Chapter four: A Walk down Memory Lane
Sarah stared at Sir Didimus in disbelief: it couldn't be true. Jareth gentle? Jareth courteous? True, he had always been polite, but it was a mocking civility, as if he were making fun of her. But to mock something, you had to know it really well, didn't you? And Sir Didimus couldn't, wouldn't lie.
A memory of the ball surfaced: Jareth, smiling at her, actually smiling, teeth gleaming, dancing with her, suddenly so serious, romantic. Like a prince out of a fairy-tale. Just like she had wanted. Sarah flinched: he had been everything that she wanted. He had adapted himself to fit her ideal, or so he had said. But why should she believe him? If it was a choice of believing Sir Didimus or Jareth, she knew whom she would choose. Jareth had said he'd adapted to her ideal: but to adapt to something, you had to have a little of it in you already. She had adapted to the ball, for instance: part of her had known that it wasn't real, but at the same time, she had wanted this, wanted romance and beautiful dresses and swooning music, she had conspired to believe. She obviously wasn't the only one to have been indulging in self-deceit.
Sarah bit her lip. What if . . . what if the ball, her fantasy, had been Jareth's reality? What if she had danced with the real Jareth, the kind prince of Sir Didimus' memories? Of course, Sir Didimus' judgment could be a little warped, but about people he was unfailing.
She glanced at Hoggle, who was refusing to look at her. Why had Hoggle wanted this kept secret?
"Hoggle?" she asked. "Is that true?"
"Well, um . . ." He shifted in Ludo's grip, and the gentle beast put him back on the ground. Red with embarrassment, he scuffed at the ground and said, "Yes."
"But why didn't you want me to know?" she demanded, puzzled and hurt.
"Hardly anybody remembers Jareth's ascension to the throne of this realm," said Hoggle slowly, still not looking at her. "The assassination came as a shock to everyone, especially him. It's been erased from the history books. It's ILLEGAL to speak of it," he added, glaring at Sir Didimus, who only sniffed again. "If people knew what Jareth was once like, and could be again, there might be another attempt. And he has no heir." He paused, looking far older than Sarah had thought possible. "It would be the end of the Labyrinth," he said, finally looking at her, straight in the eye. "All of us.the goblins, me, him and Ludo, even Ambrosius.we'd all disappear."
Sarah didn't know what to say. The situation had suddenly taken on new dimensions, potentially disastrous ones. She hadn't even thought about whether Jareth might be in pain or not. He had always been so suave, so self-possessed . . . she had never tried to look beyond that. It was a shaming thought. All those Shakespearean tragedies, all those fantasy novels, and she had never once wondered what Jareth might hide behind his cool exterior. Regicide, the stuff of a thousand plots - Sarah felt like a fool.
Hoggle cleared his throat. "That isn't all. He's dreaming of you."
Sarah nearly fell off the bridge, and was only saved by Sir Didimus leaping forward and grasping her fingers. Ludo lumbered forward and pulled her gently onto her feet. She nodded dazedly, thanking him.
Hoggle fidgeted. "Actually, forget I said that."
"How do you expect me to do that? You've started, so you might as well finish, Hoggle. But first," she glanced around, wrinkling her nose, "can we move somewhere that's . . . not quite so pungent?"
Sir Didimus looked offended, predictably, but Ludo looked relieved. Evidently, living with his small blood brother had not quite blunted his sense of smell just yet.
Once they'd got beyond the smell of the Bog, they found a clearing in the beech woods that were now their surroundings. Sir Didimus had of course ridden on Ambrosius. The 'valiant steed' didn't seem to have changed. He still cringed at every single noise.
Sarah settled herself down and looked expectantly at Hoggle. He was trying to whistle on a piece of grass, but just kept making rude sounds. Sarah took the blade from him.
"Hey!" he protested.
"The lady wishes to know more of her presence in the King's dreams," reprimanded Sir Didimus. "Sir Hoggle, recall yourself to your duties."
Hoggle sighed, giving in. Jareth was probably going to kill him, but it was better than letting the Labyrinth disintegrate.
"He dreams of you," he repeated. "All the time. You're all he ever dreams about. You're in a white puffy dress, with silver in your hair." He blushed. "You're beautiful."
Sir Didimus looked indignant, but held his tongue.
