The Daydreamer and the King
By Danika Lareyna
Chapter Four - A Tale
The crystal slowed and came to a stop, resting in Sarah's upturned palm. She felt cold, suddenly deprived of the warm arms which had held her tight just moments ago. Raising a hand to her mouth, Sarah could still feel the pressure of his lips where they had crushed her with such passion.
Warily, she eyed the orb in her hand. If she stared into it again, would it return her to the same vision or a different one? Perhaps its magic was spent and it was now just a crystal, nothing more, once again?
There was only one way to find out. Sarah's hands flashed into the familiar but unpracticed motion once more. Again the crystal glowed from within and as the crystal spun, the world spun. Sarah lost herself in the dream.
xXx
Sarah often daydreamed about how she would meet her soul mate. Sometimes it was simple, destiny disguised as coincidence as they bumped into each other time and again. Other times it was more dramatic; he, whoever he was, would rescue her from dire peril, forging a bond that could never be broken. Perhaps it would be love at first sight, perhaps a relationship begun in friendship that developed over many years. Occasionally she even imagined him appearing before her in a sudden gust of wind and swirl of glitter. (Sometimes Sarah's imagination got away with her.)
When she met Jareth, therefore, on her hands and knees scraping gum off the bottom of a shelf in the children's section (in her worst pea-green dress suit, no less), romance was the furthest thing from her mind. It probably did not help that his first words to her were spoken almost directly into her ear, causing Sarah to jump and smack her head on the gum-encrusted shelf. And so her first thought upon turning to face the (admittedly, startlingly handsome) man, were centered on how to get him (and eventually the ancient yet somehow still sticky gum) out of her hair.
Fortunately, Jareth had other ideas.
His smile, seemingly polite but making her feel distinctly mocked, won him no favor on her part. She studied the man for a moment as she disentangled herself from the shelf and stood to face him. His long, blond hair was brushed neatly back and held from his face by a silver clasp at the base of his neck. He wore a neat, silk shirt of pale gray and black slacks. His face, pale and aristocratic, seemed to be missing something, though for the life of her Sarah could not imagine what.
Everything about the stranger bespoke elegance and nobility. Sarah immediately detested him.
With as little courtesy as she felt she could get away with, Sarah growled, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"
The man looked her up and down in a slow, critical manner. Sarah resisted the urge to fiddle with the horrid, pink, silk flower which adorned the breast of her horrid dress. Sarah resisted the urge to poke him in those hypnotic, mismatched eyes. "You are a librarian, are you not?" he asked in a soft, authoritative voice.
Sarah indicated the shelf of bright picture-books she had been laboring under. In a tone heavy with sarcasm, she replied, "Why no, I just do this for my own entertainment."
He raised an unusual eyebrow and said, "Indeed? You must be easily amused." Before Sarah could splutter an indignant response, he continued on blithely, "I wonder if you could direct me to the biographical section?"
She bristled at the way he asked her, as if he was not questioning whether she would be willing to give him directions, but rather whether she was even capable of the feat. Giving him her best wicked glare, which he utterly ignored, she said, "At the bottom of the stairs and immediately to your left."
He nodded in acknowledgment rather than gratitude and turned in the direction she had indicated. She watched him go, noting with interest the grotesque little face carved in the man's silver hairclip. Sarah seethed. The encounter had been brief and simple, but somehow she knew that it would bother her for an inordinately long time.
Just as Sarah prepared to drop back to her hands and knees and resume her distasteful task, the man turned back to face her. Their eyes locked and an amused smirk played on his lips. "By the way, Miss," he said, his voice a silken barb, "Are you aware that that color looks atrocious on you?" Then he smoothly turned on his heel and disappeared behind a tall bookshelf.
xXx
A loud crash rang through the library causing Sarah to raise her head sharply and Maryann, her coworker, to squeal with fright. "What was that?" Sarah murmured, just loud enough for Maryann to hear. "It's to early for anyone to be here yet."
