Chapter Ten
It had been two weeks since Sarah had returned to the Labyrinth. The oubliette was large enough so she could get some form of exercise, but she was so weak now that she spent most of her time in bed. Not that Jareth had mistreated her. Her chamber pot was empty every day when she awoke, and there was always a full pitcher of water on the table. Food also arrived every day, of the most nourishing kind. At first Sarah had ignored it, not trusting Jareth a bit. But after a day or so she became so hungry and weak she feared for the welfare of her child, and she decided that even if she did forget everything, at least her baby would be healthy. She devoured the toast and eggs hungrily, but not before throwing a jam jar of peach marmalade against the wall, smashing it completely. After a few days and no ill effects, she decided the food was safe to eat, as long as she avoided all peach products.
Boredom was Sarah's worst enemy. At first, her only thought was escape. The first thing she had tried was setting the bed, then the table up on end to try and create a way out. That hadn't worked, so she had then spent three days going over every inch of the oubliette, trying to find something, anything, which would provide an outlet for escape. But all she had found was dust, cobwebs, and shards of glass from the broken jar, which she avoided very carefully, with her bare feet and all. She finally gave up on breaking out. After a few more days she thought she really might go crazy, with the dead quiet and perpetual dimness all around her she felt like she was in a tomb and the air got so thick sometimes she could hardly breathe and then-she would lie down on the bed and think of Jonathan. Her heart ached for him. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he all right? She prayed every day that she would see his dear face at the grate above her head. Sometimes Sarah stood on the bed, and if she tiptoed, which was extremely hard in her advanced state, she could see the sun during the day, and the moon at night. It made her a hairsbreadth less lonely, because she knew that somewhere, even if it wasn't the same sun and moon, they were shining on Jonathan. Sometimes she would sing to pass the time.
One important thing Sarah had noticed was that the Labyrinth stayed the same. Apparently what Jareth had said about the Labyrinth becoming real was true. It never changed, remained the same. At least, the pieces Sarah could see from the grate did. It was positively boring. Sarah had thought of the Labyrinth as many things, but never boring. Jareth was evidently still in control of at least some of his powers, judging by the appearance of the food and disappearance of the plates. He had left her totally alone, which was fine with Sarah, although she could never quite shake the feeling that he was watching her, probably in his crystal.
Sarah was glad there was no one to see her, anyway. She was huge, and despite the other creature comforts Jareth had provided, there was nothing for her to wash with, much at least. She had terrific body odor as a result, and felt constantly grimy and/or greasy. Her hair hung in long strings until she looped it in a loose braid and tied it with a shred she had ripped from the hem of her nightgown. She caught her reflection one morning in the water pitcher and recoiled. Her eyes had huge circles under them from a combination of sleepless nights, worry-filled days, and the toll of carrying another person that was in a cramped position and kicked extensively to remind her of it. She was wan and pale, and looked like a little lost waif. She felt dull and listless all the time. But she wouldn't give up. She couldn't.
Jareth had watched her over the past couple of weeks as she paced the floor and rested on the bed. He listened to her singing and watched her as she slept. He was growing increasingly more confident as time went on. The husband had taken the peach with no problems at all, so he was no longer worth worrying about. Sarah couldn't escape, and the baby would come any day. Jareth was determined to be there the moment the child entered the world. He wanted to be the first thing it saw. This child was more important than any other he had ever taken. This child was the key to all his power. True, he still had retained some power, but what good was it ruling when you had nothing to rule over? At least he still had his voice.
Sarah woke, if you could say that, seeing as she had hardly slept at all, with a feeling of determination that particular morning. She couldn't escape, and as much as it pained her to think about it, she had to start making some plans for what to do when the baby finally arrived. Jareth would come, she knew, and when the baby arrived he would.take it away. Sarah knew she had to try to convince him to let her try the Labyrinth again. It was the only way she could try to win back her baby. She had done it once; surely she could do it again. But she was not looking forward to trying it.
But Jareth said her friends would be back, surely they would help her. But if everything else he said was true and the Labyrinth was restored but different, would her friends even be the same? Maybe they wouldn't know her. And if they did, would they forgive her for destroying the Labyrinth? And if they did, how could she solve the Labyrinth willingly, knowing that she would be destroying it and them once again? Never had Sarah experienced such a torment. On the one side was her baby, on the other her friends. And not just her friends, but also a whole world. Could she really destroy a whole world to save the life of her child? How would she live with the guilt? Sarah felt as though she were being ripped in two. For though she did hate Jareth with the will of a protective mother, she still felt fondness for the Labyrinth and all she had learned there. Even the goblins weren't evil, just easily led. Jareth, on the other hand, was not so much evil as he was selfish and self-seeking, which in many ways can be worse. Evil knows it is evil, but selfishness doesn't care. All Sarah knew was that she had to think of a plan somehow, and fast, because time was running out.
