Once again, if you speak any of the languages below, PLEASE CORRECT ME!
In other news, welcome to the third, and longest installment of this story. 6,000 words baby! Hope ya'll enjoy it, this was definitely my favorite part to write.
Sarah woke.
Her first thought was that she had a sack for a pillow, the second was that her cloak was spread across her for a blanket. The third being that someone was speaking Irish behind her back as she was laying on her side. She recognized the deep voice of Fionn mac Cumhaill, it still made her bones rattle.
"-mó trioblóide aici ná is fiú í, do leannán daonna, Jareth. Cé mhéad uair a bhí ort an glamour a athnuachan?"
-more trouble than she's worth, for a human lover, Jareth. How many times have you had to renew the Glamour?
Jareth practically snarled a reply. "Is í mo bhanríon í."
She is my queen.
Unnoticed by either arguing party, Sarah stiffened, her eyes going wide.
"Ag éirí na gréine amháin. Agus Cén costas? Tá tú ag caitheamh tanaí ort féin. Cé chomh fada is féidir leat é seo a choinneáil suas?"
Only at sunrise. And at what cost? You're wearing yourself thin. How long can you keep this up?"
Jareth huffed. "Níl uaim ach glamour níos cumhachtaí. Ní leor na baint."
I only need place a more powerful glamour. The touches are not enough.
She heard a step, and then the clap of what might have been a hand on Jareth's shoulder. "Tóg m'fhocal ar a shon, Jareth. Tá aithne agam ar mhná marfacha. Ní fiú an trioblóid í. Faigh brídeoige i measc na bhFiach. Is cosúil go dtaitníonn Lussi leat-"
Take my word for it, Jareth. I know mortal women. She's not worth the trouble. Find a bride among the Hunt. Lussi seems fond of you-
His speech cut off, ending in a strangled gasp.
Jareth's voice was low and dangerous. "B'fhéidir go n-éireoidh tú asam, anocht, a rí an duine, ach má deir tú rudaí mar sin arís ní bheidh tú beo chun fiach eile a threorú."
You may outrank me, tonight, human king, but if you say such things again you will not live to lead another hunt.
A pause.
"Ar ndóigh, a Rí."
Of course, my King.
Heavy footsteps that slowly faded away. Too heavy to be Jareth's. He was still above her.
What had she been thinking, going with Jareth? She knew he was not to be trusted. Why hadn't she insisted he bring her home? Why had she let him kiss her, hold her- That threat. He had threatened the leader of the hunt. How powerful was he? How far was he willing to go to keep her? How could she escape?
The gravel crunched behind her, she heard Jareth's ragged breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was asleep.
Stay still… even breaths…
He touched her cheek, trailing his fingertips to her hips, then down to her calf, to her foot, muttering something all the while. She only caught a word here and there in Irish.
"...Muinín… Glac… ceist nach…"
Trust… accept… question not...
His fingers stayed at her boots for a moment, then he lifted his finger away. A gentle heat rushed through Sarah, accompanied by a powerful calm that squashed all other emotion.
She sat up. After all, why should she hide that she was awake? At her movement, Jareth started, but smiled. "Ah, cielo. How long have you been awake?"
A wind blew through the camp, Sarah shivered as it interrupted the pleasant warmth. "I… not long. What were you and Cumhaill speaking of?"
"Just discussing The Hunt."
Sarah looked around, she was laying among other bags and saddles and harnesses.
Beyond the luggage Sarah spotted the campsite she and Jareth had visited earlier that night, only now it was much more busy. The members of the hunt were all standing around, cheering as the servants added more and more wood to the already enormous bonfire.
A young man with dark hair hopped up on a stump. "Jag kan hoppa högt än någon annan!" He declared, and tore off his shirt. The others cheered, the young men of the group stripping themselves down to their trousers. Four of them total, they began jumping over the ever growing fire, great leaps that raised them twenty feet into the air.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Jareth muttered. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "What do you think of their game?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Boys will be boys." She went on her knees to stand, but Jareth stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Allow me." He stood first so he could help her up.
