Author's Note: Hey, everyone, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Yes, I know, Jareth wasn't in the first chapter, but I hope that didn't deter any of you. It's going to start up now for real. If you're reading these author's notes, thank you, I'm probably not going to continue posting them so you can just get on to the story. (Author's notes usually bug me and I see them as a bit of a waste of space unless there's a real need for them like in the beginning or the end. These two chapters had a real need.) Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you feel so compelled.
Chapter Two: The Wild Eyed Boy's Arrival
There were a few specific sensations the boy was feeling. There was a breeze all around him and a brisk cold. But despite that there were warm rays of sunlight that were soft, but insistent, urging wakefulness upon everything it touched. The wind buffeted the boy slightly and he became more and more aware of the hard stone beneath him he'd managed to ignore during sleep. Groaning, he opened one eye and then another and sat up. He was surrounded by snow, but there was none beneath him and none on top of him. He ran a hand through his feather soft hair and tried to get reoriented. Where was he again? He looked around him and all he saw was blue. He looked down. Oh, right. The top of Freecloud Mountain, how could he forget? Sleep seemed to mess with one's mind more than anything, he decided. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He stretched and reached for his black leather boots. Pulling them over his navy leggings, he then reached for the black leather vest he'd used as a makeshift pillow. He stood up, buttoning it over his white poet shirt. He hoped his hair didn't look too disheveled; appearance was everything, really.
"Today's the day, Freecloud," he announced. "I'm finally going to go down and see the humans!" He brushed his clothes off and made his way through the snow to look down at the village more closely. "I've never met humans before, have you?" He frowned in thought. "They're not supposed to look too different from the fae, but the books I read didn't have any pictures. You're lucky, you get to be near them every day." He fiddled with his black gloves anxiously. "Oh, I do hope they're nice. They should be nicer than everyone back home, at any rate."
The thought of home put a damper on the boy's mood, but he shook off the negative thoughts and said, "I'm sure they'll be wonderful, Freecloud. I'll tell you all about it when I return." He nodded, as if to reassure himself. "You really have been quite kind to me. Thank you for letting me stay here for this brief interlude."
Closing his eyes, he focused very, very hard on his inner magic and waited for the warmth to flow through him from his head to his toes. Magic had warmth unlike any fire he'd ever been beside. When the tingling sensation passed, he opened his eyes and was pleased to see he'd successfully transfigured into a barn owlet. He wanted to say,
"Look, Freecloud! I did it! And it only took ten minutes this time!" But what came out instead was, "Who?"
He'd forgotten he couldn't talk in owl form. He was glad owls didn't blush, because his cheeks would've turned pink. With a few unsteady flaps of his wings, he was in the air and then gliding down the side of the mountain, heading for the dense forest below. It was a long way down, but the boy didn't mind. The wind slipped through his feathers and carried him pleasantly through the air. When he finally descended, he landed softly between the roots of an oak tree and focused once more, this time on his original form.
It was a bit harder, he thought, going back from a transfiguration. He wasn't sure why, maybe because he was growing bigger instead of shrinking. He dismissed the thought as the warmth left him and was glad to see he was fully fae again. It wouldn't do to have kept the beak or one of his wings. Frankly, though, he was exhausted. So he stayed reclined in the tree roots for a while, waiting for his energy to return to him. In the mean time, his mind wandered and he thought of humans. He knew a few things for certain; One, he could not reveal to them he was fae for humans were known to fear magic, Two, he should not reveal his true age, but rather, the human equivalent, Three, he should not try to draw too much attention to himself lest his origins become known to them. If he appeared to be an ordinary boy, they would probably not give him a second glance.
Feeling restored, the boy stood up and started walking through the woods in the general direction of the village. The sun was almost hanging directly above him when he arrived at the edge of the forest. That was another thing he was adjusting to, the quickness of human days and human time. He'd done his best to rise with their sun and sleep with its descent. It had been hard at first, but he'd grown accustomed. Looking out in front of him, he saw tall grasses stretching from his current position all the way to the stone wall of the town. He was so close now, so close he could almost touch it. He heard sounds of life from within and his heart beat started to quicken. He was so excited. Despite his excitement, he managed to calm down enough to focus on summoning a crystal. This was not as difficult as transfiguration, in his opinion. It started out as a glimmer that then became a translucent circular form, slowly it became tangible until it was solid. The sudden weight of crystals always surprised him and he nearly dropped it. Holding it clumsily in his hands, he turned it into a cloak and bag. He slung the cloak over his shoulders and put the hood over his head and held the bag firmly in one hand in case he felt the need to get anything while he was there. It took him a while, but he conjured another crystal and turned it into an elegant twelve-string guitar. He knew he would need money, but having a lot on hand would only arouse suspicion. He decided he might have to play the instrument in hopes of getting a few coins, if necessary.
