(Author's note: Ok I forgot to put the footnote I was going to use when I put (1) next to something last chapter. It was only to explain that the speech by Jareth was inspired by my good friend Oli who said something very similar when offering a chair :p Anyway, here's the next chapter. Excuse the shortness/slowness, back to college and all!)
Chapter VII
Hurling the ebony doors aside, she stormed into the great hall in all its splendour. She scanned the room shrewdly, ignoring the infants who had stirred and were whimpering pitifully.
"Looking for me?" came a voice from behind her.
The princess whirled furiously to confront the man who leant casually in the doorframe.
"What did you do to me?" she snarled.
The King raised an owl-wing eyebrow.
"I *thought* I'd put you to bed," he said. "By the way, I do like your dress."
"This place isn't real, is it?" she said, fuming.
"No," he replied simply. "It isn't. But why would anyone want to return to a reality where they can't even remember their own name?"
She scowled.
"My name is Sarah."
Jareth stifled a laugh at what appeared to be a personal joke, and then proceeded to make his point. (1)
"You have forgotten about the friends who betrayed you. What could possibly move you to go back to a world where your most trusted companions give you poisoned food and try to drown you?" He noted her face crease with the effort to remember. "There is no one to hurt you here."
"Oh yeah?" Sarah retaliated. "Then what about *this*?" She brought forward the hand that held the sphere. An expression of disbelief crossed her face.
The Goblin King strutted majestically towards her, slowing his pace to make each one more imposing than the last.
"This," he said, plucking the object from her outstretched palm, "is an apple. Symbolic of temptation despite the fact that nowhere in the scriptures does it say exactly what the forbidden fruit is." He inspected the apple and bit into it with a tentative crunch. "Though not quite seasoned." He tossed it back to her, smiling complacently as she caught it without thinking.
"Why are you keeping me here?" Sarah demanded.
"I'm a dreaming kind of guy." (2)
Overcome with rage, Sarah drew back her arm to hurl the apple to strike the amusement from his elfin face even though she was certain he would catch it easily. The trickle of juice on her fingertips made her stop. She looked again at the damaged fruit. It was darkening rapidly.
Something clicked. A flood of information surged in Sarah's brain as she lost herself within the swirling tones of red. Images, her friends in chains, a six-legged monster; a snow-white bird and a voice echoing in her head.
The goblin King presented the same look that he had given when Sarah had realised that the masquerade ball was not real - not angry, more disappointed - as she lifted her gaze to his own and spoke a solitary word.
"Jareth."
Sarah reeled as the ground shook beneath her feet. The ivory walls peeled and came crashing down to expose the shabby wooden beams of the true throne room, the one chair's velvet reverted to flat cushion and the unicorn horns twisted into monstrously grotesque spirals. The cherub-like faces of the on-looking children morphed into cackling goblins and the chandeliers and curtains dropped from the ceiling, bringing dust and dirt upon her head. She hit the floor on her back and glanced only once at the undisturbed silhouette of Jareth before she allowed her eyes to close.
* * * *
Sarah groaned, the weight of the world on her head until she rolled over on the stone, dripping wet from the pond. She sat up groggily then winced at a sharp pain in her leg. There were purple barbs protruding out of her shins. Biting her lip, she ripped each one out, six in all, grimacing at the viscous poison that coated their tips. When she looked about this strange courtyard she saw no sign of the rotten pool or Ludo.
Her head ached. How long had she been in that place, that world of lies? The puddles of water forming underneath her suggested she had been pulled out recently, but she recalled the passing of days and it was daylight once more. There was no way she could have survived so long underwater. Time never made sense here.
"Home sweet home," she muttered, but wished she had not.
Sarah stood up and explored this new place, a courtyard encompassing a row of freshwater fountains - identical in size and shape. The spouts were shaped like tulips standing in a granite cusp, liquid pouring out of carved seahorse snouts into the wide wells at the bases. The cool, glittering substance reiterated her thirst and she approached one to drink, not caring about the consequences.
Cupping her palms in the fountain, she tipped her head back and let the tasteless water wash down her grateful throat. Encouraged to continue by her tired body, she was oblivious to the pair of amber eyes watching her in the blackness of the surrounding undergrowth.
The dog-monster, enraged and ravenous, tore out of the shadows and raced towards its prey. Its claws clicked upon the stone, its black muscular body rippling in motion. Sarah spun around in terror the moment the beast pounced but it was instantly intercepted in mid-air by another shape. Two creatures slammed to the floor, rolling, locked in a vicious battle. Orange blurred, smothered beneath the black, fur tore and scattered under the onslaught of teeth and claws. At last they separated, the smaller of the huge animals landing with a dull thud several feet away. It did not move.
"Ludo!" Sarah cried in alarm.
The victorious monster turned on her, steady streams of saliva mixed with blood running between the gaps in its mouth. Sweat dripped from the snout that pointed directly at Sarah. There was a rough bark like the sound of a rusty saw then it lunged for her. She gasped in pain when her head met the ground, now the vision of the beast swimming above her, ready to rip out her throat.
Just as the six-legged hound was about to strike, it was distracted by a splash from the nearby fountain. It raised its ugly head and was suddenly bombarded with a shower of water. The beast yelped and staggered back across the courtyard. Its fiery eyes dimmed and it keeled over, writhing hideously. Sarah sat up shakily, watching the awful scene. The monster lay shuddering, its fur seemed to grow but its body was diminishing in size. White and grey pigmentations coated the black fibres; the two middle legs contracted and vanished beneath a shaggy coat. What now lay, shivering upon the stone, was nothing more than an Old English sheepdog, none other than the steed of Sir Didymus - Ambrosius.
Ambrosius whimpered, peering through his overgrown fringe at the gaping girl. Then he pulled himself to his feet and scampered off through the maze.