Once they were both on their feet, he picked off her cloak, shook it with a flourish to remove any debris, then tied it around her neck.
"Thank you." Sarah murmured.
His eyes flicked from the knot at her throat to her face. "Anything for you." He informed her, then kissed her quickly on the mouth. "Feeling more awake now, sweet?"
Sarah nodded, in fact, she was feeling a bit jumpy from a burst of adrenaline from that scare a few moments earlier.
But why would she have been scared?
"Good, now- let us join the festivities." Jareth took her arm and guided her over the luggage to the groups by the fire.
Three out of four of the young men were lined up by the fire, taking turns leaping over the flames. The last sat to the side, clapping during impressive jumps. Sarah noted the dark haired one who had started the whole thing was still jumping. She paused for a moment to watch them, noting that the fire was still being fed with more logs.
Jareth touched her cheek, bringing her back to their walk. He guided her through the groups of people talking, stopping at a dark haired women. Sarah recognized her as their partner from the Hunt. What had been her name? She was talking to two other women, one pale skinned woman with golden flax-like hair, and another with coppery skin and black hair.
Jareth cleared his throat.
The women stopped mid sentence and turned to bow to Jareth. The other two women followed her example. "You're highness." She straightened and smiled at Sarah. "I see you're awake, maiden."
"Yes, fortunately she has woken." Jareth gestured to the woman. "Mo chuisle, this is Frau Gauden. Frau Gauden, this is the Champion of my Labyrinth."
Sarah recognized the endearment he said this time, it was Irish. My pulse.
She curtsied as best she could to the group, bowing down just as Frau Gauden had. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Gauden's hand shot out, pulling Sarah up. A nervous tremor entered her voice. "No, no child. No need for bowing. You are much higher up than I."
Sarah frowned. "No, I'm really just-"
"You are not 'just' anything, love." Jareth said suddenly, his hands tightening around her arm. "Now, I have a few things I need care of. If you would watch her, Gauden?"
"I will watch her like I did all my daughters." Frau Gauden swore.
Jareth swept away, leaving Sarah alone with the three women.
Gauden took Sarah affectionately by the arm and pulled her into the circle of women. "Guten Frauen, this is the girl who championed the Goblin King's Labyrinth." The other two women each gave short curtsies at this.
The golden haired one introduced herself first, her startling blue eyes twinkled as she introduced herself. "I am Lussi."
The copper skinned one gave a gentle smile. "And I, Herodia." Her dark eyes flashed in the firelight, but their shape was friendly. "It is good to have another woman joining the Hunt." She remarked, gesturing to the side of the camp, where another, larger group of women stood. "The wives come to the camp, but it is not the same when they do not join the chase."
Sarah blinked in confusion, then laughed. "Oh no. I'm not joining, I'm just- I-" She paused. What was she doing here? She had to leave soon, she had to call her family, then go to work the day after the next. But surely… surely she could stay for the night? "I'm just visiting."
All three women shared knowing looks. Sarah suddenly felt ill. "I am." She insisted.
Herodia patted Sarah's arm. "Yes, of course." She said. "Maybe you will visit again next year?"
Sarah opened her mouth to disagree, but a cheer suddenly rose through the air.
All four women turned to see what the fuss was about. Sarah saw the older men, including Jareth, were now stripping down to their trousers like the youth. To the side, the young dark haired man stood with a triumphant look on his face.
"So, Yngvi the younger has won the right to challenge the elder men." Herodia said, sounding amused. "They play this silly game every year."
Lussi laughed. "I think it's fun. You might want to watch this closely." She pointed to Jareth, who was removing his boots. "He has been undefeated for centuries."
Gauden shook her head. "Arthur had been practicing. He jumps as high as eight horses. Higher than the Goblin King ever has."
"I know." Lussi nudged Sarah. "I just think he'll have more motivation to win this year."
The first contender began, leaping over the flames, now easily thirty feet high. The men called for more wood to be piled on.
"Come." Lussi tugged on Sarah's sleeve. "Undress."
Sarah jerked her arm away. "Why would I undress?"
