Finally I have shoved it out of my house. That dreaded Writers Block Fairy I could not get rid of! Darn! But it's gone now, and I am back. Yippee!
I would like to thank all you wonderful reviews who have been kind enough to comment my story. It means a lot to me to be able to share this tale with you, and I am grateful for the way it has been received. Please do not forget to praise my muse whomever she (or in -our- case, he?) might be.
Disclaimer: not mine, copyright Labyrinth Enterprises (at least, that's what it says on my copy of the movie. I guess the Jim Henson Company owns "The Storyteller", please correct me if I am wrong. No copyright infringement intended. Not making money of this.
The song of the drunken Goblins consist mostly of lines taken from Mr. David Bowie's 'Alabama Song'. It's last line comes from a song from The Dubliners, called 'Whiskey In The Jar."
The song on the top of the tower is mine.
Thank you Mr. Jim Henson way up high for creating such loveliness.
Diamond Tears
Chapter 10 The What Has Been
The Fae exist by the light that shines from within. Although they might reflect the hopes and dreams of those who summon them, they themselves are no reflection. They simply are, complex creatures as they may be, like the forces of nature.
Even those whom humanities standards may depict as evil are far removed from true evil. As said, they simply are. The river may bring life to her banks and make fertile and alive the crops of those who dwell alongside, gently curving its way to the ocean. Or she may drown the countryside when storm and rain batter the land and all who dared to trust her feel their spirits wrenched from their bodies in her cold dark embrace. It is the way of man to look at her this way or that way. To have man's dreams reflect upon her shiny surface, fractured by waves and wind into bliss or nightmare.
The river only flows, nothing more.
Evil exists in those who use their light only to the advantage of themselves, planning, plotting. Lost to the now. Unnatural. Manipulative towards their own kind.
When the Glanconer Love Talker acts true to his nature, he, with his onyx black eyes and both charming and charmed smile, is lure to the unwitting lady who walks the twilight path. With his words sweet as honey, he will seduce her into a kiss and all that follows. She may live to tell, who knows? She may treasure the experience for the rest of a long and happier life. Or she may wither away after he has gone, no man able to fulfill the woman's heightened desires. Doomed to fade into a lonely grave after being so thoroughly spoiled to the world.
Again, it is the human who chooses to interpret the experience this shadow dancer brings. He only gives when she gives in.
Sparkling dark purple hues and nightly forests greens, glittering like silver moonlight, he came as promised in twilight. She, the enchantress Enalkyrah, had him wait 'til far past the thirteenth hour, as expected. The minion came to the mistress, but the mistress had to show whom was master. Glanconer anticipated the behaviorisms and never countered them. They showed the mighty Fae witch's uncertainties and as long as the dark one new of those, he knew he had less to fear. For Glanconer did fear, obeyed out of fear yet never would show fear. So she could believe him a loyal accomplice, bought and paid for with the rewards she bestowed upon him.
Dark Glanconer waited in the majestic marble hall that was Enalkyrah's throne room. With the large gothic windows at the side where he had entered, the huge crystal doubled doors guarding the entrance, opposite the far away marble carved throne with it's red silk pillows with the golden tassels.
The wall facing the windows seemed blank marble, crisscrossed with fine lines and pastels. Until one stared long enough at those lines and pastels to see faces appear behind the minds eye inside imagination.
Screaming, crying, frozen in their last suffering. So dangerous this highborn lady, so cold.
Round pillars rose to the domed roof, wide enough to be closely encircled by ten men at least. The dome itself carried by golden beams, inlaid with mother of pearl. Some of the smaller young clouds drifted there, softly humming and still searching for a way out. With the Glanconer's entrance their tune changed into the song that lingered around him.
Glanconer's light had again taken form. With feline grace the slender ageless youth circled the hall, limbs slightly too elongated, sharp faced, purple and green shining skin. Naked. Lovelier than most. Restless. A forest fairy trapped.
Enalkyrah appeared suddenly, as always veiled in gray and sorrow. Glittering jewels captured within her gown resembling dew or perhaps tears unshed. Gracefully and tall she neared her underling directly and without the traditions of courtly mannerisms.
"Glanconer."
"Milady."
He bowed deeply. She nodded and abruptly declared the why of her calling.
"There is a woman-child who seeks passage through the Labyrinth and out of the Underground. She thinks she wishes to escape my brother. She thinks the silly thoughts of a girl trapped inside an unawakened woman's body. One word, one touch and she is his for eternity. She must be saved from that fate."
"So I must seek her out."
"Not as yourself. The Kings bewitchment of her is strong. She will simply see you as another and return to her ill-chosen path, or reject you."
Glanconer smiled incredulously with one raised brow, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Take his shape, show her his mercy. All of it."
"Do her harm."
"It will set her free from his spell, make her forget about him."
"Make her hate him."
"She is young and sweet and innocent. Steal that innocence and she is steeled for life."
Glanconer grinned broadly now. "Always a pleasure to serve.", and bowed again.
Enalkyrah waved at the air in between them. It shivered and thickened until it carved an image of Sarah.
"She indeed is lovely."
"She is accompanied."
The images distorted and showed in turn Hoggle, Sir Didymus, the Storyteller and Dog, Ludo, Ambrosias and Ash.
"A widely varied company."
"The dwarf and the knight, the man and the brown dog are with her now. The others will be there when you meet. She will choose to face you alone. Wait for that. Than give her the freedom you give so well to mortal wenches."
"She is so young."
"She will be older when you meet. I care not for her little zoo, but come what may do not harm the man you saw and never betray you as mine. He is in good mind of me and unwittingly serves me well."
"While Jareth's shamefulness will serve as well."
Enalkyrah shivered with the mention of the King's name.
"Remember, she is trapped and you are her freedom."
"Yes, Milady."
The smoky image turned to Sarah's features again. The Glanconer neared it somewhat and smiled a hungry predator's grin, bright red lights shining in his eyes in ugly contrast to his soft purple skin.
A land serene, a crystal moon. Gentle light played over the now quiet Goblin City, it's amusing yet dimwitted subjects fast asleep. Except for the wakeful night-watchmen on the high rampart, inside the watchtowers, and the few patrolling the streets. The Goblins did not know why they had to guard their city so carefully. There had been a time before, when the old King had never bothered with such nonsense. But Jareth was of the paranoid kind, and so the Goblins held watch.
This hour the streets were guarded by Demure and Tumble, two rather tall Goblins. Both had dressed up in ill fitting armory with a lot of dents and spiky helmets. Demure dragged a large sword behind him. It dulled itself upon the cobbled street with an annoying scraping sound, sparks flying. Tumble fumbled with a crossbow, every two steps or so holding still to make some adjustments and almost forgetting to put the arrow back. Then he had to run to catch up with Demure. Their armor clanked like an orchestra, but their voices were worse. Like most Goblins, Demure and Tumble sang hideous songs when drunk. Right now they were plastered.
