Ch. 7 Harvest Celebrations
Author's Note: A quick word about the title change on this story. 'Love Potion No. 9' was supposed to be a short and fluffy 'short shot' of about 10-15 chapters. This story has taken on a life of it's own, taking me away from the story I wanted to tell in LP#9. That said, I'm really LOOOOOVING where my muse seems to be going on this one. I had stopped finding enjoyment in writing fanfic and this story is doing a lovely job of helping me find it again. I'm going to let my muse run here and see where she leads us all. In the meantime, I'm retracting the title 'Love Potion No. 9' to use with a fluffy/UST/smut story that I wanted to tell…and will use it at a later date.
Anyway, this chapter is EXXXXTRA long and I think has some really lovely moments in it. I do hope you enjoy and would love some feedback on it.
As the solstice moon rose high into the sky, Jareth felt his bond to the land grow strengthen, until it seemed to coil in his mind, before flowing under his skin, making him nearly vibrate with the need to join with the land once more. For several hours he flew, swooping and soaring over his kingdom – not caring where he went; merely enjoying the sense of joy and peace he found upon the heated air currents. When his wings grew tired, he retreated to his private tower of the castle and walked the mysterious, ever-changing paths of the 'Room of Improbability' until such time as the land called him to attend to the fields and the first cutting of the wheat.
It was always this way during the major festivals. The magic of the land rejuvenated him, making him stronger in ways that ordinary kings would never understand. His sacred bond with the land meant he could feel each pull of the crops, seeking nourishment from the land. He could taste the rain that slaked their thirst. The crops were the land and in return, he was part of the crops. Each turn of the wheel of the year was the same…he felt it in his blood as well as in his soul.
And he was happy. Being Goblin King was more than a duty to those wishes away, it was a sacred post that gave him what he lacked as a young boy growing up at the High Court – Being Goblin King gave him a purpose.
There were, however, two unfortunate side effects to the incredible surge in magical energy that he was forced to filter through his body during the fire festivals – insomnia and an almost insatiable desire to find a suitable Goblyn woman and mate.
The insomnia was easy to understand, after all channeling the magical energy of an entire land, during one of the times of the year when that power was most freely available, was bound to ramp up one's body. However the raging lust had been a surprise to him the first time it happened. After half a century, he finally realized that the feral need was his Goblyn side coming to the fore in the only way the Goblyn knew to celebrate the turn of the seasons – mating.
In the Above, it was commonly believed that the Fae had difficulties conceiving children. The truth of the matter was that conception was easy – carrying the babe was the problem. True Goblyns on the other hand, had difficulty conceiving in the first place. So when the land hummed with the magic of the fire festivals related to the growth of the crops, Goblyns felt it as a need to work the land during the day, and to seek a mate when the sun went down. That was the way of things and it worked. When the ancient festivals were held faithfully, the Goblin Kingdom flourished…when they were neglected, strife, famine and chaos reigned.
Which is how Jareth earned the kingdom in the first place.
The previous King had ignored the fire festivals, despite being warned by the Goblyn Elders of what horrors would befall the kingdom if the Ancient Wheel were not honored. But he didn't listen. In the last great drought, three-quarters of those who carried Ancient Goblyn blood in their line perished from the resulting famine. Despite the decimation of his kingdom, King Wulfen refused to abdicate. This left the High King with a difficult decision, declare a war which would further injure the people of the Goblin Kingdom who were in no shape to fight a war; or find a way to legally depose the Goblin King in order to save the Goblyn race.
Being a young man at the time, Jareth suggested that someone might run the Labyrinth, he had read the dusty tome of the Labyrinthian Accord, which stated that a worthy king was one who had bested the Labyrinth itself and learned it's true secret. His father and brothers had laughed at the idea. "No Fae with any sense would take on that blasted maze," Oberon had said, clapping Jareth firmly on the shoulder. "And if they did, do you honestly think any one who ranked high enough to rule would be able to take on the maze without their magic?! Wulfen was the last one, and he never did discover the true secret, which is why the maze is as strong as it is."
The laughter when he suggested the idea was hard enough to bear, but the laughter that greeted his offer to take on the maze himself, still rankled 300 years later. No one thought he could do it, but then, no one had ever believed he would amount to anything. After all, he was the third son of the High King, born to a seer to the King of the Underworld. He was nothing but a Fae-Nephilim hybrid, who was spurned by his mother's clan, and barely tolerated amongst the court of Avalon.
As he stalked up and down the disorienting stairs and paths in the Room of Improbability, Jareth could still hear their laughter ringing in his ears. In the end it was he, who had the last laugh. The impulsivity of youth worked in his favor, although he was reasonably sure that several Gods and Goddesses were involved as well. Under the dark of the moon prior to Lughnassah in his 237th year, Jareth transported himself to the outer gates of the Labyrinth and demanded that the sentient beast of a maze allow him entrance.
Unlike his brothers and father, the Labyrinth didn't laugh.
"Who are you, child?" he felt the maze ask, it's voice whispering in his mind like decaying leaves rustling in the wind.
"I am Jareth of the line of Oberon, descendant of Dagda. Your people are being neglected by your Master. Will you sit by and watch them perish?" the young prince demanded.
He felt an odd humming in the air around him, and knew instinctively that the beast was considering his words.
"I am but the Labyrinth. I have one charge – punish those who wish away the most precious of all. What am I to do to protect my people?"
"Accept my challenge for the right to rule. Only by the Labyrinthian Accord of the Elders can we defeat your Master and help your people!" he said, his voice echoing hollowly against the ancient stones of the Labyrinth's gates.
No sound greeted his demand, save the rustling of wind through the sunburnt brown leaves of dying rose bushes planted near a crumbling, decaying stone fountain outside the gate. Still he waited, refusing to back down. He knew that he had to get the maze to see reason and at least permit him to enter.
"I feel the pain of my people, they cry for aid in their hour of need. What can a mere child of Oberon do to right this wrong?"
Standing straight, Jareth faced the gates, while the hot wind whipped his hair and body, blasting him with sand and shards of rocks, to leave bleeding lines upon his flesh. "I can do what your Master failed to do…I can uphold the Ancient Festivals, and restore growth to your land and your people."
"I want…an oath…to seal our bargain, Jareth de Dagda," the maze whispered in his mind.
Without hesitation he pulled his knife from his boot and sliced into the palm of his hand. Squeezing his fist tightly, he walked toward the heavy gate, letting crimson drops fall to stain the sand below his feet. "I, Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda, give you my oath…should I solve your paths, thereby defeating the current king who let you fall to ruin and allowed your Goblyns to perish, I will right the wrongs. I will honor you, your land, your people and the Ancient festivals which provide for them all…upon pain of my own death should my oath be foresworn!" he shouted into the wind, smearing his blood upon the stone gates. The crimson blood glittered briefly against the stones, then seemed to sink within the stone.
Hours passed, and still Jareth waited at the gates. As the sun began to set behind the stonework walls, the heavy gates of the Labyrinth began to creep open.
"Enter Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda. You have thirteen hours to solve the riddle of the Labyrinth. By my laws I cannot help you, nor can the magic of your birthright. May the Gods and Goddesses of the Ancients aid you in your quest."
Jareth didn't hesitate as the gates creaked and groaned open. He stepped into the stone pathway and began his search, hoping against hope that the reading he had done in the Goblyn Elders section of the High Court library would give him some advantage.
Playing the memory of his journey through the Labyrinth in his mind, Jareth turned to walk upward along a ceiling plane of the room, smiling to himself. Apparently he had been favored by the Ancients, for he had found the true secret of the Labyrinth, which no other before him had found. From that point, deposing Wulfen was simple. And as promised, Jareth restored the kingdom, by honoring the land, it's people, the Labyrinth and the Ancient Wheel of the Year. In return, the Labyrinth gave him the right to rule her and the people gave him their obedience.