"Because it's a grand tradition for there to be a dance around the fire when the contest is done." Herodia said dryly while untying her own cloak. "The winner gets to dance with a woman of his choosing."
"It very er-" Gauden hesitated for a moment. "Sweaty, to dance with all your layers around the fire. So we undress."
"But leave your shift on. We don't dance naked." Lussi added. She had already pulled off her surcoat and was working at the lacing at the sides of her kirtle. She giggled suddenly. "Though that might be fun, just to see the men's faces."
Herodia batted Lussi. "Don't you dare." She hissed, her dark eyes narrowing.
Lussi waved a pale hand idly. "I won't, I won't."
Sarah laughed, picking off her gloves, dropping them onto the ground next to her. The hat followed. So quick was she to follow their example, she barely hesitated as she dropped her pouch to the ground.
Soon, Gauden and the others were clapping their hands and stamping their feet to keep them warm while they waited for the men to finish their game. Sarah followed their example, though she still felt pleasantly warm from whatever Jareth had done to her.
The oldest dropped out first, short muscled men with beards down to their waist. Then the fattest, roly poly men. Yngvi came out tenth, quite good for a boy of his age, Gauden informed Sarah.
The fire climbed higher, after a time, there were only five left. Jareth among them.
Jareth seemed to be a bit of a crowd favorite, eliciting cheers from the men and women every time he stood for his turn to jump.
Where others simply jumped, over the bonfire, their legs beneath them and their arms stretched wide, Jareth did back-flips. He twisted and arched over the fire like a skilled gymnast, each time landing on his feet like some sort of freak cat.
Sometimes he would brush his hands against the flames playfully, or pretend to roll across the top, sending the crowd into screams or laughter, depending on what he chose.
There was only one consistent trait with all the jumps. With every one he finished, he would swing around to wink at Sarah before jogging around to the other side of the fire.
Lussi laughed at his attention, nudging Sarah again and again. She blushed. He was quite the picture in only his trousers. All lean muscle and taught tendons. The amulet she remembered so well swinging against his bare chest. Sarah caught Lussi and several others watching him appreciatively.
Sarah found herself suddenly hoping that Jareth would win. She began to clap ever more enthusiastically, shouting encouragement to him.
Two more dropped out, the bonfire had gained at least another ten feet. All three remaining contestants were sweating like mad, Jareth had to keep on pushing his hair back, making it stick in funny places. Somehow he made it look alluring.
And still, after every jump, he looked to Sarah to wink. When he saw her smiling and clapping, he would grin and swagger away, an extra bounce appearing in his step.
One more contestant gave up, throwing up his hands and crying. "¡Estoy derrotado!" He fell into a seat next to his wife, who patted him affectionately.
"Just Arthur and the Goblin King now." Lussi whispered, her eyes shining bright with excitement.
For a time, it seemed the contest would never end. More wood was piled on. The bonfire rose. Yet Jareth and Arthur still coasted over it with ease. But even they were tiring, Arthur sat between jumps, panting heavily, and Jareth was doing less and less tricks.
Then, on the next jump, Jareth stumbled on his landing and tripped, his ankle rolling in an odd way as he fell crashing to the ground.
Sarah gasped, the crowd groaned.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lussi cried, grabbing an annoyed Herodia for support. "Will they let him heal it?"
"No, they will not." Gauden argued, removing Lussi's hands. "You must use your own strength."
Sarah ignored their banter, watching Jareth intently. He had not gotten up, laying crumpled on the dirt. He slammed his fist against the ground, his shoulders slumped.
"Please." Sarah whispered. "Please, please, please."
Jareth twitched, his head cocking as if he had heard Sarah. Slowly he propped himself up on his elbows, then rolled over to sit up. He felt his ankle and grimaced.
"Give up, King of Goblins?" Arthur cried, leaping up from where he sat on a log.
Jareth opened his mouth, then glanced at Sarah. He stood, favoring his one leg. "I will continue."
Arthur's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"I am sure." Jareth's voice was sharp. The crowd cheered.
