Chapter Twenty: The Beginning of an End

They'd taken turns on watch, one uneasily dozing while the other sat up alone in the crystalline air. Sometime after midnight, Sir Didymus chose not to wake Hoggle for his shift. The dwarf was more tired and cold then he let on, despite his fur cloak. Didymus wondered briefly if his friend knew it was ratskin. Hoggle was sometimes sensitive about such things, but you could not expect too much if you were going to borrow clothes from goblins. The fox combed his whiskers thoughtfully. But all the same, perhaps it would be best not to upset Hoggle by telling him. After all, he'd been such a good sport, truly a fine fellow-- even if he did lack a knighthood.

The little knight adjusted his scarf. Absently, a mittened hand patted the spot over his waistcoat pocket where the king's pendant was safely tucked away and Sir Didymus hummed contentedly to himself. This too, reminded him of his days on campaign, the long, watchful nights without sleep, those still moments in the early hours before dawn when the world seemed to be holding its breath...

The cold was difficult to bear, this was true. But bear it he must, as befits his station and duty. There would be no true rest for him while the king was away from his castle, but all would be well soon. Very soon, Sir Didymus promised himself. He had, however, been slightly uneasy in his mind. Just before he'd persuaded his friend to climb the western tower once more, Sir Didymus had made an unpleasant discovery. Hoggle had left the mirror in his care after Sarah's last summoning and the little knight had guarded it most ferociously. He hoped his lady would call upon him again, but she had not.

On the night of his rescue from the oubliette after the storytelling had ceased and the fires burned low, Didymus had thought to check on it, perhaps ask it for a vision of the Lady Sarah. But to his shock and surprise, he saw not gleaming glass but a mirror blackened and scorched, the surface warped, as if it had been exposed to a great heat. He did not know what to think, and feared it could not bode well for his lady. But yet... Sir Didymus was certain she would win. He could not explain how, not even to Hoggle. But something in his heart told him that she would triumph, and that the king would return. All will be well again...

The little knight caught himself nodding off and jerked upright with a silent rebuke. The cold was making him pensive and sleepy, and even he could not pretend to be unaffected by it. He rubbed the tip of his nose fitfully and was displeased to find a paper-thin sheet of ice on it that he brushed away with an impatient flick of his paw. Never in all his long years of campaigns had he faced such cold!

Sir Didymus did not approve of rough language even when no ladies were present, but such circumstances would test the resolve of even the most chivalrous knight.

Sarah awoke to cold water trickling down her neck and the Goblin King looking down at her with clinical disinterest. He held a delicate little vessel cunningly fashioned out of leaves and twigs, but threw it aside carelessly once he saw her eyes open. Sarah realized her face and the front of her shirt was wet.

"You threw water on me?" she asked in disbelief.

"You required reviving."

Jareth did not look at her, busying himself with tugging on his gloves. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, but he hadn't been idle during that time. A small fire crackled nearby, and her saddlebags had been retrieved and lay beside her. They had been carefully rifled through, Sarah noted. She imagined the Goblin King gracefully unpacking and examining each object with a critical eye. How utterly like him to invade another person's privacy while they were helpless. Sarah flushed. I fainted. How absurdly Victorian. Would she ever be able to break the habit of humiliating herself in front of him?

And then she realized with a jolt that they were no longer in the clearing. They were in the midst of the Silverwood itself, the trees like columns in a great hall and the waters of the Merandanon flowing past like a silver road, gleaming in the muted gold and green light. Sarah sat up in a hurry, ignoring the painful throb of her head that warned her to take it easy.

"What..."

"I wouldn't get up so quickly if I were you." said the Goblin King with a sardonic look. "Unless you want to risk passing out again."

Sarah touched the cloak that had cushioned her head while she slept. "How did I get here?"

"How do you think?"

Just outside of the fire's light, a dark shadow moved in the trees and Sarah nearly screamed before she realized it was only Rumor. So they'd ridden. Or rather, the Goblin King had ridden, she'd been in no condition to stay on a horse's back on her own. Had he slung her over the saddle like a sack of potatoes? But no, he couldn't have, or she'd be bruised all over. Sarah hoped he hadn't had to carry her, but didn't see any other alternative. The thought of lying in his arms made her feel uncomfortably... something, she did not know what. She couldn't imagine Jareth holding her. But if he had, it wouldn't be the first time... Sarah's face flamed hot, and she hoped it wasn't noticeable in the firelight.

