Chapter Nineteen: The Awakening

Something soft struck her on the cheek, then another. It was like waking from a deep sleep, like diving to the bottom of the ocean and rising gradually back toward the light. Only little by little did Sarah become aware of her surroundings, all before she opened her eyes. The air was warm, with a spicy-sweet perfume to it that reminded her that was both exotic and tantalizingly familiar all at the same time. She could feel the sun on her face and something hard and knobbly digging into her spine. Sarah opened her eyes.

She was back in the clearing in the Silverwood, half-reclining against the trunk of a tree laden with fragrant blossoms. Lying beside her on the grass was the Goblin King, his head pillowed in her lap. One hand rested lightly on his breast, the other was lightly clasped in Sarah's own. He had changed. After she'd found him on the floor of the cottage, Sarah had gotten used to the frail translucency of his skin, his battered, bloodless appearance. That was not completely gone, but now you could no longer trace the blue and purple path of each vein down his pale forearm. The shadows had gone from beneath his eyes and the lines of worry were smoothed from his brow, as if he slept peacefully. She marveled at the sight of him. Delicately, so as not to disturb the sleeping Goblin King, Sarah brushed aside a strand of his fair hair and found that the fading ring of bruises around his neck had vanished... as if they had never been.

It felt like spring, and the sun glinted through the branches of the trees, scattering golden light over them. A light breeze sent the boughs to swaying, scattering pink and white petals like rain. Sarah watched him with a feeling of deep contentment, strangely disclined to question how they had gotten here or what had happened. She did not know how long she lay there, face tilted up to drink in the air and light and lost in unspoken wishes.

The spell was broken when Jareth stirred, and he murmured something that might've been her name.

Sarah was seized with a perverse longing to touch him to make certain he was real, and she held her breath as he turned restlessly on her lap. His skin was smoother than she thought a man's skin could be, warm to the touch. She drew a light line down the curve of his cheekbone and across his jaw, brushing his stubborn chin and ending just under the generous curve of his lower lip. Enough. Sarah was blushing furiously now, and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it was audible to anyone nearby. She drew her hand away just as the Goblin King's eyes fluttered open. Sarah caught her breath. He looked up at her with mild curiosity, mismatched eyes half-lidded and hazy.

"I am dreaming." he said softly.

"No." Sarah replied. "At least, I don't think so."

But she was no longer quite certain. The dancers, the bonfire... It did seem like a dream now, and Sarah's skull began to throb. Early on during her freshman year, she'd gone to a party and had a little too much to drink. This is what it felt like the morning after, strangely drained and spiritless. Sarah remembered the events of the night before-- the grasping hands, the searing heat of the bonfire-- and she felt cold and sick.

Surely it wasn't a dream if she could recall it all so clearly...

Jareth reached up and brushed a few petals from his neck where they'd slipped down into the open collar of his shirt. He seemed not to notice that he still held Sarah's hand as he slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead with a troubled expression.

"I have slept too long..."

Sarah laid a hand on his arm. "How much do you remember?"

Her touch seemed to spark something in him. Jareth froze her with a look and jerked away abruptly.

"Enough."

They sat facing each other for a long, uncomfortable silence, not quite sure what to say or do. Finally, the Goblin King stood and surveyed the clearing, now much worse for wear. The cottage lay in ruins, the walls reduced to piles of broken boards and lumber with the roof tiles scattered about. Jareth prodded a shattered stone tile with the tip of his boot and threw Sarah a bitter, sidelong glance.

"For hundreds of years, it stood on this very spot. Then you come along..."

How you've turned my world, you precious thing...

Sarah looked up from where she was sifting through the rubble, looking for her pack. The headache was turning into a full-blown migraine, and she was having difficulty thinking coherently. "I'm sorry, but it's not like I had a--"

Jareth silenced her with a snarl. "Do not," he hissed, "Say 'choice'. I've had enough with you and your choices."

"That's not fair!" cried Sarah, straightening. "No, wait." she quickly amended. "Forget I said that. But you're not being reasonable."

The Goblin King began to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow. "Being reasonable, my dear Sarah, is highly overrated."

"Stop it." Sarah grabbed his arm, as much to steady herself as to keep him from leaving. "Quit brushing me off like this. That's exactly what happened in the dream, isn't it? The questions got a little too much for you to handle and you fixed it so I'd stop pushing you for answers. But it won't be that easy now. You can't escape reality."

The Goblin King turned on her with supernatural speed, wrenching free from her grasp as easily if she were a child. "And you think yourself an authority to lecture me on reality, Sarah? You, with your head in the clouds?" He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled contemptuously. "I wonder that you would dare."