More wood. They all waited for it to catch and the fire to climb higher. Someone began chanting, within moments the crowd had joined. Sarah tried to, but couldn't even guess at the words. It was in a language she didn't recognize, something deep and old that made her shiver. It made the air tingle with energy.
Arthur walked up to the fire, set his feet in the ground, tensed, then leapt.
He didn't make it.
He was five feet too short and went straight through the flames. When he landed on the other side, fire was flickering off his skin. Servants ran forward with buckets of water, pouring them over the man.
Uncharacteristically, the crowd did not groan, did not cheer, merely continued chanting. Only Sarah seemed to have any concern for Arthur. It was eerie. The two servants dragged Arthur away. Would they not allow him to be healed until after the competition either?
She caught Jareth moving and focused back on him.
All eyes watched Jareth as he limped back from the fire, getting a running start. Then he dashed forward, his face tight with concentration and he pushed on his good foot.
He leapt up, up, up. He almost seemed lifted by the crowd, their chanting pushing him higher than he ever should have gone.
He crested the fire. Just above the tendrils of the flames, then fell down on the other side headfirst. He landed on his arms, folded into a ball, and rolled three times before coming up on his feet again.
The crowd fell silent, only the roar of the fire could be heard.
Jareth swayed, taking a single unsteady step. Then he shook himself like a dog, and ran straight for Sarah in the crowd. He caught her by her waist, lifting her up, around, and back down for a fierce celebratory kiss. He tasted of salt, and sweat.
Someone whistled, and the crowd began cheering again. Jareth ignored their attention, instead cradling her head in his hands, running them through her hair, down her back while kissing her lips again and again and again...
He finally pulled away, panting heavily, sweat running down his face. His eyes locked with hers. Sarah dared not look away from their heavy gaze. "Shouldn't you heal your ankle?" She offered, looking up into his mismatched pupils.
Jareth huffed, plopping down on the ground, he ran his hands over his wound and muttered a few words. Standing, he hopped on the injured foot to show off. "Healed." He grinned and took Sarah's arm. "Dance with me."
Sarah hesitated. "I don't know how." Waltzing was one thing, her dad had taught her that. But she was sure she knew none of the dances these people danced.
"Follow my lead." Jareth whispered, and he pulled her into the bare circle around the fire.
As if by magic, the chanting began again.
Sarah faced Jareth, shifting from foot to foot. He had his eyes closed, his head cocked to the side. He swayed to the wild, pulsing energy in the air.
Suddenly he exploded like a storm, snatching her hand up to pull her into a wild series of motions. Sarah tripped over her own ankles trying to match him. Jareth caught her in his arms and set her on her feet again. He leaned forward to whisper into her ear.
"Listen. My only one. Listen." His breath was hot on her cheek.
Sarah stilled, hearing the song around her, trying to make sense of it all.
"Tá sí marfach, Jareth, ní thuigeann sí." A voice from the crowd called.
She's mortal, Jareth, she won't understand.
Jareth threw up his hands in exasperation. "Is féidir léi, is féidir léi! Ní gá di ach é a mhothú."
She can, she can! She just needs to feel it.
He touched her arm, rubbing it, messaging it so that it was loose. "Feel it mon trésor. Listen to it, and then feel."
She stared up at him, raising a single eyebrow to let him know she was exasperated by his vague instructions. But she closed her eyes and tried again.
Perhaps it had something to do with the sparking air around them. It seemed to move with the words of the crowd, perhaps...
There! The crackling energy touched her arm and it twitched, as if pushed by the chanting itself.
Jareth took her hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. "Yes. Yes." He encouraged. "Feel it, let it guide you."
The air pulsed again, this time Sarah pulsed with it, her muscles longed to go where they were pushed. Jareth grasped her hands tightly. "Yes. Now, follow me." And he pulled her close to dance.
This time, she matched him. It was a flurry of senses, of touches. Of clasped hands, of steps, of hips brushing against one another, of jumps, of legs twisting. Sometimes she threw herself into his arms whereupon he leapt into the air. Other times he took her hand so she could swing down low to the ground.
