Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters in it, nor do I make any profit from this story in anyway.
Title: In Dreams, I Await Your Hand
Chapter Three:
Up the honey gray castle steps he went, his white tipped tail swishing with his confidant swagger. Sir Didymus was never happier. It was an honored task to plan and set up an old fashioned jousting tournament, a project started some weeks ago for the sake of alleviating the king's melancholy mood.
It had been very rough in the beginning. Although some of the guard Goblins had the rudimentary basics down pat (riding while holding a spear) their skill was far from ideal in Sir Didymus's opinion.
"I have a trained eye," he told them, "and while your efforts are commendable, I will help you reach the potential worthy of a knight!"
At the first practice, the goblins scoffed at the short fox with one eye riding a shivering sheepdog.
Now the Goblins groaned every time they saw Sir Didymus. He was a tough teacher, running them through the gauntlet over and over again, having them practice aiming their lances at an over stuffed bag of hay. He was also their personal sword trainer. Goblins all over the city could hear Sir Didymus's excited barks as swords clashed and rang from sunup to sunset.
The goblin guards would never scoff at Sir Didymus again, they were too tired to do so.
"But now they are ready," Sir Didymus said to himself proudly, his pace quickening as he sought his majesty to tell him the good news.
He took a shortcut through the kitchen and dodged under a wooden table to escape being smacked by a flapping chicken. The cook, a dwarf sized goblin with a stained apron, tried in vain to catch the angry poultry while other smaller goblins were having a flour fight in a poor attempt to make bread. Sir Didymus dashed for the back door.
"Git out a heer you mangy mutt or I'll boil you and makes soup!" said the head cook, who then screamed, "Crap! The chickens arrr on the loose again!"
Once he was at a safe distance, Sir Didymus dusted the white feathers off of his hat and coat and saw that he was in a portrait lined hall. Ah, I believe I am going in the right direction.
As he walked down the hall the cook's earlier threat of turning him to soup reminded him of a discussion he had with Sir Hoggle some time back. It was over warm wine and two bowls of potato leek soup and the topic was the Goblin King. His pace slowed a little as he remembered that day.
It was a few months back. Both were in Hoggle's study at the time, a modest little room with a small pot belly stove near the back wall and an open pipe over it to vent smoke and steam. Books, maps, and random odd things cluttered that particular room, but there was still space for a small circular table and one chair. The chair was always politely offered by Hoggle, and Sir Didymus would always politely refuse, leaping on top of a stack of books and eating and drinking there.
"I never would have thought it," mumbled Hoggle, as he drank his wine.
Sir Didymus looked up inquisitively, "thought what?"
"Have you noticed Jareth lately?"
"Yes, his majesty has been out of sorts of late."
Hoggle quirked an eyebrow, "He's always been out of sorts since… well, since Sarah left." He suddenly took a huge gulp of his wine. He sighed as he felt the pleasant warmth suffuse, before continuing. "But," he stopped momentarily thoughtful, "he's been even more moody these days."
"You don't suppose…"
Hoggle fixed a glare at Sir Didymus's look of anxiety. "Suppose what?" he asked gruffly.
"The lady Sarah is in danger?"
Hoggle blinks, wondering if such a thing was possible. If it were…
"He wouldn't allow it," he finally admitted, draining his cup, and then picking up his spoon to eat his soup. Sir Didymus knew "He" meant his majesty, the Goblin King.
Sir Didymus was quiet for a moment, turning his cup between his paws, before broaching the subject again. "You did not answer my question Sir Hoggle."
"Hm?" he said around a mouthful of potato, "What question?"
"What you never would have thought possible."
Hoggle poured himself another cup of wine. "It's just… I never thought he could fall in love."
There was a long stretch of silence. Sir Didymus did not feel like eating.
"Do you think Milady will ever return to us?" he asked.
Hoggle sighed, tilted his head in a careless gesture and shrugged, as if to say it was none of his business. But Sir Didymus knew otherwise. Ah, Lady Sarah. How we all miss you so.
"I don't think so," was Hoggle's late reply. Sir Didymus passed his small cup to Hoggle and the kind dwarf refilled it. Hoggle continued, "After all," he said as a matter of fact, "she chose her world over us."
And, thought the subdued knight, she chose that world over the king.
Sir Didymus stopped daydreaming as he rounded a corner, avoiding the Escher room. Don't want to get lost in there.
The memory of Hoggle's words bothered Sir Didymus. He was not surprised; it was quite obvious to him that the king had strong feelings for the Lady Sarah. But the King's expected tight control over his kingdom was becoming erratic and sloppy. He did not want to think about what would happen should his majesty no longer care to rule the labyrinth or the inhabitants of the Goblin City.
He walked toward the King's library, his small boots clicking loudly in the great yawn of a dark hallway. In this section of the castle there were less and less windows, and for some reason the lanterns indented into the stone walls were not lit.
