemed out of place, considering that happiness that had engulfed the entire
coronation. However, the nightmares continued until Thomas finally arose from bed and
struggled to change, despite the grumpy nature the lack of sleep had placed upon him.
A series of loud knocks on his door came shortly later, and did not help to brighten
Thomas' mood. Surely the searvants would understand that, since he had yet to leave his
room, then he would not want to be disturbed. However, the persistent noise continued
and finally, with a sigh, Thomas threw the door open.
"I certainly hope....," Thomas stopped in the midst of his sentence as he looked at
the robed figure before him.
The person wore a hood over his or her head. Thomas could not quite tell what
the gender might be, for the entire outfit was bulky and dark. Yet, the figure lifted its face
and then pulled back the hood, revealing the mystery.
A man stood there, with dark hair, as black as the night, that hung down beneath
his robe. His face was quite strange, for Thomas almost believed that he had seen the man
before, but could not remember a thing about his features. He waited a moment for the
stranger to introduce himself, and when there was only silence, made to shut the door on
the rude person.
"My King, forgive my rudeness, but you bear such a likeness to your father, that I
truly believed I had stopped at the wrong room," the strange man stated quickly and
grasped the door to prevent Thomas from closing it.
Thomas was tempted to still shut this man out, but hesitated a moment too long.
Obviously the stranger took the open door as an invatation to enter into the room, and
then bowed deeply in respect to the king. Thomas only closed the door and crossed his
arms over his chest. This was all quite interesting, but he wished only to know the name
of this new man.
"I returned to see the new king. You must understand Thomas, that I was once
Queen Cyria's most trusted council. I was called simply Flagg in those times, and have
chosen to keep the quaint title. I wish to offer my services to you, considering that a new
ruler could have quite a few instances of confusion, and what with Jareth leaving....,"the
magician paused, feigning shock at having spoken something Thomas was not to know.
The young King's calm, if not irritated, attitude broke to that of surprise at what
this Flagg had said. He rushed forward and gripped Flagg by the robe that he had worn
since the dawn of time. A light of fear, only slightly overshadowed by that of anger,
dawned in Thomas' eyes and he took a single deep breath.
"Tell me about Jareth's departure!"
* * * * * * * *
"Father! I must speak to you!" Thomas demanded as he caught sight of Jareth
leaning against the throne and gazing out the nearby window.
Jareth turned his attention to his son and offered the young man a strained smile.
There was no point in adding fear to the obvious anger that had overcome the new King.
Jareth straightened himself and then offered Thomas a slight bow of respect, and then rose
to look at the white palor of his son's face.
Thomas could only sputter for a short time, as he tried to gather his thoughts
together. It was like attempting to gather pieces of a puzzle and form them together so
that they might create a whole, something he could understand. Even as the picture
flashed in completion, Thomas feared what it revealed to him, and he could only pray that
he had misunderstood what he had been told.
"Tell me truthfully, are you to leave me this very day? You have never told me
anything of the sort," Thomas declared.
Jareth looked at his son for such a very long time, his eyes saddened and somewhat
dulled. Thomas could easily remember a time when he had seen such an expression, and
that had been when Cyria had died. Now his own father, so very old and no longer
needed as the king of the Underground, appeared as if his life was drawing to an end as
well.
Jareth finally turned to look back out the window, and towards the distant horizon
where the forests end and only flat soil remained. It was there that his mind now
wandered as his son was faced with the largest burden of his life, how to say goodbye.
"Do you see that vast place, where no tree dares to dwell and the sun's rays beat
down upon the sand? It seems sometimes that millions of crystals, shattered and sprayed
across the land are out there, when the light strikes just perfectly. I once ventured out
there, just to see what it was that had always shone with such intensity. When, after long
last I arrived, I found nothing, and had decided that the entire trip was for naught.
However, I did happen across something that stood all alone, in the middle of sand as far
as the eye could see. It was a single Peach tree, ailing and near dead, and struggling to
survive in the poor conditions. On it's withered branches was a single ripened fruit, that
was truly the most lush peach I ever saw," Jareth paused in his story and allowed a sigh to
escape his lips.
Thomas collapsed to the throne and turned his own eyes out towards the lands that
had so attracted his father's curiousity. However, it had held nothing but death, according
to Jareth. Yet, the entire tale did not seem to hold any form of an answer to the question
he had originally asked when first entering the room. Perhaps Jareth simply wanted to
avoid the entire question, and the tale was his way of doing so.
