To Take Back the Child
* By Eerie *
A/N: Finally, the update's here. I can't believe it took me so long to even look at this story again and I apologize profusely for the ridiculous wait. But no matter what, I will finish it! No doubt I've lost everyone who *was* reading it, so to the new readers, I hope you like it so far. Thankfully, my muse is waking up after several months; so another update might not be far off. Also, my previous chapters have been re-uploaded to fix a few errors, and Chapter Two is now up in its full, unedited glory. Yes, there are much "worse" scenes up on FF.net (some of which I've written =P) so I figured why not. So anyway, enough babble. Enjoy.
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Five *~*~*~*~*
The next few weeks passed by rather uneventfully for Toby. His days were largely spent wandering the various levels and wings of the Goblin Castle, and he was often immersed in studying the numerous volumes of lore in the grand library, the room that instantly became his favorite haunt upon his first step inside. Books written on seemingly infinite subjects lined the walls in enormous cases, many of which held stories written by immortal hands. Though the majority of these seemed like fantasy, Toby eventually began to wonder if perhaps they were true accounts from the past.
Within the library he would pass the time without much notice; he could spend the entire day steeped in an intricate story of magic and look up momentarily at the high window to see that night had already fallen. He would sometimes plod back to his room with a book in hand and continue reading until he fell asleep, the possibilities of the tale's conclusion playing in his dreams.
Most likely due to the fresh things filling his mind on a daily basis, the consistency of Toby's nightmares grew thinner until he ceased to have them. Now it was either intriguing singularity that he experienced or he would wake with no memory of dreaming at all. The tangible dangers lurking around every corner of the castle also became less of a threat to him, as he was usually left to himself, but he still slept with the dagger concealed beneath his pillow every night despite.
Because surprisingly, he encountered the goblins very rarely during this time. In fact, the only contact he had with them was when they made an occasional appearance to relay the message that his meals were waiting for him in his quarters, though that courtesy didn't last long. Most of the time his supper had gone cold by the time he returned to his room. They continued to take to him quite coldly in general, but he was more content with such treatment than he was with their previous bestial ways. They no longer mocked and snapped at him, but flashed cruel glares before going along their way. Thankfully none that he knew of could read, so their presence in the library's wing was practically nonexistent.
His contact with their lord was even more rare. It seemed for a while that Jareth had simply disappeared until one day, when Toby was sprawled comfortably on the recently discovered library's floor with a thick volume of interest lying beneath his face, the Goblin King quietly entered the room and stood behind him unnoticed for several minutes before he finally felt that unseen presence and whipped his head about. Jareth merely looked at him in a curious way, saying nothing, and Toby began to panic, hoping he hadn't perhaps crossed some line by intruding upon the king's sacred space. His heart hammered before Jareth smiled faintly and said, "I'm pleased you've become comfortable. Do feel free to wander where you like while you stay."
The king then turned and exited as silently as he arrived, leaving Toby oddly perturbed. That was the only day he actually saw Jareth since the door to his quarters went unlocked, the second day after his surreal experience in the Goblin King's garden. It was strange that that sort of liberation happened when it did, for since that incident in the garden, Toby had felt the notion of traveling outside into the labyrinth was like walking into the waiting arms of Death. The images of those skulls and broken rotting bodies cluttering the terrible pit he may or may not have actually fallen into remained with him, and he imagined that perhaps they once belonged to people like him. The ones that attempted to conquer the maze and escape the Underground. To him it was much wiser to stay where he was for the time being.
Though he had attained the peace and quiet he could have only prayed for a few weeks ago, Toby was growing restless bit by bit until he began to become fully aware of it. His routine trip to the library the other day was spent wandering aimlessly about the large room, picking up books and discarding them after reading a page or two, quickly re-shelving the ones with covers that didn't appeal to him. He hardly ate anything that day, and spent most of the evening sleeping out of pure boredom. The Goblin King too invaded his conscious thought more and more; Toby was growing quite curious as to why he had managed to avoid the man altogether. Was it intentional on the king's part? He had no idea. But he was supposed to become Jareth's apprentice, albeit in only lord-knows-what, but so far he had learned nothing, save what was found within the books he had read.
There were even times he would take a different route to the library wing, convincing himself it was to see more of the castle, but subconsciously anticipating a chance run-in with the elusive king. All he got for this extra effort was a reception of ice from the goblins he met along the way. It only served to agitate him further.
Now he sat in his customary seat at the small table in the corner of the room, staring at the dark stew and hunk of bread set before him. Eating alone had quickly turned dull, and he wished he had some company to share. Even a slovenly goblin would do. The food's steam snaked up into the air as he watched, and only when it dissipated did he blink and realize that he couldn't take much more of this routine.
And what was Jareth doing all this time? Some host, Toby thought and snorted bitterly to himself. But shouldn't he have been happy to have his solitude? He had grown quite used to it back home after all.
The blonde turned his head and looked at the stars gleaming dimly outside his window. The waning moon was only a thin slice just above the horizon, a mocking ghost of a smile for him from an unconcerned twilight. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he finally decided he wasn't hungry and stood to push his chair beneath the table.
Should he go search the Goblin King out? No, Toby thought, only if I get totally desperate . . . but if I do . . . what should my excuse be? He paced the room from end to end countless times, lost in thought without really realizing it until he noticed from the corner of his eye that the moon was no longer visible through the window's view. Stopping, he shot the bed an unhappy glance and knew he certainly wouldn't be able to sleep off his restlessness either.