The boy paused for a moment and racked his memory to see if he needed anything else. He didn't think so. Therefore, he started for the village with forced calm. As he grew closer and closer to the feeble stone walls, he noticed a sign. Written in English, it said, "Welcome to Dreadful." The fae halted in his footsteps. Dreadful? Why would anyone want to name a town Dreadful? Surely the word had a negative connotation. He looked in at the village. It didn't seem too bad. Humans, maybe, lacked judgment when it came to naming things. He wasn't quite sure. Despite the off-putting sign, he entered the village. It was nothing at all like the grand estates and mansions people had back at home. And it certainly wasn't the palace. The ground was comprised of dirt paths, not even cobblestones, and every time he put his foot down a cloud of dust rose from the hard, compacted earth. The houses were mainly one story cottages. They were plain and undecorated, but looked as though they were built to last, some of them more so than others. Compared to fae standards, everything so far was practically rubbish. But the boy didn't mind.
Everything he saw was new and different and he took it all in with great curiosity. He passed by an old well and saw what might've been a Town Hall. It was the biggest building around, but still only one story. The place was so small—he realized—that he could see everything worth seeing just from standing in the center and turning around in place. There was a jail almost the size of the Town Hall with a crude fence around it. He also saw a few barns, a general store, and a set of gallows, a tavern or two and some pens with cattle and horses and swine. There was also a church, a school house, a barber shop, and a doctor's office. Some of these things he was familiar with, but other places he had to think back to his reading and try and figure out what they were. All of these things were fascinating, but the thing that really drew his attention was the market.
It was full of people. Whether they were selling things, buying things, doing street performances, or just talking, it didn't matter. They were just there, living. The fae, deeply fascinated, found his way inside of the crowd. He stopped at a fruit stand and after thinking carefully, bought an apple for later. The next place was selling jewelry. He considered the idea of buying something, but decided against it. If he saw anything he really liked, he'd get it, but most of these things seemed quite cheap compared to fae adornments. To his relief no one paid him a second glance as he perused what the market had to offer. Once or twice someone would come up and ask if he was willing to sell the guitar, to which he politely declined and hastily continued on his way. Though he may have thought he was generally unnoticed, he was actually wrong. The people of Dreadful were quite good at being subtle and they always knew when there was an outsider in their midst. His coinage was different theirs. It was silver. While this aroused attention, no one really did anything. There were just whispers that slipped through the crowd and a few pointed fingers. Some shop keepers made a point of encouraging him to come and look at what they had to offer, which he did gladly, but no one approached him. One of the shopkeepers said to another that the boy had wild-looking eyes.
Despite this, he went about unchallenged and unquestioned. From what he saw, the boy really enjoyed Dreadful. He didn't think the place could get better until he encountered a caravan of gypsies who had set up a wagon so they could perform. They were singing and playing instruments and dancing. A few people threw coins in a tin cup at the feet of the main guitarist. Seeing this, the boy followed suit. The gypsy with the guitar looked up and nodded his thanks, but then did a double take upon seeing the boy's twelve-string.
"You play?" he inquired in English. There was an accent he held that the boy could not identify. He'd not thought about accents when he'd studied human languages. That was a foolish thing of him to overlook.
"Yes, I do," he answered the gypsy, sheepishly.
"Hey, the boy plays too!" the scruffy young man announced to his fellow musicians. There was an accordion player, a violinist, a flutist, and a dancer with a tambourine. "Come, play something with us."
The young fae was taken by great surprise.
"Are… are you sure you want me to play?" he asked, pulling his hood back to reveal his face.