"Oh show us the way to the next whiskey bar (hiccup!)
"Oh don't ask why
"Why not ask why?"
"Whadda ye mean, why?"
"Well why not ask"
"Well why not ask what?"
"Why."
"I dunno."
"Dunno what?"
"Why."
"What?"
"For we must find the next whiskey bar
"Or if we don't find the next whiskey bar
"There's whiskey in the jar!
"That's not it!"
"But I don't like this song."
"Why?"
"No- we've had that one."
"What's wrong with the song?"
"Don't like whiskey. Want ale."
"Where?"
"Cellar!"
"Nah. Kook sleeps there. Has a big knife. Very big knife. Won't let us at it."
"How d'ye know?"
"Tried."
"Throne room!"
"Huh?"
"Whole barrel of (hiccup) it."
"But it's dark inside", Demure whined
"It's dark outside."
"The guards!"
"We -are- the guards."
"Oh."
Jareth sat as if frozen in the large window of his throne room overlooking the Labyrinth in the distance, not noticing whatever went on below. No one would have noticed how relieved he really felt upon finding Sarah's little band, only the soft tinkle of the three revolving orbs in his left hand betrayed his restlessness. He stared at image captured by the single one in his right.
Sarah. So gentle in her sleep. Safe next to the fire in the keep of a man he knew but too well and protected by her friends. How she had come to be at Far Coast was a mystery to him, yet it would be solved come dawn. No need to disturb her slumber. He should have known his feisty resourceful Sarah would be able to get there on her own.
All lights were down this late, even the large chandelier dangling from the ceiling had gone to sleep. One would need the sight of an owl to be able to see in here. Jareth's magical orbs shone like pale fireflies, giving little illumination.
In this dead of night, a song came to Jareth's mind and he whispered some of it, caught himself and smiled at his folly.
"No, my precious. Not again a spell in these matters- no tricks, no deceptions. From your own heart all or naught. How about that for generosity, hm?"
Finally, after the visit to his mother, Jareth had admitted it to himself. His infatuation with this particular little mortal. And how he longed for truthfulness from her. Nothing less. She would win this game, as he had planned. She would not let pass the chance to openly explore his kingdom, as any future queen should. She would meet him on even footing, tease him for the way he had lost his own game to her twice- While in fact she had only beaten him once. And in the years to come she would grow to know him, like him, perhaps even-
It was not only young Toby he had lost during their sparring. When she had left, Jareth had realized only quite dimly Sarah had taken a part from him with her. A part he had since long forgotten. His capability to care, his compassion. His joy untainted with malignance. Yet he still dared not name his own feelings. Every time she came back to his lands he could feel a morsel of those lost emotions slipping back inside of him, touching and rekindling frozen fires. Words for the cold he only was aware of when she came to the Kingdom.
And he -liked- it. Painful as it was sometimes to face himself, it made him view the very world differently with colors and brightness. Sunsets of gold and valentine evenings instead of boring drudgery. The King shook his head at his own folly.
The girl had become far too important to lose.
But now there were other matters to occupy his mind with. He threw away the crystal that beheld the girl and it changed into a white dove. The animal flapped its wings, uncertain where to go in the middle of the night. Jareth saw the animal's predicament, held out his arm to it and the creature gratefully settled on his shoulder. He chuckled a little surprised and felt a soft wing graze his face an instant. The animal settled down, closed its eyes and fell asleep. Jareth sighed. Not too long ago the dove would have fled away from him in terror. Not too long ago the Labyrinth's flow of magic had been a slow river within him, trickling down his consciousness making every use of it a labor. But not now, not anymore. Jareth had never felt so incredibly powerful as he had been in the few months past. The slow river turning to a waterfall, a torrent of power. Jareth had always loved the Kingdom, but only of late the Labyrinth seemed willing to cherish him. He did not understood why. It made him feel comfortable and confident, wrapped inside a lovers embrace. He slowly came to understand his father's calm in ruling this unruly place.
Perhaps it just had grown on him. Perhaps the Labyrinth was finally letting go of the memory of the old king. Weather or not this was a good thing however, as of yet remained to be seen.
Not too long ago, wasted magic would not have come to life to form a gentle animal. A burst bubble, perhaps some dust or glitter. But no life. So profound this change in him the girl brought him. The very light of his soul rearranged. Jareth would stop nor fight it. If it meant a bird like this could lend him its trust, perhaps others would follow. Perhaps Sarah herself would follow.
But first things first. Jareth concentrated and turned within. He closed his eyes and his features again went blank, thin lipped, concentrated.
What had made the Aughiskies bolt? What unseen power had been in hiding in the stable? What power had been hiding Sarah before she reappeared on the beach of Far Coast? What power was working against him!
Deeply lost in his meditation, Jareth's posture slacked a bit. This was no search for personal deliverance, demanding discipline and consciousness. This was riding the waves of the past, steering the spirit from the now. Jareth's hands relaxed and the three remaining crystals slipped from his grip, tinkling with the sound of little bells on the stone floor.
A gray image loosened itself from the entranced Fae, vaguely resembling his form. A spirit free from anything corporal, leaving the world of matter and energy far behind. Face deeply hidden inside the hood of a dusty gray cape, no shimmer of silver clinging to it. Out of even this world, capable of sliding in between the realities of time and consequence. Calling even greater magic to heed him, Jareth's astral self, his very soul, drifted from his unconscious form to venture unseen into the what had been.
The throne-room had since long been vacated by the Goblins. Some of them had left for their small ramshackle homes in the city, others had trailed back to the rooms the King had given them in the castle. His servants and soldiers had always lived near him. But of late a lot of the city dwellers were forced to live in the castle as well. There had been quite a fight in the city. Against a girl who -should- have forgotten everything, a former cowardly dwarf, a former scaredycat beast and his stones and a forever brave knight. The Goblins remembered it well. That day had changed their lazy existence in one of hard labor. The King had forced them to clean up the city, throw out the cats and the chickens. And then to go and get back all the cats for they immediately had been faced with a plague of mice.
The Goblins were rebuilding their homes into nice little houses. Still a bit out off alignment, but far better then the Goblins had ever had.
And if they were not building inside the city, they were shoveling dirt outside to get rid of the junkyard in front. The waste of ages burned away in huge bonfires where the Goblins danced and partied around until the wee hours. Seldom the King joined them and even if he did, he hardly ever sang with them anymore. Jareth had withdrawn into himself, into his duty. Into a routine that did not exactly allow for sleeping through most of the day and hangovers.
Although in the past he usually used his magic upon himself to cure him of those.
The Goblins had no spare time left to go about the Labyrinth to pester its inhabitants. They ran the Kings errands, but beside those they were hardly seen. Rumor had it the peoples of the Kingdom did not mind overly much. They even treated the Goblins a bit kinder, off late.