The castle seemed darker these days.
Sir Didymus came upon a large wooden door. It was the entrance to the King's library. Fearlessly, the short knight knocked.
No answer.
He was about to knock again, with the metallic end of his riding crop, when the door soundlessly pulled inward away from the door frame, just enough to let a little fox in.
Sir Didymus strolled in and stopped in the middle of the great room. Something was amiss.
Contrasting the hallway he had emerged from, this room was very well lit, but it was cold. Sir Didymus shivered and sniffed the air. It was too crisp and clean, meaning the fireplace had not been used in days. No scent of burnt wax from used candles.
How long had his majesty stayed here?
Sir Didymus turned at a faint rippling sound. A lonely silhouette lay on the huge stone window as if it were a child napping on a couch. A dome shaped arc of blue sky blanketed the dark figure. His black cape rustled with the cold breeze, lethargic and careless; it was the sound that had caught Sir Didymus's attention.
Without fear of reproach, Sir Didymus strolled toward the window and hopped onto its corner, being sure not to touch Jareth's boots.
"Leave me."
The knight was startled by his king's voice. It was not the usual youthful sound full of mirthful arrogance or unrestrained anger. Jareth lay on his right arm, his eyes not looking out at the city as Sir Didymus had first supposed, but at what was cradled in his left hand.
His neck strained to see what held the king's attention.
The king slowly sat up so that he was now sitting cross legged, facing out the window. He did not say anything as Sir Didymus sat beside him and peered into the crystal.
Sir Didymus saw an overcast grassy knoll, bordered by slim trees swaying in the breeze. There were people dressed in black gathered over a casket. Sir Didymus did not understand.
"One of them has died."
"Sir?" asked the little fox, not sure who "them" were.
"Sarah's husband."
The fox's eyes grew round with surprise at the sight of an old grief stricken Sarah. Her hair was gray, silver strands here and there, coiling in a neat bun. Tears were streaming down her face as she hugged a younger version of herself.
"Mi'lady?" He stuttered, amazed. He could not quite grasp the right words to say. "How…Why?" Sir Didymus wasn't sure what he was asking at this point, so shocked was he. And the young woman holding Sarah, crying on her shoulder, was she the daughter of the great lady?
"He had a heart attack. There was nothing anyone could do."
It was only a whisper but Sir Didymus could hear pain etched in every word. He caught a glimpse of the king then. He seemed somehow older, as if he carried with him a very heavy weight upon his shoulders.
Jareth stared beyond his gloved hands with half hooded eyes. The air around him seemed heavy and an eerie silence filled the room with unwanted questions. It was a combination that made Sir Didymus's senses prick and his hair stand on end.
Sir Didymus saw the look in his king's eyes and the burning inevitable knowledge that came with the fact that Sarah was not of their world.
Death.
An unbidden image burst into Sir Didymus's mind: the king screaming, lanterns bursting with fire, the castle shaking…the king going mad, wailing. As quick as it came, it was gone. He shook his head. What was that? A premonition brought on by my sharp canine senses?
Sir Didymus looked at the king with new eyes, realizing for the first time that the one he served unquestioningly was someone he did not know. For once, the knight looked doubtful. What was the king capable of?
"Sire," he said gently, waiting for the king's attention. Jareth acted like he did not hear a word, but continued to stare into his orb, watching the family he continued to love, throw white roses onto the lowering casket.
Sir Didymus looked at the sad image of Sarah, noting her wrinkles, her frailty…
"Sire…she still has many years ahead of her." How long did humans live? 80 years? 100? The Sarah he saw could not possibly be older than 60.
The Goblin King closed his eyes and sighed. "You came here for a reason, did you not?"
Ah! Irritation, a spark of the old king, perhaps things are not as hopeless as we all thought, mused Sir Didymus, suddenly encouraged.
"Your guards are ready for the jousting tournament. Their skill is far superior then when I first met them." Sir Didymus kept his composure cool and indifferent but there was a small sweep of his tail that hinted the great pride he felt in his accomplishment.
Jareth forced a crooked smile but his eyes were cold, untouched by Sir Didymus's spirit.
"We will have it then. In three days," his voice a whisper of its former self. He gestured for the knight to leave, already turning his attention back to Sarah and her family.
When he turned back before closing the door, Sir Didymus saw that the king was lying down on the window sill again, and the sky was darker, redder. The king's shadow stretched across the room, almost touching the knight's boot clad feet. He started from the darkness, and a feeling of dread filled his proud honor bound heart.
Quietly, Sir Didymus closed the door to the great Goblin King.
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Man, this is a really rough chapter. It's actually kind of long for me, but I felt I needed to exercise describing places. And this chapter is kind of crucial for plot…Sorry everyone, I will endeavor to make it better next time. Much love for your time to read and review, I do appreciate it. If it was too long please tell me, and I will try to make it tighter next time. Thanks again. orientalbunny