"How dare you?" demanded Sarah. "You accuse me of always avoiding my responsibilities, but it wasn't me running away last night. Your trickery could've gotten us both killed. Or was that what you wanted?"

Jareth blanched. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell I don't." Dizzy as she was, the anger momentarily cleared her head. "If you remember it all, then you know everything I said was true."

"You quite overestimate my powers, Sarah. If I could so easily manipulate the situation, what prevents me from doing the same here?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you can, but you haven't tried. When I was lost in the Labyrinth, I always assumed I knew more than I actually did. I was wrong. Maybe it's the same with you, and maybe you're wrong about how little control you actually have."

Jareth cursed loudly and heartily in a language she did not understand. "And they call me arrogant. You have learned nothing that I can see. Here you are, still assuming you know more about the situation than I do." He leaned in so he was inches away from her. "Let me tell you something, Sarah. We are not the same. You do not know me at all."

But that wasn't entirely true, thought Sarah. Although trying to convince Jareth of it when he was in this state would be like trying to move the sun and stars. But Sarah was stubborn.

"Maybe I know more than you think."

That had more of an effect than she had bargained for. The Goblin King went suddenly still.

"So you do." he said softly.

Unconsciously, his hands flexed at his sides and for just a brief moment, the sky seemed to darken. Sarah took a hasty half-step back.

"You wouldn't hurt me," she said hurriedly. "I know you won't. If you had that in you, you would've done it a long time ago."

"Is that so?" Jareth's voice had grown low and dangerous. He took a step closer, and Sarah would've sworn she heard a muted rumble of thunder.

"Yes." she said with more certainty than she felt. "I know what you did for me. Something happened to me at Ludo's cave, I still don't know what. You came when I called for you and maybe you had to do that... But you didn't have to go and bring me back from the underworld."

Her eyes flickered down to his side where she knew a scar snaked from his hip to his ribcage, then back up to Jareth's.

Sarah had made her point, and her gaze upon the Goblin King was now defiant and challenging. "You made a choice. Now you can't pretend to be so cold and indifferent."

For just a moment, she regretted her rash words. The Goblin King looked anything but indifferent now. A turbulent tangle of emotions crackled just beneath the surface, like the air before a storm. Sarah backed away a few steps, then a few more until she found herself hard up against the trunk of the crooked little tree. Almost without seeming to shift at all, the Goblin King had matched her every movement. Now he rested one arm against a low branch, head bent to look down upon her with an unsettling intensity.

"And what," he asked in a deceptively calm voice, "Would you have me do now?"

Sarah took a deep breath, and then she did something she'd never done before.

She fainted.

The coals in the little brazier had burnt to ash, and Hoggle slumped against the wall, shivering. The ratskin cloak kept the worst of the cold out, that he had to admit. Perhaps he'd been too hasty in judging it. It was certainly a plentiful material, practical, warm, and not without a certain rustic charm. Maybe he'd have a vest made out of it when this was all over. But wait... Hoggle thought. When this is all over, there won't be any me to wear a vest. What's more, there'll be no goblin tailor to make it. Ordinarily, that thought would distress him, but he was too sleepy to worry about very much now... His head nodded forward, dozing lightly. He began to dream a beautiful dream.

The apple tree had yielded a bounteous crop. His root cellar was full of apples, a little drying rack hung high enough that Sarah-the-goat couldn't reach it held slices of dried apples, spicy apple butter simmered on the stove and an apple pie rested on the table. His vegetable garden contained the largest turnip anyone had ever seen. Hoggle measured its portruding top daily, trying to predict its final weight and size when he would dig it up. Goblins came from miles around to peep over the garden fence just to catch a glimpse of it, and it had been the talk of the goblin city for weeks.

Inside, the cottage was sparkling clean, with everything in its place, and Hoggle was preparing to sit down to awell deserved cup of tea and a slice of apple pie, still warm from the oven. Or maybe a slice of bread, slathered with hot apple butter. He had just decided in favor of the pie and was slicing a generous wedge when something joggled his elbow, breaking up his lovely pie crust and sending a chunk of apple pie filling skittering across the table...

"By the cursed bog!" Hoggle exclaimed with a start, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

He'd fallen asleep against the parapet and his arms and legs ached with cold. And yet he would swear that he could detect the faint scent of cinnamon in the air... Hoggle's stomach gave an accusing grumble.

"I do beg your pardon," said Sir Didymus, blinking apologetically. "But it is your turn to keep watch."

"Right." The dwarf stretched his stiff limbs with resentment. "We're taking turns keeping watch for we-don't-know-what, which will show up we-don't-know-when."