Okay, he convinced himself, I'll just take a walk around the castle and maybe I'll get tired that way. Toby nodded to himself and left the room, already feeling less anxious with his resolution.
Every one of the stone-lined hallways and corridors spotted with tattered tapestries and crest-stamped banners were lit with candles as Toby sauntered through them. There were a few occasions that he had tried to take a more adventurous tour of the castle but would inevitably be rerouted back the way he came by a darkened hall, too afraid to travel where there was no light. For all he knew, there would be a mob of hungry goblins waiting to attack him within the heart of the pitch. Now it appeared as though no sconce within the castle was unlit, giving him no immediate reason to hesitate. The numerous candles also made the air warmer, almost invitingly pulling him further into the stronghold's core.
Toby was absently surprised that he encountered none of the castle's residents along the way, but when he came upon an empty throne room he began to feel strange, as if something was amiss. Perhaps there was a party going on elsewhere in the castle. If so, that would definitely explain the goblins' absence. The blonde carefully searched the room from where he was to be sure.
Satisfied that he was completely alone, he eyed Jareth's throne before approaching it. One of the king's fine mantles lay across the seat in sparkling folds of deep sapphire blue, beckoning Toby to touch it. He did so, reluctantly at first, before gingerly taking it up and sweeping it about his own shoulders. It was far too long, even for a tall man, and half of the great cape billowed out over the floor behind him. Toby took hold of the excess and wound it about himself like a burial shroud, lost in the scent that clung to it. It was a warm, somewhat nostalgic smell, like old incense lurking in a church after a funeral service. It reminded him of the first funeral he had ever been to, and his grandmother's corpse, the first he had ever seen. He remembered the peace on her face, the emptiness behind it, but still half expected her to open her eyes at any moment as he gazed down from his father's strong arms. He wasn't fearful, even for being so young.
The scent eased deep into his senses, and Toby soon began to think of his parents. Would they be worried about him? They didn't keep in contact much since he moved out on his own, assuming that he was getting by just fine and far happier to be that way, when in truth he assumed they were glad to be rid of him. Ever since high school, when he quickly decided that he didn't want to play sports or get involved in school events anymore, they had grown more distant. They had been concerned at first, had attempted to persuade him into seeing a psychologist if he was depressed, but he refused. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly his way of living, the influences in it, even his friends ceased to make him happy. It was as if the realization of his ephemeral life had smacked him in the face without warning, and he didn't want to do it anymore, didn't want to end up like his parents. They already seemed dead to him somehow, caught up in a world full of preassembled illusions. It was all too tedious, meant next to nothing. He knew there was something out there, something much bigger for him, if only he had even a hint of just what it was.
Only Sarah was sympathetic in his newfound revelations. She was the only one that understood anything he had to say and would listen without shaking her head in disappointment at him. But she was a talented woman; she had found her niche for acting when she was young, about the same age he was when he realized he had nothing. Sarah would constantly tell him otherwise, that he had only to employ more patience to discover what he was meant to do. But he only half believed her.
Toby withdrew the satin from his face and swung the mantle back over the throne. Sarah . . . why didn't she ever tell him about this place? What was it she was trying to keep him from knowing? His dreams had revealed that she went through hell to get him back after wishing him away so many years ago. Certainly she wanted to protect him. But what Jareth had said was true . . . he had come and gone from this place as a weak and helpless toddler with not a scratch. The goblins were a rough-looking lot, and crude by nature as well, but were they really dangerous? Or was the labyrinth the real danger in this world? And what exactly went on between her and Jareth? Was the king just bitter that she solved his maze with that unwavering determination of hers?
Thoughts and questions tumbled like the fragments of a kaleidoscope in Toby's head as he stared through the throne before him. What was this strange feeling coming over him? It almost felt as though he was beginning to resent his sister, when he should think of nothing less than keeping her in reverence. Toby shook his head to clear the unwanted thoughts away before casting another look around the wide room. He was still alone.
Simply allowing the memories to flow like that made him even lonelier than before, and his eyes fell to the stairway leading to the Goblin King's quarters. He scoffed himself. What would Jareth think if he were to make an appearance unannounced and this late at night as well? He attempted to resist and turn back toward his room. But biting curiosity and nagging boredom consistently proved to be the victors.
His footsteps echoed throughout the stone coil despite his consciously subdued steps. Once Jareth's door stood before him, he stopped and listened. There was no sound on the other side, no sound about him save his own breathing. Slowly, he lifted his hand to knock upon the large structure but didn't have a chance to so much as touch it before the knob creaked and twisted. Toby held his arm frozen in midair while the door softly groaned and pulled away from him. It halted to allow just enough room to step inside, which he did with reluctance.
The space beyond was dimly lit with only a few candles, all of which were centered on the short table near the window. Jareth was seated in one of the richly upholstered chairs beside this table, legs crossed and chin propped heavily in one hand; his other loosely held a book that threatened to fall to the floor at any minute. The man's eyes were closed, his face half shadowed from the scarce, flickering lights.