Even though he was perched on a moss-covered log, Jareth had all the majesty of a king upon his throne. He looked almost back to his normal self, stark black clothing immaculate and not a hair out of place. Sarah was encouraged to think this was a good sign. Maybe.

If she'd known that the Goblin King was looking back just as warily behind his cool mask, Sarah might have found that reassuring. Although he did not show it, Jareth was no easier in his mind. Their earlier exchange had unsettled him greatly, particularly Sarah's unconscious words. It was obvious she didn't recall them, had no idea of what they'd done to him... Jareth set his jaw and refused to even think about it. There was another issue to concern himself with at the moment, a shadow of an idea that was taking form in his mind.

It was growing dark, and the trees seem to crowd closer. Sarah inched nearer the fire and wished she could sit with her back to the river instead. Not that it seemed entirely safe, either... She chewed anxiously on her thumbnail and wished the Goblin King's reply had been more informative. The last thing she recalled was standing beneath the tree with its trunk at her back, Jareth leaning in toward her with those mismatched eyes fixed upon her unwaveringly. Of all the terrifying things she'd seen, Sarah had a feeling that she'd never come so close to true danger as she had in that moment. The air had felt so close, stiflingly perfumed by the blooms that brushed her hair. She hadn't been able to breathe. Sarah was frighteningly close to feeling that way again now, so she spoke cautiously and kept one eye on the unpredictable Goblin King.

"Where are we going?"

"Back." Jareth was clearly not in the mood for conversation.

A surge of hope. "You're coming back to the castle with me?"

"No." replied Jareth shortly. "But you may accompany me back to the goblin city."

Sarah gritted her teeth, then took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Fine."

It doesn't matter, she reminded herself. The important thing is that we're going back, and we can do something about what's happening. That's all that really matters.

Seeing there would be no resistance, something in Jareth gradually relaxed and an air of uneasy truce fell over the camp. He bent and picked up a leather knapsack at his feet. He met Sarah's guarded look with a casual question.

"Hungry?"

Sarah nodded, and he threw her the bag. It was an ordinary knapsack, one she'd seen shoved nearly to the back of the wardrobe in the cottage. The leather was worn satiny smooth in places and the brass buckles were tarnished. She'd wondered why the fastidiously elegant Goblin King kept such a worn old thing around when he could easily conjure himself a new one. Sarah couldn't imagine him wearing it.

"It doesn't work if you just look at it." Jareth said with a hint of impatience.

Confused but unwilling to show it, Sarah cautiously slid her hand inside. Her fingers brushed up against a soft, square package, and she pulled it out. The small parcel was wrapped in wax paper. It was a bologna sandwich.

She was unable to keep from staring in disbelief. It looked exactly like the ones she used to pack for her and Toby's school lunches, right down to the ooze of mustard and the pickles. Damn, I'm hallucinating again. She reached inside the knapsack again and pulled out an identical one. Nope. Not unless I'm seeing double. Sarah shrugged, and bit into her sandwich. It tasted just the same, too, nothing at all strange about it. She'd almost expected there would be. I suppose it's just like the pantry in the cottage, it knows what I need. Well, maybe. Looking up, Sarah caught the Goblin King trying hard to pretend he wasn't staring.

"Um... Want one?" She held out the second sandwich.

Jareth accepted it gingerly, as if it might bite him. He darted a sharp glance at her in case it was a trick, then divested the sandwich of its wrapping, which he threw into the fire. Copying Sarah's every move, he took a cautious mouthful.

Sarah diplomatically refrained from comment as he ate, clearly distrustful of the bright yellow substance that had a dismaying tendency to squirt out at inopportune moments. She was hungrier than she realized, and finished her sandwich before he was halfway through. Wiping her hands on the grass, she watched him, knowing full well the distraction of this foreign food would claim all of his attention.

Gone was the menacing anger he'd displayed before she'd fainted. Now the Goblin King appeared quite changed. His quiet fury had been dampened to a contained spark that flickered in his gaze every time she caught him looking at her. Yet he revealed little, and seemed lost in an air of morose resignation. Sarah wondered what had happened to alter him so.

"What do you think?"

The Goblin King swallowed and paused before answering. "It is... not what I would have chosen. But it is edible."

This, she had not expected. The Goblin King seemed to be making an effort to eclipse his discourteous behaviour from moments before, the food as a sort of peace offering. Now he behaved with an almost exaggerated civility which might have been comical had it not been so grim.