After a pause of some ten or fifteen seconds, Jareth continued on with his story,
still gazing out of the window.
"I plucked the single remained fruit, the only living thing from the tree and then
made to eat it. However, something stopped me, and I decided that it was not meant to
be this way. So, instead, I took the pit from the center of the peach, and buried it near it's
father, the old tree that had been a pioneer in that wasteland, and then left the place to
itself."
Jareth turned to his son, and took Thomas by surprise. The young man had not
expected the tale to end so very abruptly. He still could not make any sense of the strange
story, and he could only hope that Jareth would explain the relationship it had to anything
that mattered.
The old King realized that his son was lost as to a meaning. He allowed a smile,
only a ghost of the usual seductive grin that had once graced Jareth's handsome face, to
cross his features. There was so much that Thomas still had to learn, but all he would
have to do alone. Time had run down, and now Jareth simply existed on borrowed
moments.
"You don't hear what I'm trying to tell you, Thomas. This is the answer to your
question, if you would allow your mind to open a bit, just to allow some of the light to
enter. We consider death the end, where nothing else shall follow. The peach tree did die,
and was nevermore seen on this world, but from it came a life. The end is only the
beginning, my son. One day, venture to that land, and see what lies within its bouderies,"
Jareth commanded and then patted Thomas' shoulder with fatherly love.
Jareth sighed yet again, and offered the land of nothing one more backwards
glance. He would leave his son alone with his own thoughts for the time being. Soon
Thomas would face the adult world, something that he had only caught glimpes of before,
and all the while had been under the proective wing of his father.
With a shaking smile the great king, who had now stepped down from his throne,
in order for Thomas to claim the rule of the kingdom, walked out of the throne room. It
had been his for hudreds of years, far too long, and now he would never re-enter the place
that had signified his leadership, and his rule as the infamous Goblin King.
* * * * * * * *
Sarah sat on her bed with a book laid out on her lap. The story had not been
meant for her, for she had never found much of a plot in picture books. However, the
young child, barely three, who now had drifted off to sleep, had enjoyed every last page.
Sarah ran her hand through the girl's thick chestnut hair and touched her soft angelic face
tenderly.
"Sleep well, my sweet," Sarah stated and kissed the child's soft cheek.
The little girl only made a single movement in reponse to her mother's departure.
She did not waken, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief for that small gift. She was utterly
exhausted, and wished only to go to sleep for several days. However, a single night of
unbroken slumber would do quite nicely.
She stopped at the doorway to her room, and nearly gasped at the ghostly sight
that stood before the window. Jareth gazed out into the sky, the moonlight highlighted his
features, and gave a strange eerieness to his calm face. He turned at the sound of his wife
entering the room and offered her the most serene smile she had ever seen upon his face.
"You frightened me," Sarah remarked and then quickly closed the door behind
herself, so as not to wake their sleeping child in the next room.
Jareth left the window and walked, so very slowly, over to his wife. There was
something about him that night, something that was not quite right. Sarah could not put
her finger on it, but the change frightened her nonetheless. She would not tell him though,
for Jareth seemed in particularly good spirits that night. It was far different from the
somber attitude he had been enveloped by as of lately.
Jareth wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly, releasing so many
emotions in that moment that Sarah was barely able to stay on her feet. Tears suddenly
sprang into her eyes, though she had no idea why she should be sad. She had already
accepted their son's fate as king, and the fact that he was now immortal. Yet, she weeped
into Jareth's shoulder.
"I feel such peace tonight, Sarah," Jareth whispered, patting her back with the
same gentleness that he used on their daughter.
Sarah turned her tear-stained face to look at her husband and the almost holy light
that surrounded him. It was the moon, she understood that, but something about it made
everything so very ethereal. She touched his caring face just to assure herself that this was
Jareth, and not some strange apparation that had come to pose as her husband.
He took her hand into his and kissed it. The kiss sent a shiver down her spine and
Sarah could once again feel the magical aura surrounding Jareth. It had been quite some
time since she had lest felt this raw energy that was held within his body. However, now,
it almost felt stronger, more powerful than ever, and she loved it. It felt as if she was held
by the magic, instead of Jareth.