Sighing, Jareth paused, standing upon the ceiling as he looked out a large window, watching the Labyrinth shift and change under the moonlight.
The insomnia caused by the extra magic from the land and the ancient festival was inconvenient, but not difficult to deal with. It was the desire to find a Goblyn mate which was more annoying. In years past when he had lovers, he would simply exhaust them with his need – at times taking more than one to his bed to quench it. But Sarah changed all of that, or more precisely, his love oath changed it. Since that night, he had been unable to slake his lusts with lovers. Try as he might, none of them eased the need. After years of trying, he simply gave up. When the need for physical intimacy struck him, he was able to enjoy the company of past lovers. Yet during the Goblyn mating lust of the fire festivals, he found no solace in the arms of lovers. Sarah held his love oath, there would be no true mate save her – and that was impossible.
For the last three years he had felt no pull toward any female, not as a lover, nor as a partner to slake his lusts during the festivals. No one that is, until Lady Charlotte. The woman was under his skin in a way he couldn't fathom. As the moon rose higher in the sky, and the roars of Goblyn mating drifted up from the towns and villages, all Jareth could think of was claiming a Goblyn mate of his own. In particular, his Goblyn instinct demanded Lady Charlotte.
"It's absurd," he muttered to himself, casually dropping crystals to the floor below, just to hear them shatter into thousands of glass shards. "I've known her less than a day."
'Goblynwyfe,' growled his Goblyn instinct with an enraged roar as the Goblin King shook his head, dismissing the thought.
"Taking her in such a way is out of the question. It can't be done. I've given her an oath that I would not abuse her trust and I won't," he grumbled at himself, dropping several more crystals. "The issue is more a question of why the need of her pulls at me so. Perhaps she has bewitched me?" he mused.
"Who is that, Sire?"
Jareth slumped against the corner of the ceiling and slid down the wall to sit, hanging improbably upside down. Lost pale eyes looked out the window, but no longer saw the Labyrinth in the distance, his gaze far away.
"Lady Charlotte. I cannot love, my oath to Sarah forbids it, and yet there is this pull toward the Charlotte that I cannot deny," he muttered. With a deep sigh he ran a bare hand through his hair. After several moments of silence, the Goblin King looked at Alesander, as his advisor stood in the upright doorway of the room. "What do we know of Lady Charlotte's heritage?"
"Um…nothing, Sire. As you are well aware, it is nearly impossible to establish lineage when a changeling is adopted in the Above. The best we could say is that she has High Fae blood within her and judging from the physical traits, it is a direct parental line," the adviser replied, wondering silently at the brooding look on his King's face. Watching the frown lines on the Goblin Kings face deepen, Alesander finally spoke, "May I speak freely, Cousin?"
Nodding, Jareth stood and started to make his way along the secret path toward the ground floor of the room, where Alesander stood. "Please do."
"There is only one other being more powerful than you in the Underground and that is the High King. So questioning whether Lady Charlotte has bewitched you is foolish and you know it," the dark Fae said bluntly. "What you are describing is a either an infatuation or love. If it is infatuation, then simply bed the witch and be done with it."
A crystal flew past Alesander's nose, shattering against the wall behind him. Alesander didn't flinch as the King's 'warning shot' zoomed past his face.
"This is not infatuation, of that I am certain," the Goblin King snapped. "And even if it were, bedding her in such a cavallier fashion is not an option."
"Why ever not, cousin? When did you develop scruples where the fairer sex were concerned?" laughed Alesander.
"Do you really fancy bedding your wife after a dip in the Bog? I'm quite sure Bethen would banish you from her indefinitely," Jareth growled, casually dropping from one level to another on his way down from his perch. "I can't bed the wench because I gave her an oath that I would not misuse her trust in such a way."
Shaking his head in amusement, Alesander watched his cousin approach. "That's your problem, Jareth…you've become all together too free with giving your oath to women."
Jareth pursed his lips in a frown and nodded thoughtfully. "On that I agree. Come, the land calls to me. I must prepare for the ceremonies," he said, his sharp footfalls echoing into the room as the planes shifted once more. "Now, do you have any useful advice to give?" he asked as the two walked through the silent castle, it's occupants lost in their predawn dreams.
"Well, as I see it, you have two options – you can find a way to speak to the Sarah girl and get her to free you of your oath. It wouldn't solve your problem of a blood heir, but would render the love oath void. Or course she might surprise you and accept the oath and your original offer," he said, only to be answered with an irritated growl.
"Why must you and my parents insist that Sarah accepting my love oath is an option?! The blasted girl would sooner marry Hogwart than give my love a chance!" Jareth fumed, waving his hand at his chamber door and sending it flying open with a tremendous crash.
"Okay, fine… there is only one other solution," Alesander said, dropping into a chair by Jareth's fireplace and pouring himself a cup of tea from the waiting pot. "Resign yourself to being loves bitch."
"More like the Fate's whipping boy," muttered Jareth as he wandered into his bathroom.
Arching an eyebrow, Alesander watched him go and chuckled, "Incidentally, Sire…I notice your shirt is missing. Did Sir Didymus beat you at darts again?"
Jareth poked his head around the door of his bathroom, giving his cousin a wicked smirk. "It was poker…and it wasn't Sir Didymus."
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
Tip-toeing, Jerra made her way through the moonlit room and nudged the duvet covered lump on the bed. "Pssttt…Sarah…wake up. We've got a half hour to get ready," she said quietly, not wanting to startle her friend too badly. The two women had spent enough time together that Jerra had learned the hard way that Sarah was not only difficult to wake, but she had a nasty tendency to lash out. In fact, the last time Jerra tried to wake her up, she ended up with a black eye for the next week!
"Come on, Sarah. We've got to get moving," she said a bit louder as the lump shifted on the bed, tugging the covers over the top of its head. "Fine then you can stay here and miss the chance to see a shirtless Goblin King," she announced, her voice louder this time as she moved around the room lighting the lamps. Behind her she heard a sleepy mumble from the bed and laughed brightly, then stopped, her eyes drawn to the items piled on top of the desk in the corner of the room.
Whistling under her breath, Jerra started to look through the pile. Six boxes of Goblin cider, each holding 6 flagons. Two bottles of the Goblin King's private reserve apple wine. "Wow…someone had a good time," she muttered to herself, picking up a small purple pouch and pouring the contents into her hand. "Merlyn's knickers….25….50…wow…113 dariqs." Reaching over she opened the lid of an engraved wooden box, then gasped, "That's…that's a Dwarven tiara and…shit! A matching necklace?!"
Jerra peered over her shoulder at the blanket covered lump that was moving on the bed, watching as Sarah finally sat up, her hair a mess of plaits and poufy strands of hair that stuck out at odd angles.
"Um…Sarah…did you and the Goblin King have a Goblyn wedding last night," Jerra asked.
"Wedding?Wha…'course not," Sarah mumbled, scrubbing at her face with her hands as she yawned. "Well…ahh…things are kinda fuzzy…I don't think we did…" she added, stretching her arms above her head then purring as her back cracked. "What's a Goblyn wedding like?"
Biting back a grin, Jerra continued to look through the pile of things on the desk. "Oh, it involves eating from the same dish, drinking from the same cup and being blessed by an Elder Goblyn."
Sarah continued to stretch, letting her joints pop and muscles loosen up. "Well, we did share a kebab and a bottle of Fire Whiskey. And the Wiseman's bird-hat, Thaddeus, did bless me when I sneezed and set the Wiseman's beard on fire. Does that count?"
"No, you're safe. The Wiseman doesn't count as an Elder Goblyn Druid," chuckled Jerra, half watching Sarah and half flipping exploring the items on the desk.