It had been two weeks since Sarah had returned to the Labyrinth. The oubliette was large enough so she could get some form of exercise, but she was so weak now that she spent most of her time in bed. Not that Jareth had mistreated her. Her chamber pot was empty every day when she awoke, and there was always a full pitcher of water on the table. Food also arrived every day, of the most nourishing kind. At first Sarah had ignored it, not trusting Jareth a bit. But after a day or so she became so hungry and weak she feared for the welfare of her child, and she decided that even if she did forget everything, at least her baby would be healthy. She devoured the toast and eggs hungrily, but not before throwing a jam jar of peach marmalade against the wall, smashing it completely. After a few days and no ill effects, she decided the food was safe to eat, as long as she avoided all peach products.
Boredom was Sarah's worst enemy. At first, her only thought was escape. The first thing she had tried was setting the bed, then the table up on end to try and create a way out. That hadn't worked, so she had then spent three days going over every inch of the oubliette, trying to find something, anything, which would provide an outlet for escape. But all she had found was dust, cobwebs, and shards of glass from the broken jar, which she avoided very carefully, with her bare feet and all. She finally gave up on breaking out. After a few more days she thought she really might go crazy, with the dead quiet and perpetual dimness all around her she felt like she was in a tomb and the air got so thick sometimes she could hardly breathe and then-she would lie down on the bed and think of Jonathan. Her heart ached for him. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he all right? She prayed every day that she would see his dear face at the grate above her head. Sometimes Sarah stood on the bed, and if she tiptoed, which was extremely hard in her advanced state, she could see the sun during the day, and the moon at night. It made her a hairsbreadth less lonely, because she knew that somewhere, even if it wasn't the same sun and moon, they were shining on Jonathan. Sometimes she would sing to pass the time.
One important thing Sarah had noticed was that the Labyrinth stayed the same. Apparently what Jareth had said about the Labyrinth becoming real was true. It never changed, remained the same. At least, the pieces Sarah could see from the grate did. It was positively boring. Sarah had thought of the Labyrinth as many things, but never boring. Jareth was evidently still in control of at least some of his powers, judging by the appearance of the food and disappearance of the plates. He had left her totally alone, which was fine with Sarah, although she could never quite shake the feeling that he was watching her, probably in his crystal.
Sarah was glad there was no one to see her, anyway. She was huge, and despite the other creature comforts Jareth had provided, there was nothing for her to wash with, much at least. She had terrific body odor as a result, and felt constantly grimy and/or greasy. Her hair hung in long strings until she looped it in a loose braid and tied it with a shred she had ripped from the hem of her nightgown. She caught her reflection one morning in the water pitcher and recoiled. Her eyes had huge circles under them from a combination of sleepless nights, worry-filled days, and the toll of carrying another person that was in a cramped position and kicked extensively to remind her of it. She was wan and pale, and looked like a little lost waif. She felt dull and listless all the time. But she wouldn't give up. She couldn't.
Jareth had watched her over the past couple of weeks as she paced the floor and rested on the bed. He listened to her singing and watched her as she slept. He was growing increasingly more confident as time went on. The husband had taken the peach with no problems at all, so he was no longer worth worrying about. Sarah couldn't escape, and the baby would come any day. Jareth was determined to be there the moment the child entered the world. He wanted to be the first thing it saw. This child was more important than any other he had ever taken. This child was the key to all his power. True, he still had retained some power, but what good was it ruling when you had nothing to rule over? At least he still had his voice.
Sarah woke, if you could say that, seeing as she had hardly slept at all, with a feeling of determination that particular morning. She couldn't escape, and as much as it pained her to think about it, she had to start making some plans for what to do when the baby finally arrived. Jareth would come, she knew, and when the baby arrived he would.take it away. Sarah knew she had to try to convince him to let her try the Labyrinth again. It was the only way she could try to win back her baby. She had done it once; surely she could do it again. But she was not looking forward to trying it.
But Jareth said her friends would be back, surely they would help her. But if everything else he said was true and the Labyrinth was restored but different, would her friends even be the same? Maybe they wouldn't know her. And if they did, would they forgive her for destroying the Labyrinth? And if they did, how could she solve the Labyrinth willingly, knowing that she would be destroying it and them once again? Never had Sarah experienced such a torment. On the one side was her baby, on the other her friends. And not just her friends, but also a whole world. Could she really destroy a whole world to save the life of her child? How would she live with the guilt? Sarah felt as though she were being ripped in two. For though she did hate Jareth with the will of a protective mother, she still felt fondness for the Labyrinth and all she had learned there. Even the goblins weren't evil, just easily led. Jareth, on the other hand, was not so much evil as he was selfish and self-seeking, which in many ways can be worse. Evil knows it is evil, but selfishness doesn't care. All Sarah knew was that she had to think of a plan somehow, and fast, because time was running out.