(Footnotes: (1) This is a key quote in the play Translations by Brian Friel (2) From 'When I live my dream' - David Bowie)
Chapter VII
Hurling the ebony doors aside, she stormed into the great hall in all its splendour. She scanned the room shrewdly, ignoring the infants who had stirred and were whimpering pitifully.
"Looking for me?" came a voice from behind her.
The princess whirled furiously to confront the man who leant casually in the doorframe.
"What did you do to me?" she snarled.
The King raised an owl-wing eyebrow.
"I *thought* I'd put you to bed," he said. "By the way, I do like your dress."
"This place isn't real, is it?" she said, fuming.
"No," he replied simply. "It isn't. But why would anyone want to return to a reality where they can't even remember their own name?"
She scowled.
"My name is Sarah."
Jareth stifled a laugh at what appeared to be a personal joke, and then proceeded to make his point. (1)
"You have forgotten about the friends who betrayed you. What could possibly move you to go back to a world where your most trusted companions give you poisoned food and try to drown you?" He noted her face crease with the effort to remember. "There is no one to hurt you here."
"Oh yeah?" Sarah retaliated. "Then what about *this*?" She brought forward the hand that held the sphere. An expression of disbelief crossed her face.
The Goblin King strutted majestically towards her, slowing his pace to make each one more imposing than the last.
"This," he said, plucking the object from her outstretched palm, "is an apple. Symbolic of temptation despite the fact that nowhere in the scriptures does it say exactly what the forbidden fruit is." He inspected the apple and bit into it with a tentative crunch. "Though not quite seasoned." He tossed it back to her, smiling complacently as she caught it without thinking.
"Why are you keeping me here?" Sarah demanded.
"I'm a dreaming kind of guy." (2)
Overcome with rage, Sarah drew back her arm to hurl the apple to strike the amusement from his elfin face even though she was certain he would catch it easily. The trickle of juice on her fingertips made her stop. She looked again at the damaged fruit. It was darkening rapidly.
Something clicked. A flood of information surged in Sarah's brain as she lost herself within the swirling tones of red. Images, her friends in chains, a six-legged monster; a snow-white bird and a voice echoing in her head.
The goblin King presented the same look that he had given when Sarah had realised that the masquerade ball was not real - not angry, more disappointed - as she lifted her gaze to his own and spoke a solitary word.
"Jareth."
Sarah reeled as the ground shook beneath her feet. The ivory walls peeled and came crashing down to expose the shabby wooden beams of the true throne room, the one chair's velvet reverted to flat cushion and the unicorn horns twisted into monstrously grotesque spirals. The cherub-like faces of the on-looking children morphed into cackling goblins and the chandeliers and curtains dropped from the ceiling, bringing dust and dirt upon her head. She hit the floor on her back and glanced only once at the undisturbed silhouette of Jareth before she allowed her eyes to close.
* * * *
Sarah groaned, the weight of the world on her head until she rolled over on the stone, dripping wet from the pond. She sat up groggily then winced at a sharp pain in her leg. There were purple barbs protruding out of her shins. Biting her lip, she ripped each one out, six in all, grimacing at the viscous poison that coated their tips. When she looked about this strange courtyard she saw no sign of the rotten pool or Ludo.
Her head ached. How long had she been in that place, that world of lies? The puddles of water forming underneath her suggested she had been pulled out recently, but she recalled the passing of days and it was daylight once more. There was no way she could have survived so long underwater. Time never made sense here.
"Home sweet home," she muttered, but wished she had not.
Sarah stood up and explored this new place, a courtyard encompassing a row of freshwater fountains - identical in size and shape. The spouts were shaped like tulips standing in a granite cusp, liquid pouring out of carved seahorse snouts into the wide wells at the bases. The cool, glittering substance reiterated her thirst and she approached one to drink, not caring about the consequences.
Cupping her palms in the fountain, she tipped her head back and let the tasteless water wash down her grateful throat. Encouraged to continue by her tired body, she was oblivious to the pair of amber eyes watching her in the blackness of the surrounding undergrowth.
The dog-monster, enraged and ravenous, tore out of the shadows and raced towards its prey. Its claws clicked upon the stone, its black muscular body rippling in motion. Sarah spun around in terror the moment the beast pounced but it was instantly intercepted in mid-air by another shape. Two creatures slammed to the floor, rolling, locked in a vicious battle. Orange blurred, smothered beneath the black, fur tore and scattered under the onslaught of teeth and claws. At last they separated, the smaller of the huge animals landing with a dull thud several feet away. It did not move.
"Ludo!" Sarah cried in alarm.
The victorious monster turned on her, steady streams of saliva mixed with blood running between the gaps in its mouth. Sweat dripped from the snout that pointed directly at Sarah. There was a rough bark like the sound of a rusty saw then it lunged for her. She gasped in pain when her head met the ground, now the vision of the beast swimming above her, ready to rip out her throat.
Just as the six-legged hound was about to strike, it was distracted by a splash from the nearby fountain. It raised its ugly head and was suddenly bombarded with a shower of water. The beast yelped and staggered back across the courtyard. Its fiery eyes dimmed and it keeled over, writhing hideously. Sarah sat up shakily, watching the awful scene. The monster lay shuddering, its fur seemed to grow but its body was diminishing in size. White and grey pigmentations coated the black fibres; the two middle legs contracted and vanished beneath a shaggy coat. What now lay, shivering upon the stone, was nothing more than an Old English sheepdog, none other than the steed of Sir Didymus - Ambrosius.
Ambrosius whimpered, peering through his overgrown fringe at the gaping girl. Then he pulled himself to his feet and scampered off through the maze.
(Footnotes: (1) This is a key quote in the play Translations by Brian Friel (2) From 'When I live my dream' - David Bowie)