And Jareth soared high, high into the twilight. With star-studded skies as his backdrop, the violet hued evening the landscape to his journey.
Never had he imagined such was the glorious nature of flight. Jareth had long worshipped at the idol of power, and the power the feeling of flight can give is overwhelming, intoxicating, it dwarves all else, it was the long-awaited reward for his fervent devotion.
Jareth had forever been madly jealous of his brother, who the Goblinian priests had endowed with the name Lasander. For Lasander had been taught all the skills that he had never had a chance to put to use, the skills that Jareth as ruler needed so badly. Lasander had been taught to shift, Lasander had been taught to understand the hopelessly complicated political jargon, Lasander had been taught how to rule. All notions Jareth had not the remotest grasp of, not because of a lack on intelligence, indeed Jareth was as sharp as a blade, but simply because no-one had had the foggiest idea he was going to end up on the throne. Though of course the fact he was a reckless, hot headed, womaniser did not help the situation.
Jareth had always had to stay sealed in the decrepit stone walls of the castle, bored and brooding whilst Lasander committed the interesting tasks that accompany the fact that one is royal. Jareth's mother had petted him, as he was her youngest child, she had tried to keep him young by dressing him in ribboned skirts and went into a cataclysmic state of shock when he learnt how to write. As a result, Jareth had grown selfish and vain. Always unsatisfied with all the plenty and the power that was laid at his feet. Always looking for more. Always seeking what he could not have.
Jareth was breaking through the barrier, the barrier between the Underground and our world. Under normal, unforced circumstances, it could only be broken by the call of the desperate and malovelantly minded, passing through the barrier unheralded was like forcing a wound, unspeakably painful and excruciating. His form felt like it was being manipulated and torn at by a pit of ravenous devils. But he came through it, breaking through into the clear blue skies of the aboveground.
It was strange there. Of course when you have never left a certain climate, that is normality, all else is alien. But comparing the aboveground to the underground, the underground seemed stifling and heated in comparison to the startling icy nature of it's atmosphere. The feeling was akin to that of submerging your face in a bowl of freezing water.
He had emerged directly above the park, the sight of which he was now so familiar with. The green lawn, the wide river, the cobbled bridge all were in place, as if players poised on a stage. He swooped down toward the park, gracefully slicing through the skies, settling atop a marble pillar. It was then that Sarah came into view, sprinting across the green blades, laughing with a childish glee. Not a single care in the world.
You will soon have a care my dear, you may hold trust in that.
Back in the Underground chaos had ensued.
"Where has Jareth gone now!" The recently re-promoted Prime-minister Scuttle was desperately searching for the remotest trace of his glorious and otherwise preoccupied sovereign. He was currently peering inside a cracked teapot for example, scrutinising the non-existent conetents.
"Off to see that strange two-legged girl your esteemicy!" Goblins always like to express perfectly simplistic subjects through means of totally unnecessary complexity, that is if they are capable of expressing themselves through any thing other than monosyllabic terms.
"If anything it would be your esteemed majesty, you foolish incompetents," Lasander sighed at the futility of it all. He proceeded to wander desolately about the throne room, rattling a few chains and emitting several generic ghostly groans. Unfortunately as prime-minister Scuttle was of remotely increased intelligence to your average Goblin, Lasander could not communicate with the frenzied prime-minister and let him know his well-fermented opinions on his idiotic, reckless, younger brother actions.
"Why can't he just get a Fae mistress? Like normal monarchs under the age of a hundred thousand, it's not as if we're asking him to take on a Goblin maiden as a companion..." Good point, good point. Or better, why can't he be like me? I didn't need mistresses, no, I had my books. Lovely, cuddly, books, better than a mistress any day. If only Jareth would show the remotest inclination to intellectual thought...
He left Scuttle and his throng of extremely incompetent aides having simultaneous panic attacks as the call pealed through the castle, summoning the (conspicuously absent) Goblin King to steal away a troublesome infant. They all knew what had to happen as this point. It was the time of the dress-up, and involved the prime-minister donning a wig, and press ganging the resident wizard into forming some, vaguely convincing illusion, about him so as to prevent the threatening dark presence of the Goblin King manifesting itself as a warty, snivelling, verruca encrusted subject. The last Lasander heard of Scuttle's pleas to the magician before drifting off were 'or I'll ordered you to be thrown into the oubliette!" Eager responses and muttering of incantations on the part of the magical personage followed, wizards were indeed wise, they certainly knew when to act, at least when it involved the threatening of their immediate material comfort.
