Chapter seven: A Labyrinth within a Labyrinth
Sarah was completely lost.
It was strange: last time she had found her way to Jareth so easily, this time is was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, almost as if he were concealing himself from her, afraid that she would hurt him. Sarah cursed her hastily said words, why hadn't she said what she had really felt rather than trying to protect her pride, this was no time for pride, Jareth needed her and she would get to him somehow and she would wake him up. Sarah surprised herself at how determined she sounded. It had taken for Jareth to come and save her before she really trusted what her friends had told her and she had realised just how much she loved the headstrong, unflinching, but somehow soft and gentle King of the Goblins.
She opened another of the seemingly identical doors of the castle and her eyes went wide: before her was the most beautiful bedroom. It had a large white four-poster bed and a beautiful vanity table to the left side of a huge window that had a west view, facing the sunset. The walls were covered with murals depicting Sarah's favourite faery tales. Sarah walked into the room. The curtains of the bed were pulled back; on the white coverlet lay her beautiful glittering ball dress.
Sarah got changed into the dress, and went over to the vanity table. She brushed her hair and then arranged it with the four beautiful pearl-topped silver combs that were on the top of the table. Sarah stood up and as she spun round she noticed a portrait of herself wearing a delicate lattice- work crown on the wall by the door, she walked up to it, and read the title of the painting out to herself. "Queen of my Heart and of the Labyrinth." She found the signature in the bottom left corner and she gasped and then whispered, "Jareth."
Sarah didn't know what to think. For some moments she just stood there. It was the most beautiful portrait she had ever seen. Did she really look like that? Or was it just Jareth's artistry? The light in the room suddenly turned blood red, and she saw through the window that the sun had nearly set. Sarah turned and ran from the room.
Out in the corridor again, she noticed a feather by her feet. As she picked it up, she noticed another one, further along. Sarah followed, picking up each feather: there were white feathers, speckled feathers, grey feathers, golden feathers, down feathers so soft that it was almost like touching a dream. The feathers of a barn owl.
As she realised this, she came to a door. Her heart thumping, she pushed it open. The room was filled with ruby light. Her dress was stained red, as was the four-poster, and the curtains seemed to glitter like tears of blood. She held her breath. On the table stood the vase of roses, dyed crimson. She walked over and took one out. It was thorn less: perfect. Such a rose could not have existed in her world.
"He grows them."
She jumped, startled, and turned to see Hoggle. Of course he would be here. His eyes seemed glad to see her, but she could tell nothing from his expression.
"Nobody knows except me. They represent him. He's pure, so pure that other people can make him into whatever they want."
Sarah winced, remembering what had happened when she did that. She walked forward, holding the rose. Hoggle gazed up at her silently, and then pulled the curtains back.
He was breathtaking in the dying light. His skin and hair glowed red, his clothes glittered strangely. She glanced up: in all her time in the Labyrinth, the sun had never actually set. Sarah realised this was symbolic if the sun went down.she was nearly too late. She dropped the rose on his chest, leaned forward and took a deep breath. A door closed. She realised that Hoggle had left them alone. She was grateful for that.
She looked back at Jareth. The light was dimming. His breathing was shallow. Her last words were taking hope from him. She dropped to her knees, by the side of him, uncaring of the dress, and whispered into his ear, "I love you. I love you. Don't go away from me." She paused, trying not to cry. "Jareth," she whispered, and then she stood up and gently kissed him.
At first, there was no reaction, and she almost faltered, wondering if it was indeed too late. Then he breathed in deeply. She smiled: at least he was alive. The light suddenly paled, losing its garnet colour and returning to the gold of midday. Everything regained its normal colour. The roses were no longer blood roses, but pure white, fresh and innocent. Her dress was cream. His skin and hair were snow. His eyes were blue and brown.
His eyes?
They both started, and she almost fell backwards. His hand caught her arm in its strong grip. He was warm. She realised, looking down, that he wasn't wearing gloves. It was the first time she had ever seen him without them. His hands were strangely pale, with white nails, and long thin fingers.
"Sarah," he said. "Why are you here? If there's been an accident, I can send you home right away."
She stared at him. His very voice was different: the same courtesy, but slightly deeper, more peaceful. Serene.
"It is you," she said.
"Of course," he said, with a slightly bemused smile. "Who else would it be?"
Sarah shook her head, smiling. "Nobody," she said. "Nobody at all." She burst out laughing, and hugged the bemused Fay. They fell back together on the bed, she laughing and almost crying, he hugging her and wondering what the hell was going on.
