I own nothing! Only the plot and my OC.

The air had turned from the cheery warmth of the kitchen to the icy stillness of a stone castle. Sarah shivered, but Scrub, who was too excited to worry about trivial things such as the temperature, was surveying her surroundings with unabashed wonder.

Jareth ushered them quickly along the stone hallway, their steps echoed omenously off the walls. Said walls were covered in medieval war implements; war axes, bits of armor, daggers and the like. Scrub was repeatedly whispering awed adjectives under her breath and swiveling her head from left to right in order to see absolutely everything.

Scrub guessed that they had been walking along that hall for around ten minutes before a tiny, knobbly, brown thing appeared in their path. The goblin was dressed in muddy, ragged clothes and wore a stained, brown cap. It bowed low and nearly touched the floor with the front tip of his hat. "Masta has returned!"It squeaked in a comically nasal voice. Scrub was reminded of Fran and giggled mentally as she rightly assumed it would have been a very rude thing to do aloud at the moment.

Jareth nodded at the prostrate creature. "Septimus, have the others arrived yet?"

The goblin nodded vigerously and pointed down the hall. "The Throne Room ess packt full of 'em, masta. Masta's sista ess most anxious to see Masta." He poked his head around the Goblin King's booted feet. "Ahh! Young missies have come, too!" He glanced up at Jareth with a wary expression on his warty face. "Ess they gonna attend th' meetin' wit you, sire? Or should Septimus make ready one of de rooms?"

Jareth tapped his fingers against his lips in thought. "They are to be present at the meeting, yes. However, it wouldn't be such a bad idea for two rooms to be prepared." Septimus grinned hideously and bowed low once more, then he vanished with a poof. All that was left was a mini-dust storm of dirt flecks in his wake.

Turning around, he addressed the two of them. "Now, both of you are to remember your manners. Some of the people we are about to meet with are not lenient like my sister and I."

Scrub spoke up. "You mean like, speak only when spoken to, cross your legs when you're sitting and no elbows on the table?"

He nodded. "Precisely like that."

Sarah glanced in her friend's direction. In Scrub's greeny-blue eyes, there was an flash of annoyance and frustration. She did not like to conform to anyone's standards and hated situations where things were 'expected' of her. "So, you're saying that this world is full of chauvanistic, doddy-headed-"

"Martha!" Chided Sarah, using her friend's given name to scold her.

Jareth grinned, his pointy teeth making an appearance. "No, no, its alright. She's right. My world is full of chauvanistic, doddy-headed (whatever that means), sexist asses." Sarah chose to ignore the satisfied smirk of her near-sister.

They started back up and it wasn't much longer until they reached a set of gigantic, wooden double doors. Scrub gazed up at them and inspected the intricate carvings on the panals. "These things must be flicking eighty feet high!" She exclaimed.

"Eighty-two, actually. "Corrected Jareth with a smile. he offered one arm to each of them and whispered to them as the doors creaked open. "Ready yourselves. This might be just a bit overwhelming."

End Notes:

Fun Fact:

Scrub: A stunted tree or thicket or group of stunted trees or shrubs. An undersized person when compared to another.

Scrub was my nickname up until I was teenager, peoplz! That's how I got the idea for my Martha...er..Scrub.

Oh, and I appologize for the rather short chapter. I promise the next one will be much longer.

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