"Whew…glad to know I'm not stuck with that peacock of a Fae for the rest of my life," Sarah giggled. Shoving her hair out of her face, Sarah stumbled into the bathroom, still marveling at the fact that the castle had a reasonable facsimile of a modern toilet. As she ran water in the sink and started to brush her teeth, she finally processed what Jerra was asking her. "So…why would you think Jareth and I got married last night?"
Jerra's head snapped toward the bathroom door when she heard the Kings name coming from Sarah's lips. For as long as she had known Sarah, the two of them had an unspoken agreement never to say the King's name, since it was common knowledge to say it was to risk invoking him. Pausing a moment she peered around, waiting to see if he would appear. When he didn't, she breathed a sigh of relief and walked toward the bathroom. Poking her head in the door, she grinned, "Because of all the stuff on the desk. It looks like Goblyn wedding presents. Either that or you and the King robbed a pub and a Dwarven jewel vault."
With the handle of her toothbrush poking out between her foamy lips, Sarah's face wrinkled in confusion as she looked at the pixie. "Wha?"
"See for yourself. Or do you have a secret admirer who likes to leave gifts in a ladies boudoir while she is asleep?" Jerra asked, laughing at the way Sarah pushed her out of the way and rushed into her bedroom.
"UckinEll!" Sarah said, then giggled as she pulled her toothbrush from her mouth and went back into the bathroom. "No, that's just my winnings."
"Winnings?"
"Yeah, Jareth is really quite horrible at most games. At least he is when you bind his magic so he can't cheat," the brunette laughed, rinsing her mouth then wandering back into the bedroom. Stopping by the bed she leaned over and stood with her hands flat on the floor, stretching again, before standing up. The thin silk of the King's shirt slid unnoticed down one shoulder."
Shaking her head in wonder, Jerra grinned. "So, you didn't marry the Goblin King, and this haul is just your winnings."
Sarah nodded and smiled as she picked up her hair brush and began to untangle her hair.
"Hmm…and unless I am greatly mistaken, that is the Goblin King's shirt. The very shirt he was wearing at dinner last night. It must have been a very intimate game for you to wind up naked wearing his shirt," she teased, dropping onto the foot of Sarah's bed and wrapping her arms around her bent knees.
Glancing down Sarah saw the embroidered shirt and her face flushed crimson at the memory of the last hungry kiss she and Jareth had shared. "Um… well… yes it is…but it isn't what you think," she said with a sheepish grin.
Jerra arched an eyebrow and gave Sarah a knowing smirk, "You're naked and wearing the Goblin King's shirt, I'd say it is exactly what it looks like. What time did he leave?" she asked looking around, "Or is he still here?"
"It's not like that!" Sarah grumbled, throwing a pillow at Jerra's head. "It's…it's complicated."
"Well get dressed. Cheryse laid out a Goblyn work outfit for you today. You can tell me your complicated tale that involves booze, jewels and the Goblin Kings shirt on the way to the fields," Jerra laughed. Looking through Sarah's winnings, Jerra picked up a slightly crumbled bit of parchment and read it. Gasping she looked at Sarah in shock, "Wait… this says something about kisses. You were betting against the Goblin King with kisses?!"
"Like I said…it's complicated," Sarah giggled, as she darted into the bathroom to bathe.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/
The morning sky was still deep purple when Jerra and Sarah took hold of the shimmering transportation crystal provided by the Goblin King's advisor. Gasping, they felt the disconcerting sensation of their stomachs dropping, while the world seemed to wrap around them in a burst of color and wind. Then as suddenly as the sensation began, it ended, leaving them standing near a Goblyn farm in the village of Glynnisfyre. Situated in a valley of the Ellusian Mountains, Glynnisfyre was a primary producer of wheat for the kingdom, and Jerra wanted Sarah to have the experience of celebrating the harvest as the people of the kingdom did.
"Jerra-dan!" a woman called from the porch of the large cottage. She was taller than the castle goblins, with pale green skin and bright amber eyes. Her long red hair hung in two neat plaits from her ears to her hips. Poking through her hair were two long pointed ears, with a series of gold earrings around the tips of each. Smiling shyly, Sarah watched as the woman rushed up and hugged Jerra tightly, then stepped back as a tiny cry was heard within the swatch of pale blue linen wrapped over her shoulder and down around her hips. "Oh, Seanthe` darling," she cooed, folding back a bit of the blue linen to reveal a small baby tucked against her chest. The babe sniffled and gave another sleepy cry as she shushed it, before taking Jerra's hand and beaming at her. "I'm so glad you could come celebrate with us this year. It's been so long since we've seen you!"
Smiling happily, Jerra nodded toward Sarah, "Leatha, this is…Charlotte. My business partner from the Above."
Leatha gave Sarah a warm smile, then hugged her carefully to avoid upsetting the baby further. "Oh! The changeling from the Lughnassagh court? We've heard of you!" she said, her smile even broader than before.
"Embarassing news travels fast in this kingdom," Sarah replied with a sheepish smile that was met with a soft laugh from Leatha.
"Please don't think ill of us. It's the first time in ages that the Goblin King has pardoned anyone at the festival court, much less shown any interest in a woman outside the Avalon court," she said, linking her arms with Sarah and Jerra, and leading them toward the field where others were already mingling.
Blinking in confusion, Sarah frowned as she looked at Leatha."Wait…what do you mean by 'interest'?"
Leatha chuckled and winked at Sarah, "Oh, the details are a bit spotty. But we've heard tell that a lovely changeling with startling green eyes was keeping him company on his 'rounds' last night. Some of the versions suggest that she was Elvish. Others say she was clearly Dragonkin. But I prefer the one where she is Goblyn. That's what our King needs. A good Goblyn-wyfe to keep his Goblyn side happy and well pleased. Of course, if the stories of our King are true, I'm sure he'd be able to keep a strong Goblyn-wyfe happy and satisfied as well," she laughed, making Sarah's face flush.
"Oh my! It wasn't like that. We were just…drinking," she stammered, half wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.
A taller male stepped up behind Leatha, his deep brown eyes sparkling merrily. "Aye…and what would you know about being a strong Goblyn-wyfe," he asked, slipping his arms around Leatha's waist and pulling her from Sarah and Jerra. With a booming laugh he swung her around, then kissed her soundly when he brought her to stand once more.
"That's Jaeme, Leathea's husband," Jerra giggled, watching the couple happily.
"Oi…put me down…you'll wake the babe!" Leatha squeaked, hitting the man's shoulder as he swung her back to her feet. "I'll remind you just how strong a Goblyn-wyfe you've married tonight, ye rascal," Leatha snorted, giving Jaeme a playful shove to his chest. "Now off with ye. I must make sure the ring is ready, as the sun is nearly rising."
Jaeme kissed the tip of her nose, then dropped a tender kiss upon his son's head, before heading off to join the other males in a group near the field.
Seeing the puzzled look on Sarah's face, Leatha smiled and linked arms with her again. "Jaeme is both my husband and mate in the old Goblyn ways," she explained, leading Sarah to a spot near the field, where a large ring was marked out on the ground by billberry sprays, poppies and summer ivy.
"Pardon me for being rude, I don't mean to be…I'm just… well this whole weekend is a lot to take in," Sarah sighed, feeling out of her depth for being there at all. "But, you don't look like the little goblins around the castle."
"That's because I'm not. They are a hybrid, part Goblyn, part brownie. Not like me. I'm Goblyn. My ancestors are of the Elder Goblyn line. There are only a few of us left, but our King does his best to help us grow," she says, gazing down fondly at her sleeping son. "His Majesty is why we hold to the old calendar and keep the festivals of the ancients. Doing so grants both the Goblyn people and the land growth and prosperity. Without the King, the Goblyns would have perished years ago. He saved us."