Hoggle burst in the door. "Begging your pardon, Majesty," he began.
"Hoggle, you know I hate that word," said Jareth calmly. "I keep telling you to use my name, is that so difficult?"
Hoggle stopped, and stared at the King. He goggled. Then, recovering himself, he said, "Of course Jareth. The goblins have all turned into dwarves."
"Ah good. We might actually get some work done for a change," said Jareth with a dry smile. He turned and smiled at Sarah. "There are some people waiting for us downstairs. Shall we?"
Sarah nodded, feeling faintly disappointed. There was no romantic declaration, no passionate reunion. It might all have been a dream. Had all the pain been for nothing?
In the square were a lot of confused dwarves; about thirty babies, all asleep, which made Jareth raise his eyebrows; Sir Didimus, his valiant steed Ambrosius, who was still sitting with him, and last but not least Ludo.
Sarah cried out in delight when she saw him. "Ludo! Ludo!" She ran forward and was swept up in a hug.
"Mind the dress!" yelled Hoggle.
"Who cares about the dress?" Sarah yelled, kissing Ludo over and over on the face.
Jareth rolled his eyes at the antics, clapped his hands and sent the children back. Then he gazed at the happy group of friends, feeling a certain déja-vu. Left out again. What else could he expect?
"I suppose now you've rescued your friends, you'll want to go back home," he said, trying to sound hearty.
The dwarves wandered back to their houses. Sarah turned, seeing his clothes darken, turning to black. Her eyes widened. "Jareth!" she said.
His face twisted, and he disappeared. Hoggle sighed. "He can't take the pain," he muttered. "He never could."
Sarah's chin set. Harrumphing, she picked up her skirts, and marched into the castle. Her friends watched her go.
Hoggle turned to the others. "Anybody want to go after her?"
They all shook their heads, even Sir Didimus. He didn't think that he'd be called a coward for refusing to step in the middle of a fight between the King and the future Queen of the Labyrinth.
Hoggle nodded. "Me neither." He gazed up at the huge building. "For once I'm glad she's so stubborn."
Inside the castle, Sarah slammed the bedroom door open, but found it empty. Her tirade vanished into thin air, much like Jareth. She sagged, unsure of where to go next, when the sound of sobbing drew her to the balcony. To her amazement, she discovered a weeping Jareth, shoulders shaking, watching his Labyrinth repair itself. Soft music wove through the air: 'There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes; a kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes; I'll place the sky within your eyes . . . There's such a fool heart, beating so fast, in search of new dreams, a love that can last within you heart, I'll place the moon within your heart . . .' At these words, Jareth held up his moon pendant.
"This will never be in anyone's heart," he murmured. "But even if the world falls down, I will be there for you . . . Sarah."
Sarah gasped, and he spun round. The words of the song hovered between them: 'As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you, every thrill is gone, was it too much fun before? But I'll be there for you, as the world falls down. Falling . . falling . . falling . . as the world falls down . . falling . . falling . . falling . . falling in love . . .'
"What are you still doing here?" he snapped, eyes glaring beneath the tears. "You've won again, haven't you? Go! Go and celebrate! What do you need to see me for?"
"Jareth, didn't you hear me?" she asked, stepping forward.
He took a step back, his face wary. "What do you mean?"
"Careful, don't fall!" she said, grasping his arm.
He stared at her hand, clutching him, then at her. "What would it matter if I did?"
Sarah almost screamed with frustration. Why did they always manage to miss each other? She guessed that she was just going to have to state it plainly.
"You have power over me, Jareth," she said boldly. "I love you."
Jareth went even paler, if that was possible. He stared at her. "It's not possible," he whispered. "You can't . . love me."
Sarah raised one eyebrow. "Can't I?" she said. "I'll prove it." She spun round and walked back into the room. Jareth, who was suddenly getting a horrible feeling, followed.
He arrived just in time to see Sarah brandish the needle he had deliberately pricked himself on whilst mending a tear. "Don't believe I love you, huh?" she said with a triumphant smile.
Jareth's eyes widened, and his lips formed the word 'no', but it was too late. She had already lightly bounced her finger on the sharp tip and gracefully collapsed across the bed. Her hair spread out beneath her in shining black waves, the pearls and silver glinting in the sunlight. Jareth swore.