The Goblins had hated the King at first for making them work that hard. But eventually they had seen the benefits of their labor, and grudgingly complied with their Lord's wishes.
Besides, if they did well, Jareth gave them beer.
Unless he forgot.
Tonight the King had forgotten. Demure and Tumble had put their weapons down at the castle's gate, rid themselves of their noisy armory and, boots in hand, sneaked silently through the deserted corridors. They found the door to the throne room ajar, one of the tinier Goblins peaking through the crack
Tumble patted the little creature on the shoulder and whispered loudly: "Haya Heimlich!"
As if stung by bees the little Goblin turned, his large round red eyes blazing, pushing back his pale pink mob of hair. Heimlich was the King's small round-faced bootpolisher, usually happily sitting at the kings feet. Unlike most Goblins, he really cared for his King and what he saw inside he did not like one bit.
"Ha-issh!" the little one hissed. "Be quiet you- both of you!"
"Wassup (hiccup!)"
"You drunk!"
The two larger Goblins nodded happily.
"Well, you can't get in!"
Demure and Tumble turned their heads towards each other, their big noses almost touching. They nodded to each other and Demure took Heimlich by the neck and threw him over his shoulder without looking where he would land. Heimlich yelped. There was a thud of something hitting a wall and loud swearing in a high pitched indignant voice.
Tumble pushed the door wide open and immediately hurried towards where he smelled the ale barrel. There were about five mugs laying on the floor near the barrel, but both Tumble and Demure got hold of the same one and started fighting over it, uncaring if they would be heard or not.
With only his pride hurt, whatever that might mean to a Goblin, Heimlich scurried back to the throne-room's door. Hesitantly he entered, his eyes on the silent figure in the windowsill.
Heimlich had been staring at his King before those two drunks came. Jareth had not moved a muscle since the crystals slipped from his fingers. And even with the racket Tumble and Demure made, the King remained oblivious.
Heimlich got hold of one of the King's dangling legs and climbed up. He crawled to Jareth's chest and sat on it. The Fae hardly breathed.
"Oi!" the little one said and pinched Jareth's nose to wake the King. Standing up, he nudged Jareth's ribs with his feet. It woke the dove and it flew away in panic. But with the King, still no reaction.
The other two finally understood something odd was going on with their King, forgot about the ale and even sobered up a bit.
"Wassup?"
"He ill?"
Heimlich shook his head. The King did not smell ill. He crept forward to the slack face and very carefully opened one of the eyes.
Even as Jareth's chest rose and fell with his slow easy breathing, his deep blue eye stared back at the tiny Goblin without life in it.
Heimlich shivered.
"Not ill- just nobody home." He lay a hand on Jareth's cheek and felt skin to cold to be healthy.
"No- he's not ill. But laying here like this in front of the open window, he's getting there!"
Tumble turned towards the throne, picked up the cushion he found there and Jareth's disregarded cape. Heimlich jumped from Jareth's chest and pulled the King a little forward. Tumble put the cushion behind him and together they covered the silent Fae with his cape.
"Next time we have a king," muttered Demure, "I wanna have a -real- Gobling King. Not some ugly Fae with silly tricks."
"You say that when he's awake!"
Heimlich shrugged. "We've always had Fae kings. Don't see why that should change."
Demure bent over Jareth and studied him. "Don't see why we should not! Cause pretty he ain't!"
"Is for Fae."
"Ugly Fae!"
Tumble yawned loudly. With his eyes half closed he muttered: "Should put him in his bed!"
"No!" shrieked Heimlich. "No- I told you! He just ain't home! If we put him somewhere else, he might not find his way back!"
"Really?" asked Demure, suddenly very interested.
Angrily Heimlich nodded.
"You two, go now!"
"Want ale!"
"To the Bog with your ale! Out! Now!"
Tumble shrugged and picked up his own boots and the ones of his friend. Without looking if Demure would follow, he scurried out. More afraid to have his boots stolen than anything else, Demure turned from the unconscious King and followed.
Heimlich crawled back to Jareth's lap and stared up at the so very pale moonlit face.
"Silly King.", the little one murmured. "This dangerous! Demure and others, they not -like- you. They stupid!"
Heimlich stared outside. Once upon a time he had been a little boy whose father had been an unknown, a handsome passer-by, and whose mother had only been fourteen when he was born. His human family had not liked him and one day, when he was about four years old, his mother had made a wish. Then this marvelous magical being had appeared, taken him away and given him a home and a whole new family. Heimlich's body had been changed and he had forgotten his old name, but he cared not. All he cared about was the big man who had taken him away, patted him on the head and had given him a new family.
Many Labyrinth born Goblins thought about Jareth as did Demure. But the others, the changeling ones like himself and Tumble were off a different opinion. Within them less than happy memories of before times lived, together with a residue of humanity in their souls no magic could completely cover. And since magic could never completely cover their core, it would never be able to completely control them either.
Heimlich curled himself like a sleepy cat on Jareth's lap, unwilling to let his vulnerable hero face the night alone.
At Far Coast, dawn was breaking. The first rays of pink sunlight kindled a red dream in Sarah's sleeping mind.
"Just fear me and love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave."
She was back. Again. Inside the fallen castle with it's yellowish and gray archways and walls floating in the void around her and Jareth begging her to abandon Toby. Seducing her with her dreams.
"Ohw, not this again! This has gotten sooo old!"
The dream Jareth did not react to Sarah, his gaze fixed at a point behind her. Sarah turned and was faced by herself, hesitantly reciting the lines of the old play. She stepped out of the scene.
"Definitely not real." The girl murmured.
In front of Sarah, like marionettes played by an incredible accurate puppeteer, her dream-self and Jareth acted out their confrontation in stunning detail. The clock struck, Jareth fell into his feathered cape and became the owl. Both the dream-Sarah and the owl disappeared and some insane force pushed a reset button.
From her spot a little at the side, Sarah watched the scene -again-. The only difference was that it started a little earlier, with Jareth appearing from the shadows and stalking her dream-self. The third time it started with the other Sarah falling down from the Esher room.
But the real Sarah had seen enough. She was very aware now of the fact that she was inside a dream, abet a very real one. She could feel the stones under her feet, the air rush by and smell the scent of the battered ruin around her. But it was her dream, her conscious dream, and she desperately wanted to be in control.
So she thought about flying and was lifted, going in the opposite direction of her falling dream-self. Sarah started grinning, this could be fun.
Higher and higher she went, till finally she reached the Esher room. Even in her dream it was a dizzying site, but at least she had some idea of up and down. Jareth's voice sang to her from one of the walls where he stood half in the shadow. Her dream-self desperately climbed towards her elusive baby brother. For a moment the real Sarah watched the figures below her move and go about their business. Why was she dreaming all this- what could be the meaning of such a lucid encounter with her own mind? Or was Jareth sending her a message? Or a trap, throwing her of the scent?