Toby stood silently in the threshold, unsure of whether to flee or venture further. It appeared as though the king was asleep; his face was lax and his breathing steady. The window lay open enough to let in the late summer breezes, gently tousling Jareth's silken hair and teasing the flames. It was truly a setting worthy of a photograph.
What's wrong with me? I shouldn't be here, Toby thought. He began to turn away but was stopped from his retreat by something shining against the Goblin King's face. With very careful and quiet steps, he neared the sleeping man, absently tilting his head to the side to study what was gleaming against Jareth's skin. Once just a few steps away he paused, and realized that they were tears.
The very sight of it made Toby instantly look away, as if he had just witnessed a crime. But his mind turned with possibilities of their cause. It seemed like a singular vision; he had never imagined the Lord of Goblins as even capable of shedding tears. Perhaps Jareth was dreaming of some unknown past, or maybe the story he had been reading was a heart-wrenching tragedy. Toby inhaled the cool air deeply and looked back at the dozing man. Whatever it was, it made him oddly beautiful.
Toby took a small step closer to get a better look at the book within the man's slender hand. The entire thing appeared to be handwritten in fantastically stylistic letters that swooped and flowed like a mountain stream, and the header on the page read, "On the Race of Goblins: A Study."
Strange, it didn't seem like something that would move someone like that. But the young man was compelled to take a closer look at the book, for it might just give him a hand when dealing with the creatures. It might even have some useful information about the Labyrinth and its ruler.
Carefully, so as not to wake its owner, Toby took hold of one end of the book and began to pull it away from inattentive fingers. The man didn't move an inch, nor did his breathing even falter when the book cleared its obstacle and rested in the youth's hands. Toby sat quietly in the opposite chair and began to read where Jareth left off. His eyes crawled over the words more to get accustomed to the fancy lettering than to absorb them.
~"Many species have taken them for granted, mocked and feared them without any effort toward learning more about the goblins and the hidden strengths that they possess. I am certain it is because of their seemingly untamed bloodlust. It is true, they are a wild race, and lack either the wit or the desire to elect among them a real leader; they choose to live in abandon without rules or guidance, which is the largest factor in the cause behind their dwindling numbers. But I have seen that these creatures can become something more, can even learn to control themselves with the proper influence. After a few somewhat unsuccessful meetings with them, I can only come to the conclusion that the goblins also live in fear of one another due to the aforementioned fact, but they stand helpless to resolve what can only be an age-old problem."~
It became apparent immediately after the first paragraph that this was more like a thoroughly detailed diary than an actual publication. Toby found it even more interesting because of this, and continued on.
~"Night of the Harvest Moon: I feel that the goblins are becoming used to me; perhaps they finally realize that I am no threat to them. Though, there are several distrusting ones that I perceive as quite dangerous, so I must continue sleeping with protective wards around my tent for now. Yet tonight I was able to sit close to their celebratory circle around a blazing fire and witness the chant-driven dances they had partaken in. A rare sight it was to see them all unified this night, as if sharing a common goal makes them forget their ruthless and lawless ways. Yet even despite my intrigue at this alone, it was there that I discovered a crucial element to my research, though at first I was stricken dumb with horror at what my eyes beheld.
"A young fae child, who could not have seen more than half a century come and go, was led into the circle and close to the flames. An elder of the goblins, whom carried a tall, wizened walking stick to support its terrible stance, approached the quiet child before chanting a few words in their harsh tongue. Unfortunately I could not make out what he spoke, for the roar of the flames consumed the words. But suddenly the goblin elder fell silent and withdrew a glowing, jewel-encrusted blade with swiftness that seemed unnatural and plunged it into the child's abdomen. I watched in disbelief as something glowed upon his breast just before the fae child crumpled in on itself, clutching the bleeding wound, which by logical means should have been instantly fatal. But instead of falling, the child undertook a transformation, and I knew what had been done.
"It was only a few moments before the spell was complete, and a fresh young goblin met my eyes where once a gracefully delicate being had stood. The goblins all grunted in what I assumed was welcome to the newest member of their clan while several tripped over each other to taste of the immortal blood upon the ground. I could barely move. Was this the way the goblins reproduced? If so, what had the very first goblin been? When my shock waned I realized then and there that I must unravel the source of that elder's power. I must win their acceptance fully if I am to understand.
"Fifth Night of the Harvest Moon's Waning: Things have become relatively normal since the ceremony. The goblins allow me to roam amongst them, sometimes speaking to me in a language I'm slowly coming to decipher, but mostly leaving me be. The elder I have dedicated myself to pursuing watches me with cloudy eyes, but seems to know what my intentions are. Among all the goblins, he is the only one with intelligence that can stand reasonably close to mine, for I have seen it within those gray orbs. He must surely be unnaturally old for a goblin, and I wonder if it has something to do with the strange-shaped ornament around his neck.
"I've made my interest in this piece quite evident, without the threat of thievery, and he seems to grow brighter with my curiosity. I feel that he is no longer interested in being alive anymore, and seems to distrust his fellows, with just cause. There is a strange wisdom that simply cannot die with him. I must do what I can to learn more.
"New Moon: The secrets of the goblins are closer than ever. The elder has begun to show me things, and I find myself ensnared in the illustrations woven with his hands. He has even allowed me to study the ceremonial dagger, one of the most finely crafted I've seen. I felt its power at first touch. Yet the pendent around his neck draws my attention to near obsession lately, and I long to feel its weight against my chest. But more than anything, I desire its power.