"Damn you!" he whispered. "Damn you, damn you, damn you! You're just a girl, just a mere chit * of a girl, you're nothing to me . . nothing . . ." *Chit is an old English word meaning impudent young girl.
Sarah's breathing seemed to stop, and Jareth leapt forward. "No!" he cried, grasping her bare shoulders, and then noticing how warm they were, how smooth and alive. The dress had puffed sleeves, but the bodice was tight, clinging to noticeable curves. Jareth looked down and swallowed. He slipped one arm under her waist and moved her to a more comfortable position, head on a pillow. She was still not breathing. Muttering swear words as he went, Jareth collected another white rose and then leaned over.
"I love you, girl," he whispered, but there was no response. Jareth closed his eyes tightly. "I love you," he whispered fiercely, pressing his lips to hers, he moved back when there was no response and with slight desperation in his voice said, "I love you, Sarah, forgive me, please forgive me."
He kissed her for a second time and this time warm breath rushed against his lips. Jareth lifted his head slightly so that she could breathe. Soft dark eyes opened. Sarah stared at him in wonder. "Jareth?" she said. "You kissed me."
Jareth almost laughed: she was still so naïve. "Yes, Sarah," he said, trying not to be sarcastic, "that's because I love you."
Then his face flushed bright red, and he stood up. "I . . I . . I will go and tell your friends . . ."
"You won't tell them anything," Sarah interrupted, grabbing his arm, and pulling him down. She pulled him down so hard that he fell on top of her. They gazed into each other's eyes. His clothes reverted to light blue. Sarah hugged him.
"I'm so glad," she whispered. "I'm so glad you love me."
"Love you?" he repeated, staring down at her, his eyes fierce and possessive. "Love isn't the word. There is no word in the human language to describe what I feel for you."
They kissed, mutually. Sarah felt like screaming with happiness, but contented herself with kissing him until he couldn't breathe anymore and neither could she.
"So . ." he murmured, stroking her hair. "What do we do about your parents?"
She smiled up at him. "People go missing every day," she said softly. "I'll send them a postcard. Every two months or so."
"Postcard?"
"Nothing you should worry about."
Then suddenly the realisation hit Jareth, like a tone of bricks. "You're going to stay here with me?"
"Why else would I send them a postcard?"
Jareth stuttered: millions of ideas were flying through his head. He glanced over at the bedside cabinet, and Sarah followed his eyes. A glint of gold caught her attention, and she reached out. Jareth caught her wrist. "You don't want to see that," he told her.
She glared. "I have faced your Labyrinth twice, and won, twice, there is nothing that could scare me," she answered and grasped the small metal object.
"This would," he said smugly, as she realised what she was holding.
It was a white-gold ring, with a moonstone in the shape of a crescent moon on top. Engraved inside were the words 'To my dearest Sarah, I will place this moon on your finger, just as I place one in your heart.' Sarah looked at Jareth, eyes huge and trembling with tears.
"For me?" she asked in a small voice.
He smiled gently and slipped it on her finger. "For you," he answered. "I made a promise to myself that if you woke me up, I would . . I would . ."
He didn't finish. She kissed him. It was enough.
After the kiss, he pulled back and smiled. "Marry me?"
Sarah stared at him, then realised which finger the ring was on. She nodded dumbly. Another kiss followed. And another . . and another . . .
Outside, Sarah's friends looked up at the castle.
"I don't think they're going to be coming down for a while," observed Hoggle. "What say we all go to the pub and celebrate?"
"Celebrate?" said Ludo. "What celebrate?"
"The wedding, my dear fellow, the wedding!" Sir Didimus answered, slapping the huge red back with his tiny paw. "I have no doubt one shall soon follow! At least, it had better if he doesn't want to answer to me!" he added, as an afterthought.
"If he doesn't want to answer to all of us," Hoggle amended, followed by a bark from Ambrosius as they made their way to the local tavern, satisfied at a good job well done.
A few months later the bells of Dwarf City rang in jubilation, as a bride and groom proceeded through the streets. The Queen of the Labyrinth wore a sparkling blue gown, with forget-me-nots in her hair, accompanied by silver ribbons. The King of the Labyrinth was dashing in white and silver. They walked in a shower of rose petals, thrown on them by citizens from upstairs windows. Behind them strolled a dwarf, a fox, a beast and a sheepdog, who all waved to the crowd happily. The happy couple stopped and looked back at them, drinking in the adulation, then at the waving, cheering crowds. A public display of affection was called for. Jareth leaned into Sarah and kissed her, very publicly.