Listening to Leatha's words, Sarah could feel how geniuine her adoration was for the Goblin King, and it gave her pause. For years she believed he was a villainous cad, with no regard for anyone or anything save himself. Yet it seemed that his people loved him. And more than that, it seemed that he did care about their well-being. Nearby, Jaeme blew upon a silver horn, and the sound of laughter and talking died down, as the guests and workers gathered near the ring of flowers on the ground,
Looking around she understood now why the women were dressed in a style similar to what she was wearing – they were clearly Goblyn and she was wearing the Goblyn working clothes that Cheryse had laid out for her. Her skirt was dark brown linen, the hem of which was trimmed with a crimson guard. Instead of a shirt she was wearing a cream-colored linen peasant blouse with full sleeves and a neckline that fell wide to the edge of her shoulders. Over the shirt was a simple brown bodice, cut like a corset, with straps going over her shoulders, but unboned – just right for bending and twisting while working at manual labor.
One by one the guests and workers knelt outside the flower ring facing the field, with the poppy petal strew path leading from the ring to the field. Inside the ring of flowers was a short handled scythe, the handle of which was bedecked with ribbons of yellow, red, green and gold. In silence they watched both the horizon and the ring of flowers.
Leaning toward Jerra, Sarah whispered, "What are we waiting for?"
"Shh…just watch…," her friend muttered.
As the sun began to peek just above the horizon, Sarah felt it, almost like a faint shiver in the fabric of time. The air seemed charged with something she couldn't quite name, an energy that made the hair on her arms stand on end. Without warning, fanfare or even a hint of glitter, the Goblin King materialized in the middle of the floral ring. His hair was less fluffy and pulled back from his face in a low ponytail tied with a simple leather thong. In many ways he looked almost like he did when he launched himself from Sarah's balcony the night before. His legs were clad in worn leather leggings the color of sun-baked soil, with heavy leather boots drawn up to his knees. The fact that he was shirtless was not as much of a surprise as the sight of twisting and turning knotwork lines that seemed etched in his skin covering him from neck to waist - and Sarah was quite sure they extended to the rest of his body as well. Mesmerized, she held her breath watching the way the etched lines pulsed with a dark amber glow, the pulsing in time with her own heartbeat. Feeling the pulse in the ground below her knees, she realized it wasn't just hers, but the heart beat of the land itself.
Afraid to breathe, she watched him bend to grasp the bedecked scythe, then stride silently toward the field. His eyes were focused and firm, as he stepped into the golden strands of wheat. Transfixed by the sight of him, Sarah felt her blood race through her body seeing the way his lithe form twisted then bent, as he brought the sharp blade down low, slicing a fall of wheat. Turning, he left the field, the cut wheat cascading to the dirt in a golden fan. When he returned to the ring, he smiled warmly at the gathered Goblyns and guests, his pale eyes glowing softly. Sarah felt her breath catch as tears rushed unbidden to her eyes. An emotion she couldn't name washed over her, leaving her shivering from the sheer force of it. He was beautiful and majestic.
'Godlike,' her inner-self whispered in awe.
"Maygul tan walyun tarnishae," he said, his voice taking on an ethereal quality that echoed against the mountains behind him.
As one, the Goblyns surrounding the circle returned his blessing, "Maygul tan walyun tarnishae!"
Then without another word, he simply vanished. A soft humming began behind her, the deep baritone of the male Goblyns setting the tone of the song as the women began to sing. One by one the men rose and moved out into the field, still humming, while the women provided the words in a language Sarah didn't recognize.
"What…did the Goblin King say?" she whispered to Jerra, as more people around them rose and walked into the fields.
"That was Goblyish. The language of the Ancients," the pixie said, squeezing Sarah's hand. "He gave the traditional blessing…' May the wheel of the seasons continue to turn'."
Looking at Jerra, Sarah saw that her eyes were also shimmering with the telltale sign of tears unshed. As the song grew louder, Sarah recognized what it was, even without understanding the words – it was a working song, designed to set the pace for manual labor. The men spread out in a line across the field, each holding a short scythe like that used by the Goblin King. In time with the rhythm of the song, they began to swing their scythes, then take a step forward, before swinging again. From her spot outside the field, Sarah was enthralled by the sight, then she noticed the able-bodied women entering the field. They worked in pairs, two women behind each of the men. As the men arched up to swing, the women crouched down, gathering the wheat into a bundle, then fastening it with a neat twist of the wheat itself.
It was a dance.
Sychronous and joyful, the workers harvested the wheat, their song ringing out over the hills around them.
The longer Sarah stood there, the more she felt the strange emotion welling up inside her, joy, love and a need so great it made her head swim. Her blood thrummed heavily through her, while a restless itch began beneath her skin, making her long to join the workers in the field; to become another dancer in the turning of the seasons. 'I'm not Goblyn. It isn't my place to join them,' she whispered to herself as she watched them, sad tears trickling down her cheeks from the pressure of holding her the urge back.
She was so lost in her internal fight, that she didn't notice when Jerra left to help the older women with food under the pavilion. Nor did she hear the quiet footsteps walking up beside her. Gasping almost in pain when a gentle hand was laid on her arm, Sarah jumped. The warm smile on Leatha's face made Sarah's heart ache even more, a miserable sob bursting from her throat, as her fists clenched uselessly into the linen of her skirt.
"To fight the call of the Goblyn to her land is a losing battle," she murmured gently, giving Sarah's arm a light squeeze. "Go Goblyn…feed your bond with the land and she will feed you."
Giving a sob of relief, Sarah turned and practically ran to the field, falling in line behind one of the workers and losing herself in the rhythm of the harvest. Within moments she lost all track of time, focused solely on the gentle movements. Bending, twisting, gathering, tying, weaving, rising, begin again… it was a dance and she was called to the steps, knowing them by instinct as if they were written on her heart. The warm summer sun beat down upon the workers, their bodies bathed in sweat, but still they sang the joyful song of ripe crops, prosperity, blessings and hope – and Sarah joined them. In the far recess of her mind she knew she too was singing, but she was so focused on the pull of the harvesting dance, that she didn't have it in her to wonder how she knew the words, only that she did.
Bend. Twist. Gather. Tie. Weave. Rise. Step…bump.
Bump?
"Grasan da (Excuse me)," said the person in front of her, who she bumped into when she bent to gather the next sheaf of wheat.
Gasping in surprise, she jumped back a step, dropping her bundle of wheat to scatter around the brown boots of the person she bumped. "Sorry…I don't speak Goblyn," she said, then looked up – straight into a pair of mismatched and highly amused eyes.
"That's funny, since you've been singing along quite nicely since I rejoined the harvest," the Goblyn King chuckled, his lips twisting in a quiet smirk. "Now…why am I not surprised to find you here, hmmm?"
Blushing she looked at him, his hair plastered wetly to his head from sweat, while his bare chest was covered in a fine sheen of moisture, which did nothing to dull the glowing amber lines. The combination of sweat, the amber lines and his natural scent made her head buzz, while her blood roared in her ears. Deep within her core a molten pool melted a bit, letting slip silken drops of heat that coated the tops of her thighs.
Sarah tossed her hair back from her face, her emerald eyes hooding in challenge, "And just what's that supposed to mean?"
The Goblin King merely smiled warmly, his entire demeanour relaxed and peaceful. Leaning toward her, his lips brushed the shell of her ear, making her tremble. "Where else would a Goblyn witch be during the Lughnasagh festival, but in the fields where she can feed her hunger for the land and it's power." Stepping back, he gave her a searching look before nodding. "I know you feel the call to the land, just as I do."
"You're the King, it is natural you'd feel it," Sarah replied, wondering at her words, yet somehow knowing that they were true.