"My intuition tells me that only time is my obstacle. I will arrest that power, no matter what it takes."~
Toby paused to look away from the words, as the dim light was causing them to strain. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized Jareth was staring at him.
"This is rather unexpected," the king drawled, "but what surprises me more is that you were able to read it."
The youth looked at the king wide-eyed and asked, "Wh-what do you mean?"
The King of Goblins lifted his chin from his hand and deliberately let the tension in the air grow before answering. "That book is not written in human language. Your speed in learning is very pleasing."
Toby's eyes dropped to study the book in his hands and realized that Jareth was right, though he was still able to understand the symbols as easily as he had just done. But why hadn't he noticed until now?
"How is that possible?" the youth said in an exhalation.
The Goblin King smiled. "My library must have taken to you."
Bewildered, Toby met the man's eyes. The library itself taught him, without his knowing, to read an immortal language? The idea certainly sounded preposterous, but dismissing it altogether would be foolish. He had seen and heard far too many strange things to do that.
"That's . . . that's amazing," Toby said.
Jareth seemed to consider. "Not really. It was probably relieved to see a fresh mind after so many years."
The king then held out his hand expectantly. Toby looked blankly at him for a few seconds before jolting up and slamming the book closed. The older man took the object and set it on the table before settling back into the chair and folding his hands over his lap.
"I-I'm sorry I woke you, I mean, I really didn't mean to even come in here without your permission," Toby rushed.
"Luckily I awoke in a good mood. It must have been the sight of your face," the king all but crooned.
Toby stood up as if the chair was about to burst into flames. "I'll leave you in peace now." He crossed the room toward the door, the knob in his hand when Jareth's voice stopped him.
"Wait."
The youth turned to look over his shoulder at the seated man who still watched him carefully behind the candles.
"At least tell me why you came here," the king demanded flatly before taking up a more playful air. "Perhaps you've been missing your generous wish granter?"
Toby felt the warm rush of embarrassment pound behind his face before he answered. "I was just wondering what you were doing. I've hardly seen you in weeks."
Jareth smiled bemusedly at that. "I see. Are you satisfied now?"
Toby furrowed his brow. "I'm still confused."
"How's that?"
The mortal snorted in exasperation, taking Jareth's sly remarks as potentially derisive. "I thought I was to become your apprentice, but I still don't have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing."
Jareth unlaced his fingers and pushed himself up before striding toward his trespasser. His eyes sparkled. "Interested now, are you? I thought going home was your foremost concern."
Toby took a step back. "It is."
The smirk on the king's lips could not have been more cunning. "But you are ready to deliberate that. Then we shall start tomorrow."
The youth huffed defensively. "Nothing will make me change my mind."
"Fine." Jareth gazed at the indignant young man, not allowing his great amusement to show in his eyes. As much as this turn of events entertained him, he was also relieved that the boy took such initiative after the few weeks he allowed. Though he would have waited a month if that were what it took.
After a moment he turned and stalked back to his chair. "You will meet me in my throne room at noon precisely. Please do not test my patience with punctuality."
Toby felt like throwing a curse and slamming the door, but ended up leaving silent civilly. It was more from regret that he actually came this far only to be enormously embarrassed that he did so.
On the walk back to his room, Toby thought about what he had read. It was utterly mysterious and also quite disturbing. Who was the author of that journal? Was it by any chance an ancestor of Jareth? The dates marking each passage were frustratingly vague to mark the number of years that had gone by since it was penned. But he knew there was something of key importance there, somewhere. If only he could have read more.
His room was chilly when he returned, and he quickly lit all the candles he had been supplied with. He realized that his journey had rejuvenated his appetite once he spied the cold supper left undisturbed on the table. After wolfing down the dry bread and thick stew, he undressed and slid between the bed sheets, deciding to leave the candles burning until he could warm up and grow drowsy. When he slipped his hands beneath the pillow, something hard met them. He remembered the dagger and uncovered it to study.
The jewels hugging the sheath seemed to glow under the candlelight. Toby recalled the narrator's description of the old goblin's dagger and wondered if this was in fact one in the same. Had Jareth ever noticed its absence from his wardrobe? Well, Toby thought, whether or not he knows, I'll be hanging on to it for a while for my own sake.
For well over two hours Toby laid with open eyes. His thoughts switched randomly from those of home to concerns about the future. He remembered the tears on the Goblin King's sleeping face, probably the most mysterious occurrence of the evening next to the emptiness of the throne room. He didn't care much for the way those crystalline streams provoked such unpredictable feelings to life within him. But Jareth proved to be his usual, snobbishly aristocratic self once awake, as if nothing happened at all, which offered no clues to help explain the phenomenon.
Toby was quick and forceful to push that line of thought away for more pressing matters, such as his first day of "class" tomorrow afternoon. He wasn't quite sure he was ready to undertake whatever Jareth would dish out for him, but he was certain that he had no choice in the matter. Still clutching the arcane weapon to his breast, he breathed in deeply. No matter what his eyes would witness, or what his ears would hear, he would do his best to be strong. But if he should fail, then what? Maybe Jareth, disappointed in his misplaced favor, would throw him to rot in the oubliette after all. He didn't want to test the odds.
*
To be continued . . .