Her hair came out of it's braid, whipping in her face, in Jareth's. It was going to be terribly tangled later but Sarah couldn't bring herself to care.
There was no pattern, no sense to it at all. Only the chanting of the crowd that pushed them on and on, till Sarah's lungs burst for air, and her muscles trembled with every step.
In a moment of clarity, she caught a glance of Jareth in that spinning world of rhythm and dance. He looked at her, so achingly tender and loving Sarah had to look away.
And as soon as it started, it was over. The crowd gave one last loud bark and they stopped. They were both panting and gasping, leaning against one another for support. Jareth's arm came around her shoulder. He held her, pressing his lips repeatedly against her brow. Sarah stood limply, dazed by what she had seen in his eyes for her.
Then he kissed the same spot the old woman had.
Sarah felt a wave of cold go through her, Jareth hissed, jerking back slightly. Sarah pushed him away, looking around at the cheering crowd, blinking slowly. "It doesn't make sense." She muttered.
His arms circled around her waist and he pressed his chest to her back. "What doesn't, innamorato?" He asked in a low, amused, voice.
Sarah considered. "You love me." She said slowly.
Jareth chuckled, his chest vibrated with the noise, it tickled her back. "That I do."
"And… and I must love you." Sarah didn't notice him stiffen at the words. "I let you hold me, and kiss me. I must love you, if I let you do that."
Jareth's arms tightened, and he pressed his face into her hair. "Oh, mo mhuirnín dílis…" He crooned.
Oh, my faithful darling...
Sarah stared into the crowd, her brow creasing in thought. "But I don't. I don't love you. So why do I let you hold me and kiss me?"
His arms released, in a flash he was in front of her, his face like a stone. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back over the space into the crowd. Sarah followed easily. They passed by Gauden and the others, Sarah spotted their piles of clothes on the ground. She resisted Jareth's grasp. "My spindle."
Jareth's hand became unpleasantly tight. "Mon amour, it doesn't matter. Forget the-"
The cold in the pit of her stomach flared and Sarah jerked her arm away. "No. She gave it to me. It's important." She ran away, through the chatting figures, nearly shoving over Lussi in her hurry.
She knelt, pushing through the piles of clothes, looking for the pouch the servants had given her.
Gauden gasped. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for my spindle." Sarah tossed aside two boots. "It was in a pouch, tied around my waist. I need it-"
Herodia sounded shocked. "Why would you need a spindle? It's not our job to spin things."
"It was given to me-"
Lussi laughed. "Silly mortal. Spindles are for common servants. Not for ladies like us."
Sarah gasped back tears. "But-"
Gauden knelt by Sarah and touched her arm gently. "Here, child. Dress yourself. We'll find it tucked among some fold of cloth, I think." She found Sarah's kirtle in the mess of gowns and cloaks and shoes. She shook it out. "Put this on." She helped Sarah retie the laces at the sides. "Now, your surcoat."
They looked among the clothes for that until Sarah spotted the embroidery underneath Lussi's dress. She grabbed it and shook it out too. No pouch revealed itself.
Her boots held nothing, the hat and clothes restored on her head, her cloak around her shoulders, but she could not find the little drawstring bag. She choked back a sob, it felt like some great, huge loss. As if part of her soul had been taken.
Gauden rubbed Sarah's shoulders. "There there. It's alright. We'll find it."
"Yes, yes. Later." Jareth's voice was cold. "Stand aside Gauden."
Gauden bowed to Jareth, why would she bow to Jareth? And stepped back.
Jareth had dressed too, a new cloak moving on his shoulders. He watched Sarah warily, a gentle smile playing at his lips. "Now, now, bright eyes. Why all the concern for a little wood and string?"
Sarah felt her cheeks burn, her worry suddenly seeming small and silly, a child's wailing over a favorite toy. A sister refusing to allow her brother to play with her stuffed bear.
"I-"
"You want a spindle?" Jareth gestured around them. "I will give you another spindle, but first, we must go. They have almost finished fetching and counting the kills of the night and we must be there to receive their rewards." He held out his hand, his eyes leaving no room for argument.