Jareth finished in silence and sat ill at ease. He took up a branch and poked at the fire, throwing on more wood. And then he did something curious that had Sarah staring. With a wary glance at the trees around them, the Goblin King stretched his hand out and there was a a tiny rush of sound, like a small gust of wind. The fire flickered once, then twice, before dying low, the orange flames shot through with vivid blue and green. Though it was now half the size it was before, Sarah could still feel its heat undiminished.

"What was that?" she blurted out. "What did you do?"

Jareth gave her an odd look, as if he did not care to explain. "The Silverwood does not like fire." he said simply. "I have contained it, that's all."

Without another word of explanation, he retrieved the knapsack and rolled it up behind him, leaning against the log and looking up at darkened canopy of treetops and the few stars visible through them. In the now dimmed light that flickered with the colors of the sea, Sarah could not clearly see his face. She moved restlessly on the other side of the fire.

"Jareth..."

The Goblin King gave her a cagey look. "What do you want?"

"It's just that... Since you saved Sir Didymus, I think this is the first time I've seen you do anything... magic."

He looked away again. "And?"

"I wasn't sure you could still... I'm glad, that's all."

"There's little to be glad about." From the dark side of the fire, the Goblin King's reply was succinct. "I am stronger than I have been, but I am not what I once was. I may never be myself again."

"I don't understand. Wouldn't you still be you even without it?"

"You're right." said the Goblin King flatly. "You don't understand."

Sarah crept a little closer to his side of the fire until she was only a few feet from where he lay. "Then tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." Jareth sounded almost defeated now. He raised on arm to cover his eyes and let his head fall back. "And I would hardly discuss it with you."

Oh, but you will, Sarah thought to herself. You and I have much to talk about.

"I suppose... It must be hard, not being able to do something you've always been used to doing." she said, "But you're still king here in the Labyrinth, the goblins are still your subjects. Couldn't you continue to rule as you always have?"

The silence stretched on so long, Sarah wondered if he was too angry to speak, or had merely fallen asleep. But at long length, he sighed.

"It is like losing one of your senses," said the Goblin King, a pensive bitterness leeching into his reply. "Like wandering lost in the dark. I can get by, but for how long? Magic is a way of life here, not like Aboveground. If I do not regain my powers, I cannot rule it in the way it is meant to be ruled. The Labyrinth will not long survive with a cripple for a king."

"I don't think of you that way."

Jareth's reply was muffled, and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "How very reassuring."

"And... if I'm to blame for any of this, I'll make it right. You'll see."

Sarah held her breath, half-expecting another angry tirade. But the Goblin King only sounded tired.

"If only you could, Sarah."

Jareth sat up now, face resting in his hands. "I cannot say why I am here now." he began slowly, "I told you to go, that is the last clear thing I remember. Then it was like some dark dream. I have little memory of what happened... after. Not until the woods by the river, the funeral procession and dancers. And you."

Here he paused, unwilling to conjure up memories of their trial by fire and his own part in it. Jareth looked up at the stars.

"And now we are here."

Sarah started to reply, but he silenced her with an impatient gesture.

"I'm not a fool, Sarah. I know very well how close... " he corrected himself. "How I had fallen into darkness. The very fact I am here is proof of... something. Perhaps you are not the sorceress Didymus believed you to be, but you are not entirely powerless in this world."

"It's not what you think." said Sarah hastily.

But it all seemed like a strange and jumbled assortment of half-remembered images and feelings, too fantastic to believe. Blood and fire, swirling stars with their blazing white heat, the shadow-court and the King of the Dead withering to grave-dust... her fateful choice. Sarah would never be able to explain it all, not even to herself.

But there was no need, Jareth was shaking his head.

"One day, we will speak of it... and how much it has cost you. But for now, I don't think I want to know what you've done." said the Goblin King with great weariness.

"Nothing more than you would have done for me." replied Sarah evenly.

Jareth continued as if he hadn't heard. "And one day, perhaps I will tell you what it has cost me... But not today."

His voice trailed off at the end, almost wistful. As in sympathy with his mood, the fire dimmed to its lowest, the barest shimmer of gold and green. The Goblin King turned to her at last, his eyes a bottomless black in the low light.

"Go to sleep, Sarah."

The command came with a wispy tendril of power that curled around her like smoke. It dulled her senses, made her limbs feel too heavy to lift. Sarah opened her mouth to protest and found herself yawning widely. If she hadn't already been tired she might have been able to resist Jareth's command, but this time she could not.

That's another one I owe you, Goblin King...