*~*~*~*~*
* By Eerie *
A/N: Finally, the update's here. I can't believe it took me so long to even look at this story again and I apologize profusely for the ridiculous wait. But no matter what, I will finish it! No doubt I've lost everyone who *was* reading it, so to the new readers, I hope you like it so far. Thankfully, my muse is waking up after several months; so another update might not be far off. Also, my previous chapters have been re-uploaded to fix a few errors, and Chapter Two is now up in its full, unedited glory. Yes, there are much "worse" scenes up on FF.net (some of which I've written =P) so I figured why not. So anyway, enough babble. Enjoy.
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Five *~*~*~*~*
The next few weeks passed by rather uneventfully for Toby. His days were largely spent wandering the various levels and wings of the Goblin Castle, and he was often immersed in studying the numerous volumes of lore in the grand library, the room that instantly became his favorite haunt upon his first step inside. Books written on seemingly infinite subjects lined the walls in enormous cases, many of which held stories written by immortal hands. Though the majority of these seemed like fantasy, Toby eventually began to wonder if perhaps they were true accounts from the past.
Within the library he would pass the time without much notice; he could spend the entire day steeped in an intricate story of magic and look up momentarily at the high window to see that night had already fallen. He would sometimes plod back to his room with a book in hand and continue reading until he fell asleep, the possibilities of the tale's conclusion playing in his dreams.
Most likely due to the fresh things filling his mind on a daily basis, the consistency of Toby's nightmares grew thinner until he ceased to have them. Now it was either intriguing singularity that he experienced or he would wake with no memory of dreaming at all. The tangible dangers lurking around every corner of the castle also became less of a threat to him, as he was usually left to himself, but he still slept with the dagger concealed beneath his pillow every night despite.
Because surprisingly, he encountered the goblins very rarely during this time. In fact, the only contact he had with them was when they made an occasional appearance to relay the message that his meals were waiting for him in his quarters, though that courtesy didn't last long. Most of the time his supper had gone cold by the time he returned to his room. They continued to take to him quite coldly in general, but he was more content with such treatment than he was with their previous bestial ways. They no longer mocked and snapped at him, but flashed cruel glares before going along their way. Thankfully none that he knew of could read, so their presence in the library's wing was practically nonexistent.
His contact with their lord was even more rare. It seemed for a while that Jareth had simply disappeared until one day, when Toby was sprawled comfortably on the recently discovered library's floor with a thick volume of interest lying beneath his face, the Goblin King quietly entered the room and stood behind him unnoticed for several minutes before he finally felt that unseen presence and whipped his head about. Jareth merely looked at him in a curious way, saying nothing, and Toby began to panic, hoping he hadn't perhaps crossed some line by intruding upon the king's sacred space. His heart hammered before Jareth smiled faintly and said, "I'm pleased you've become comfortable. Do feel free to wander where you like while you stay."
The king then turned and exited as silently as he arrived, leaving Toby oddly perturbed. That was the only day he actually saw Jareth since the door to his quarters went unlocked, the second day after his surreal experience in the Goblin King's garden. It was strange that that sort of liberation happened when it did, for since that incident in the garden, Toby had felt the notion of traveling outside into the labyrinth was like walking into the waiting arms of Death. The images of those skulls and broken rotting bodies cluttering the terrible pit he may or may not have actually fallen into remained with him, and he imagined that perhaps they once belonged to people like him. The ones that attempted to conquer the maze and escape the Underground. To him it was much wiser to stay where he was for the time being.
Though he had attained the peace and quiet he could have only prayed for a few weeks ago, Toby was growing restless bit by bit until he began to become fully aware of it. His routine trip to the library the other day was spent wandering aimlessly about the large room, picking up books and discarding them after reading a page or two, quickly re-shelving the ones with covers that didn't appeal to him. He hardly ate anything that day, and spent most of the evening sleeping out of pure boredom. The Goblin King too invaded his conscious thought more and more; Toby was growing quite curious as to why he had managed to avoid the man altogether. Was it intentional on the king's part? He had no idea. But he was supposed to become Jareth's apprentice, albeit in only lord-knows-what, but so far he had learned nothing, save what was found within the books he had read.
There were even times he would take a different route to the library wing, convincing himself it was to see more of the castle, but subconsciously anticipating a chance run-in with the elusive king. All he got for this extra effort was a reception of ice from the goblins he met along the way. It only served to agitate him further.
Now he sat in his customary seat at the small table in the corner of the room, staring at the dark stew and hunk of bread set before him. Eating alone had quickly turned dull, and he wished he had some company to share. Even a slovenly goblin would do. The food's steam snaked up into the air as he watched, and only when it dissipated did he blink and realize that he couldn't take much more of this routine.
And what was Jareth doing all this time? Some host, Toby thought and snorted bitterly to himself. But shouldn't he have been happy to have his solitude? He had grown quite used to it back home after all.
The blonde turned his head and looked at the stars gleaming dimly outside his window. The waning moon was only a thin slice just above the horizon, a mocking ghost of a smile for him from an unconcerned twilight. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he finally decided he wasn't hungry and stood to push his chair beneath the table.
Should he go search the Goblin King out? No, Toby thought, only if I get totally desperate . . . but if I do . . . what should my excuse be? He paced the room from end to end countless times, lost in thought without really realizing it until he noticed from the corner of his eye that the moon was no longer visible through the window's view. Stopping, he shot the bed an unhappy glance and knew he certainly wouldn't be able to sleep off his restlessness either.