Jareth sat watching the girl run from his arched shadowed eyes. With this form, he was given a new perspective, his eyes were keener than they ever had been and seemed to take-in all the surrounding intricacies of life with a far greater clarity than ever before. He could see her clearly now, no more was she a blurred indistinct figure in the midst of a botanical landscape, she was a chiselled sharp presence. Her hair was long and dark, skin light and fair, with rosy lips and cheeks. She had an expressive face - it had great aptitude for joy, as well as utter despair.
She was running faster than before now, and it did not take Jareth to see why. A boy. A boy was following on her heels, close to matching her furious pace. He arched both wings as they drew near, ready to swoop down and utilise his finely sharpened talons if he showed the slightest motion of threat to the girl. But it did not take long for him to realise that the boy was no threat, he meant no hostility. They were friends, bosom companions you might say. He could see the exhilaration drive her and her frenzied squeals when the boy caught up and began tickling her in the ribs mercilessly.
"Stop it!" She whacked away his hands playfully, once again picking up the pace. She ran close to Jareth, close enough to reach out and touch his form if she so wished, but she had no eyes for what was closed to her perceptions. For her, no owl stood atop the marble pillar.
"Wait up Sarah! I need to talk to you," So Sarah, that's her name. A beautiful name. It fits her.
"What is it?" She turned to smile at him. A dazzling smile. A smile with the potential to light the darkest of chambers. Jareth could scarcely believe the vast quantities of poetic potential she was emanating, he could write a whole volume on their first encounter if he so wished. The limitless possibilities she was introducing to him.
"I was wondering if, if-" he paused, and stuttered awkwardly for several trailing moments, before she egged him on, drawing a continuation from his unforthcoming lips, "do you wanna come to the movies with me?" A pregnant pause, "there's this great film on at the weekend, it's about this -"
"I dunno...I've gotta look after Toby again at the weekend..." she blushed awkwardly, she was lying. She had time, that is if she would make time, she had the whole afternoon on the approaching Saturday. But Sarah Williams had more important matters dwelling in her mind. Like the play, right now learning the play was the most important thing in the world for her, she was not sure of the reason. All she understood was the over-riding importance of learning that little red book word-for-word.
There were a few more forced exchanges, before they parted leaving Sarah alone in the green expanse of the park. She loved it there, it was one of the few places that she felt she truly belonged to, she'd spend her every spare moment there, when not dreaming away the time in the classroom or playing guardian for her troublesome brother. And more recently she'd taken to coming in early evening, when the place was deserted, and she'd strut over the stone-built bridge, reciting the play word-perfect, draped in a discarded curtain or dragging one of her mother's old, old theatre dresses with their frills and their flounces across the muddied ground. She could picture herself in the part, she truly could, but not on any stage, she could see herself as the girl in stark reality. You see, that play was as real to her as the wind and the rain falling on her face.
And Jareth knew. Jareth was generally to lazy to exercise any of his mind skills, but for Sarah exceptions would ensue, for Sarah he would make an effort, for Sarah he would move the stars. And he saw the events play out in her mind. Oh how perfect, you would think she was a prophetess. Well I for one will see her little play comes true. Truer than she could ever imagine in her fantasies.
And with that he flew to meet the now darkening skies. It was time for the preparations to ensue.
Well, back from hiatus, hope you all had wonderful holidays everyone and I wish a happy and prosperous 2007 to you all! This chapter is much longer than usually, about 1600 words, I'm quite pleased with it though, it's probably one of my favourite chapters so far, and as you can probably tell I'm beginning to move away from the constant stream of humour now, though it's still there ;).
Anyway, onto my great reviewers!
InuLvr7 - Hi again, hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry about making Jareth a bit dim, I have hopefully explained why here though. His total lack of education is mainly due to being molly-coddled and 'protected' by a possessive mother, it's actually based on examples in real royalty, clingy mothers were very common in the 1800's (and they did dress little boys in skirts, even until they were about seven in some cases!)
Irresistible Malaria - Asking my brother, he hasn't actually been kicked with steel toed boots, but has friends who have, and told him suitably excruciating tales about the experience! I did go to one party, and the next chapter is going to have a party (or at least preparations for a party) in it and there are some characters from the real life party that will probably worm their way into the fiction! Enjoy this chapter!
Miharu Kiwaski - That's the perfect word to describe my version of Jareth here - compulsive, he's abit like some of the idiots I use to know at school, do first think later, only with far more charm and better looking ;). Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Danika - I'm glad you like Lasander (as I have christened him, based on the name Lysander from Shakespeare), to be honest, I was struggling with writing chapter 7 and then the idea for a plot device came to me in the form of a ghostly brother for Jareth. A learned and probably quite dull brother who is supremely irritated by the fact is annoying ignoramus of a younger brother has came to the throne in place of him.
That's it for now, should be updating again in a few days!
Oh yeah, reviews are VERY VERY welcome, and as you can tell, all will be responded to.