The End
Sarah was completely lost.
It was strange: last time she had found her way to Jareth so easily, this time is was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, almost as if he were concealing himself from her, afraid that she would hurt him. Sarah cursed her hastily said words, why hadn't she said what she had really felt rather than trying to protect her pride, this was no time for pride, Jareth needed her and she would get to him somehow and she would wake him up. Sarah surprised herself at how determined she sounded. It had taken for Jareth to come and save her before she really trusted what her friends had told her and she had realised just how much she loved the headstrong, unflinching, but somehow soft and gentle King of the Goblins.
She opened another of the seemingly identical doors of the castle and her eyes went wide: before her was the most beautiful bedroom. It had a large white four-poster bed and a beautiful vanity table to the left side of a huge window that had a west view, facing the sunset. The walls were covered with murals depicting Sarah's favourite faery tales. Sarah walked into the room. The curtains of the bed were pulled back; on the white coverlet lay her beautiful glittering ball dress.
Sarah got changed into the dress, and went over to the vanity table. She brushed her hair and then arranged it with the four beautiful pearl-topped silver combs that were on the top of the table. Sarah stood up and as she spun round she noticed a portrait of herself wearing a delicate lattice- work crown on the wall by the door, she walked up to it, and read the title of the painting out to herself. "Queen of my Heart and of the Labyrinth." She found the signature in the bottom left corner and she gasped and then whispered, "Jareth."
Sarah didn't know what to think. For some moments she just stood there. It was the most beautiful portrait she had ever seen. Did she really look like that? Or was it just Jareth's artistry? The light in the room suddenly turned blood red, and she saw through the window that the sun had nearly set. Sarah turned and ran from the room.
Out in the corridor again, she noticed a feather by her feet. As she picked it up, she noticed another one, further along. Sarah followed, picking up each feather: there were white feathers, speckled feathers, grey feathers, golden feathers, down feathers so soft that it was almost like touching a dream. The feathers of a barn owl.
As she realised this, she came to a door. Her heart thumping, she pushed it open. The room was filled with ruby light. Her dress was stained red, as was the four-poster, and the curtains seemed to glitter like tears of blood. She held her breath. On the table stood the vase of roses, dyed crimson. She walked over and took one out. It was thorn less: perfect. Such a rose could not have existed in her world.
"He grows them."
She jumped, startled, and turned to see Hoggle. Of course he would be here. His eyes seemed glad to see her, but she could tell nothing from his expression.
"Nobody knows except me. They represent him. He's pure, so pure that other people can make him into whatever they want."
Sarah winced, remembering what had happened when she did that. She walked forward, holding the rose. Hoggle gazed up at her silently, and then pulled the curtains back.
He was breathtaking in the dying light. His skin and hair glowed red, his clothes glittered strangely. She glanced up: in all her time in the Labyrinth, the sun had never actually set. Sarah realised this was symbolic if the sun went down.she was nearly too late. She dropped the rose on his chest, leaned forward and took a deep breath. A door closed. She realised that Hoggle had left them alone. She was grateful for that.
She looked back at Jareth. The light was dimming. His breathing was shallow. Her last words were taking hope from him. She dropped to her knees, by the side of him, uncaring of the dress, and whispered into his ear, "I love you. I love you. Don't go away from me." She paused, trying not to cry. "Jareth," she whispered, and then she stood up and gently kissed him.
At first, there was no reaction, and she almost faltered, wondering if it was indeed too late. Then he breathed in deeply. She smiled: at least he was alive. The light suddenly paled, losing its garnet colour and returning to the gold of midday. Everything regained its normal colour. The roses were no longer blood roses, but pure white, fresh and innocent. Her dress was cream. His skin and hair were snow. His eyes were blue and brown.
His eyes?
They both started, and she almost fell backwards. His hand caught her arm in its strong grip. He was warm. She realised, looking down, that he wasn't wearing gloves. It was the first time she had ever seen him without them. His hands were strangely pale, with white nails, and long thin fingers.
"Sarah," he said. "Why are you here? If there's been an accident, I can send you home right away."
She stared at him. His very voice was different: the same courtesy, but slightly deeper, more peaceful. Serene.
"It is you," she said.
"Of course," he said, with a slightly bemused smile. "Who else would it be?"
Sarah shook her head, smiling. "Nobody," she said. "Nobody at all." She burst out laughing, and hugged the bemused Fay. They fell back together on the bed, she laughing and almost crying, he hugging her and wondering what the hell was going on.