Okay, he convinced himself, I'll just take a walk around the castle and maybe I'll get tired that way. Toby nodded to himself and left the room, already feeling less anxious with his resolution.
Every one of the stone-lined hallways and corridors spotted with tattered tapestries and crest-stamped banners were lit with candles as Toby sauntered through them. There were a few occasions that he had tried to take a more adventurous tour of the castle but would inevitably be rerouted back the way he came by a darkened hall, too afraid to travel where there was no light. For all he knew, there would be a mob of hungry goblins waiting to attack him within the heart of the pitch. Now it appeared as though no sconce within the castle was unlit, giving him no immediate reason to hesitate. The numerous candles also made the air warmer, almost invitingly pulling him further into the stronghold's core.
Toby was absently surprised that he encountered none of the castle's residents along the way, but when he came upon an empty throne room he began to feel strange, as if something was amiss. Perhaps there was a party going on elsewhere in the castle. If so, that would definitely explain the goblins' absence. The blonde carefully searched the room from where he was to be sure.
Satisfied that he was completely alone, he eyed Jareth's throne before approaching it. One of the king's fine mantles lay across the seat in sparkling folds of deep sapphire blue, beckoning Toby to touch it. He did so, reluctantly at first, before gingerly taking it up and sweeping it about his own shoulders. It was far too long, even for a tall man, and half of the great cape billowed out over the floor behind him. Toby took hold of the excess and wound it about himself like a burial shroud, lost in the scent that clung to it. It was a warm, somewhat nostalgic smell, like old incense lurking in a church after a funeral service. It reminded him of the first funeral he had ever been to, and his grandmother's corpse, the first he had ever seen. He remembered the peace on her face, the emptiness behind it, but still half expected her to open her eyes at any moment as he gazed down from his father's strong arms. He wasn't fearful, even for being so young.
The scent eased deep into his senses, and Toby soon began to think of his parents. Would they be worried about him? They didn't keep in contact much since he moved out on his own, assuming that he was getting by just fine and far happier to be that way, when in truth he assumed they were glad to be rid of him. Ever since high school, when he quickly decided that he didn't want to play sports or get involved in school events anymore, they had grown more distant. They had been concerned at first, had attempted to persuade him into seeing a psychologist if he was depressed, but he refused. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly his way of living, the influences in it, even his friends ceased to make him happy. It was as if the realization of his ephemeral life had smacked him in the face without warning, and he didn't want to do it anymore, didn't want to end up like his parents. They already seemed dead to him somehow, caught up in a world full of preassembled illusions. It was all too tedious, meant next to nothing. He knew there was something out there, something much bigger for him, if only he had even a hint of just what it was.
Only Sarah was sympathetic in his newfound revelations. She was the only one that understood anything he had to say and would listen without shaking her head in disappointment at him. But she was a talented woman; she had found her niche for acting when she was young, about the same age he was when he realized he had nothing. Sarah would constantly tell him otherwise, that he had only to employ more patience to discover what he was meant to do. But he only half believed her.
Toby withdrew the satin from his face and swung the mantle back over the throne. Sarah . . . why didn't she ever tell him about this place? What was it she was trying to keep him from knowing? His dreams had revealed that she went through hell to get him back after wishing him away so many years ago. Certainly she wanted to protect him. But what Jareth had said was true . . . he had come and gone from this place as a weak and helpless toddler with not a scratch. The goblins were a rough-looking lot, and crude by nature as well, but were they really dangerous? Or was the labyrinth the real danger in this world? And what exactly went on between her and Jareth? Was the king just bitter that she solved his maze with that unwavering determination of hers?
Thoughts and questions tumbled like the fragments of a kaleidoscope in Toby's head as he stared through the throne before him. What was this strange feeling coming over him? It almost felt as though he was beginning to resent his sister, when he should think of nothing less than keeping her in reverence. Toby shook his head to clear the unwanted thoughts away before casting another look around the wide room. He was still alone.
Simply allowing the memories to flow like that made him even lonelier than before, and his eyes fell to the stairway leading to the Goblin King's quarters. He scoffed himself. What would Jareth think if he were to make an appearance unannounced and this late at night as well? He attempted to resist and turn back toward his room. But biting curiosity and nagging boredom consistently proved to be the victors.
His footsteps echoed throughout the stone coil despite his consciously subdued steps. Once Jareth's door stood before him, he stopped and listened. There was no sound on the other side, no sound about him save his own breathing. Slowly, he lifted his hand to knock upon the large structure but didn't have a chance to so much as touch it before the knob creaked and twisted. Toby held his arm frozen in midair while the door softly groaned and pulled away from him. It halted to allow just enough room to step inside, which he did with reluctance.
The space beyond was dimly lit with only a few candles, all of which were centered on the short table near the window. Jareth was seated in one of the richly upholstered chairs beside this table, legs crossed and chin propped heavily in one hand; his other loosely held a book that threatened to fall to the floor at any minute. The man's eyes were closed, his face half shadowed from the scarce, flickering lights.