The dream-Sarah jumped the gap to the most secret of places of the Labyrinth. The heart of the Labyrinth. A ruin. Why a ruin? Why not a crystal, or a treasure. A mages study, a field or the moon? Why not a tower?
Suddenly Sarah's being was taken from the Esher room and she found herself back on the highest tower of the castle. She looked round and saw a land she only vaguely recognized as the Labyrinth. It was magnificent.
That place, that land, That magical abode of unicorns and Fireys. Green and blooming, strong and vibrant. Glittering in the sun, silver sparking. Where the walls could be seen they were high and straight up and whole. The fields and forest around the castle alive with birds and unicorns. A ruby red dragon with jade green eyes pretended to sleep in the gentle midday sun, while Fae children and Goblins played around it. A colorfully dressed small man standing by, shaking his head and laughing. All trace of trash disappeared.
Turning round, Sarah faced the lovelies garden ever, with rosebushes of every color, willow trees and an enchanted fountain. Red and yellow and white doves flew about sparkling like flying gems, golden peacocks coed to their silver lady-birds.
So peaceful and tranquil.
Far behind the garden the land dropped away sharply and Sarah wondered what land could lie there.
Movement behind her. A new element to the dream. A slender man wistfully staring out over the land.
"Jareth?" Sarah asked. The man turned to her and shook his head.
No, this was not Jareth, but his features were so like the King's it was beyond coincidence. This Fae was the one sending her the dream, it had to be. Firey red hair, dark blue haunted eyes, face paler than moonlight. Elegant pointed ears, silver earrings with tiny chains and little bells dangling from them. A silver on black speckled one piece jumpsuit, front cut low, hugging his body tightly. Shod in red boots, a matching short red cape over his shoulders attached to the suit. Jareth's sickle shaped pendant dangled on his bare chest. Jareth seemed taller than this illusive creature. Taller and older. There was a painful pleading expression on the youth's face as he too seemed to stare right through Sarah, not quite in contact with her. The eyes so much -older- than Jareth's.
And than he sang, slowly, a sweet, deep voice with a rough edge that tore at Sarah's heart with its sadness.
"Ancient oak and ash and willow
"Flowers dressed in rainbow color
"Magic sensed as yet unseen
"How my heart yearns with the sunlight
"To touch the darkened ground below
"Cutting shadows through the leaves
"High waterfall from mountain sprung
"Turn to brook, turn to lake
"Old mists rising moist on my face
"I have not forgotten how it was, child
"I have not forgotten the golden sun
"I have not forgotten you, my love
"Or how we danced
"Gleaming in the silver moonlight
"The spark of life everywhere
"I am sure it still remembers me
"My Beloved, you must remember me
"Please remember me.
Tears trickled down Sarah's cheeks while he sang his melodious song without rhyme. It was not for her. She was not his Beloved. But she knew who he was. From John's description it could only be one person.
"You are Erkon, aren't you?"
"The human spirit, even within the ones who choose to reside here, out of alignment and therefore indomitable. As those who are from the Kingdom cannot be subdued by the laws of logic. The core rejects it, it is unavoidable. Remember that. Make them one. Use it!"
"I don't understand. Are you still alive?"
"The halflings have the harder choice to make for they only see what they wish. They cannot tell."
"Erkon?" Sarah waved her hand before the man's face. No reaction. He was with her, yet not. It was strangely unnerving and made the conversation a singularly one-sided one.
"Protect my sons!"
Suddenly something in the dream shifted and the beautiful Fae grabbed Sarah's shoulder.
"Look around you for the truth! Trust not your eyes, not their words, but your heart only!"
Sarah stood there as if paralyzed. She could not shake free of the Fae's grip that somehow felt more like a comfort than an attack. The scene changed. Sarah still stood atop the high tower, but the landscape had shifted to a more familiar one. Orange streaked sky, the Labyrinth still wonderful but more foreboding and somewhat tattered and a huge junkyard on the field where the dragon had played with the children.
Desperate the Fae insisted: "What do you see!"
"The Labyrinth, the castle- Erkon, what do you want with me!"
"How old is the castle?"
Then he disappeared. Poof. Gone and away.
Sarah looked around, but could not find an answer to the last question. And suddenly she realized that was exactly the point. She could not tell how old the castle was. It seemed ageless. It did not seem as if it had been restored recently. Or even three hundred years ago. It had never been burned.
The pressure on Sarah's shoulder increased and pulled her back to the waking world where she found Hoggle trying very hard to wake her gently.
"Morning Sarah. Want some breakfast?"
"Yeah-" she whispered and coughed to clear her voice. Around her, Didymus and Dog were stirring, while the Storyteller busied himself with boiling water in an old kettle above the fire, probably to make them tea or something. Sarah greeted everybody and then felt the strong urge to be alone for a few moments. So she left the tent and strolled around some bushes, hoping that nobody in that castle-in-the-sky would look down.
Walking back again, Sarah had to admit she was awed by it. This pristine piece of floating marble, with its spires and dragons-
Dargons?
A blue creature with huge batwings, white horns and green spikes on his back dashed down directly towards her. Sarah ran for her friends, calling out her warnings.
She did not notice how the winds had died, how the sound of the waves could no longer be heard or how the seagulls had grown silent. Unmoving suspended in midair.
Dawn came to the King with a sharp electrical tinge. For one fleeting moment the gray of his spirit clung to his body, then disappeared inside. His eyes snapped open. The lovely orange dawn, streaks of receding purple and pink as the sun took the zenith, joyful birdsong brought to him on the sweet morning breeze, the clatter of the awakening town below- All was lost to the King.
Heimlich jumped from the King's lap to the ground and when he saw the expression on his face, ducked behind a pile of forgotten rusty weapons and other rubbish. Jareth did not seem to notice, threw the cloak that had served him as blanket from his body and just sat there.
For only the tiniest moment, time had not been. It had known a standstill al together, making the King lose track of the moment and all that happened within it. Someone had created a peck of time within time to do with as they pleased. And Jareth could think only of one other person beside himself who controlled that much power. Shivering, turning his attire to his blood red armor and swirling black cape, he conjured up a new crystal. To his relief he saw Sarah on the beach with her friends, doing some childish dance with Hoggle. He could also see the ferryman somewhat behind the girl. Good. At least her little adventure was progressing nicely.
But his face twisted with anger, fear and hatred as he noticed the castle that loomed above them.
Where the manipulator lived who had sent out a biting fairy. Who made little gnomes believe she was 'good' to make them accept a concealing spell. Who was the one ordering around that repulsive hunter!
"Enalkyrah!"
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And yes- the 'nobody home' line was pinched from Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps).
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By the way, has anybody figured out yet on which one of Mr. Bowies alter ego's Erkon's looks are based? Come on, it's rather obvious, really (grin).