Sarah stared at it.
Look what I am offering you-
She rubbed away a tear. "But I want the one I had."
Jareth's lip curled. "Then we will search for it later, but we must go now, a rúnsearc." Another name she knew. My secret love.
Sarah began shivering, despite the roaring fire, despite her new layers of clothes. Why was she cold? Why? When she had all these layers-
"Why?"
"Why what?" She winced at the sharpness in his voice.
"Why am I going with you?"
Jareth's jaw clenched. Sarah took a step back, hugging herself. "Why am I letting you do this to me? Why do I let you kiss me and hold me I-" She noted the growing anger in Jareth's eyes and stepped back. "I barely know you."
He reached out, tried to take her shoulders. "My jewel-"
She darted backwards out of reach, watching him with a new fear. "Don't touch me."
A shadow fell over Jareth's face. "Schnucki, don't be ridiculous."
Sarah looked around uneasily. "I'm not your… Chu-kee, whatever." A new dance had started around the fire, this time dozens of people were joining in. She saw Lussi dancing with two men, laughing and succumbing to the chanting of the crowd.
It was a maze of bodies, chanting even as they danced among themselves. A wild, magical mess. Sarah leapt straight into the melee.
Jareth chased after her as she ran. But he wanted to move with the chanting too, he fumbled in his steps, one foot dancing and the other running after her.
Sarah pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, yet still paid enough attention to it that it was easy to avoid the dancers. Dodging around a particular couple, she spotted another running figure, Herodia, something in her hand as she made her way to the fire. Something white.
"Stop!" Sarah screamed, lifting her skirts so she might run without worry of tripping. "Stop, Herodia, stop!"
Instead of stopping, the woman sped up, dodging through the dancers.
Sarah screamed, energy coursing through her exhausted legs and she tackled the woman. They fell to the ground, sending dancers dashing for cover as they rolled through the dirt.
Sarah came out on top, the spindle, the elusive spindle was clutched in Herodia's hands. "Give me that you thief!"
Herodia struggled, worming her way out from under Sarah. So Sarah punched her nose.
Blood gushed from the lady, she gasped, one hand flew up to stop the bleeding.
"You dare harm me?" She cried.
Sarah punched her again in the eye by way of reply. Then she grabbed the hand holding the stolen property, clawing at it with her nails, digging them into the skin until they released.
She grabbed at the spindle and jumped to her feet, clutching her prize to her chest. She was still shivering. She was so close to the fire, practically would fall into it if anyone pushed, why was she cold? Wildly she looked through the crowd. Jareth couldn't be far behind, he wouldn't be kept forever. She would have to run, maybe steal one of the horses…
Sarah's head seared with a burning icyness that made her gasp in pain and clutch her skull. Her vision blurred, then cleared. The world fell quiet, too quiet.
No one was chanting now. Some were frozen midstep in their dancing. They stared in surprise, in horror, in fascination.
Everyone was staring at her.
Sarah blanched in horror. No longer were there friendly, human faces to greet her. They had teeth like wolves, ears that pointed straight up into the night sky, fiercely high cheekbones. Wild, fierce, inhuman.
Dangerous.
Sarah took a step back. Lussi, maybe Lussi-
But Lussi no longer looked like a lovely blonde, the outer form kept flickering, revealing a dark twisted form underneath.
The servants. Surely the servants were human, surely-
But no. They were transparent figures, ghosts. She had been in a bonfire celebration with Fae, spoken with a demon, been served by ghosts. She had been bathed and massaged by ghosts.
One fae raised a clawed hand and pointed accusingly. "She is marked by Grossmutter Holle!" They screamed.
Sarah's eyes widened. She remembered the soft, elderly lips against her forehead.
Then barking filled the air.
The crowd turned, and suddenly they were overrun with dogs. Pandemonium ensued. Hounds ran between the crowd, yelping and biting. There had to be at least a hundred of them. The women screamed, their husbands yelled, trying to get the hounds under control.
Sarah watched in shock at the view before her, then a hand touched her arm. She jumped, turning to the side.