Hoggle burst in the door. "Begging your pardon, Majesty," he began.
"Hoggle, you know I hate that word," said Jareth calmly. "I keep telling you to use my name, is that so difficult?"
Hoggle stopped, and stared at the King. He goggled. Then, recovering himself, he said, "Of course Jareth. The goblins have all turned into dwarves."
"Ah good. We might actually get some work done for a change," said Jareth with a dry smile. He turned and smiled at Sarah. "There are some people waiting for us downstairs. Shall we?"
Sarah nodded, feeling faintly disappointed. There was no romantic declaration, no passionate reunion. It might all have been a dream. Had all the pain been for nothing?
In the square were a lot of confused dwarves; about thirty babies, all asleep, which made Jareth raise his eyebrows; Sir Didimus, his valiant steed Ambrosius, who was still sitting with him, and last but not least Ludo.
Sarah cried out in delight when she saw him. "Ludo! Ludo!" She ran forward and was swept up in a hug.
"Mind the dress!" yelled Hoggle.
"Who cares about the dress?" Sarah yelled, kissing Ludo over and over on the face.
Jareth rolled his eyes at the antics, clapped his hands and sent the children back. Then he gazed at the happy group of friends, feeling a certain déja-vu. Left out again. What else could he expect?
"I suppose now you've rescued your friends, you'll want to go back home," he said, trying to sound hearty.
The dwarves wandered back to their houses. Sarah turned, seeing his clothes darken, turning to black. Her eyes widened. "Jareth!" she said.
His face twisted, and he disappeared. Hoggle sighed. "He can't take the pain," he muttered. "He never could."
Sarah's chin set. Harrumphing, she picked up her skirts, and marched into the castle. Her friends watched her go.
Hoggle turned to the others. "Anybody want to go after her?"
They all shook their heads, even Sir Didimus. He didn't think that he'd be called a coward for refusing to step in the middle of a fight between the King and the future Queen of the Labyrinth.
Hoggle nodded. "Me neither." He gazed up at the huge building. "For once I'm glad she's so stubborn."
Inside the castle, Sarah slammed the bedroom door open, but found it empty. Her tirade vanished into thin air, much like Jareth. She sagged, unsure of where to go next, when the sound of sobbing drew her to the balcony. To her amazement, she discovered a weeping Jareth, shoulders shaking, watching his Labyrinth repair itself. Soft music wove through the air: 'There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes; a kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes; I'll place the sky within your eyes . . . There's such a fool heart, beating so fast, in search of new dreams, a love that can last within you heart, I'll place the moon within your heart . . .' At these words, Jareth held up his moon pendant.
"This will never be in anyone's heart," he murmured. "But even if the world falls down, I will be there for you . . . Sarah."
Sarah gasped, and he spun round. The words of the song hovered between them: 'As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you, every thrill is gone, was it too much fun before? But I'll be there for you, as the world falls down. Falling . . falling . . falling . . as the world falls down . . falling . . falling . . falling . . falling in love . . .'
"What are you still doing here?" he snapped, eyes glaring beneath the tears. "You've won again, haven't you? Go! Go and celebrate! What do you need to see me for?"
"Jareth, didn't you hear me?" she asked, stepping forward.
He took a step back, his face wary. "What do you mean?"
"Careful, don't fall!" she said, grasping his arm.
He stared at her hand, clutching him, then at her. "What would it matter if I did?"
Sarah almost screamed with frustration. Why did they always manage to miss each other? She guessed that she was just going to have to state it plainly.
"You have power over me, Jareth," she said boldly. "I love you."
Jareth went even paler, if that was possible. He stared at her. "It's not possible," he whispered. "You can't . . love me."
Sarah raised one eyebrow. "Can't I?" she said. "I'll prove it." She spun round and walked back into the room. Jareth, who was suddenly getting a horrible feeling, followed.
He arrived just in time to see Sarah brandish the needle he had deliberately pricked himself on whilst mending a tear. "Don't believe I love you, huh?" she said with a triumphant smile.
Jareth's eyes widened, and his lips formed the word 'no', but it was too late. She had already lightly bounced her finger on the sharp tip and gracefully collapsed across the bed. Her hair spread out beneath her in shining black waves, the pearls and silver glinting in the sunlight. Jareth swore.
"Damn you!" he whispered. "Damn you, damn you, damn you! You're just a girl, just a mere chit * of a girl, you're nothing to me . . nothing . . ." *Chit is an old English word meaning impudent young girl.