Toby stood silently in the threshold, unsure of whether to flee or venture further. It appeared as though the king was asleep; his face was lax and his breathing steady. The window lay open enough to let in the late summer breezes, gently tousling Jareth's silken hair and teasing the flames. It was truly a setting worthy of a photograph.
What's wrong with me? I shouldn't be here, Toby thought. He began to turn away but was stopped from his retreat by something shining against the Goblin King's face. With very careful and quiet steps, he neared the sleeping man, absently tilting his head to the side to study what was gleaming against Jareth's skin. Once just a few steps away he paused, and realized that they were tears.
The very sight of it made Toby instantly look away, as if he had just witnessed a crime. But his mind turned with possibilities of their cause. It seemed like a singular vision; he had never imagined the Lord of Goblins as even capable of shedding tears. Perhaps Jareth was dreaming of some unknown past, or maybe the story he had been reading was a heart-wrenching tragedy. Toby inhaled the cool air deeply and looked back at the dozing man. Whatever it was, it made him oddly beautiful.
Toby took a small step closer to get a better look at the book within the man's slender hand. The entire thing appeared to be handwritten in fantastically stylistic letters that swooped and flowed like a mountain stream, and the header on the page read, "On the Race of Goblins: A Study."
Strange, it didn't seem like something that would move someone like that. But the young man was compelled to take a closer look at the book, for it might just give him a hand when dealing with the creatures. It might even have some useful information about the Labyrinth and its ruler.
Carefully, so as not to wake its owner, Toby took hold of one end of the book and began to pull it away from inattentive fingers. The man didn't move an inch, nor did his breathing even falter when the book cleared its obstacle and rested in the youth's hands. Toby sat quietly in the opposite chair and began to read where Jareth left off. His eyes crawled over the words more to get accustomed to the fancy lettering than to absorb them.
~"Many species have taken them for granted, mocked and feared them without any effort toward learning more about the goblins and the hidden strengths that they possess. I am certain it is because of their seemingly untamed bloodlust. It is true, they are a wild race, and lack either the wit or the desire to elect among them a real leader; they choose to live in abandon without rules or guidance, which is the largest factor in the cause behind their dwindling numbers. But I have seen that these creatures can become something more, can even learn to control themselves with the proper influence. After a few somewhat unsuccessful meetings with them, I can only come to the conclusion that the goblins also live in fear of one another due to the aforementioned fact, but they stand helpless to resolve what can only be an age-old problem."~
It became apparent immediately after the first paragraph that this was more like a thoroughly detailed diary than an actual publication. Toby found it even more interesting because of this, and continued on.
~"Night of the Harvest Moon: I feel that the goblins are becoming used to me; perhaps they finally realize that I am no threat to them. Though, there are several distrusting ones that I perceive as quite dangerous, so I must continue sleeping with protective wards around my tent for now. Yet tonight I was able to sit close to their celebratory circle around a blazing fire and witness the chant-driven dances they had partaken in. A rare sight it was to see them all unified this night, as if sharing a common goal makes them forget their ruthless and lawless ways. Yet even despite my intrigue at this alone, it was there that I discovered a crucial element to my research, though at first I was stricken dumb with horror at what my eyes beheld.
"A young fae child, who could not have seen more than half a century come and go, was led into the circle and close to the flames. An elder of the goblins, whom carried a tall, wizened walking stick to support its terrible stance, approached the quiet child before chanting a few words in their harsh tongue. Unfortunately I could not make out what he spoke, for the roar of the flames consumed the words. But suddenly the goblin elder fell silent and withdrew a glowing, jewel-encrusted blade with swiftness that seemed unnatural and plunged it into the child's abdomen. I watched in disbelief as something glowed upon his breast just before the fae child crumpled in on itself, clutching the bleeding wound, which by logical means should have been instantly fatal. But instead of falling, the child undertook a transformation, and I knew what had been done.
"It was only a few moments before the spell was complete, and a fresh young goblin met my eyes where once a gracefully delicate being had stood. The goblins all grunted in what I assumed was welcome to the newest member of their clan while several tripped over each other to taste of the immortal blood upon the ground. I could barely move. Was this the way the goblins reproduced? If so, what had the very first goblin been? When my shock waned I realized then and there that I must unravel the source of that elder's power. I must win their acceptance fully if I am to understand.
"Fifth Night of the Harvest Moon's Waning: Things have become relatively normal since the ceremony. The goblins allow me to roam amongst them, sometimes speaking to me in a language I'm slowly coming to decipher, but mostly leaving me be. The elder I have dedicated myself to pursuing watches me with cloudy eyes, but seems to know what my intentions are. Among all the goblins, he is the only one with intelligence that can stand reasonably close to mine, for I have seen it within those gray orbs. He must surely be unnaturally old for a goblin, and I wonder if it has something to do with the strange-shaped ornament around his neck.
"I've made my interest in this piece quite evident, without the threat of thievery, and he seems to grow brighter with my curiosity. I feel that he is no longer interested in being alive anymore, and seems to distrust his fellows, with just cause. There is a strange wisdom that simply cannot die with him. I must do what I can to learn more.
"New Moon: The secrets of the goblins are closer than ever. The elder has begun to show me things, and I find myself ensnared in the illustrations woven with his hands. He has even allowed me to study the ceremonial dagger, one of the most finely crafted I've seen. I felt its power at first touch. Yet the pendent around his neck draws my attention to near obsession lately, and I long to feel its weight against my chest. But more than anything, I desire its power.
