Chapter 8

The voice belonged to no other than the very tourist Cryn had seen yesterday. Or the day before yesterday, or when ever it was. His blonde hair was as wild and wispy as ever, even weirder than when they first had met. And his peculiar facial markings were a blaze on his features, not like the soft markings she had first seen. He wore an old fashioned outfit of a white poet's shirt and fitting black pants. Even in the heat he wore black gloves and wore around his neck a rather large pendent with some figure. 'A moon perhaps,' Cryn thought.

"I…I don't know…' Cryn's voice failed her, she was parched and tears before had washed away her reserves. She eyed the man (as he appeared to be one) warily and tried to speak again. "I don't know how I am here, or…or why I am. Can you…help me?"

The man seemed amused at her question. He changed his stance in a very elegant motion and replied "I, my dear, can no better help you with those questions than a goblin could help you with your physics." He continued to laugh briefly at his own joke and after, with a slight smile upon the corners of his mouth, he approached Cryn with surprising speed and grace. She must have blinked for he covered the distance betwixt them in no less of a second and slid to her side to put his arm about her waist. Had she been awake enough to really follow his movements, she would, no doubt, have backed away. Unfortunately she was absolutely exhausted. She could only fall into his offered support.

"My, my. Aren't we getting off to a quick start together…hummm?" He smiled a mischievous grin, his face uncomfortably close to Cryn's. She managed to lean her head away, and give a tired and annoyed look back. He simply barked out a small laugh in amusement. "You're a resistant one…Love? Not so easily wooed?" His words dripped with merry sarcasm and his very essence oozed a countenance of self-superiority.

'Geeze... this guy could be a game show host.' Cryn smiled wirily at the thought, though unfortunately the 'tourist' took it as amusement from his own. Cryn wanted to be rid of this man, but she could not pull away from his soft but firm grip even, she came to realize, if she were fully rested.

He let out a low pondering noise as he briefly studied her. She really did not like this man in the least. He seemed just to know what fluffed her feathers and she be damned if he weren't constantly studying her. What was worse was that he studied her like an unusual bug. She was surprised he had managed to speak in a civil way to her through his musings.

"I am Jareth. Current resident of this castle." His mouth turned into another smirk as he gestured with his head the towering building beside them. His eyes crinkled in merriment. She followed his movement but also noticed his eyes were, again, very curious. 'How odd, one is blue and the other hazel. He is slightly attractive…if he didn't talk so much.' She snorted.

"I'm Cathryn. Current resident of the Twilight Zone."

As she returned to study him he seemed to enjoy her actions. However as he opened his mouth for another comment, Cryn spoke up again, with a different tactic than before.

"If you please, kind, kind sir. Please give me a drink of water, and a safe place to rest. I am going to fall asleep as we stand and… I do not want to wake up in another awful place." She finished with effort and cringed at the note of desperateness.

Jareth contemplated her request for a moment, his eyes dead center into Cryn's. She felt like he was reading her very soul but could not look away. "Humm, I know the perfect bed for you love." Finally, he silky cooed in reply. Upon Cryn's look of anger and slight fear, he added after a pause, " Oh not mine, My Dear, at least not as of yet. You are far to weak to sustain being in my bed." He once again regained his arrogant but mirthful countenance.

He gave her a mocking gaze and gestured with his free hand while continuing, "I'll grant your requests for your fill of water and a safe place to rest…" his emphasis on safe made Cryn feel only uncomfortable, but he still continued as he somehow orchestrated their disappearance.

"We'll talk of payment later."