As if to disprove her words, the cheerful bell chimed and the familiar stranger strolled in. It had been nearly two weeks since Sarah had seen him, but the moment her eyes fell upon his haughty smirk, her temper flared as if he had just turned away from her.
"Good morning, Sarah," he said, drawing out the vowels in her name as if savoring their flavor. He was dressed almost exactly as before except that now his shirt was dark blue, almost black. He set his leather briefcase on the floor and leaned against her desk, grinning at her with hooded eyelids.
"How do you know my name?" Sarah snapped, leaning away from him with a suspicious glare. His grin widened with impish mischief and he lazily raised a finger to indicate the heavy nameplate resting on the counter before her. Feeling unspeakably foolish, Sarah muttered petulantly, "That's not fair."
He frowned then replied, "You are correct. Horribly unfair and rude of me as well." The man took a step back from the desk and swept her a deep bow. "Jareth," he intoned, formally, "At your service." His manner was refined, but his eyes taunted her.
Sarah felt a blush rise in her cheeks and ruthlessly suppressed it. "Right," she muttered, "Whatever. At your service."
The moment the words were out of her mouth, his eyes glittered. "Splendid," he said. "As it happens, I am looking for a particular book and I would appreciate your assistance."
Sarah swallowed a groan. Casting her gaze about for some means of escape from the infuriating man, she saw Maryann making doe-eyes at him. Latching on to this small ray of hope, Sarah said in her sugary-sweetest voice, "Oh, I would love to, but I'm sure Maryann would be much more helpful." The girl nodded eagerly.
Jareth's eyes flicked over the pretty redhead for a split second before dismissing her. His eyes went cold and he said, "It seems there has been an accident back in the science fiction and fantasy section. Some clumsy person seems to have knocked a number of books from the shelves. I am certain your companion is eager to set that aright." It was not a suggestion but a command and, without a word, Maryann turned to obey.
Life returned to Jareth's mismatched eyes as his gaze swung back to Sarah; life and, unmistakably, mischief. "How could you have known where that noise came from?" the young woman demanded. "Did you have something to do with it?"
"Why, my dear Sarah," he replied, taking her arm and gently leading her toward the stairwell, "You saw me come in. I have been in your presence since I arrived. How could I possibly have been involved?"
xXx
Jareth led Sarah to a little used portion of the library, full of books on historical figures of little import and political struggles of little consequence. "If I am not mistaken," he murmured in a low, enticing voice, "The text I seek is up there." He pointed to the very top of one of the wall shelves, right next to the ceiling.
Sarah stared up in consternation. He could not possibly know that she was terrified of heights, could he? Trying and failing to hide her nerves, Sarah pointed to the heavy ladder and said, "Well, there you are."
She knew it would not work from the moment she spoke. Clearly visible on the ladder was sign reading, "PLEASE ASK FOR ASSISTANCE TO REACH BOOKS ON THE TOP SHELVES." Biting her lower lip, she turned to Jareth, who had the audacity to bat his eyes at her.
Alternating between growling her displeasure at the insufferable man and swallowing the lump which seemed to have lodged in her throat, Sarah mounted the ladder. Jareth watched with a mild, unconcerned expression, but his eyes glittered.
"You, um, you haven't told me exactly what it is you're looking for," Sarah said. She slowly lifted one trembling hand after the other over her head to pull herself up the ladder, willing herself to breath and not think about it. In the back of her mind she made a note to take down all books above eye-level and replace them with busts of famous authors or perhaps some potted plants.
The tall man was wandering down the aisle, examining books as he went. "A biography on the Greek sculptor, Ludaphoclese. It was written by Raoul Dideremis and is entitled Abs of Marble." She shot a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed entirely serious. Unfortunately, her moment of doubt caused her to look down and a cold sweat broke out on her brow.
"I don't see it…" she said, a tiny flutter to her voice. Her eyes scanned the shelf he had indicated once, twice, three time and still the title did not appear to her. She risked another glance at Jareth, just in time to see his elbow disappear around a corner.