"You're dancing together. He's wearing a dark blue coat. It's glittery. He looks just like he used to . . ." Hoggle's voice seemed to croak. He paused and after a while tried to carry on but was interrupted.
"How do you know this, Hoggle?" Sarah asked softly, staring at her feet.
"There's a sword down his chest, with an orb in the hilt, like the one I gave you. It's the last one he made before he became King. It shows all his dreams, the secret things hidden in his heart; I saw the dreams in that. But that's not all: he has a second dream. You're in it again. You're running through the castle in the same dress. You come into his room. Then I'm there." He shrugged, obviously puzzled by his presence. "You come towards me. I pull back the curtains around his bed. You look surprised. Then it stops."
Sarah was trying to control her breathing without much success. Her eyes had become very large, and were as black as her hair. She was pale and was rocking slightly as she held her knees. The same dream. It was the same dream. How? How could this be possible? There was nothing between them. He had no power over her, none.
A wind screamed through the air, though it had been perfectly calm before that. It sounded remarkably like Jareth, though she had never heard him scream. Hoggle shivered. "That reminded me of his reaction when he found out his parents were dead. He screamed back then."
Sarah swallowed: she might be free of him, but he was obviously not free of her. That was clear from what had just happened. She had a hold over him. She didn't know why or how, but somehow it had happened. It was only right that she set him free from this hold. It wasn't fair.
She caught herself: life wasn't fair. But that didn't mean you couldn't at least right some wrongs. She stood up, brushing herself down.
"Well come on, let's get going. We don't have much time, and I have to find a way to wake Jareth up."
The others all stared at her. The sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds, like Jareth was smiling on her. Well, who was to say he wasn't? She smiled at the thought, and then slapped herself mentally again. She wasn't here to make him happy, she was just here to do a job.
The sun went in again.
Hoggle sighed and shook his head. 'We have a long way to go,' he thought. 'She still doesn't understand . . . his feelings. She doesn't have any power over him, he has none over her, it's just feelings.'
They gathered themselves, the journey ahead of them was quite long and just as had occurred before they didn't have much time to get to the centre of the Labyrinth and to wake its slumbering king, the stakes were so much higher than before.
Sarah stared at Sir Didimus in disbelief: it couldn't be true. Jareth gentle? Jareth courteous? True, he had always been polite, but it was a mocking civility, as if he were making fun of her. But to mock something, you had to know it really well, didn't you? And Sir Didimus couldn't, wouldn't lie.
A memory of the ball surfaced: Jareth, smiling at her, actually smiling, teeth gleaming, dancing with her, suddenly so serious, romantic. Like a prince out of a fairy-tale. Just like she had wanted. Sarah flinched: he had been everything that she wanted. He had adapted himself to fit her ideal, or so he had said. But why should she believe him? If it was a choice of believing Sir Didimus or Jareth, she knew whom she would choose. Jareth had said he'd adapted to her ideal: but to adapt to something, you had to have a little of it in you already. She had adapted to the ball, for instance: part of her had known that it wasn't real, but at the same time, she had wanted this, wanted romance and beautiful dresses and swooning music, she had conspired to believe. She obviously wasn't the only one to have been indulging in self-deceit.
Sarah bit her lip. What if . . . what if the ball, her fantasy, had been Jareth's reality? What if she had danced with the real Jareth, the kind prince of Sir Didimus' memories? Of course, Sir Didimus' judgment could be a little warped, but about people he was unfailing.
She glanced at Hoggle, who was refusing to look at her. Why had Hoggle wanted this kept secret?
"Hoggle?" she asked. "Is that true?"
"Well, um . . ." He shifted in Ludo's grip, and the gentle beast put him back on the ground. Red with embarrassment, he scuffed at the ground and said, "Yes."
"But why didn't you want me to know?" she demanded, puzzled and hurt.
"Hardly anybody remembers Jareth's ascension to the throne of this realm," said Hoggle slowly, still not looking at her. "The assassination came as a shock to everyone, especially him. It's been erased from the history books. It's ILLEGAL to speak of it," he added, glaring at Sir Didimus, who only sniffed again. "If people knew what Jareth was once like, and could be again, there might be another attempt. And he has no heir." He paused, looking far older than Sarah had thought possible. "It would be the end of the Labyrinth," he said, finally looking at her, straight in the eye. "All of us.the goblins, me, him and Ludo, even Ambrosius.we'd all disappear."