"I love you," Sarah whispered as she closed her eyes and simply adored the feeling
of being together with him.
"Forever," Jareth said and brushed his face against her thick chestnut hair.
They went together to their bed, and shared their love that night, as the crystal
moon hung overhead in the dark velvet sky. The tender white illumination that was cast
by the moon played over the room, and sent a spell of pure magical illusions all around.
Later, as Sarah slept soundly by Jareth's side, he thought about his life, and about
the castle that was no longer his. He dwelled on the time he had been king, and the
countless children that had been turned into horrid little goblins at his hands. However, at
that hour of the night nothing seemed important. It was as if all the wrongs he had
committed were suddenly swept away, and his slate was clean once again, for all of
eternity.
* * * * * * * *
Thomas slept, though he did not do so silently. His slumber was attacked by
countless nightmares that portrayed all he had ever feared. He witnessed deaths of those
close to him, and destruction of the entire Underground. He felt as if his entire world had
simly fallen down around him, and he was helpless to stop it. He had no control, and that
was another lesson he had finally learned.
Yet, in his mind he heard a voice, one so full of power, but also covered in love. It
was his father, soothing him through the horrid dreams, and taking Thomas into a sleep
that no longer attacked his mind. He was free to rest, and do so comfortably.
When he yearned to thank his father, Thomas already knew that it was too late, for
the voice had left while he sank into sweet oblivion. It had only helped him that one night,
and could not take all the reality of life away forever. Thomas understood that he would
now be in charge, and that now he would face everything and be forced to decide with his
own mind.
As the young King finally found rest, a clock somewhere, in some hallway, or
some corridor, perhaps in an empty room, or the grand one in the throne room, or all at
once...began to chime the thirteenth hour.
Several villagers who dwelled in the former Goblin City awakened at the sound of
the thirteen chimes. It was said that the weather suddenly turned cold as ice, and a wind
whipped through the streets, but only for a moment. All who experienced the strange
phenomenon agreed that it had occured at the same time, thirteen o'clock.
And in the castle, as the final chime of the thirteenth hour rang through the
sleeping hallways, echoing on and on, the mighty Jareth, who had become a legend during
the time he had ruled as Goblin King, died peacefully in his sleep.
Chapter Six
* * * * * * * *
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today.
Who waits forever anyway?
* * * * * * * *
Thomas stood before the two gravestones, so very perfect in the creation, for he
had called upon the finest mason to craft both. One was aged ten years, and the other
fresh. The dirt had been only just softened down upon the newer of the two, for the
funeral services had takan place that afternoon, beneath a cold grey sky.
The King managed a slight smile, though he truly did not wish to pretend that joy
was something in his body. He was but twenty-six and could feel his maturing had
stopped. He had not changed for two years already, and believed that any other aging
would be insignificant. This was his age, twenty-six, for the rest of his life.
"I am so very lost, and there is much chaos in the Underground," Thomas stated to
the elder of the two graves.
Buried beneath the modest headstone was his father, the former Goblin King.
Jareth had been right, that being king was difficult, and ruling without help was near to
impossible. There had been so many mistakes that Thomas had made, and he felt as if
there would soon be war between some of the rebelling groups. What little control
Thomas had had, was now gone.
Life had seemed unbearable after Jareth's death. His mother had nearly gone
hysterical as she realized her one true love was gone forever. She had locked herself away
in her room for a good month, refusing to eat anything, save a single meal a day and drank
only at that time as well. She wept uncontrollably, and soon, when all sounds had fallen
away from the room, many speculated that she had died.
However, shortly later Sarah had emerged from the room, quite thin and ragged in
appearance, but she had her normal personality back. She was, also, pregnant, and only a
month along. Many told Sarah that she was not thinking properly, and that she could not
possibly be only a month, for that would date the conception back to the night the former
king had died.
The child, a boy which she named Jareth, had been born precisely nine months, to
the day, from the night his father had died. The child was a compete mix of both parents.
He had his father's golden locks, but Sarah's deep chocolate eyes. The child was recieved
with celebration, for many believed it to be a sign, that a part of Jareth had returned with
the child, and the prince would one day be a great leader, if not a king.
Thomas went on with life, struggling to gain respect in a world where so many
considered him far too young. Most of his advisors felt that they ruled the kingdom, and
tried to take control, but Thomas was stronger than they had believed. He was witty and
intelligent, and stubborn above all else. He was his father's son, and was determined to be
a good king.