Frau Gauden smiled gently down at Sarah. Her face had a new ethereal glow, but was still warm and human. Sarah sighed in relief as she spoke.
"Come now, while my daughters distract them." She held out her arms. "I'll carry you."
Sarah hesitated, then nodded.
Gauden took up Sarah in her arms bridal style, then jumped. They flew over the scrambling hunters and dogs, landing neatly on the other side of the commotion. She broke into a run when they hit the ground, heading towards where the horses were tied up.
"Did you release the dogs?" Sarah asked, still holding her spindle to her chest.
"Yes I did." Gauden grinned. "I needed a distraction, one more pressing than you. So I had my girls release the other hounds and drive them to the crowd."
"Why are you helping me?"
Here her face darkened. "You are marked by Holle. She is-" She hesitated. "Holle is older than us, older than all of us at the hunt, older than Odin himself. Unlike Jareth, I am not foolish to incite her wrath by trapping her favorite mortal."
"Oh." Sarah laughed weakly. "I only gave her a broach."
Gauden's eyebrows raised. "What broach?"
"It was gold, with vines carved all over it, a spindle in the middle."
"No wonder she likes you. It's a powerful item, she has sorely missed it these last centuries." Gauden pulled to a stop, she looked around the horses and spotted the white steed that had led the group. "Here, you'll want this one. It's the fastest."
Sarah cringed. "I don't know how to direct a horse, and I only learned to ride tonight."
"You don't have to. He goes where you want him to. Hurry, we only have so long before Jareth realizes that you're not in that crowd and starts looking for you." She pushed Sarah up onto the saddle. "Ride till sunrise, or until you come to your property. He can't touch you then. And use that spindle if he gets too close."
"How-"
Gauden slapped the hind of the horse. "Loss!" She cried.
The horse broke into a gallop, Sarah shrieked, clinging to the horn of the saddle with one hand, the spindle in the other. Her dress flapped in the wind, her hair whipping over her eyes until she pulled it behind her.
Gradually she shifted herself on the saddle, leaning over to avoid the wind whistling in her eyes.
There, against the sky, she saw the sky lightning. Another hour, she guessed, until sunrise. They came to the coast of France, and the horse leapt over the edge into the sky, pounding over the air. The sky suddenly turned cobalt grey, then steadily brighter.
They passed over England, the tip of the land then- There! Ireland. White and beautiful from the night's storm. The horse hit the snowy ground running, her teeth clattered together from the impact. They sped along as fast as a car, raising a cloud of ice behind them.
Across a stream, over a hill and there was a village. Sarah recognized it as the one she had lived in for the past week and nearly wept with relief. They might make it. Perhaps they'd had enough of a head start-
A screech filled the air, the piercing screech of an owl. Sarah nearly threw up, curling up on the saddle, making herself as small as possible. The horse hooves beat harder against the ground, perhaps sensing the danger for both of them.
The sky was slowly turning grey-blue, where the sun would rise it burned a bright orange, just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes…
A barn owl swept down in front, transforming into Jareth, sword in hand. He dropped on the horse's neck and swung.
The steed screamed and tripped. Sarah toppled off the saddle. Her body snapped, skidded and rolled over the snowy ground to a stop. She groaned, curling into a ball, shivering. The horse screamed again, achingly like a human's scream. Sarah rose, pushing on her arm. Her vision blacked and she collapsed again.
Jareth's heavy breathing filled the air. "Hurt?" He rasped, Sarah looked up from where she was curled up.
He hunched over the horse, wearing the white outfit he'd worn during those final moments in the labyrinth, the sword from the night before in his hand. He would have blended rather neatly into the snowy landscape behind him if it weren't splattered with blood. The blood of the horse. She realized dimly he'd killed it.
"My arm." She croaked.
Use the spindle if he gets too close.
She squinted around in the snow, she must have dropped it when she had fallen off the horse.
"Ah. I see." Jareth's voice was cold, but sympathetic. "I apologize. I thought the snow would be enough to break your fall."