"That's right." said Sir Didymus. He cheerfully straightened his scarf. "Ah, it calls to mind my days on campaign..."

Hoggle silently groaned. Once the little knight started talking about his campaigns, he could not be deterred by a charging unicorn. They could be here for hours.

"... think only of the excitement, never of the waiting. Nay, I sometimes make the grievous error myself of only dwelling upon the glories of battle, and indeed such moments are dearest to mine heart, but..."

It was such a wonderful dream. Hoggle sighed. Five minutes more and I could've been eating that pie. Well, sort of.

"Why, I once had a six hour night shift that..."

Apple pie, Hoggle thought dreamily. By the gods, if I make it through this alive after all and if there's still a Labyrinth left and an apple tree in all the kingdom, I'm going to make a dozen of them.

"... tedious work, but duty and honor calls, eh, my friend?"

Hoggle crossed his arms over his still-gurgling stomach. "What? Oh, yes... a dirty job, but someone's got to do it."

Sir Didymus nodded approvingly and settled himself against the wall and out of the wind, his tail curling up to cover his nose. His eyes were half-closed in sleep.

"Still, er..."

"Yes?"

Hoggle coughed awkwardly. "Well, it's just that... We do have a whole castle full of goblins to command, and surely one or two of them could keep watch and..."

But the little knight was already shaking his head and making regretful tsking noises. "I fear not, my friend. Goblins are a good sort, but they wouldn't know what to watch for."

"Er... right." Hoggle's shoulders sagged in disappointment.

His mind was still a little fuzzy with sleep, but the cold air was clearing it with remarkable speed. It does smell better up here, he consoled himself. Down in the kitchens with goblins stacked like firewood, the odor had been... well, best left to the imagination. And the livestock seemed none too happy about it, either. Still, it had been warm...

Hoggle thought longingly of roaring fires and hot tea, but then something occurred to him and he shot his friend a sharp glare.

"Wait a second... If we don't know what to watch for either, what difference does it make?"

Sir Didymus' only response was a faint snore.

Weakness. It was a luxury kings could not afford, and he least of all. Jareth was not ignorant of history both Aboveground and Below, for it worked the same in both worlds. For as long as life and breath existed, man has ever been his own greatest enemy. Aboveground, rulers who fell prey to such folly were long remembered still: Henry II, Edward IV, Julius Caesar, Louis XVI, George IV. Great men, brought to ruination and sorrow by their weaknesses: greed, haste, lust, envy, pride... desire.

The Goblin King looked down at the girl in his arms. This was not a dream. He had tasted death, swallowed its bitter essence like wormwood on his tongue, forever lost to the light. And yet he was here, and Sarah was with him. He did not know how it had happened, and he wasn't sure he cared to know. But she was responsible somehow, she had managed to undo some of the destruction she'd caused. Jareth did not dare to hope this was true and did not dare to ponder what that might mean. Sarah had changed. She was strong, her will was great... She is dangerous. With a strange reluctance, the Goblin King gently lay her down on the grass with his folded cloak beneath her head. He had not seen her so vulnerable since the night they'd spent in his castle, in the room lit with dozens of candles. Flames dancing in the dark, so like that which had consumed them both in the dream. Wasn't that his greatest fear-- to be devoured by heat and fire? But nary a mark was left upon them to bear witness. None that could be seen...

Jareth was uncertain of what to do now. She lay so still, yet her breathing was deep and even. Head tilted to one side so that her hair fell over his arm, she looked entirely trusting. She was just a girl. So deceptively harmless. In the cool shade beneath the tree, her bare throat was a luminous white that almost beckoned. Although he could not explain it, the Goblin King had not felt this strong in ages, not since before Sarah had come to his Labyrinth. He had not thought it possible to feel such a way again, and would not now give it up willingly. One hand was all it would take, one hand on that throat to snuff out the life that burned brightly within. She'd been so certain he would not do it... could not do it.

The soft inhale and exhale of her breathing filled him with strange fascination. How could she have been so certain he would not harm her when he did not know himself? Jareth crouched on the grass by her side, keeping silent watch. Almost without realizing it, his hand hovered over the sleeping girl, fingertips brushing the base of her neck. Sarah trembled in her unconscious stupor and murmured something almost inaudible. Curious, he bent nearer to hear it.

The words shook him cold, gave him an odd, shivering chill that ran to the pit of his stomach and burned in his brain.

He hesitated. Jareth might appear a spoiled fop of a ruler, but he was no fool. Over the course of his long life, he'd sought to root out and destroy all weakness in himself, knowing it was his only means of survival. The Goblin King had been ruthless in only the way men with everything to lose can be.

But he had not been ruthless enough...

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