"Here and now, I am just Goblyn… as are you, little witch, " he said gently. Raising a gloved hand, he brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek, his blue eyes warm and soft as he looked at her. Without another word he turned, retrieving his blade from the ground and resumed the ancient dance.
For several long moments Sarah watched him, hearing his voice rise in song with the others. No one treated him special or paid him any mind. It was just as he had said, at this moment, in this place, he was just a Goblyn, harvesting wheat and paying homage to the heart of the land. Bending, Sarah gathered up the scattered wheat and twisted it into a neat bundle, her voice soaring lightly to meld with his, the sound making her heart swell within her breast.
She didn't know how long they worked together, not speaking other than to sing with the others. Each time the silver horn blew, they would break from their work and sit in the dirt of the field, as the old women and those with babes at the breast brought around trays of fruit and buckets of water from the crystal falls nearby. When the fruit was presented, Jareth would pick a piece, then cut a slice with the knife from his hip, offering it to the green-eyed witch, before cutting one for himself and carefully eating it from the blade of his knife. When the dippers of water were passed, he filled the tin dipper from the bucket of spring water, and held it for her to drink, smiling warmly as she cupped the cool tin with her hands and drank deep of the water, knowing how it would only add to her bond with the magic of the land.
As far as he was concerned, he was a Goblyn, in the field with a strong Goblyn woman who would make an excellent Goblyn-Rashglang. All was as it should be in his world.
At noon a longer blast of the horn rung out over the field and the workers stopped their toil and returned to the cool grass in the shade under colorful pavilions. Feeling relaxed and peaceful from the manual labor under the warm summer sun, Jareth decided to join the other men for a game of 'Posts'. The men laughed and insulted each other in the way of Goblyn males, even going so far as to suggest that the Goblin King needed a good Goblyn woman to demonstrate his prowess as a proper Goblyn. This suggestion was met with a roar of laugher from both the men and the Goblin King himself.
"Goblyn rashgland nae burdona ma prayantarsh!" he declared, setting the others off in a gale of laughter, slapping each other on the back as they grinned.
"Aye, but you are past time for a Goblyn to take a wyfe at least," chuckled Jaeme, then winked at the Goblin King. "That Charlotte…she'd make a good Goblyn-wyfe, for a changeling at least."
Arching at eyebrow at Jaeme's words, the Goblin King inclined his head in agreement, "True, she is Goblyn. I know not how, but I feel it…in here," he replied, tapping his chest where the spiral of amber coiled into the shape of the triskellion, the crest of the Goblin King.
The others nodded, murmuring agreement.
"The fields await," laughed a short stout Goblyn with a thick red beard.
The others roared with laughter, claiming he was either brave or foolish to speak to the King so. For his part, Jareth laughed with them, although his Goblyn roared at hearing its wishes spoken freely.
Singing along with the others as she headed to the pavilions, Sarah expected the Goblin King to vanish, sure that he had other work to attend to. To her surprise he joined the other men near the side of the house, where several posts were driven into the ground. Watching them, the men seemed to form up teams, trying to toss bone rings around the posts. They laughed and taunted each other as they played, with the Goblin King taking his share of the ribbing with good-natured laughter. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, there was dirt and wheat dust coating his chest and arms, but to Sarah he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. Something deep inside her seemed to growl at the sight, a wave of possessiveness creeping over her as a Goblyn woman offered the King a drink from a tin dipper. As he turned toward the woman to accept the dipper, his eyes flashed up, catching Sarah's and sending the heated flush from her cheeks down across the top of her chest. With his eyes locked on hers he turned down the dipper. When the Goblyn with the dipper walked away to offer it to another male, the Goblin King kept Sarah's gaze a moment longer, before turning and going back to the game.
Sarah's breath left her in a rush as he turned away. 'This is getting too dangerous. Just avoid him. Get through tomorrow and go home!' she scolded herself as she dropped onto one of the blankets spread in the shade. While the other women spread out platters of food and huge pitchers of drinks, Sarah kept Leatha and Jaeme's baby happy, helping him sit up. The sound of the baby's laughter hung in the air as she made his stuffed chicken dance.
"You're quite good with the little lad," purred the softly seductive voice of the Goblin King as he sat next to her.
"Lots of practice with my siblings," Sarah replied, grabbing the baby as he started to topple over and propping him up with her knees so he could sit.
Smiling, the Goblin King pulled several small shimmering crystals from the air and made them spin and bob in front of the baby, like a magical mobile. The baby squealed and cooed, reaching out and touching the baubles to make them sway and spin.
"You aren't so bad yourself," she teased, giving him a knowing smirk.
The Goblin King laughed and shrugged, "It's either a benefit of the job or an unfortunate side-effect. I'm not entirely clear which."
They sat in companionable silence as the sun shifted higher in the sky. As the glowing orb reached its zenith, the rest of the men and working women joined them under the pavilion, casually lounging about on the picnic blankets in the shade. Lunch was a lively affair. Sarah had been to many potlucks and picnics over the years, but something about this one seemed more genuine…more pleasurable. In between the passing of heavily laden platters, people would offer entertainment. Some sang songs, others told jokes or quizzed each other with riddles. When it was Jerra's turn, she giggled.
"Well, I'm no bard, but I'll offer up a little tale that still makes me laugh. There once was a hapless Goblyn named Hablat Gobshot," at the name the Goblyns under the pavillian roared with laughter, several of them nudging and slapping the shoulders of a round Goblyn who looked quite a bit like 'Cousin It' in Sarah's view, his long red hair fell clear to his waist, covering his face if he didn't twist it up to the top of his head with a leather thong. "Well old Gobshot was known to imbibe quite a bit upon the first night of the fire festivals. One year he drank so much, he was afraid to go home for fear his Goblyn-wyfe would remind him just why she was Goblyn. Being afraid to go home to his bed, he also didn't want to miss the King's arrival to cut the first sheaf in the morning. So he decided to sleep in the field. The next morning, the Goblin King arrived to start the ceremonial cutting as usual. He picked up the scythe left for him, walked into the field and sliced the first sheaf. Well such a squeal was heard that Goblyns for miles around thought the world was ending or pigs were flying. But neither of those things had happened. No, the poor Goblin King had nearly scalped the sleeping Gobshot, giving the silly Goblyn the closest haircut any Goblyn had had or has had since. The festival was subdued and Gobshots wyfe was furious, as everyone believed that the field would be cursed, and the Goblyn Kingdom along with it. But as fate would have it, instead of being cursed, as Gobshot's hair grew, so grew the crops in that field. The end."
Taking a bow and collapsing next to Sarah, the pixie blushed while everyone cheered.
The hairy Goblyn sitting on the other side of the Goblin King nodded and chuckled, the sound gravelly but happy. "Aye… I haven't been game to cut me hair since that day!' he laughed, offering his pipe to the king, who took it and sucked in a deep drag of the tobacco, before handing it back. "Thank ye Sire for not taking me head clean off."
Exhaling a string of smoke bubbles, the Goblin King laughed, "I don't know, your wife might have considered that an improvement."
The laughter under the tent grew louder still, at the King's words. When the laughter finally died down, everyone looked at Sarah, who was holding the sleepy baby in her arms. "Oh…I don't have any talent to share," she said, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Come on…yer goblin now…ye pay your fee for lunch with a song," shouted one Goblyn.
"Or a story. We like stories…" suggested another.
Embarrassed at being put on the spot, Sarah sighed, "Well I could sing a lullaby, I suppose." Seeing the group under the pavilion nod, Sarah shut her eyes and began to sing the lullaby her grandmother always sang to her when she was young.
Like the others lounging on the picnic blankets, Jareth found himself mesmerized by the lilting song of the changeling sitting beside him. Inside, his Goblyn still insisted she must be made mate, although that desire was eased a bit by her song. The sound of her enchanting lullaby, combined with the sight of her rocking the babe in her arms made is heart throb with a yearning he was not used to. The sudden yearning for a child of his own saddened him a bit, knowing it would never come to be.