With a frustrated sigh, Sarah searched the titles one more time before giving up. She was mentally preparing herself for the arduous task of climbing back down when the ladder, the heavy, wooden ladder which usually took all of her strength to move even when she had both feet planted firmly on the floor, wobbled.
Sarah's breath caught and she found herself utterly unable to emit the shriek which was just itching to escape her. Frantically, her eyes sought out Jareth, but he was nowhere to be seen. The ladder shuddered again and her hands convulsed on the rungs. Unfortunately, her hands were slick with sweat and, when the ladder gave a particularly violent buck, she found herself falling. At that same moment she discovered her voice again and put it to good use, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Before Sarah could even brace for a painful impact, a strong set of arms plucked her effortlessly out of midair. Gasping and shaking violently, Sarah pressed her face to the broad, firm chest, not even caring that it belonged to the detestable Jareth. The smooth silk felt cool against her hot cheeks.
"Tut-tut," he whispered directly into her ear, his voice both soothing and taunting. "Sarah, you really must be more careful."
"H-how?" she stammered, unable to release her death-grip on his shirt. "You were too far away. How did you catch me?"
"Dear Sarah," he purred, stroking her hair, "I am never far from you."
Before Sarah could respond to his peculiar answer, there was a clatter on the stairs and Maryann appeared, red hair nearly standing on end around her face. "What's going on?" she exclaimed. "I heard a scream and-" The girl cut off, eyes wide, as she observed the position she found Jareth and Sarah in.
Sarah recognized the predicament at approximately the same instant and shoved herself away from the man, nearly toppling to the floor in her flustered state. Jareth released her easily, watching with beautiful, bemused eyes. Righting herself, Sarah turned to her coworker and babbled, "I was looking for a book up there, on the ladder. I fell, it… jumped! He caught me." Her voice dropped to a whisper as if she had just made a startling realization. "Oh man… I thought I was going to break my neck."
Her eyes took on a far-off look, glazing over until Jareth's soft voice broke into her morbid thoughts. "My book?"
She stared at him for a moment without comprehension before snapping back into awareness. "Oh! I didn't see it. Maybe it's checked out? Are you sure we even have it?"
His brows drew down and he raised a hand to stroke his jawline, meditatively. Suddenly he perked up and leaned towards her. "Ah," he said, "Here it is." Reaching directly behind her on the shelf he retrieved a very old and dusty book. Still leaning into her, he spoke and she could feel the warm whisper of his breath on her ear. "Some silly person must have misplaced it." Sarah shivered.
Tucking the book beneath his arm and giving Sarah a small, unreadable smile, Jareth returned up the stairs. Almost immediately after the last pale strand of hair disappeared from view, the fuzzy bubble, which seemed to have lodged itself in Sarah's brain, burst. Anger flooded through her and she nearly screeched at Maryann, "Can you believe that guy?"
At her coworker's blank gaze, Sarah continued, "Playing the hero and then acting like I should fall all over myself for him. It was his fault I was on that ladder in the first place!"
Maryann stared at her normally calm and level-headed coworker as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. Sarah forced herself to count to ten and lower her voice. Sounding almost normal, if a little strained, she asked, "Did you take care of the sci fi/fantasy section?"
Maryann nodded, "It was the weirdest thing, too. Every book with the word 'goblin' in the title or on the cover was knocked off the self. No other books, only those. Isn't that crazy?"
For the second time that day, Sarah shivered.
xXx
"But why would anyone want to reshelve all the books in the entire library in reverse-alphabetical order?" Maryann wailed.
"A better question," Sarah replied, handing the redhead another stack of books, "Is how did they do it without anyone noticing? It is going to take us a week to put it all back."
She was not sure when her tidy library had become possessed, but at some point in the last three months strange occurrences had become commonplace. Sarah would have called them pranks if not for the frequency and complication of them. With a huff, she set to ordering another stack of references. Why did they all have to happen when she was working?