A year later, when Thomas had finally turned eighteen and could call himself an
adult, the kingdom seemed to be in top condition. All was peaceful, and there had not
been a problem for over a month. It seemed that at that time, things could not go wrong.
Thomas soon fell in love with a young lady, who was the daughter of a serveant.
Her name was Lily, and she had captured the King's heart. Though the relationship was
frowned upon, Thomas would not lose his love. He would surely have left the kingdom
before allowing the girl to leave him. It was soon accepted by most of his subjects, and
the two were married shortly later.
However, things soon took a turn for the worse. A horrible outbreak of a viscous
strain of influenza struck the castle, and the surrounding village that had once been called
the Goblin City. Lily came down with the flu, and thier infant son soon contacted it.
Though Lily came through, Thomas' son died shortly later, and the kingdom mourned for
the loss of the heir.
Thomas' sister, then seven, was soon betrothed to a distant prince in a land
bordering the Underground. He hoped that the marriage would settle the stormy
situations between the two kingdoms, but knew that his sister would not be sent there for
a good eight years, and that was ample time for a war to begin.
On young Jareth's eighth birthday, Sarah succumbed to a illness that was unknown
by any of the physicians and mystics from all corners of the Underground. They knew
only that she was terribly weak, and her health was failing quickly. She raged with a fever
for several days, until it would break, only to return again to attack her weakened body.
The family knew that it would only be so long before Sarah would pass away.
During the two years in which Sarah's condition worsened, the Underground fell
into dark times. Thomas could not think, and knew that he was making poor decisions.
Taxes were raised, and hundreds went homeless and hungry as a result. Shortly later
bands of rebels formed and planned to drive Thomas away, and set a new king on the
throne. Thomas silently wished that he ruled over goblins, like his father had, and that his
magic was more powerful. However, neither dream came true.
There was one time, Thomas could remember in perfect detail, when he had
walked into Sarah's room to speak to her. Many had believed that she would die that
night, for her body raged with a fever and she had begun to hallucinate and speak in
strange dialects.
"Mother?" Thomas had asked as he approached her tossing figure in the bed.
Sarah had not noticed him, but instead continued with her ranting and violent
movements. Her face had been ashen and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her once
deep thoughtful eyes, rolled wildly about, as she was consumed by the disease.
"Jareth!" she shouted suddenly, between the snatches of moans and incoherent
words.
Thomas startled at the name and immediately bent in closer to his mother. Sarah
had stopped her movements for the time being and turned to look at her son, as if he had
only just happened in. In reality the King had been by her bed for a good half hour, just
watching the disease take its toll.
"My son, why do you come to see me in this state?" she asked, tears forming in
her reddened eyes and slipping slowly down her cheeks.
Thomas could think of nothing to say, so he took her clammy hand into his and
patted it ever so gently. Sarah closed her eyes and laid back agaist her pillows, resting
calmly for the first time in weeks. Even the fever, that had been so very high that Thomas
could feel the heat radiating off of her as he sat by the bed, was lowered considerably.
She snapped her eyes back open and fixed her gaze on her still silent son. Sarah
managed a smile and then took her hand from his. She did not need him to worry so, for
this was not the end. It was only the beginning.
"Your father came to me, and told me that my suffering is nearly over. I felt so
peaceful when he looked down at me, almost as if I was in heaven. He said that you have
forgotten all he taught you, and what he told you the final time you two spoke. Then, he
kissed me, and I felt the magic all around him as I had before. Tommy, I miss him so, and
I know that soon I will be with him forever," another tear rolled down her sunken cheeks
as she stopped her speach and looked at her son.
Thomas smiled and rose to his feet. It was time to leave. He would not admit
how much his mother's words had affected him for some time. However, even as he
stood in her room he knew that the strange rolling feeling in his stomach was brought on
by what she had said. All he knew was that he needed to be away, and he turned to leave
after kissing her forehead and bidding her a good rest.
As he walked from the door Sarah's sweet voice drifted to him. She was humming
a song she had once heard during her years on Earth. It was an enchanting melody, but so
very sad. Thomas paused and listened to the tune raise and fall with her voice.
"Forever is our today....Who waits forever anyway?"