'But you could still take a mate,' insisted his Goblyn side. 'There are babes a plenty for fostering. But a strong mate is worth her weight in dariqs!'
As the last notes of the lullaby died down, the Goblyns quietly murmured their appreciation, cognizant of the sleeping baby and toddlers held to their mother's breasts. The mothers retrieved their babes and carried them into the house, as the workers lounging under the pavilion seemed to relax further. Many lay down on the ground, stretching out and shutting their eyes. Stifling a yawn, Sarah watched them, wondering when everyone would return to the field. Next to her the Goblin King reclined back onto the ground as well, his head pillowed by his bent arm.
"It is the resting period, little witch. You look done in. You should rest as well," he said gently, soft snores setting up around them.
"Oh I…I'm fine…" she protested quietly, only to be stopped by the Goblin King's hand.
Reaching out to her, he took her hand and pulled her down, so that her head was laying low on his stomach next to his hip, her body perpendicular to his. "Rest, Goblyn wench, or must I give you a royal command to make you obey?" he grumbled softly, his tone a sensual purr that made her heart race.
Sarah swallowed hard, waiting for the frantic fluttering in her belly to subside. Yawning again, she shut her eyes, soothed by the way the Jareth's gloved fingertips lightly caressed her forehead. In no time she was asleep, her heartbeat gently throbbing in sync with the Goblin King's and the land itself.
Sometime later she woke to a quiet purring chuckle, and the feel of something feathery tickling her nose. "Wakey wakey, Goblyn girl. Tis time to return to the fields," Jareth said, his blue eyes shining merrily at her when she finally opened her eyes.
Sitting up she stretched and gave him a bashful smile. "I guess I did need that."
He merely nodded then got up and joined the other men returning to the fields.
Leatha dropped down next to her and sighed, leaning back on the grass, her amber eyes full of adoration as she watched her mate return to the wheat.
"Does he always do this?" asked Sarah, her eyes still glued to Jareth's retreating back, etched with amber swirls.
"Who? Jaeme? Aye…every harvest and every planting season," Leatha replied with a yawn. "Would that I could be in the fields as well. But with a babe at the breast, this is my lot."
"No, I meant Jar…um…the Goblin King."
Cracking an eyelid, Leatha smiled knowingly at Sarah. "As far as I know yes…every festival he spends with the people. He chooses different fields each time. He told Jaeme once that the land draws him to a particular field. We are particularly blessed to have the King here in the form of Lugh to toil with us. Our crops will thrive and so will our family," she said, patting her slender belly with a happy smile. "Tis always the way of the chosen."
Feeling the burning itch under her skin once more as the workers began their song, Sarah rose and followed the Goblin King into the field. Taking up her place behind him, she took a deep breath, letting the spirit of the land and the people fill her, then she lifted her voice with the King's and stooped once more.
Bend. Gather. Twist. Weave. Set aside. Step. Bend. Gather. Twist. Weave….
And so the dance continued, long into the afternoon, as the sun beat down, bathing everything in its warming glow.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/
When the sky was cast in rosy-orange, tinted to dark purple, the workers song changed from one of work to one of revelry. With the happy tune ringing against the hills, they turned from the field toward the house. Yet again Sarah expected to find the Goblin King had vanished, but he was still there, walking with the men toward the back of the house. Before she could wonder further where the men were going, her hands were caught by two other Goblyn women, covered in sweat, wheat dust and dirt. The three of them sang loudly and happily as they followed the other women into a small stand of trees on the other side of the yard. Gasping, Sarah saw that there was a spring fed pool in the clearing, protected by the towering trees. One by one the Goblyn women stripped off their working clothing and hopped in the pool.
"Oh…but I didn't bring anything else to wear," she said to the wizened old Goblyn matron collecting the dirty clothing. "I'd only have to put on my filthy clothes again." Frowning at the thought she sighed and added, "Perhaps I'd best just return to the castle, although I'd hate to miss the bonfire."
"Don't you fret none, youngling," said the old crone, patting Sarah's arm. "You just get yourself clean and let ole Yana take care of ye. You've done a good days work and deserve a good evening's revelery."
Nodding, Sarah felt the gentle warmth of the woman's words like a physical caress. Without protest she stripped down and joined the others in the pool, the chilly water quickly warming as she swam and played with them, laughing and teasing each other about their mates, husbands and potential for both.
"You've got a good catch in the King," said a tall thin Goblyn woman, drying herself on a hot rock along the edge of the pool.
"Oh…he's not mine. We're just…I dunno…friends or something," Sarah said, ducking her head under the cool water to quench the burning in her cheeks. When she rose she pushed her wet hair from her face and smiled, as the woman laughed.
"Well if you don't want him, can I have him? He'd make a fine Goblyn mate."
The others laughed at that, splashing the cheeky Goblyn with water and tossing bits of soap and soap rags at her while she laughed.
When Sarah finally got out of the water, Mother Yana wrapped her in a soft linen towel and began to physically dry her off, much to Sarah's surprise. She knew from Jerra that Underground attitudes toward nudity and sexuality in general were different than the above, but this was something she had not been prepared for. Deciding Sarah was dry enough, the old Goblyn tied the towel around Sarah's chest and handed her a set of clothing. "Here, these were Leatha's before her babe was born. They will fit you just fine, youngling. A gift of thanks for helping in the fields and a gift of welcome to our land."
Feeling tears spring to her eyes, Sarah threw her arms around the stooped crone. "Thank you, Mother Yana."
The old Goblyn gave Sarah a warm hug and nodded. "No thanks to the likes of me child. Now come, tis time to dress. The food will be ready soon and you need a good meal to nourish you for the rest of the evening."
"Yeah…for the mating!" laughed one of the Goblyn women, tugging on a dress of green and brown.
"Shush…this youngling isn't for the fields just yet," scolded Yana, swatting at the other Goblyn who giggled and ran away.
Confused by their exchange, Sarah pulled on a fine cream colored under dress. The sleeveless underdress was cut low across her bust and followed her form tightly until it reached her hips, before flaring out. Over that she laced a gown of deep blue, with white silken embroidery down the sleeves and around the hem. The skirt of the overdress was split into four panels, allowing the simple but elegant under dress to show. Seeing that she was dressed, Yana pulled Sarah to sit on a sun-warmed rock and began to comb and braid her hair.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/
Leaning against the side of the house, Jareth tucked the long curved stem of his pipe between his teeth and inhaled slowly, enjoying the smooth feel of the smoke as it filled him. His hair was damp, but fluffing up as it dried, following his dip in the men's bathing pool on the other side of the property. It had been a relaxing day, and aside from his Goblyn instincts becoming more insistent where Charlotte was concerned, he was feeling the peace of the land running through his veins. Seeing movement by the grotto where the women's bathing pool was, he glanced up to see Yana coming out of the crystal pool clearing, leading a striking brunette in a deep, sapphire dress. For a split second he was sure he was seeing Sarahwalking out of the stand of trees. Rubbing his eyes he sighed. 'I've got to stop thinking of her in that way,' he growled inwardly, then looked again, smiling at seeing Charlotte. 'By the Gods…she's beautiful,' he thought, marveling at the way the deep blue of the Goblyn dress made her skin seem to shine with the sort of luminescence common to the High Fae.
He watched silently as she walked up onto the long porch running across the front of the house. From his vantage point he could see Jerra bouncing the baby in her arms as he grizzled. His hands itched to take the child from her and calm him, but he merely stood by, watching Charlotte instead.
"Here, let me take him. I've had more practice," the brunette said, taking the baby from Jerra and rocking him gently in her arms. "Oh yes I have!" she cooed at the babe, making the lad giggle and grab at her nose.