"My goodness, Sarah. This is certainly the most unusual library I have ever visited." She had grown at least relatively used to Jareth's irregular visits. As always, the sound of his voice, spoken almost directly into her ear, sent a confusing rush of anger and excitement coursing through her. This time there was something else as well; realization.
Sarah spun to face him. "You!" she growled, fixing him with a death-glare.
Jareth arched a brow and said in a calmly amused way, "Me?"
She glanced over her shoulder at Maryann, who was watching the interaction with obvious fascination. The girl had been far too interested in Jareth for Sarah's taste- though why she should care was beyond her. Hopping to her feet, her task forgotten, she grabbed Jareth's sleeve (blood red this time) and hissed at him, "Come with me."
He followed, eyes glittering.
Sarah led him to one of the small storerooms in the basement. He glanced around the cramped quarters, little more than a glorified closet to start with and nearly stuffed with books in need of sorting or mending. "My, my, Sarah," he said, grinning at her impishly, "How cozy."
Sarah flushed but refused to be deterred. Leveling an accusatory glare at him, she said, "Interesting thing, Jareth. Some… unusual events have been occurring here lately. Strange events."
Jareth smiled politely, "Oh?"
Nodding, Sarah continued, "Yes, very odd. Bookshelves are moving around, apparently on their own. Doors, which only opened inward for more than fifty years, have suddenly begun to open outward. Why, just last week the word 'underground' disappeared from the dictionary. Not just where it was defined but every place it had appeared."
"How very curious," Jareth said, a glint in his eyes. "What does all of this have to do with me, my dear?"
"That's the thing," Sarah replied, her voice loosing its airy quality and gaining intensity, "I don't know how I could have missed the connection before but now it is obvious to me. It is all you. It all started when you showed up. What's more, every time one of these things happens appear within a few hours!"
His eyes widened in poorly-feigned surprise. "Are you implying that I have something to do with all of this?"
"No, of course not," she laughed. Smiling sweetly, Sarah said, "I am implying that you are the cause of all this."
He smirked at her, a predatory look. "My dear Sarah," said he, "How on earth do you imagine I could accomplish such feats?"
Convinced that she was correct, Sarah spoke without thought. "Because you're a goblin!"
He stared at her for a long moment, all amusement gone from his expression. As the silence dragged, it occurred to Sarah just how ridiculous her accusation sounded. She felt a flush of embarrassment rise in her cheeks, only made worse when he began to chuckle deep in his throat. Slowly, the chuckle grew until his whole body shook and he threw back his head to roar with laughter. Sarah might have noted what a melodic and appealing sound that was, were she not certain that she was about to die of mortification.
Getting control of his amusement at last, Jareth grinned at her. "Oh Sarah, my Sarah," he said, "I swear, only you."
Sarah glared at her feet. She was angry, embarrassed, and utterly unable to meet his gaze. Her breath caught when he leaned in to speak, as always, directly into her ear. He was closer than ever, so that she could feel the heat of his body, mere centimeters from her own, and his lips brushed lightly, teasingly, against her earlobe.
"Not a goblin, my Sarah," he whispered to her. She felt rather than saw his rogue grin. "I am the King of the Goblins."
Then, in less than the blink of an eye, he was gone. Jareth simply vanished where he stood. Only the lingering hint of his scent and the slightest sparkle in the air, marked that he had ever been there.
Sarah stared at the closed storeroom door for a long time before she remembered to breathe.
xXx
She felt it, a slight tickle in the air. She did not know how she knew, but she was certain that it was him. She turned to the door just as he entered. Eyes widening, she quickly exclaimed, "Ok! You have my attention, don't do any-" Sarah cut off as a low gurgle, followed by the sound of rushing water, reached her ears. With a resigned sigh, she turned to Maryann and said, "You had better go check the bathrooms." Without another word to her coworker, Sarah led Jareth back downstairs to the storeroom.
He grinned impishly all the while.