Again, not mine, just fooling around, yickety yak yak. Will put any used images back where I've fond them. Cheech!
I would like to thank all you wonderful reviews who have been kind enough to comment my story. It means a lot to me to be able to share this tale with you, and I am grateful for the way it has been received. Please do not forget to praise my muse whomever she (or in -our- case, he?) might be.
Disclaimer: not mine, copyright Labyrinth Enterprises (at least, that's what it says on my copy of the movie. I guess the Jim Henson Company owns "The Storyteller", please correct me if I am wrong. No copyright infringement intended. Not making money of this.
The song of the drunken Goblins consist mostly of lines taken from Mr. David Bowie's 'Alabama Song'. It's last line comes from a song from The Dubliners, called 'Whiskey In The Jar."
The song on the top of the tower is mine.
Thank you Mr. Jim Henson way up high for creating such loveliness.
Diamond Tears
Chapter 10 The What Has Been
The Fae exist by the light that shines from within. Although they might reflect the hopes and dreams of those who summon them, they themselves are no reflection. They simply are, complex creatures as they may be, like the forces of nature.
Even those whom humanities standards may depict as evil are far removed from true evil. As said, they simply are. The river may bring life to her banks and make fertile and alive the crops of those who dwell alongside, gently curving its way to the ocean. Or she may drown the countryside when storm and rain batter the land and all who dared to trust her feel their spirits wrenched from their bodies in her cold dark embrace. It is the way of man to look at her this way or that way. To have man's dreams reflect upon her shiny surface, fractured by waves and wind into bliss or nightmare.
The river only flows, nothing more.
Evil exists in those who use their light only to the advantage of themselves, planning, plotting. Lost to the now. Unnatural. Manipulative towards their own kind.
When the Glanconer Love Talker acts true to his nature, he, with his onyx black eyes and both charming and charmed smile, is lure to the unwitting lady who walks the twilight path. With his words sweet as honey, he will seduce her into a kiss and all that follows. She may live to tell, who knows? She may treasure the experience for the rest of a long and happier life. Or she may wither away after he has gone, no man able to fulfill the woman's heightened desires. Doomed to fade into a lonely grave after being so thoroughly spoiled to the world.
Again, it is the human who chooses to interpret the experience this shadow dancer brings. He only gives when she gives in.
Sparkling dark purple hues and nightly forests greens, glittering like silver moonlight, he came as promised in twilight. She, the enchantress Enalkyrah, had him wait 'til far past the thirteenth hour, as expected. The minion came to the mistress, but the mistress had to show whom was master. Glanconer anticipated the behaviorisms and never countered them. They showed the mighty Fae witch's uncertainties and as long as the dark one new of those, he knew he had less to fear. For Glanconer did fear, obeyed out of fear yet never would show fear. So she could believe him a loyal accomplice, bought and paid for with the rewards she bestowed upon him.
Dark Glanconer waited in the majestic marble hall that was Enalkyrah's throne room. With the large gothic windows at the side where he had entered, the huge crystal doubled doors guarding the entrance, opposite the far away marble carved throne with it's red silk pillows with the golden tassels.
The wall facing the windows seemed blank marble, crisscrossed with fine lines and pastels. Until one stared long enough at those lines and pastels to see faces appear behind the minds eye inside imagination.
Screaming, crying, frozen in their last suffering. So dangerous this highborn lady, so cold.
Round pillars rose to the domed roof, wide enough to be closely encircled by ten men at least. The dome itself carried by golden beams, inlaid with mother of pearl. Some of the smaller young clouds drifted there, softly humming and still searching for a way out. With the Glanconer's entrance their tune changed into the song that lingered around him.
Glanconer's light had again taken form. With feline grace the slender ageless youth circled the hall, limbs slightly too elongated, sharp faced, purple and green shining skin. Naked. Lovelier than most. Restless. A forest fairy trapped.
Enalkyrah appeared suddenly, as always veiled in gray and sorrow. Glittering jewels captured within her gown resembling dew or perhaps tears unshed. Gracefully and tall she neared her underling directly and without the traditions of courtly mannerisms.
"Glanconer."
"Milady."
He bowed deeply. She nodded and abruptly declared the why of her calling.
"There is a woman-child who seeks passage through the Labyrinth and out of the Underground. She thinks she wishes to escape my brother. She thinks the silly thoughts of a girl trapped inside an unawakened woman's body. One word, one touch and she is his for eternity. She must be saved from that fate."
"So I must seek her out."
"Not as yourself. The Kings bewitchment of her is strong. She will simply see you as another and return to her ill-chosen path, or reject you."
Glanconer smiled incredulously with one raised brow, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Take his shape, show her his mercy. All of it."
"Do her harm."
"It will set her free from his spell, make her forget about him."
"Make her hate him."
"She is young and sweet and innocent. Steal that innocence and she is steeled for life."
Glanconer grinned broadly now. "Always a pleasure to serve.", and bowed again.
Enalkyrah waved at the air in between them. It shivered and thickened until it carved an image of Sarah.
"She indeed is lovely."
"She is accompanied."
The images distorted and showed in turn Hoggle, Sir Didymus, the Storyteller and Dog, Ludo, Ambrosias and Ash.
"A widely varied company."
"The dwarf and the knight, the man and the brown dog are with her now. The others will be there when you meet. She will choose to face you alone. Wait for that. Than give her the freedom you give so well to mortal wenches."
"She is so young."
"She will be older when you meet. I care not for her little zoo, but come what may do not harm the man you saw and never betray you as mine. He is in good mind of me and unwittingly serves me well."
"While Jareth's shamefulness will serve as well."
Enalkyrah shivered with the mention of the King's name.
"Remember, she is trapped and you are her freedom."
"Yes, Milady."
The smoky image turned to Sarah's features again. The Glanconer neared it somewhat and smiled a hungry predator's grin, bright red lights shining in his eyes in ugly contrast to his soft purple skin.
A land serene, a crystal moon. Gentle light played over the now quiet Goblin City, it's amusing yet dimwitted subjects fast asleep. Except for the wakeful night-watchmen on the high rampart, inside the watchtowers, and the few patrolling the streets. The Goblins did not know why they had to guard their city so carefully. There had been a time before, when the old King had never bothered with such nonsense. But Jareth was of the paranoid kind, and so the Goblins held watch.
This hour the streets were guarded by Demure and Tumble, two rather tall Goblins. Both had dressed up in ill fitting armory with a lot of dents and spiky helmets. Demure dragged a large sword behind him. It dulled itself upon the cobbled street with an annoying scraping sound, sparks flying. Tumble fumbled with a crossbow, every two steps or so holding still to make some adjustments and almost forgetting to put the arrow back. Then he had to run to catch up with Demure. Their armor clanked like an orchestra, but their voices were worse. Like most Goblins, Demure and Tumble sang hideous songs when drunk. Right now they were plastered.