That was all he heard of the song, for the next moment Thomas closed the door
and drudged back to his throne. A month later Sarah died, and was laid to rest in a grave
beside Jareth's. They would be together, as Sarah had said, in the afterlife. A love as true
as theirs was not to be seperated for such a long time.
Thomas ran a single finger over Sarah's gravestone and then managed a smile. He
had asked the mason to write a special inscription on it, so that all who would ever see the
two graves would have a hint as to how special the love had been. Written in fine cursive,
flowing letters, at the bottom of the headstone was the single phrase Thomas had heard his
mother sing.
"Forever is our today," he whispered and then rose back to his feet, carelessly
wiping away the dirt that had found its way to his knees.
Overhead thunder rumbled, warning of an oncoming storm. It was the first in
quite some time. As a matter of fact, Thomas had only seen one other instance of poor
weather in the whole time he lived in the Underground. It was rare, but he thought
nothing of it. Most of his mind was still wallowing in utter grief. His only consolence was
the knowledge that his mother was at last out of her pain.
A slender figure stood in the back doorway, looking at the King as he approached.
She wore a silken robe, that flowed in the wind that had begun to whip through the
courtyard. It made her seem almost as if she was a ghost, and not Thomas' beloved wife.
Yet, the sight of her, and the concern that was plastered in her lovely face, caused some of
his sadness to slip away.
"Many of your counselors were searching for you. I figured that I could find you
out here," Lily stated and then offered Thomas a struggled smile.
Thomas stopped in front of her, watching the way the silken robe drifted about her
body. She truly seemed to be an angel, come down from heaven to console his broken
heart. Thomas took his wife into his arms and laid his head against her shoulder, burying
his face in her luxurious hair.
"I have failed my father," Thomas moaned in desperation.
Lily stroked his back and slowly led her husband into the safety of the castle, and
away from the bad weather that was obviously on the way. It felt as if this could very well
be a storm that would be considered the worst in the history of the Underground. Behind
them lightening traced a path across the sky and thunder rolled shortly after.
"He would be proud of you. We are all proud of you," she reminded and pulled
herself out of the embrace.
"My mother told me once that I had forgotten all Jareth ever told me, and what we
had spoken about. Do you believe that I have failed that horridly? I remember him
speaking about a tree in some desert land in the far distance," Thomas stopped with a
shocked expression formed on his whitened face.
The tree! That was what Jareth had said so many years before. He had spoken
about a dead peach tree in the middle of desert lands, and the fruit that it had bore. Jareth
had told Thomas to venture there sometime, and then he would understand what the story
had meant. Now was the time he needed to leave, for now was when he doubted
everything about himself, and the decisions he had made.
Lilly looked at him with the beginnings of fear embedded deep within her eyes.
She tried to grab ahold of his sleeve, perhaps in understanding of what he meant to do.
However, Thomas was too quick. He was soon free from her grasp and rushing down the
hallways. He offered his wife a single glance back and waved. Lilly could only return the
gesture, and pray that he would not get himself killed.
* * * * * * * *
He rode through the raging wind, and past sparks that were sprayed across the
trail, as lightning hit a nearby tree. The thunder sounded relentlessly, and more than once
his horse lost its nerve and reared in protest of being out in such a storm as was coming to
the Underground.
Thomas only urged the steed forward, trying to hold back the anxiety that
threatened to burst over in his soul. He knew what he had to see, and what it would mean
for his entire life. Everything else did not matter. The storm could have very well swept
him up inside of it, and still the young King would have continued on with his journey to
the lands about which his father had spoken.
Now the trees grew sparse, and he could see the sand covering the ground, where
once emerald grass had grown to knee-level. He could see the shimmering crystal dust,
that Jareth had witnessed when he had been young. This was the place that held the
answer, and he could only wish that the answer would be for his benifit.
"Easy," Thomas called as the horse reared wildly into the air in reaction to the
stormy weather.
He steadied the frightened animal and finally leapt down to the ground. The
steed's eyes rolled about, searching the blowing bushes for potential predators. Thomas
merely stroked the horse's nose and took a firm grip on the reins. He would need the
animal, for Thomas had never mastered the technique of transforming into the owl, or
simply appearing in specified areas. Jareth had not had enough time to teach all about the
Underground magic, for there was much more that the young king had needed to know.