Sarah's breathing seemed to stop, and Jareth leapt forward. "No!" he cried, grasping her bare shoulders, and then noticing how warm they were, how smooth and alive. The dress had puffed sleeves, but the bodice was tight, clinging to noticeable curves. Jareth looked down and swallowed. He slipped one arm under her waist and moved her to a more comfortable position, head on a pillow. She was still not breathing. Muttering swear words as he went, Jareth collected another white rose and then leaned over.
"I love you, girl," he whispered, but there was no response. Jareth closed his eyes tightly. "I love you," he whispered fiercely, pressing his lips to hers, he moved back when there was no response and with slight desperation in his voice said, "I love you, Sarah, forgive me, please forgive me."
He kissed her for a second time and this time warm breath rushed against his lips. Jareth lifted his head slightly so that she could breathe. Soft dark eyes opened. Sarah stared at him in wonder. "Jareth?" she said. "You kissed me."
Jareth almost laughed: she was still so naïve. "Yes, Sarah," he said, trying not to be sarcastic, "that's because I love you."
Then his face flushed bright red, and he stood up. "I . . I . . I will go and tell your friends . . ."
"You won't tell them anything," Sarah interrupted, grabbing his arm, and pulling him down. She pulled him down so hard that he fell on top of her. They gazed into each other's eyes. His clothes reverted to light blue. Sarah hugged him.
"I'm so glad," she whispered. "I'm so glad you love me."
"Love you?" he repeated, staring down at her, his eyes fierce and possessive. "Love isn't the word. There is no word in the human language to describe what I feel for you."
They kissed, mutually. Sarah felt like screaming with happiness, but contented herself with kissing him until he couldn't breathe anymore and neither could she.
"So . ." he murmured, stroking her hair. "What do we do about your parents?"
She smiled up at him. "People go missing every day," she said softly. "I'll send them a postcard. Every two months or so."
"Postcard?"
"Nothing you should worry about."
Then suddenly the realisation hit Jareth, like a tone of bricks. "You're going to stay here with me?"
"Why else would I send them a postcard?"
Jareth stuttered: millions of ideas were flying through his head. He glanced over at the bedside cabinet, and Sarah followed his eyes. A glint of gold caught her attention, and she reached out. Jareth caught her wrist. "You don't want to see that," he told her.
She glared. "I have faced your Labyrinth twice, and won, twice, there is nothing that could scare me," she answered and grasped the small metal object.
"This would," he said smugly, as she realised what she was holding.
It was a white-gold ring, with a moonstone in the shape of a crescent moon on top. Engraved inside were the words 'To my dearest Sarah, I will place this moon on your finger, just as I place one in your heart.' Sarah looked at Jareth, eyes huge and trembling with tears.
"For me?" she asked in a small voice.
He smiled gently and slipped it on her finger. "For you," he answered. "I made a promise to myself that if you woke me up, I would . . I would . ."
He didn't finish. She kissed him. It was enough.
After the kiss, he pulled back and smiled. "Marry me?"
Sarah stared at him, then realised which finger the ring was on. She nodded dumbly. Another kiss followed. And another . . and another . . .
Outside, Sarah's friends looked up at the castle.
"I don't think they're going to be coming down for a while," observed Hoggle. "What say we all go to the pub and celebrate?"
"Celebrate?" said Ludo. "What celebrate?"
"The wedding, my dear fellow, the wedding!" Sir Didimus answered, slapping the huge red back with his tiny paw. "I have no doubt one shall soon follow! At least, it had better if he doesn't want to answer to me!" he added, as an afterthought.
"If he doesn't want to answer to all of us," Hoggle amended, followed by a bark from Ambrosius as they made their way to the local tavern, satisfied at a good job well done.
A few months later the bells of Dwarf City rang in jubilation, as a bride and groom proceeded through the streets. The Queen of the Labyrinth wore a sparkling blue gown, with forget-me-nots in her hair, accompanied by silver ribbons. The King of the Labyrinth was dashing in white and silver. They walked in a shower of rose petals, thrown on them by citizens from upstairs windows. Behind them strolled a dwarf, a fox, a beast and a sheepdog, who all waved to the crowd happily. The happy couple stopped and looked back at them, drinking in the adulation, then at the waving, cheering crowds. A public display of affection was called for. Jareth leaned into Sarah and kissed her, very publicly.
The End