"Oh show us the way to the next whiskey bar (hiccup!)
"Oh don't ask why
"Why not ask why?"
"Whadda ye mean, why?"
"Well why not ask"
"Well why not ask what?"
"Why."
"I dunno."
"Dunno what?"
"Why."
"What?"
"For we must find the next whiskey bar
"Or if we don't find the next whiskey bar
"There's whiskey in the jar!
"That's not it!"
"But I don't like this song."
"Why?"
"No- we've had that one."
"What's wrong with the song?"
"Don't like whiskey. Want ale."
"Where?"
"Cellar!"
"Nah. Kook sleeps there. Has a big knife. Very big knife. Won't let us at it."
"How d'ye know?"
"Tried."
"Throne room!"
"Huh?"
"Whole barrel of (hiccup) it."
"But it's dark inside", Demure whined
"It's dark outside."
"The guards!"
"We -are- the guards."
"Oh."
Jareth sat as if frozen in the large window of his throne room overlooking the Labyrinth in the distance, not noticing whatever went on below. No one would have noticed how relieved he really felt upon finding Sarah's little band, only the soft tinkle of the three revolving orbs in his left hand betrayed his restlessness. He stared at image captured by the single one in his right.
Sarah. So gentle in her sleep. Safe next to the fire in the keep of a man he knew but too well and protected by her friends. How she had come to be at Far Coast was a mystery to him, yet it would be solved come dawn. No need to disturb her slumber. He should have known his feisty resourceful Sarah would be able to get there on her own.
All lights were down this late, even the large chandelier dangling from the ceiling had gone to sleep. One would need the sight of an owl to be able to see in here. Jareth's magical orbs shone like pale fireflies, giving little illumination.
In this dead of night, a song came to Jareth's mind and he whispered some of it, caught himself and smiled at his folly.
"No, my precious. Not again a spell in these matters- no tricks, no deceptions. From your own heart all or naught. How about that for generosity, hm?"
Finally, after the visit to his mother, Jareth had admitted it to himself. His infatuation with this particular little mortal. And how he longed for truthfulness from her. Nothing less. She would win this game, as he had planned. She would not let pass the chance to openly explore his kingdom, as any future queen should. She would meet him on even footing, tease him for the way he had lost his own game to her twice- While in fact she had only beaten him once. And in the years to come she would grow to know him, like him, perhaps even-
It was not only young Toby he had lost during their sparring. When she had left, Jareth had realized only quite dimly Sarah had taken a part from him with her. A part he had since long forgotten. His capability to care, his compassion. His joy untainted with malignance. Yet he still dared not name his own feelings. Every time she came back to his lands he could feel a morsel of those lost emotions slipping back inside of him, touching and rekindling frozen fires. Words for the cold he only was aware of when she came to the Kingdom.
And he -liked- it. Painful as it was sometimes to face himself, it made him view the very world differently with colors and brightness. Sunsets of gold and valentine evenings instead of boring drudgery. The King shook his head at his own folly.
The girl had become far too important to lose.
But now there were other matters to occupy his mind with. He threw away the crystal that beheld the girl and it changed into a white dove. The animal flapped its wings, uncertain where to go in the middle of the night. Jareth saw the animal's predicament, held out his arm to it and the creature gratefully settled on his shoulder. He chuckled a little surprised and felt a soft wing graze his face an instant. The animal settled down, closed its eyes and fell asleep. Jareth sighed. Not too long ago the dove would have fled away from him in terror. Not too long ago the Labyrinth's flow of magic had been a slow river within him, trickling down his consciousness making every use of it a labor. But not now, not anymore. Jareth had never felt so incredibly powerful as he had been in the few months past. The slow river turning to a waterfall, a torrent of power. Jareth had always loved the Kingdom, but only of late the Labyrinth seemed willing to cherish him. He did not understood why. It made him feel comfortable and confident, wrapped inside a lovers embrace. He slowly came to understand his father's calm in ruling this unruly place.
Perhaps it just had grown on him. Perhaps the Labyrinth was finally letting go of the memory of the old king. Weather or not this was a good thing however, as of yet remained to be seen.
Not too long ago, wasted magic would not have come to life to form a gentle animal. A burst bubble, perhaps some dust or glitter. But no life. So profound this change in him the girl brought him. The very light of his soul rearranged. Jareth would stop nor fight it. If it meant a bird like this could lend him its trust, perhaps others would follow. Perhaps Sarah herself would follow.
But first things first. Jareth concentrated and turned within. He closed his eyes and his features again went blank, thin lipped, concentrated.
What had made the Aughiskies bolt? What unseen power had been in hiding in the stable? What power had been hiding Sarah before she reappeared on the beach of Far Coast? What power was working against him!
Deeply lost in his meditation, Jareth's posture slacked a bit. This was no search for personal deliverance, demanding discipline and consciousness. This was riding the waves of the past, steering the spirit from the now. Jareth's hands relaxed and the three remaining crystals slipped from his grip, tinkling with the sound of little bells on the stone floor.
A gray image loosened itself from the entranced Fae, vaguely resembling his form. A spirit free from anything corporal, leaving the world of matter and energy far behind. Face deeply hidden inside the hood of a dusty gray cape, no shimmer of silver clinging to it. Out of even this world, capable of sliding in between the realities of time and consequence. Calling even greater magic to heed him, Jareth's astral self, his very soul, drifted from his unconscious form to venture unseen into the what had been.
The throne-room had since long been vacated by the Goblins. Some of them had left for their small ramshackle homes in the city, others had trailed back to the rooms the King had given them in the castle. His servants and soldiers had always lived near him. But of late a lot of the city dwellers were forced to live in the castle as well. There had been quite a fight in the city. Against a girl who -should- have forgotten everything, a former cowardly dwarf, a former scaredycat beast and his stones and a forever brave knight. The Goblins remembered it well. That day had changed their lazy existence in one of hard labor. The King had forced them to clean up the city, throw out the cats and the chickens. And then to go and get back all the cats for they immediately had been faced with a plague of mice.
The Goblins were rebuilding their homes into nice little houses. Still a bit out off alignment, but far better then the Goblins had ever had.
And if they were not building inside the city, they were shoveling dirt outside to get rid of the junkyard in front. The waste of ages burned away in huge bonfires where the Goblins danced and partied around until the wee hours. Seldom the King joined them and even if he did, he hardly ever sang with them anymore. Jareth had withdrawn into himself, into his duty. Into a routine that did not exactly allow for sleeping through most of the day and hangovers.
Although in the past he usually used his magic upon himself to cure him of those.
The Goblins had no spare time left to go about the Labyrinth to pester its inhabitants. They ran the Kings errands, but beside those they were hardly seen. Rumor had it the peoples of the Kingdom did not mind overly much. They even treated the Goblins a bit kinder, off late.