"My intuition tells me that only time is my obstacle. I will arrest that power, no matter what it takes."~
Toby paused to look away from the words, as the dim light was causing them to strain. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized Jareth was staring at him.
"This is rather unexpected," the king drawled, "but what surprises me more is that you were able to read it."
The youth looked at the king wide-eyed and asked, "Wh-what do you mean?"
The King of Goblins lifted his chin from his hand and deliberately let the tension in the air grow before answering. "That book is not written in human language. Your speed in learning is very pleasing."
Toby's eyes dropped to study the book in his hands and realized that Jareth was right, though he was still able to understand the symbols as easily as he had just done. But why hadn't he noticed until now?
"How is that possible?" the youth said in an exhalation.
The Goblin King smiled. "My library must have taken to you."
Bewildered, Toby met the man's eyes. The library itself taught him, without his knowing, to read an immortal language? The idea certainly sounded preposterous, but dismissing it altogether would be foolish. He had seen and heard far too many strange things to do that.
"That's . . . that's amazing," Toby said.
Jareth seemed to consider. "Not really. It was probably relieved to see a fresh mind after so many years."
The king then held out his hand expectantly. Toby looked blankly at him for a few seconds before jolting up and slamming the book closed. The older man took the object and set it on the table before settling back into the chair and folding his hands over his lap.
"I-I'm sorry I woke you, I mean, I really didn't mean to even come in here without your permission," Toby rushed.
"Luckily I awoke in a good mood. It must have been the sight of your face," the king all but crooned.
Toby stood up as if the chair was about to burst into flames. "I'll leave you in peace now." He crossed the room toward the door, the knob in his hand when Jareth's voice stopped him.
"Wait."
The youth turned to look over his shoulder at the seated man who still watched him carefully behind the candles.
"At least tell me why you came here," the king demanded flatly before taking up a more playful air. "Perhaps you've been missing your generous wish granter?"
Toby felt the warm rush of embarrassment pound behind his face before he answered. "I was just wondering what you were doing. I've hardly seen you in weeks."
Jareth smiled bemusedly at that. "I see. Are you satisfied now?"
Toby furrowed his brow. "I'm still confused."
"How's that?"
The mortal snorted in exasperation, taking Jareth's sly remarks as potentially derisive. "I thought I was to become your apprentice, but I still don't have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing."
Jareth unlaced his fingers and pushed himself up before striding toward his trespasser. His eyes sparkled. "Interested now, are you? I thought going home was your foremost concern."
Toby took a step back. "It is."
The smirk on the king's lips could not have been more cunning. "But you are ready to deliberate that. Then we shall start tomorrow."
The youth huffed defensively. "Nothing will make me change my mind."
"Fine." Jareth gazed at the indignant young man, not allowing his great amusement to show in his eyes. As much as this turn of events entertained him, he was also relieved that the boy took such initiative after the few weeks he allowed. Though he would have waited a month if that were what it took.
After a moment he turned and stalked back to his chair. "You will meet me in my throne room at noon precisely. Please do not test my patience with punctuality."
Toby felt like throwing a curse and slamming the door, but ended up leaving silent civilly. It was more from regret that he actually came this far only to be enormously embarrassed that he did so.
On the walk back to his room, Toby thought about what he had read. It was utterly mysterious and also quite disturbing. Who was the author of that journal? Was it by any chance an ancestor of Jareth? The dates marking each passage were frustratingly vague to mark the number of years that had gone by since it was penned. But he knew there was something of key importance there, somewhere. If only he could have read more.
His room was chilly when he returned, and he quickly lit all the candles he had been supplied with. He realized that his journey had rejuvenated his appetite once he spied the cold supper left undisturbed on the table. After wolfing down the dry bread and thick stew, he undressed and slid between the bed sheets, deciding to leave the candles burning until he could warm up and grow drowsy. When he slipped his hands beneath the pillow, something hard met them. He remembered the dagger and uncovered it to study.
The jewels hugging the sheath seemed to glow under the candlelight. Toby recalled the narrator's description of the old goblin's dagger and wondered if this was in fact one in the same. Had Jareth ever noticed its absence from his wardrobe? Well, Toby thought, whether or not he knows, I'll be hanging on to it for a while for my own sake.
For well over two hours Toby laid with open eyes. His thoughts switched randomly from those of home to concerns about the future. He remembered the tears on the Goblin King's sleeping face, probably the most mysterious occurrence of the evening next to the emptiness of the throne room. He didn't care much for the way those crystalline streams provoked such unpredictable feelings to life within him. But Jareth proved to be his usual, snobbishly aristocratic self once awake, as if nothing happened at all, which offered no clues to help explain the phenomenon.
Toby was quick and forceful to push that line of thought away for more pressing matters, such as his first day of "class" tomorrow afternoon. He wasn't quite sure he was ready to undertake whatever Jareth would dish out for him, but he was certain that he had no choice in the matter. Still clutching the arcane weapon to his breast, he breathed in deeply. No matter what his eyes would witness, or what his ears would hear, he would do his best to be strong. But if he should fail, then what? Maybe Jareth, disappointed in his misplaced favor, would throw him to rot in the oubliette after all. He didn't want to test the odds.
*
To be continued . . .
*~*~*~*~*