The Goblin King watched her fight the command, half-worried it would not work at all. He was still unsure of himself, uncertain of how much he could do. Already the effort it took to send Sarah to sleep set his temples to throbbing again, and he lay back slightly dizzy and regretting the small expenditure of power. Before, such an insignificant task would've been as effortless as breathing. It was another bitter reminder of how much he had lost.

When Sarah finally closed her eyes, he allowed himself to relax. She lay curled on her side only a few feet away. The Goblin King had not noticed her creeping closer and that alarmed him. He was becoming too accustomed to her presence, too used to that indescribable hum of awareness that told him she was near. Jareth supposed it was an unfortunate side effect of spending so many hours in one another's company. But that would soon change.

The Goblin King had plans he had not seen fit to share with his traveling companion. He was hoping beyond hope that his strength would return to him, and if it did, he would see to it that Sarah left the Underground-- for good this time. The way would be sealed shut behind her, no Labyrinth creature would ever call upon her or heed her call for as long as he could ensure it. In time, the mortal taint upon his kingdom might fade. Jareth resolved never see her again, and perhaps then the Labyrinth would be safe.. and so would Sarah. But never was a long time.

If he failed, Sarah might be trapped in the Labyrinth forever. Jareth faltered, then cursed his cowardice. He wasn't even sure if he could do it, send Sarah back to her own world. But I must. There can be no hesitation, no doubt. He had been given another chance, just at the moment when he'd thought all was lost. Perhaps there was yet time to avert disaster and see that his vision of an apocalyptic future did not come to pass. He might be able to save the others, even if it meant losing himself... Letting one's guard down could be a fatal mistake, he reminded himself sharply. And you cannot afford to make any more mistakes.

His dizzy spell past, Jareth retrieved his cloak from the other side of the fire and with a slight hesitation, covered the sleeping girl. Again, he was struck by the curious blend of fragility and strength in this mere mortal. Her hair was in wild disarray, and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek and another on her forehead. But she had faced him down like a warrior queen, even thought he could scent the fear she'd tried to hide from him. For her, he had risked the inferno and everlasting darkness. The Goblin King had risked it all. But Sarah was asking too many questions, stirring up feelings he'd rather leave unexplored. He'd been very, very close to ending that permanently hours before.

Instead, he'd whistled for Rumor and gathered the unconscious girl up in his arms. Unwillingly, his lips quirked at the memory. For such a slender girl, Sarah was heavier than she looked, it had been a near impossible feat to maneuver them both into the saddle without dropping her and he could not have accomplished it without Rumor's patient cooperation. Still without his full strength, the exertion had left him shaking. But the ride...

Jareth rarely had the opportunity to be so close to a mortal. He had held young Toby five years past, after Sarah had wished him away. Just a baby, Toby had already burned brightly with a spark of life that was so different from goblins and all over creatures in the Underground. Their lives may be short, mused the Goblin King, but they live every moment of it with such intensity... especially the young. Holding Sarah, however, was very different.

With one shoulder supporting her head and his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, her hair brushed teasingly against the side of his jaw, the warm skin of her cheek pressed against his collarbone. He never realized that could happen, that two people could inhabit such an intimate space. Jareth had never been more aware of a sensation in his life, the soft weight of her body lying limply in his embrace, the length of her leg measured against his own, so very close-- invasion without intrusion. It was as if Sarah was always meant to be there. If the Goblin King was capable of blushing, he would have done so in anger at his own foolishly romantic whim.

Carrying two, Rumor could not travel as quickly. Their pace was slow and as smooth as horse and rider could make it, for he was reluctant to wake the girl, not quite wanting this time to end as he turned her last words over in his mind. They mean nothing, he told himself again and again. Less than nothing.

But that was a lie.

They were the words he'd wanted to hear for more than five years-- a mere blink of the eye in the lifespan of one such as the Goblin King, but the longest years of his life. He'd longed to hear them, feared to hear them, then given the hope up for lost and let the void swallow his dark desire.

But Sarah had said them. She'd said the words.

It means nothing, he insisted fiercely to himself. I will not... But hope with bright wings fluttered and beat against the cage of his breast, as hard as he tried to crush it.

Nothing has changed.

Everything has changed...

Comments/reviews welcome.

Author's Note: I'm currently working on a one-shot story that's an offshoot of this one, and it's called The Forgotten Dream. It further explores the relationship between Sarah and the King of the Dead, and gives a lot more insight into his character and past. I'm hoping to have finished it in a week or so, but these things don't always go according to plan. If anyone is interested, there is a short excerpt of it on my livejournal (link on profile page). I haven't yet decided if I'll post it here or not.