The Goblins had hated the King at first for making them work that hard. But eventually they had seen the benefits of their labor, and grudgingly complied with their Lord's wishes.
Besides, if they did well, Jareth gave them beer.
Unless he forgot.
Tonight the King had forgotten. Demure and Tumble had put their weapons down at the castle's gate, rid themselves of their noisy armory and, boots in hand, sneaked silently through the deserted corridors. They found the door to the throne room ajar, one of the tinier Goblins peaking through the crack
Tumble patted the little creature on the shoulder and whispered loudly: "Haya Heimlich!"
As if stung by bees the little Goblin turned, his large round red eyes blazing, pushing back his pale pink mob of hair. Heimlich was the King's small round-faced bootpolisher, usually happily sitting at the kings feet. Unlike most Goblins, he really cared for his King and what he saw inside he did not like one bit.
"Ha-issh!" the little one hissed. "Be quiet you- both of you!"
"Wassup (hiccup!)"
"You drunk!"
The two larger Goblins nodded happily.
"Well, you can't get in!"
Demure and Tumble turned their heads towards each other, their big noses almost touching. They nodded to each other and Demure took Heimlich by the neck and threw him over his shoulder without looking where he would land. Heimlich yelped. There was a thud of something hitting a wall and loud swearing in a high pitched indignant voice.
Tumble pushed the door wide open and immediately hurried towards where he smelled the ale barrel. There were about five mugs laying on the floor near the barrel, but both Tumble and Demure got hold of the same one and started fighting over it, uncaring if they would be heard or not.
With only his pride hurt, whatever that might mean to a Goblin, Heimlich scurried back to the throne-room's door. Hesitantly he entered, his eyes on the silent figure in the windowsill.
Heimlich had been staring at his King before those two drunks came. Jareth had not moved a muscle since the crystals slipped from his fingers. And even with the racket Tumble and Demure made, the King remained oblivious.
Heimlich got hold of one of the King's dangling legs and climbed up. He crawled to Jareth's chest and sat on it. The Fae hardly breathed.
"Oi!" the little one said and pinched Jareth's nose to wake the King. Standing up, he nudged Jareth's ribs with his feet. It woke the dove and it flew away in panic. But with the King, still no reaction.
The other two finally understood something odd was going on with their King, forgot about the ale and even sobered up a bit.
"Wassup?"
"He ill?"
Heimlich shook his head. The King did not smell ill. He crept forward to the slack face and very carefully opened one of the eyes.
Even as Jareth's chest rose and fell with his slow easy breathing, his deep blue eye stared back at the tiny Goblin without life in it.
Heimlich shivered.
"Not ill- just nobody home." He lay a hand on Jareth's cheek and felt skin to cold to be healthy.
"No- he's not ill. But laying here like this in front of the open window, he's getting there!"
Tumble turned towards the throne, picked up the cushion he found there and Jareth's disregarded cape. Heimlich jumped from Jareth's chest and pulled the King a little forward. Tumble put the cushion behind him and together they covered the silent Fae with his cape.
"Next time we have a king," muttered Demure, "I wanna have a -real- Gobling King. Not some ugly Fae with silly tricks."
"You say that when he's awake!"
Heimlich shrugged. "We've always had Fae kings. Don't see why that should change."
Demure bent over Jareth and studied him. "Don't see why we should not! Cause pretty he ain't!"
"Is for Fae."
"Ugly Fae!"
Tumble yawned loudly. With his eyes half closed he muttered: "Should put him in his bed!"
"No!" shrieked Heimlich. "No- I told you! He just ain't home! If we put him somewhere else, he might not find his way back!"
"Really?" asked Demure, suddenly very interested.
Angrily Heimlich nodded.
"You two, go now!"
"Want ale!"
"To the Bog with your ale! Out! Now!"
Tumble shrugged and picked up his own boots and the ones of his friend. Without looking if Demure would follow, he scurried out. More afraid to have his boots stolen than anything else, Demure turned from the unconscious King and followed.
Heimlich crawled back to Jareth's lap and stared up at the so very pale moonlit face.
"Silly King.", the little one murmured. "This dangerous! Demure and others, they not -like- you. They stupid!"
Heimlich stared outside. Once upon a time he had been a little boy whose father had been an unknown, a handsome passer-by, and whose mother had only been fourteen when he was born. His human family had not liked him and one day, when he was about four years old, his mother had made a wish. Then this marvelous magical being had appeared, taken him away and given him a home and a whole new family. Heimlich's body had been changed and he had forgotten his old name, but he cared not. All he cared about was the big man who had taken him away, patted him on the head and had given him a new family.
Many Labyrinth born Goblins thought about Jareth as did Demure. But the others, the changeling ones like himself and Tumble were off a different opinion. Within them less than happy memories of before times lived, together with a residue of humanity in their souls no magic could completely cover. And since magic could never completely cover their core, it would never be able to completely control them either.
Heimlich curled himself like a sleepy cat on Jareth's lap, unwilling to let his vulnerable hero face the night alone.
At Far Coast, dawn was breaking. The first rays of pink sunlight kindled a red dream in Sarah's sleeping mind.
"Just fear me and love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave."
She was back. Again. Inside the fallen castle with it's yellowish and gray archways and walls floating in the void around her and Jareth begging her to abandon Toby. Seducing her with her dreams.
"Ohw, not this again! This has gotten sooo old!"
The dream Jareth did not react to Sarah, his gaze fixed at a point behind her. Sarah turned and was faced by herself, hesitantly reciting the lines of the old play. She stepped out of the scene.
"Definitely not real." The girl murmured.
In front of Sarah, like marionettes played by an incredible accurate puppeteer, her dream-self and Jareth acted out their confrontation in stunning detail. The clock struck, Jareth fell into his feathered cape and became the owl. Both the dream-Sarah and the owl disappeared and some insane force pushed a reset button.
From her spot a little at the side, Sarah watched the scene -again-. The only difference was that it started a little earlier, with Jareth appearing from the shadows and stalking her dream-self. The third time it started with the other Sarah falling down from the Esher room.
But the real Sarah had seen enough. She was very aware now of the fact that she was inside a dream, abet a very real one. She could feel the stones under her feet, the air rush by and smell the scent of the battered ruin around her. But it was her dream, her conscious dream, and she desperately wanted to be in control.
So she thought about flying and was lifted, going in the opposite direction of her falling dream-self. Sarah started grinning, this could be fun.
Higher and higher she went, till finally she reached the Esher room. Even in her dream it was a dizzying site, but at least she had some idea of up and down. Jareth's voice sang to her from one of the walls where he stood half in the shadow. Her dream-self desperately climbed towards her elusive baby brother. For a moment the real Sarah watched the figures below her move and go about their business. Why was she dreaming all this- what could be the meaning of such a lucid encounter with her own mind? Or was Jareth sending her a message? Or a trap, throwing her of the scent?