"Terrific, " Jerra sighed, clearly glad to be rid of the babe. "I promised Mother Yana I'd help her prepare dessert," she said, darting into the house.
Settling in a rocking chair on the porch, Sarah rocked the baby, humming quietly until he stopped fussing and gave a sleepy yawn. "Don't get any ideas of being fed, little one. I'll cuddle you. Play with you. Hell I'll even change your smelly bum. But a wet nurse I am not," she laughed, keeping her voice light and pleasant so the babe merely gave her a lazy smile and shut his eyes. Gently rocking the chair, Sarah looked around, watching Goblyns talking in small groups scattered upon the grace, the sound of talking humming in the air, along with the scent of roasting meats., "So where is your mum anyway? I didn't think she let you out of her sight, little one."
"She's in the fields," replied an sharply accented voice behind her, his words low and somehow tinged with a seductiveness that was surprising.
Glancing up, Sarah felt her cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin King. He had come from behind the house where the mountain spring ran and judging from the way his hair was still damp in places, and his leggings clung to his legs, she suspected he had gone for a dip. The glowing lines on his chest still pulsed with the heartbeat of the land, but he seemed not to even notice them as he dropped into the chair next to her, his muscles flexing with leonine grace.
"Oh…I didn't think nursing mother's worked the fields," she replied, turning her attention back to the sleeping child tucked against her chest, his downy head smelling of warm sun and cinnamon.
Smiling curiously at her, the Goblin King watched as she seemed to smell the babe's head, her hand gently caressing his back as he slept peacefully on in her arms. A wave of longing swept through him, as his Goblyn instincts howled their approval and demanded he take her to the fields himself.
"They don't work the fields, but what Leatha, Jaeme and some of the other Goblyns do now is more than merely working the fields. They are honouring the fields, the land and the Labyrinth as the Great Mother," he said, reaching out and tenderly stroking the soft cheek of the child.
From the fields a growling moan drifted upon the air, followed shortly by a soft cry of completion. Sarah's face burned at the unmistakable sounds of sex. Seeing her blush, the Goblin King chuckled softly. "This is a sacred act to Goblyn-kin. The Labyrinth gave them a home when no one else did and she protected them when the old king allowed their race to nearly die out."
"How could a maze do that?"
"Don't be fooled. The Labyrinth is far more than a simple 'maze, Charlotte," he murmured. His gaze drifted back toward the fields, as yet more pairs of Goblyns walked out into the section of the field where wheat still stood, waving softly in the twilight. "She protected them, by giving me a chance."
Although she was dying to ask more, the look on his face suggested that it was something he did not wish to discuss. "So… they what… have sex in the field?"
His pale eyes sparkled with amusement. "Not quite, little witch. In the fields, Goblyns do not merely 'have sex' as the parochial humans would put it. They mate. Doing so blesses the crops. Honors the Great Mother. And is believed to ensure fertility, prosperity and blessings upon the Goblyns as well."
As another cry of orgasm reached her ears, Sarah felt her blood coursing hotly through her head, a strange tickle beginning in her stomach. "So if you are so much a Goblyn, even though most people say you are High Fae, why aren't you in the fields as well."
Slightly surprised at her bold words, Jareth regarded her silently a moment, before answering. "First off, you must understand that while I was born of Nephilim and High Fae, my king-making here is vastly different to what you understand a 'coronation' to be. I won my right to rule. There was no coronation, just me and the Labyrinth in the hidden heart of the land. In accepting this kingdom, I had to accept the people as well. Their blood now runs in my veins. While I now share the blood of the key races that sought the protection of the Labyrinth, her true children are the Goblyns, so their blood flows most strongly through me. When I say I am Goblyn, it is because I am Goblyn."
Gently stroking the baby's soft cheek, Sarah avoided the Goblin King's eyes, even though she could feel his gaze burning against her flesh. "Wouldn't it be a high blessing for the King to 'honor' the Labyrinth by mating in the field as well?"
Jareth was surprised by her astute observation, and smiled, giving a brief nod of his head. "Indeed, for the King to join the people in the fields in the ancient way of honoring the land would be a great boon for the people and the kingdom. However, while the Goblyn blood runs thick through my veins, I have no mate."
Sarah snorted slightly and gave him a knowing smirk, "I'm sure you'd have lovers aplenty to take to the fields if you wished, Your Majesty."
The Goblin King chuckled, flashing her a devious smirk, "True enough, little witch, but taking a mere lover or casual dalliance into the field in such a way would dishonor the land. What you must understand of Goblyn-kin is that while they may have a spouse, but not take them to 'mate', for taking a lover to the fields in the way of the Old Rites is to claim that person 'rashglang' – their mate. And this is not done lightly as Goblyns mate for life."
"That's….wow….lovely," she murmured, her green eyes drifting toward the field as some couples left the wheat, walking hand in hand or in a gentle embrace, while still other couples made their way into the fields.
Hearing the sincerity in her words, Jareth felt his Goblyn side rise up once more, clamouring for the woman with the baby in her arms.
"So what…you mean to tell me you've never felt the desire to take someone into the fields yourself? I mean, you're king, can you even do that?" she asked thoughtfully.
Jareth chuckled softly, "I am King of the Goblyn's pet… the land and people would expect nothing less of me. But to answer your question, I once knew a woman that I would have gladly taken to the fields and taken her to wife as well, but… she was too young and not of our world."
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "That's…sad."
Tilting his head slight, he peered at her, amazed to see sadness in her eyes on his behalf. "Perhaps someday I will once more feel that urge," he said, catching her eye and smiling at the way she blushed. "For now I am content to observe the old ways, knowing that in doing so I protect my people and the Labyrinth. I'll leave it to the Goblyns to honor the land in more… intimate ways…"
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/
Where lunch was a relaxed affair, the feast to celebrate the cutting of the wheat was joyful…and loud. At the back of the pavilion were tables heavily piled with food, while the main area of the pavilion, still covered with picnic rugs and blankets, now had tables, chairs and heavy lounging cushions covering the floor. Guests filled plates and reclined on the cushions or sat at the tables, talking and laughing as they filled their bellies with all manner of hearty dishes – roast meats, egg casseroles, meat pies, vegetable stews and desserts of all kinds, were there to tempt them.
Still cradling the sleeping babe to her chest, since Leatha and Jaeme were still in the fields, Sarah let Jareth lead her along to the pavilion when the food was served. Seating her amongst a pile of cushions with a sturdy backrest, he caressed the babe's head and gave her a warm smile. "Sit here. I'll arrange food for you," he murmured, then went to the food tables and returned with a plate loaded with food and a good-sized jug with a pouring spout on either side of the top.
"What a funny shaped jug," Sarah said, struggling to pick up a spoon while keeping hold of the sleeping baby.
Smiling, Jareth set the jug down and picked up the spoon. "What did you want, my dear?" he asked, nodding when Sarah pointed at the vegetable stew. He scooped up a spoonful of the stew and offered it to her, relishing the faint pink tinge that rose in her cheeks as she hesitated, before taking the offered bite. "It isn't a jug actually, it is called a 'loving cup' or 'lovers cup'."
The green-eyed witch spluttered a bit, coughing quietly until the babe stirred in her arms and gave a grumpy whine before settling again. Laughing softly, the Goblin King offered her a drink from the jug. "Relax, little witch. You are engaged in one of the most important functions of Goblyn-kin – caring for a babe in arms. I merely thought that the loving cup would allow you to drink more comfortably since I can hold it for you without spilling the drink.
Fighting the urge to cough again, Sarah sipped the sweet golden liquid from her spout of the jug, as Jareth gently tilted it upward for her.