The final tree passed by, and Thomas was left surrounded only by shimmering sand
for miles and miles, as far as the eyes could see. Just behind him was the forest, perhaps
frightened to enter these deserted lands.
His entire spirit drooped at the sight of the nothingness. It was much the same as
his father, when Jareth had originally beheld this desolate area. He had hoped for a sign,
an omen of sorts that things would eventually start seeming a little more hopeful.
However, there was only despair, and more sadness to greet his already depressed and
greivious mood.
Thomas very nearly remounted at that time, to put this whole silly idea behind him,
yet something caught his eye. The King stopped, still ready to leave and not dissapoint
himself to a greater extent, but could not push aside the gnawing curiousity that rose
within himself. He whipped around and squinted into the darkness to see what had shown
itself for only a brief time.
A flash of lightning cut across the dark forboding skies overhead, and lit the desert
with an eerie white illumination. For only that moment, when the flash spread out across
the land, Thomas saw it reflected on a tall object, placed further out in the dead lands. His
heart beat sped up, and his stomach twisted about uncomfortably, as the possibilities laid
themselves out.
"Have I based my life on this one moment, whether I see what my Father spoke
about or not?" Thomas thought to himself, as he urged his horse forward and closer to the
strange object he had seen.
The answer did not come, but the thing he had seen slowly grew with each
approaching step he dared to take. Thomas paused as another trace of lightning shone
down, and reflected with green intensity off of the something he now headed towards.
Surely the green could only be one thing.
He dropped the reins, entirely forgetting the horse who now was free and could
easily rush home leaving Thomas out here to face the storm. However, that was the least
of his worries, and the thought never once entered his mind. He sprinted on, fighting
through the gusting wind that tore at his cape and tried to push him back.
With a burst of energy he surged forward and fell to the ground, the sand biting
into his palms of his hands with a fierce agony. Yet, the pain was not noticed, and would
not be until much later. Instead he looked down at what laid directly before him. It was a
simple dark root, jutting just slightly out of the sand, but was enough to tell him what was
position directly overhead.
Thomas turned his gaze upwards, and gasped in awe at the sight that he beheld.
The King jumped to his feet and stood there, before the grand peach tree that had been
growing for what seemed like centuries. It reached far into the sky, with emerald leaves
adorning each branch, only broken by lush, ripe peaches.
Thomas reached upwards with a shaking hand and gripped one of the fruits. It
came off easily, and he gazed at the lovely thing with a sort of awe. It was so very simple,
so easily overlooked, but it was the most beautiful sight he had seen for such a long time.
Just to hold the peach, was like having a piece of his Father back, for Jareth had planted
the seed that had grown into this magnificent tree.
With great ease, Thomas pried the pit from the fruit, though it hurt him to toss the
Peach to the ground. He found himself lacking any form of hunger, and knew that he
would probably vomit if he attempted to eat the luscious fruit. Yet, he had other plans,
and quickly bent down to the ground.
"The end is only the beginning," Thomas whispered as he dug a hole in the sand.
The mighty king looked at the insignificant peach pit for a short while longer,
wondering how such massive life could come from a tiny thing such as the seed.
However, that was the way life was, mysterious and filled with hundreds of questions.
With that final thought Thomas placed the seed into the ground and covered it with the
sand.
A roar of thunder tore across the sky, and then the clouds opened. The rain
poured down, relentlessly and attacking all the while. Thomas rose to his feet and turned
his face to the sky, and the showering rain. It quickly soaked him to the bone, but he did
not care.
"I will remember always," Thomas said and then broke into tears, that soon
formed into bouts of joyful laughter.
* * * * * * * *
So Thomas ruled the Underground for many years, and was considered a just and
good King. Many loved him, and he kept peace during his entire rule. Lilly soon bore
twins, one a boy and one a girl, which would be heirs to the throne. The kingdom rejoiced
in that age, and found themselves in a rich time, filled with good crops and ample money.
No one went hungry, and the homeless soon found themselves with shelter.
One day Thomas' son did take over the throne, and his daughter recieved a portion
of the kingdom in the far east, where she ruled for many years. However, that is another
tale, for another time. Perhaps some day it will be told. Until then we can simply say that
the story of the Underground has as many twists and turns as the great Labyrinth itself,
and no one shall ever know all about it, for it is constantly changing, and we shall always
have forever in these tales of fantasy and magic.
The End