Sarah didn't know what to say. The situation had suddenly taken on new dimensions, potentially disastrous ones. She hadn't even thought about whether Jareth might be in pain or not. He had always been so suave, so self-possessed . . . she had never tried to look beyond that. It was a shaming thought. All those Shakespearean tragedies, all those fantasy novels, and she had never once wondered what Jareth might hide behind his cool exterior. Regicide, the stuff of a thousand plots - Sarah felt like a fool.
Hoggle cleared his throat. "That isn't all. He's dreaming of you."
Sarah nearly fell off the bridge, and was only saved by Sir Didimus leaping forward and grasping her fingers. Ludo lumbered forward and pulled her gently onto her feet. She nodded dazedly, thanking him.
Hoggle fidgeted. "Actually, forget I said that."
"How do you expect me to do that? You've started, so you might as well finish, Hoggle. But first," she glanced around, wrinkling her nose, "can we move somewhere that's . . . not quite so pungent?"
Sir Didimus looked offended, predictably, but Ludo looked relieved. Evidently, living with his small blood brother had not quite blunted his sense of smell just yet.
Once they'd got beyond the smell of the Bog, they found a clearing in the beech woods that were now their surroundings. Sir Didimus had of course ridden on Ambrosius. The 'valiant steed' didn't seem to have changed. He still cringed at every single noise.
Sarah settled herself down and looked expectantly at Hoggle. He was trying to whistle on a piece of grass, but just kept making rude sounds. Sarah took the blade from him.
"Hey!" he protested.
"The lady wishes to know more of her presence in the King's dreams," reprimanded Sir Didimus. "Sir Hoggle, recall yourself to your duties."
Hoggle sighed, giving in. Jareth was probably going to kill him, but it was better than letting the Labyrinth disintegrate.
"He dreams of you," he repeated. "All the time. You're all he ever dreams about. You're in a white puffy dress, with silver in your hair." He blushed. "You're beautiful."
Sir Didimus looked indignant, but held his tongue.
"You're dancing together. He's wearing a dark blue coat. It's glittery. He looks just like he used to . . ." Hoggle's voice seemed to croak. He paused and after a while tried to carry on but was interrupted.
"How do you know this, Hoggle?" Sarah asked softly, staring at her feet.
"There's a sword down his chest, with an orb in the hilt, like the one I gave you. It's the last one he made before he became King. It shows all his dreams, the secret things hidden in his heart; I saw the dreams in that. But that's not all: he has a second dream. You're in it again. You're running through the castle in the same dress. You come into his room. Then I'm there." He shrugged, obviously puzzled by his presence. "You come towards me. I pull back the curtains around his bed. You look surprised. Then it stops."
Sarah was trying to control her breathing without much success. Her eyes had become very large, and were as black as her hair. She was pale and was rocking slightly as she held her knees. The same dream. It was the same dream. How? How could this be possible? There was nothing between them. He had no power over her, none.
A wind screamed through the air, though it had been perfectly calm before that. It sounded remarkably like Jareth, though she had never heard him scream. Hoggle shivered. "That reminded me of his reaction when he found out his parents were dead. He screamed back then."
Sarah swallowed: she might be free of him, but he was obviously not free of her. That was clear from what had just happened. She had a hold over him. She didn't know why or how, but somehow it had happened. It was only right that she set him free from this hold. It wasn't fair.
She caught herself: life wasn't fair. But that didn't mean you couldn't at least right some wrongs. She stood up, brushing herself down.
"Well come on, let's get going. We don't have much time, and I have to find a way to wake Jareth up."
The others all stared at her. The sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds, like Jareth was smiling on her. Well, who was to say he wasn't? She smiled at the thought, and then slapped herself mentally again. She wasn't here to make him happy, she was just here to do a job.
The sun went in again.
Hoggle sighed and shook his head. 'We have a long way to go,' he thought. 'She still doesn't understand . . . his feelings. She doesn't have any power over him, he has none over her, it's just feelings.'
They gathered themselves, the journey ahead of them was quite long and just as had occurred before they didn't have much time to get to the centre of the Labyrinth and to wake its slumbering king, the stakes were so much higher than before.