He had abandoned the party after Sarah had fled, retreating to his room. Anastasia had chased after him, but could hear nothing. This was understandable as the room was vacant, if Sarah would not stay with him, he would go to her. The guests had been leaving since dawn, gossip rife in the air, all questioning the identity of the dark haired girl, ridiculing Jareth's fixation with her. Among the departing had been Jareth's (former) magician, who being unable to convince any of the wildly drunken guests at the party to bring him into their employ, had successfully stowed himself in the luggage compartment of Puck's carriage. Puck's carriage can be likened to a Swiss army knife, generally redundant and extremely nasty. For example, the luggage compartment was equip with an abundance of four inch razor sharp spikes. The magicians' journey was consequently not the most comfortable of transitions, it was also to be his last.
"I don't trust you Jareth," to whom the warning was addressed stood skulking around the vicinity of the stables, absently petting the sleek coats of the horses that had been left for him as presents from Maria. Olga's carriage prepared to pull out as she chided him.
"Do not trust me over what sister?" He did not meet her eyes, his head was cast down.
"I don't trust you over anything any more, least of all that girl. Forget her Jareth, it is clear to all that you are...infatuated with her, but you know the rules, you can never keep her here, she is not a child, cannot be changed into one of your grotesques, nor is she yet an adult." Jareth glared at her, returning to his horses, clicking his tongue and whispering in their ears. Totally useless at communication, always has been, I've had more stimulating conversations with my husband for the love of Scrabbelscruff. I remember when he use to throw bricks at people to gain attention. Olga rolled her eyes at the memory, those bricks had hurt. He had been just as artful a shot as he was presently possessed with a skill in utilising his booted feet as offensive weapons.
"I wish you goodbye sister," he muttered the pleasantry morosely, still turned away from her. Olga was in no mood to vie for his attention, so entered her carriage.
"The same feeling is returned to you. I will speak one more time with you Jareth, to say this – remember the rules, you may have few boundaries Jareth, but take heed of the ones you full well know of." She turned to her husband, "Gerald! My, have you had nothing to occupy yourself with these past days? Go to the cab this instant, we have a great distance to cover, it may put your miserable vapid existence to some worldly use to direct us homeward." The carriage joltingly left the enclosure. With Gerald perched precariously on the driver's seat, periodically being sent several feet into the air from the dent ridden turf. Jareth had never set eyes on his brother-in-law before, he felt great pity for him, he looked something like a vaguely elfin chartered accountant. He had spectacles perched on a stubby little nose, squinty eyes and an expression of constant anxiety, as if living in constant fear of the next word from Olga. It made him give a pleasant laugh at the sight of him being thrown to the ground, to meet Olga's distant frustrated screams, the last laugh Jareth would have for a long while.
Jareth had been troubled by Sarah's departure. He had never felt such overwhelming loss, not even at the death of the greater portion of his family. It felt as if something he could not place had died within him. Jareth had known for always that the projection of his beloved would have to pass, to move on, to keep with the proper order of time. But not in such a heart tearing manner. For her to flee from him, as if he was a monster, he could not comprehend the look in her eyes as the clock struck the hours, such a distant factor to him, so dear to her. It is of note that Jareth was naturally of an extremely jealous disposition, all his brother and string of sisters had – he would wish to posses it. And the sharpened looks and the apocalyptic actions Jareth would carry through if not subsided to created such terror that his jealously and little desires were more often that not entertained. And so consequently Jareth was rabidly jealous of a clock. As I am sure you can tell, Jareth had issues.
He had visited her that night, it had been early evening in her world, and he had sat poised on the branch hanging outside her window, watching the concentration that lined her brow as she read the last few lines from the play over and over, whilst a piece of homework lay unfinished, pushed to the side. He noted little details of her, the smile on her face when she successfully recounted a line, the wistful look as she gazed at the photos tucked into the frame of her dresser, creased from being handled countless times. He wished for her to look at him in such a way. He would shred the photos to ribbons before her to attain such a gaze from her, for her to see him as worthy as the figures the black and white snaps held still.
He had fortune to thank for her possessing the book. It was rare now, the many thousands of copies first printed hundreds of years in the past at the order of an ancient descendant had diminished to so few. Humans were so careless, lives being riddled with fires, deaths, mistakes. Their whole lives were comedies of errors. He could tell the mere fact she owned a copy was a sign that she was meant to be his, the words were dying, and she would die with them, unless she came to him. Something Jareth was going to ensure was to happen – what girl would refuse an offer of immortality? She just never understood before, I will soon explain to her the magnitude of her fortune.