Sarah tested her other arm and found she could sit up with it. Keep him talking. "If you hadn't kidnapped me, I'd be whole." She accused.
Jareth laughed. "You gave yourself to me, dulzura. You put your hand in mine, you-"
"I did nothing of the sort." Sarah stood, cradling her broken arm. "I was doped up by the magic of the hunt. It was no choice of mine." She scanned over the piles of snow, trying to find a speck of wood anywhere. The sky was slowly getting brighter. "Do you really think I would go with The Wild Hunt if I was in my right mind?"
"Mo shíorghrá-"
My eternal love.
And all at once, his voice was pleading, his eyes loving and tender. The sword vanished from his hand and he brushed a speck of blood from his face onto the corpse below. "Stay, please."
She stepped back, her foot hit something hard.
"Why?"
"You- you wanted to know what an Ehefrau is?" He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "It means wife, beloved."
Sarah pretended to collapse from the surprise, the snow crunched under her. "It- it does?" She asked hoarsely.
Jareth stepped over the horse, holding out his hands, ready to accept her back into his arms. "Yes, my angel. My heart's true mate. My wife. I wish to wed you. We will rule the labyrinth together. Will fly together under the northern lights. Ride with the Hunt every Christmas even. And I will love you and treasure you, will want you forever and ever."
Her good arm reached under her skirts and found what she had stepped on. Her hand touched wood and soft thread and she cried, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Why?" She whispered, gripping the spindle tightly in her fingers. "Why do you want me so?"
Here he laughed. "How could I not? Your bravery, your virtues, your stubbornness. I have loved you since you told me my Labyrinth was a piece of cake." His eyes glazed, as if remembering a fond memory. "It took me quite by surprise, I never intended to love anyone. I thought I was content alone, how wrong I was- Oh m'fhíorghrá, how you have turned my world."
My true love.
He knelt before her, the blood from the horse dripped from his feather cloak, staining the pure snow. He touched her cheek with his gloved hand, stroking it tenderly. "Come my Queen, I will heal your arm, and then we can return to our Labyrinth."
Heat filled Sarah, and she could almost feel the calm overtaking her mind again. She shouldn't have allowed him to touch her.
"What about the Hunt?" She asked vaguely.
Jareth laughed. "The Hunt is nearly over, dearheart. I'm afraid we missed the last of it." He glanced over to where the sky burned a brilliant orange along the horizon. He licked his lips and turned back to her. "Come with me herzblatt, say that you will come."
Her hand clenched the spindle, cold rushed through Sarah. "Why not just take me?"
Jareth cocked his head and frowned. "I would prefer if you came willingly." He murmured.
"But it's not a requirement?" Sarah said sarcastically, scooching away, careful to keep the spindle hidden under her skirts. How was she supposed to use it, anyway?
Jareth pursed his lips. "And there is another Glamour gone. You burn through them so quickly, angebetete."
"You're only provoking my point." Sarah glared at him. "You've kidnapped me, doped me, took advantage of me, had Herodia take my property, now killed my horse. Why would I go with you?"
Jareth's voice fell flat. "You will not come."
"No."
He lunged. Sarah threw the spindle at him.
It spun widely, the thread coming undone from where it was tied. Then the spool exploded, thread swirling over Jareth, tangling him in a net of glowing twine. He screamed in frustration, clawing at his bindings uselessly. Within moments he was bound tight, trapped in the glowing thread.
Sarah stood again, wincing as she jolted her bad arm.
Jareth still spoke, his voice low and earnest, desperation laced in every syllable. "Flower, please, you do not know what you are giving up. I will give you everything- everything!"
The empty spindle had fallen into the snow, Sarah reached down and scooped it up, her thumb brushed over the worn wood.
The snow suddenly glowed, glittering wildly like a thousand diamonds. She looked up, blinking at the beams of the newly risen sun. She smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek. Christmas morning. She was safe.
"Ah, Sarah…"
She looked down to where Jareth was tied, but he was gone, string and all.
Slowly she turned around and began to walk towards the village in the distance.
One more chapter. ;)
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