And that was how dinner went. Sarah held the sleepy baby, and the Goblin King fed her while regaling her with tales of his kingdom and people. As the others finished eating and began to clear away the remains of the food, Leatha and Jaeme wandered up to the pavilion, their cheeks rosy, bits of wheat woven through their hair and overall looking thoroughly satisfied. Looking up as they sat next to Sarah, the Goblyn King chuckled quietly. "At this rate you'll have to expand the house to find room for the children," he teased them, laughing when Leatha blushed and retrieved her babe from Sarah.
"We can only hope we are so blessed, Sire," Jaeme said, beaming adoringly at his wife.
Rising, Jareth nodded at the three of them, "You'll excuse me of course, as I have preparations to make."
Sarah watched him walk off, the amber lines glowing more faintly upon his bare flesh. Turning back to Leatha and Jaeme, she frowned slightly. "What preparations?"
"We'll be lighting the bonfire soon, and since the King has blessed our fields by joining us for the celebration, he will light the bonfire and lead the dancing," Jaeme explained, stroking his sons hand with a tenderness Sarah envied.
"Will you join in the dancing, Lady Charlotte?" Leatha asked.
"I don't know…I don't know the steps and I don't want to make a fool of myself."
The two Goblyns laughed warmly, "Just watch. Once the music starts, you will know the steps. They will pulse in your heart and race in your blood, just like any other Goblyn."
As the last faint rays of the sun darkened the valley, waiting for the moon to rise high enough to provide light, the Goblyns began to move toward a large stack of timber and wood, a hush falling over the valley. Standing with Leatha, Jaeme and Jerra, Sarah watched in silence with the others. From the shadows a form emerged, moving toward the waiting pyre. The Goblin King stood between the people and the pyre, the etched lines on his body pulsing a soft amber color. He stopped in front of Leatha and Jaeme and stood, his head bowed. Mother Yana stepped forward and tied a black cloth securely over his eyes, then placed both palms gently on his head, murmuring softly in Goblyn. When she stepped back, the Goblin King stood like a statue, his hands slightly extended, while his palms faced down.
With each breath, the glowing lines on his body faded until they turned dark, the sight making Sarah gasp softly. Clapping a hand over her mouth lest she disturb the ceremony, she listened to his slow breathing then bit her lip in awe. With each new breath he took, the lines began to glow. Starting at his waist and neck, an orange glow began to move through the lines. Twisting and winding along the knot work paths etched in his skin, the glow moved inward, until it coiled into the triskellion upon his chest. At that moment the Goblin King lifted his head, his voice an ethereal howl upon the wind, "Magrash ult na Goburin en populate!"
A burst of light seemed to flow from him into the pyre, just before it burst into flame. The flames gave a mighty roar as they whooshed upward, devouring the wood of the pyre and towering into the light. Licking and dancing against the velvety darkness of the sky, the flames hissed and spat.
The Gobin King stood still, then a low droning hum began in his chest, gradually getting louder and louder. Transfixed, Sarah felt the sound seem to bore into her body, until it hummed against her skin like the caress of his lips, sending a jolt of sheer desire to pool hotly within her. With the hum still echoing from his chest, the Goblin King began to move. Slowly he stepped around the bonfire, a glowing man keeping time with each step of booted feet. One…two…three laps around the bonfire, his movements speeding up with each lap. Twisting and turning, he danced. Without knowing when it happened, Sarah noticed a deep pulsing drum keeping the rhythm as well, as more male Goblyn voices joined in the droning hum. One by one the Goblyn males joined the King in his dance, each one moving in his own dance – yet somehow it fit together as one wild dance to honor the sun, the soil and the land. Faster and faster the males whirled around the dancing flames, the ethereal hum carrying upon the summer breeze until the hills echoed with the sound of pounding drums, slapping hands and the Goblyn drone.
With a triumphant cry, one the Goblyn women joined the dance, whirling with abandon amongst the male dancers, twisting and twirling in and out of them moving in the opposite direction. Then more women joined the dance, until there were two rings of dancers around the bonfire, each one moving in a different direction as the dancers wove in and out of each other and the opposing ring of dancers. It was absolutely hypnotic. Sarah tried to keep her eyes on where the Goblin King was, marveling at how he could dance so close to the fire while blindfolded, yet he never tripped or so much as brushed against another dancer – each step was solid and true.
The longer she watched the dance, the less she cared where Jareth was, her mind focusing on the sound of the droning hum, the thudding beat of the drums and the racing of her own heartbeat. Deep inside her body she felt the longing itch start up again, a feral feeling echoing in her soul. With a Goblyn shout of triumph, she felt herself join the dance, her eyes shut tight as she whirled and spun, singing as loud as she could, her voice joining the voices of the other women in a song she didn't know or understand, yet she felt it in her blood. She was vaguely aware of the drums beating faster and faster, as she and the other dancers also danced faster, spinning, twirling and weaving between each other in a wild dance of joy and something much less definable, something feral and primitive.
Faster and faster they danced, their voices rising until they reached the crescendo of sound and speed, with a Goblish roar, everyone stopped. Panting, her eyes still shut tightly, her body still humming like it was still spinning madly, Sarah felt something being placed on her head. A sharp flash of light burst behind her eyes and she felt the electric buzz of magic sizzling down her spine to wash across her body.
Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see Jareth standing before her, his hands outstretched. She reached up, feeling what he had placed on her head, to find something soft, like flower petals, twisted with something harder like wheat. Confused she heard the Goblyns around them roar their approval, some shouting, "Harvest Maid!"
Feeling the pulsing of the magic still running through his veins, Jareth was confused. The people were shouting about a harvest maid, but he had never chosen one, merely led the dance. It was the oldest single male's rite to choose the harvest maid should the King decline – and he always declined. Pulling the blindfold from his eyes, he blinked, his mouth falling open in shock. Standing before him was Sarah, he was sure of it and upon her head was a wreath of freshly cut wheat, billberries and poppies.
She had been crowned the Harvest Maid…and he had done it.
"Sarah?" he murmured, reaching up to caress her cheek, as if reassuring himself that the vision were real. "You're…here…but…how?"
Sarah's hand clasped his, holding it gently to her cheek. "Jareth…don't be angry. I'm sorry…I can explain…."
But she never got the chance. The dancers around her heard him say her name and like wildfire the call went through the group.
"It's Sarah! The King has crowned the Champion as Harvest Maid! The Sarah has returned to us!" they shouted.
Without warning she was snatched from Jareth's caress and thrust back into the throng of wildly dancing bodies, overwhelmed at the thought that the Labyrinth Champion had returned to them.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/
Translation:
Maygul tan walyun tarnishae: (Goblyn) May the wheel of the seasons continue to turn.
Goblyn rashgland nae burdona ma prayantarsh: (Goblyn) "A Goblin Mate is not needed for me to show my prowess at pleasing a Goblyn woman."
Magrash ult na Goburin en populate: May the Goblin Kingdom and her people prosper.
Author's Note 1: Well, there you have it, the cat is out of the bag. We'll just have to see how Jareth and Sarah handle things from this point on. And for VampireMafiaQueen…I know you were loving the whole "Sarah in disguise" thing since it is rarely done. I tried to hold off on the big reveal but my muse had other ideas. But have no fear, just for you (and a bit for my own amusement) I am cooking up a 'Sarah in disguise' story for you.
Note 2: For those of you who are pming me about how long this will be…there are 8 major celtic holidays in the pagan calendar. This story will cover them all…as well as including bits about Above holidays and general interaction between J and S. So, expect this story to be VERY long. And no, it will NOT be finished anytime soon *lol*
Note 3: As much as I would love to keep writing at this pace, but doing it means that I neglect the fulltime job that I actually get PAID for. So, expect things to slow down a bit now. I'll update my stories as often as my muse provides me the inspiration to write.
Note 4: Reviews feed my soul…so please tell me what you think…what you like…what makes you squeal…etc…