When they had reached their destination and Sarah had closed the door behind, she turned to him with a look that was partially weary and partially wary. He was leaning against a precarious pile of books, seeming completely at his ease. His shirt, Sarah noted, was pure white today. She wondered if that had any significance.
"Right," she said, jumping immediately to the point, "So you're the Goblin King." She spoke slowly, as if trying to convince herself that she was not insane. Despite the clear impossibility of their previous encounter, Sarah could not help but wonder if this were all an elaborate joke.
"Indeed," he replied.
"And you're haunting my library… why, exactly?"
He smirked and took a step towards her. The air around him suddenly flared to life as a billion tiny, black and silver sparkles swirled around him. When they cleared, his outfit had changed drastically. Instead of his clean-cut slacks and button-up shirt he wore breeches and a low-cut thing that looked as if it were taken straight from the cover of a Harlequin romance novel. His hair stood in wild spikes to fall softly around his shoulders. A heavy silver and gold pendant hung low on his bared chest and a fantastic cloak of feather and bone adorned his shoulder. His face seemed paler and was accented around the eyes by markings, neither make-up nor tattoo. At last she realized what had been missing from his face and found she could no longer imagine what he looked like without them.
"Not your library, dear Sarah," he said, taking another step so that they were mere inches apart. His tone was nonchalant, his words shook her. "You. I intend to woo you, take you to my realm and make you my Queen."
A thousand snarky comments about his apparel died on her lips when he spoke and instead she found herself gasping, "Me?"
There was no wind in the tiny storeroom, but his cloak and hair swirled around her nonetheless. Where they brushed her skin she felt sparks which raced up to tickle her brain and make her thinking fuzzy. He spoke and his voice was low and hypnotic. "I have been watching you Sarah. My Sarah. I have marked you since you were a child. You had such beautiful dreams and they have only grown and flourished with you."
She could not seem to take her eyes from his; her thoughts came to her lips unbidden, "Watching me?"
"Yes, my Sarah, for many years. Do you recall the time you tried to call me to take your brother? You would have ruined it then, foolish child, had I not forbade my goblins from giving you the correct words. It was too soon, you were not ready then."
"Ready for what?"
He flooded her senses. He was all she could see, smell, hear and feel. "Ready for me," he replied.
It was all too much for her, this incredible man, incredible fairytale creature come alive, speaking these words to her. She felt as if she was suffocating in him and, desperate for air (or was it reality?), she stepped away from him. It was impossible, a dream king come to court a dull librarian from a tiny town in New England. He was of the goblins, it must be another in a long list of pranks.
Her eyes grew hard and her full lips turned down. "Why me?" she demanded.
Jareth smiled at her, that soothing, taunting expression she had grown used to. "Still a foolish child, Sarah. Don't you know?"
Her determination to defy him wavered in the face of his confident gaze, but she clung to it stubbornly. "Because you like to play with my mind?" she replied.
He reached towards her and, with a gentleness she found unexpected but natural in him, Jareth cupped her cheek. That impish smile, part affection and part mischief, played about his lips. "Because I love to play with your mind," he purred.
Sarah's brows drew down and she glared at him, "I hate you, you know."
Jareth's arm snaked around her waist, drawing her willingly into him. "Of course."
"And I will never be your Goblin Queen."
His fingers tangled in her long, dark hair, tenderly tilting her head towards him. His breath was warm on her lips, his scent intoxicating. "Of course."
"And I'm going to make you clean up whatever mess you made in the bathrooms."
He chuckled and she could feel the rumbling of his chest throughout her body. "Of course."
"And-"
Jareth never learned what Sarah intended to say next, nor did he particularly care as he smothered her words and fuzzed her mind with soft, insistent kisses. Sarah did not seem to mind the interuption.
xXx
Wow… that was long. But can you blame me? Most of it was written on a 12 hour bus trip. The rest of the chapters should be more of a length with chapter three, as I had intended all of the chapters to be. But who knows? These things often get away with me.
Once again, much thanks to Marti. This whole bloomin' chapter was her idea, I just put it into words.