Sarah, alternately known as the girl in the crystal, trouser-girl and various other names by which Jareth referred to her in his (gradually improving) poetry. He had first seen her when she was around thirteen (though of course such numbers meant nothing to a Fae, how is thirteen any measure of time when you happen to be in your seventh millennia of being?), she had been crying. She'd collapsed over the bridge and had just cried relentlessly, on and on. It took great force of will to stop him shattering the image into a thousand pieces, it had upset him you know, which was odd because that it something that shouldn't happen to fae. They inhabit a bizarre world brimming over with the most powerful and vapid of emotions, lust and fury, you know the type. It had to be something special to stimulate the subtler reaches of emotion, that was why she was so intriguing.
She was very young, he could see that, and bizarrely dressed in some kind of blue pantaloons (most odd for a girl, for Jareth had previously been unaware that the female of the species actually had legs) a new fashion he had assumed with a shrug. He'd always got the same view, of the park, he'd seen it over an impossibly lengthy stretch of time, he's seen the ladies with the bizarre neck braces, the men in their tights (a fashion he had taken a particular interest in), the loose shirts, the corsetry, the girls with boys hair, and the women (and possibly men) who'd plaited their hair with wild flowers and gazed glassily around the scenery lacking all sense of purpose. Something this girl most clearly had. She had an...interesting face...when in fury, or despair, or whatever the humans call it. She had spoken, spoken to nothing but the air around her, probably her reason taken in the red eyed anger that possessed her, though he could not hear the words because the crystal only gave an image, their meaning and intention was all too clear.
She'd ran off then, still with the tears flowing, still with his interest awakened. He spent several days staring listlessly into the thing, waiting for her image to appear before him – on the third day, he decided there were probably matters of state to deal with and took it upon himself to locate his ministers, all of whom he found shuffling about outside his chambers.
"Yes, well what do you want?" he prided himself in his ability to be rude and arrogant to his ministers, without exceptions.
"The king of Privaya...has sent...emissaries," one poor soul gulped with stuttered speech, putting off the inevitable until Jareth began voicing his rapidly escalating impatience.
"To discuss marriage with his daughter!" The last words were more a high pitch squeal than comprehensible speech.
"Remember prime-minister Rumpul, Tomkins," he was tapping his left foot. A bad omen.
"I'm sorry sire, he said it was a matter of great multi-national importance! Well sire, your answer...?" The goblin got uncomfortably close to Jareth's proximity, eyes widening with hope, resulting in a kick from the boots.
"You can tell the King of Privet or whatever it is his daughter has the general disposition of a constipated frog and he must be delusional for any thought of marrying her off to me."
"That may need re-wording slightly sire..." mumbled the fortunate Tompkins, as the order for his execution had not yet been passed.
"Yes, yes go and do that Tomkitten," after he scuttled away, Jareth surveyed the gaggle of learned (well, by Goblin standards) Goblins before picking out a particularly awed looking toad at the back of the cluster, "you, are you known as?"
"Scuttle sire, oh glorious Jareth of the extended dominion of..." before the creature could rattle off the whole list of his titles, Jareth interrupted.
"Yes alright, alright Muddle, no need for formalities, I need you to find me," a carefully timed pause for effect, "a magician," he smiled barbarically as the room gave a collective shudder for the mention. A wizard had been admitted into the castle once, and enchanted the castle so that every single Goblin in the place had an obsessive compulsive cleaning disorder, every minute of the day was spent fighting your brother for a snatch of his soap, or your sister for a blissful session with her (rather redundant, considering Goblins are without exception, bald) hairbrush. The reason for this was genrally thought to be that the magician had been so disgusted by the depravity and filthiness of the populace, he saw the need to take action.
"That may be, difficult, sire, considering your father banished all Magicians and issued a decree stating any magician to enter the Goblin kingdom – faced a penalty of death." He smiled hopefully up at him. Little Scuttlehad only recently been employed, having been found to be capable of reciting (well the first half of) the Goblinian alphabet, and knew little of Jareth or his ways.
"Well, I would like for you to issue a new decree, any magician to come here, will be rewarded, with a gold purse, enough funds to live off comfortably for a long, long life." He drew Scuttle close and bared his teeth, "I doubt you've never heard of such an astronomical sum before have you now Scuttle?"
"No sire, my father, may he rest eternally in the big bog in the sky (he added reverently), worked in the dungeons, professional prisoner he was, sat in the cell, moaned, rattled his chains, kept the general doom and gloom atmosphere going I'm sure you know what I mean sire? And he was paid two vats of mud a week – quite generous pay I believe Sire."
"Yes, yes Puddle, very nice, go and issue the decree will you there's a good chap."
"Sire, if you don't mind me asking, what do you need a magician for, it may help...dissuade, some of the more, malovelantly intended magically inspired persons?" Even youthful Scuttle, a mere century old, had horrific memories of the time of the lime soap.
"A good question Scuttle, yes a good question!" He slapped him on the back, knocking the puny sized advisor onto the hay strewn floor. "That is a rare thing in my kingdom, is it not you miserable dolts?" There was a frenzied nodding of heads. "I want a magician," he smiled again, his smile was well used to intimidate, "to get me aboveground."
Mistress Eden - Thankyou very much for your review, I'm glad you're enjoying the story and hope you enjoy this (belated!) chapter.
To everyone, I'm sorry it has taken so long to update, I began a piece of original fiction after this, and got kind of preoccupied with that, it is very long, 10 000 words right now, so you can probably tell why it took so long! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I will hopefully be updating more reguarlly now.