Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Jim Henson Productions or the Labyrinth or Mr. David Bowie's very fine self.
Part Six:
Struggling to his feet, he stood as the horses and hounds of the court surrounded him. His tutor Ganymede threw himself off his mount and ran up to the young fae arriving just in time to catch his crumpling form.
Jareth sighed and shrugged himself out of his contemplative reverie. Turning on his heel he ascended the stair into the throne room. Examining those present he grabbed the least hare-brained of his goblin cohorts and ordered her to see to the woman in the guest room. She was to see that she was fed properly and given clean new clothing to wear then he was to be summoned to speak with her.
Until such a time, Jareth with his ruthlessly compartmented mind attended other duties and forgot her.
Molly Gant woke slowly feeling something she had not felt in some long time, warm and comfortable. As she stirred she could hear the baby starting to wake as well and her slow drift took urgency. Rolling to a sitting position, she reached immediately for the child with one hand while unbuttoning her night shift with the other. Gathering the baby to her chest as she freed a breast she let is suckle as she looked around the room.
From her position on the high bed she could see the whole room, it wasn't palatial though to her eyes it seemed so. The room grey stonewalls were covered partially with tapestries depicting people on horses hunting fantastic beasts. The narrow window had a thick glass insert that was open to let in the warm spring air and a lance of sunlight that lay on the floor like a golden rug. The floor itself was smooth stone scattered with woven rugs in autumn colours. At the foot of the bed was a large low chest with a long cushion on it turning it into a sort of low bench. In one corner was a large wardrobe, whose doors stood slightly open to reveal a glimpse of hanging clothing. In the opposite corner stood a washstand and a standing mirror reflecting the image of the large four-posted bed she lay on and the door on the other side of the room. In the middle of the wall directly opposite from the bed was a large fireplace guarded with a fire screen in pierced brass in a geometric pattern. That pattern was echoed in the pattern of the curtains, which hung around the bedstead and the coverlet that she currently was sitting on.
Molly had a strange feeling of unreality. As if she had been to this place once before in a dream and perhaps was dreaming still. The only reality she could touch was the baby, which she switched to the other breast to continue feeding. She stroked the little one's soft downy head as she made deep noises of contentment at her mother. Even the constant ache of hunger in her belly really didn't compare to the contentment provided from feeding the child in her arms. Slowly her eyes drifted shut and she relaxed back against the pillows at the head of the bed. The babe in her arms started to drowse as well taking the occasional suck on her breast until finally truly asleep relaxing enough to let it pop out of her mouth.
As the baby stopped feeding Molly's lassitude faded and she slowly sat up. She placed back the baby back into the cradle, after checking the fortunately dry diaper, and buttoned the front of her nightshift. She quickly used the bedpan tucked under the washstand and made a sketchy wash at the bowl above it. Then she began to search for her clothing. Investigating the wardrobe she found clothing in beautiful light fabrics dresses and skirts and blouses embroidered with colourful stitchery. Choosing the plainest of these she buttoned herself into a skirt the colour of golden rod and an ivory blouse with a placket embroidered with a small geometrical design of interlocking squares. Finding neither shoes nor stockings, she stayed bare foot.
With her heart beating quickly she listened at the door of the room and hearing nothing she slowly opened the door. The door was somewhat squeaky on its hinges and Molly winced as she managed to pull it open enough to look out in the dim hallway. Just outside the door was a tray with a plate covered with a domed lid. Molly crouched down and slowly picked the lid up off the tray. A curl of steam escaped from the lid as it was lifted to reveal a rasher of bacon, scrambled eggs and some toasted bread. Molly looked around carefully and then picked up the whole tray and carried it into the room. After all, she reasoned, it must have been left for her since she was the only one in the room. And after caring for her so well it was doubtful that she would be poisoned at this late date.
Molly set the tray down on the bench at the end of the bed and dug into the food. The rent for the cottage had made it so that there had been little to spare to feed her. As the money she had been promised from the father of her child had never come. Not that she truly had expected it; he was young and spoiled and had very little care for any but himself and his own momentary pleasure. She gathered wood from the forest and managed to supplement the small income she made with her handwork with mushrooms and berries she was able to find. The people in the village were fair to her while she was increasing and it was only when the local priest pointed her out as a wretched sinner and an example of licentious living that requests for her hard work stopped coming in and her income fell off. When she came to childbed she managed to get to the midwife's home and was able to birth in the relative safety of her care. It was an easy birth and the baby was born healthy and beautiful. Happily she was the living image of her mother showing little of her father except when she was petulant or uncomfortable. She sent a letter to her parents telling them of the birth of their grandchild and the information that she had been named Jennifer Rose for her own grandmother.
Shortly after the birth a delivery was made to the cottage in the wood. A cart drawn by a grey gelding delivered a chest from her parents containing her own childhood mementos and such books and toys as she had in her childhood room along with this was a letter from them declaring that they had no daughter named Molly Gant and her name had been marked out of the family bible. Molly cried for the first time since she had left home with the handsome man who seduced her away from her family and then abandoned her. Molly never cried again. As time went by she found she could sell the books one by one to support herself and her daughter. The old clothing she remade into garments for the babe and by pinching here and tucking there she made do with what she was able to get by for a while.
One of the books in the chest was a book of stories hand written by the original Jennifer Rose Gant, her grandmother. Among the wonderful stories there in was the story of the Goblin King and how he came and took babies that were wished away to his kingdom in the faery lands. As Molly became more and more desperate, running out of things to sell even to the chest that her childhood had come to her in, she began to dream of the place where the babies were taken away imagining it to be a wonderful place where they were cherished and loved. Winter settled onto Molly's shoulders and she grew painfully thin. Seeing the cupboard bare of food and no work to be had and charity not for one such as she in the village. Until one nightindesperate fantasy shecalled upon the goblin king…. and he came.