The dream-Sarah jumped the gap to the most secret of places of the Labyrinth. The heart of the Labyrinth. A ruin. Why a ruin? Why not a crystal, or a treasure. A mages study, a field or the moon? Why not a tower?
Suddenly Sarah's being was taken from the Esher room and she found herself back on the highest tower of the castle. She looked round and saw a land she only vaguely recognized as the Labyrinth. It was magnificent.
That place, that land, That magical abode of unicorns and Fireys. Green and blooming, strong and vibrant. Glittering in the sun, silver sparking. Where the walls could be seen they were high and straight up and whole. The fields and forest around the castle alive with birds and unicorns. A ruby red dragon with jade green eyes pretended to sleep in the gentle midday sun, while Fae children and Goblins played around it. A colorfully dressed small man standing by, shaking his head and laughing. All trace of trash disappeared.
Turning round, Sarah faced the lovelies garden ever, with rosebushes of every color, willow trees and an enchanted fountain. Red and yellow and white doves flew about sparkling like flying gems, golden peacocks coed to their silver lady-birds.
So peaceful and tranquil.
Far behind the garden the land dropped away sharply and Sarah wondered what land could lie there.
Movement behind her. A new element to the dream. A slender man wistfully staring out over the land.
"Jareth?" Sarah asked. The man turned to her and shook his head.
No, this was not Jareth, but his features were so like the King's it was beyond coincidence. This Fae was the one sending her the dream, it had to be. Firey red hair, dark blue haunted eyes, face paler than moonlight. Elegant pointed ears, silver earrings with tiny chains and little bells dangling from them. A silver on black speckled one piece jumpsuit, front cut low, hugging his body tightly. Shod in red boots, a matching short red cape over his shoulders attached to the suit. Jareth's sickle shaped pendant dangled on his bare chest. Jareth seemed taller than this illusive creature. Taller and older. There was a painful pleading expression on the youth's face as he too seemed to stare right through Sarah, not quite in contact with her. The eyes so much -older- than Jareth's.
And than he sang, slowly, a sweet, deep voice with a rough edge that tore at Sarah's heart with its sadness.
"Ancient oak and ash and willow
"Flowers dressed in rainbow color
"Magic sensed as yet unseen
"How my heart yearns with the sunlight
"To touch the darkened ground below
"Cutting shadows through the leaves
"High waterfall from mountain sprung
"Turn to brook, turn to lake
"Old mists rising moist on my face
"I have not forgotten how it was, child
"I have not forgotten the golden sun
"I have not forgotten you, my love
"Or how we danced
"Gleaming in the silver moonlight
"The spark of life everywhere
"I am sure it still remembers me
"My Beloved, you must remember me
"Please remember me.
Tears trickled down Sarah's cheeks while he sang his melodious song without rhyme. It was not for her. She was not his Beloved. But she knew who he was. From John's description it could only be one person.
"You are Erkon, aren't you?"
"The human spirit, even within the ones who choose to reside here, out of alignment and therefore indomitable. As those who are from the Kingdom cannot be subdued by the laws of logic. The core rejects it, it is unavoidable. Remember that. Make them one. Use it!"
"I don't understand. Are you still alive?"
"The halflings have the harder choice to make for they only see what they wish. They cannot tell."
"Erkon?" Sarah waved her hand before the man's face. No reaction. He was with her, yet not. It was strangely unnerving and made the conversation a singularly one-sided one.
"Protect my sons!"
Suddenly something in the dream shifted and the beautiful Fae grabbed Sarah's shoulder.
"Look around you for the truth! Trust not your eyes, not their words, but your heart only!"
Sarah stood there as if paralyzed. She could not shake free of the Fae's grip that somehow felt more like a comfort than an attack. The scene changed. Sarah still stood atop the high tower, but the landscape had shifted to a more familiar one. Orange streaked sky, the Labyrinth still wonderful but more foreboding and somewhat tattered and a huge junkyard on the field where the dragon had played with the children.
Desperate the Fae insisted: "What do you see!"
"The Labyrinth, the castle- Erkon, what do you want with me!"
"How old is the castle?"
Then he disappeared. Poof. Gone and away.
Sarah looked around, but could not find an answer to the last question. And suddenly she realized that was exactly the point. She could not tell how old the castle was. It seemed ageless. It did not seem as if it had been restored recently. Or even three hundred years ago. It had never been burned.
The pressure on Sarah's shoulder increased and pulled her back to the waking world where she found Hoggle trying very hard to wake her gently.
"Morning Sarah. Want some breakfast?"
"Yeah-" she whispered and coughed to clear her voice. Around her, Didymus and Dog were stirring, while the Storyteller busied himself with boiling water in an old kettle above the fire, probably to make them tea or something. Sarah greeted everybody and then felt the strong urge to be alone for a few moments. So she left the tent and strolled around some bushes, hoping that nobody in that castle-in-the-sky would look down.
Walking back again, Sarah had to admit she was awed by it. This pristine piece of floating marble, with its spires and dragons-
Dargons?
A blue creature with huge batwings, white horns and green spikes on his back dashed down directly towards her. Sarah ran for her friends, calling out her warnings.
She did not notice how the winds had died, how the sound of the waves could no longer be heard or how the seagulls had grown silent. Unmoving suspended in midair.
Dawn came to the King with a sharp electrical tinge. For one fleeting moment the gray of his spirit clung to his body, then disappeared inside. His eyes snapped open. The lovely orange dawn, streaks of receding purple and pink as the sun took the zenith, joyful birdsong brought to him on the sweet morning breeze, the clatter of the awakening town below- All was lost to the King.
Heimlich jumped from the King's lap to the ground and when he saw the expression on his face, ducked behind a pile of forgotten rusty weapons and other rubbish. Jareth did not seem to notice, threw the cloak that had served him as blanket from his body and just sat there.
For only the tiniest moment, time had not been. It had known a standstill al together, making the King lose track of the moment and all that happened within it. Someone had created a peck of time within time to do with as they pleased. And Jareth could think only of one other person beside himself who controlled that much power. Shivering, turning his attire to his blood red armor and swirling black cape, he conjured up a new crystal. To his relief he saw Sarah on the beach with her friends, doing some childish dance with Hoggle. He could also see the ferryman somewhat behind the girl. Good. At least her little adventure was progressing nicely.
But his face twisted with anger, fear and hatred as he noticed the castle that loomed above them.
Where the manipulator lived who had sent out a biting fairy. Who made little gnomes believe she was 'good' to make them accept a concealing spell. Who was the one ordering around that repulsive hunter!
"Enalkyrah!"
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And yes- the 'nobody home' line was pinched from Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps).
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By the way, has anybody figured out yet on which one of Mr. Bowies alter ego's Erkon's looks are based? Come on, it's rather obvious, really (grin).
Again, not mine, just fooling around, yickety yak yak. Will put any used images back where I've fond them. Cheech!