He would need to get the Peach to her through some means, as it was only that that would ensure Sarah would share in the same experience that had both delighted and tortured him. If he was to take the child from her – she was in no position to trust to him. So it was Hoggle (who Jareth consistently referred to as Hogwit) who Jareth put into his employ to befriend the girl, to lead her astray, to tempt her, to play serpent if you will. The plans were formulating, he could not keep her in his lands against her will, her youth and the many endlessly complicated laws formulated aeons ago, meant that. But if she wished it, she could stay, and it was Jareth's plan to make sure that she would stay, she would leave her little doll's house behind her, to come to him. She would want him above all else.
The next few days were generally taken by the final preparations surrounding the girl's arrival, as well as other matters. The day after the party, Jareth received a telegram from his cousin Sophia from whom he had been cut off for an age. Here is how it read, excluding the tears and the mud and beer stains the resulted from the employ of an untrustworthy messenger:
Jareth
I know what you are planning to do. And I think you're a total moose for it. Anastasia told me of the party Jareth, you need to stop being so irresponsible!!! Stop things now before they get out of hand, you know you can never keep her.
Why won't you marry a normal girl, you know full well Tillia of Floria is very, very available, and she has a great big dowry to boot. I don't know about you Jareth, but I don't see your silly little doll as coming equip with a dowry that equates to four castles, seven hundred horses and the Florian crown jewels.
You have a kingdom to care for Jareth, your subjects rely on you, look on you as their leader, their father figure if you will. Surely that is more important than this girl?
And don't retort stating that you have no common features with a Goblin Jareth – you know exactly what I mean. So refrain from meanness!
I would dearly like to speak with you soon cousin, peace!
Sophia
P.S. Terence sends his best regards.
P.S.S. So do the horses in the stables, especially Blackie (remember him?)
Sophia, Sophia, Sophia. She was always amusing when attempting to be responsible. He would pay her no heed, take not her words into account. The telegram would remain unanswered. She really thought the promise of great riches (which for Sophia, constituted vast numbers of horses) would lure him from Sarah? She stood just as much chance as drawing a donkey from the promise of a fat juicy carrot through means of a rubber bone. And even without all of Sarah's fine and bountiful qualities entering the equation – Jareth would not touch Tillia of Floria with a ten yard long barge pole. They had been introduced once, at a extremely dull costume party hosted by her father, and it was clear to all her face was riddle with pock marks, which gave the poor girl the general façade of a spotted handkerchief.
Jareth had, after over a thousand years finally discovered a use for his ignorant, half-wit subjects, he hand picked a gaggle of those who were among the least inebriated and pea-brained of his lot to keep watch over her room. Goblins were useful for this task, being so small, and so hopelessly insignificant, the laws of time and space seemed to tolerate them as a hopeless, irritating anomaly, something like head lice. So they had access to her room, they would sometimes pilfer some of her belongings, odd socks, childish storybooks with torn pages, crayons, and other such trifles the like of which the Goblin had never sighted before. The fragemnts of a childhood the likes of which they had never had chance to know.
After many days of boredom, watching Sarah crown herself with flimsy paper hats, pull curtains about her figure, and strut about the room as if already crowned, their watch reached it's climax. She had ran fuming to her room, all the time all watching her intently, waiting for her to speak the words that Jareth had ingrained in their flimsy temporal memories She had noted the disappearance of a favoured teddy, a ploy formulated by the Goblins to speed up proceedings to allow for their return to the warm comfort of the ale barrel. And it appeared to be working, she ran, shrieking like a Banshee to her parent's chamber, where sure enough the knitted toy lay close to the small child, who was attired in the kind of embarrassing red and white striped night clothes that parents falsely believe look 'cute.' She had chided the child who understood not a word she spoke, told him of the story that was outside of her knowledge so hopelessly real, and then, she said it, or at least, came close:
"Goblin King! Goblin King! Wherever you may be take this child of mine far away from me!" She had pulled a ridiculous knitted cap over her hair – she looked silly, and to the Goblins, sounded as if a total imbecile. The child was held aloof before her, gurgled, amused by her theatrical frenzy.
"Where did she learn that rubbish?" Gruber, sighed his annoyance, as the girl turned quiet, replacing the child in the confines of his crib as he began to emit an uncontrollable wail, moving to the door.
"I do wish the Goblins would come and take you away," she paused, as if reluctant to speak the rest of the words she knew so well, the Goblins held their breath as a single stifled whole, "right now."
It was with the speaking of those two simple little words, that all hell broke loose.
Phew I've finally got there! The end is in sight, only two chapters left now, thank Scrabblescruff! I had better warn you now that it is around the time the next chapter is due I have my exams, so if it's delayed by a day or two, that's the reason! Anyway I hope everyone enjoys this, and once again many thanks to my beta Ergott, onto my reviewers:
InuLvr7 I'm glad you liked it, and I like your analogy, very Sarah! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Irresistable Malaria I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I feel exactly the same about jealousy over Sarah, I'd love to have that dress, who cares what's in fashion ten or something years in the future - when I get married I want that dress!
And as usual, the plea for reviews, review, review, review :)!