The day of the competition dawned bright and clear. Not a cloud in the sky, the birds were singing merrily, and Jareth was shouting at them to quieten down. He'd dreamed of the girl last night, and he wished for no birdsong to disturb his musings. He rarely dreamt, he had not the time nor the extent of imagination to create dreams, but this dream was wonderful, it was the kind of dream you hope never to wake from. Sarah had been with him, in a green expanse, he could not tell in his world or hers. But so close! They were within touching distance, yet the girl hardly seemed aware of him. No till the end, when she reached out with her fingers toward him, and then all there was was the sudden clumsy beating of hard heavy wings...
Preparations had been going on for the whole week previous, the dais had to be specially commissioned to support the rather substantial weight of Rufus, as well as the horses accompanying the assorted courtiers who would be accompanying the Royal family on the occasion. Booths and tents were established everywhere. And my, what abodes these magicians could conjure! Jareth spent the morn surveying the area, noting with interest how one magician had ownership of a tent that contained not only a spacious 14 bedroomed mansion, but also 15 acres of land (with accompanying scenic views) complete with stables. Another magician, who happened to be but a foot high, appeared to inhabit a ridiculously sized tent – it took up half a grazing field, was level with the highest towers in Sophia's castle and looked more akin to a Circus's big top than a traveller's home. When commanded to explain his reasoning, the man explained:
"Why but my good sir, I believe in occupying a residence that reflects my true standing in the wizarding community." At this Jareth and his entourage erupted into hysterical laughter, before cantering off to explore further. The little man stared after them awhile, musing as to the cause of the laughter, before shrugging his shoulders and entering into his tent, to prepare for the day ahead.
And so it began, the royal family were sat atop the raised dais, with Sophia clapping her hands and cheering with great enthusiasm, as Jareth sat in the next throne, legs flung over the arm of the chair, eyes locked intently on the crystal before him. As was usual with these occasions a comical herald emerged from the castle's side entrance, ineffectually screaming shrilly into the trumpet, meeting mutual gales of laughter, laughter only broken by Jareth's insistence that the proceedings should speeden.
The first magician to appear looked more akin to a children's entertainer. Or more accurately, he appeared to be a magician who had learnt all he knew from the child's book of elementary spells. For example, he was draped from head to foot in twilight blue robes, embroidered with stars and moons, many of which were hanging by a single thread. His tricks consisted of the usual party favours, a biting fairy from a hat, slicing a Goblin maiden (though it is hard to tell) in two and the well loved – pulling a particularly small and stinky Goblin from his trousers – yes, most mediocre magicians enjoyed pulling nasty, stinky Goblins from their – let's not go there, it's too disgusting. The following magicians, of whom there were around seven in number, performed similar rudimentary tricks and favours, clearly blind to the true purpose of the event.
Sophia, in characteristic hilarity loved them all, she snorted and rolled about convulsing with laughter, Jareth's face remained stony. There was no time more such diversions, he had take matters into his own control. He stood, specially commissioned cloak rippling with cinematic effects in the wind.
"Any other 'magician' to perform so miserably will face my wrath, this is no game I will have you understand. This is not for fun or your enjoyment. This event is endowed with purpose, and my time is short, so if there are any true magicians remaining, perform – but the fakers, narcissists and the unskilled had best leave now. Lest they face my wrath" He resumed his seat. The field was stricken by silence, all gaiety dissipated, and was replaced with frantic whispers and shadows of converse.
"You planned that didn't you Jareth? Why must you always steal my fun?" She was glaring at him, a true sign of warning, for Sophia to be in anything other than good humour was extremely rare.
"Because it is not your fun cousin, it is mine, if anyone's." Both spoke in muted whispers as the frantic crowds below made their choices, hurrying about like ants on a plain.
"You appear to be forgetting whose kingdom the event is occurring in Jareth," she looked at him questing for a response, but found none, so continued, "you are obsessing now Jareth. It is not healthy for you. This girl whoever she is, could be anyone, witch, harpy, human, you don't even know if she's real. You have no knowledge of the origin of the crystal, it may be some kind of elaborate trickery for all you know."
"It is not!" His voice was a sharp hiss, "we talk no more of the matter now. Be it ordained that I find my magician or not, I leave by dawn. You will no longer need to bear my sight."
Silence reigned supreme between both for the rest of the day.
Few magicians remained after Jareth's tirade, most were reminded with horrifying intensity of the purges of magicians carried out under the reign of his father, and most were wise enough to leave with startling immediacy. Those left were largely insane (as were many a magician), others were bestowed with a foolish measure of self confidence. But one was left who had true power, and the tragedy was his proximity – he lived in the castle, as he always had done.
But this magician was old, an old, old man by now, deaf and blind, still perfectly capable of extraordinary fetes of magic in mind but too frail to move a step, lost in a dream scape from which no man could summon him. This man was Sophia's grand father, who had long since been locked in a tower and forgotten about by all, the reason for his imprisonment was long lost to the passage of time. He had made crystals, beautiful things, gave one to a boy once, spiky hair, wore tights, that was in his 'young days' (comparatively speaking), the days of hard drugs and heavy metal. Too old and feeble to move now, attended on only by an ancient man-servant and cook's boy. It was the night that true magic was needed – that he died.
A competent magician was found, he showed talent in the form of transfiguration, the purpose for which Jareth requited him. Jareth kept his promise, he left that dawn, never even pausing to say goodbye.
Sophia watched him leave from her window and muttered to herself as his image was obscured by the brilliance of the rising sun, "what on earth will become of my poor lost Jareth?" With that, she retreated with tears forming to her bed.
She would not see him again, not for a long, long time.
Once again, thankyou lovely reviewers, here's my replies to you all!
Inulvr7 I'm glad you like it, hope you like this chapter as well, things are getting abit more serious now, but I have still tried to be funny ;). As for Goblins of the Labyrinth, it was written by Brian Froud and Terry Jones, it's really great, and if you live in the USA or UK you should be able to get it easily either from Amazon or a local bookstore ;).
Notwritten I'm glad you're still reading, hope you enjoy this chapter!
DnDgamergirl Thankyou very much for the review, I'm really pleased you're enjoying it, enjoy this chapter!
All reviews are greatly appreciated!