"Si, si. You start," the man encouraged. The kid with the accordion kicked a box his way and the fae stopped it with his boot. Realizing he was meant to sit on it, he hesitantly did so and rested his guitar on his lap. 'You start,' that's what the man said, so go on, he thought. Taking a deep breath, he started strumming some simple notes. It was a small piece he'd been working on recently. Everyone at home had taken a dislike to it and said it was frivolous and un-artistic, so he practiced by himself. It was called "Don't Sit Down." His fingers danced across the strings and the gypsies listened with interest. They started to get into the beat and the dancer began to shake her tambourine to the tune. The guitarist accompanied with some simpler chords and the accordion player served as an interesting addition the fae had never considered before.
"Yeah, yeah, baby, yeah. Yeah, yeah, baby, yeah. Yeah, yeah, baby, yeah. Yeah," he murmured some words along with the notes he was playing. "Don't sit down. Don't sit down. Don't sit down." He broke off into laughter at the show the gypsies were making. They laughed with him, complimented his ability, and clapped him on the shoulder. The boy felt quite pleased. Unbeknownst to him, though, his music had drawn a crowd. He stood and turned and was barely able conceal his horror at seeing so many people standing around him. However, they weren't hostile. They were smiling and encouraging, a few were still clapping. He ducked his head, embarrassed and thanked them in a small voice. He'd hoped to leave before the crowd got too big, but they had started to ask him questions.
"What's your name, son?"
"Uh… Jareth."
"Are you one of these gypsies?"
"No… uh, no, ma'am."
"Who are you with, then?"
"No one, sir."
"No one? Where are your parents?"
"Um… they… uh…"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm… just travelling."
"A traveler?"
"Yes."
"Aren't you a bit young?"
"I… don't think so."
"Where are you staying?"
"I don't know… I…"
"How long do you think you'll stay?"
"I'm not sure…"
"Do you like Dreadful?"
"Yes, it's very nice."
"You really are quite good with that guitar."
"Thank you, I…"
"Would you be willing to sell it for…?"
"NO! … Thank you…"
"How old are you?"
"Eleven…"
"Your eyes are quite… unusual."
"Are they? I hadn't no…"
"Where are you from?"
"I um…"
"The neighboring villages?"
"No, I…"
"Well, where then?"
"I… just came from Freecloud."
That hushed the mass of people quite quickly and, for a moment, Jareth wasn't quite sure what he'd done.
"You… came from Freecloud?" someone voiced what everyone was thinking. Sensing an affirmative answer would not get him in good graces with the townsfolk, Jareth panicked.
"Uh, no. I mean, I came from the general direction of Freecloud. It's not like I lived on Freecloud and came down, no."
That seemed to relax the crowd a bit. "Why?" Jareth ventured out of curiosity. "Is there something wrong with the mountain?"
"It gives people a bad feeling, it does," an older man piped up, "It being so black and dark and ominous. No man has ever climbed that mountain and lived. Some say it's haunted."
Jareth raised his eyebrows. The bit about humans fearing magical things was true.
"But, that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it, Old Man Saunders?" a bombastic voice now spoke. Jareth's—and the crowd's—attention was drawn to a wide man in black robes. He was aged, with graying hair and a countenance like that of a bull dog.
"Oh, yes, t' would, sir," Old Man Saunders stammered, bowing slightly. "A foolish notion, sir."
"Yes, the people of Dreadful are indeed sensible enough to not let petty superstitions rule them," he looked down at Jareth. "To insinuate that a mountain had any supernatural tendencies would be quite foolish, wouldn't it?"
Feeling quite cross examined, Jareth nodded his head and answered what he hoped was the appropriate answer, "Quite, sir."
The man smiled and extended his hand, "I am Judge Braen."
Remembering his research, Jareth put his black gloved hand in Judge Braen's. "I'm Jareth." Quickly, he grasped for a last name, "Faeson."
"An honor, Jareth Faeson?" Braen emphasized his name in question, as if to ask if he was pronouncing it right.
"Yes, sir," Jareth nodded as they shook hands.
"Welcome to Dreadful," he said to him.
"Thank you," Jareth said, glancing about. Some people had drifted away, but there was still a crowd. These humans seemed to be a bit nosey.
"Where did you say you were from, young man?" Braen inquired.
"Um, just one of the villages on the other side of Freecloud," Jareth improvised in the most polite and innocent voice he could manage.
"And your parents are with you?" Braen continued. Jareth really was starting to feel very uncomfortable with all of these questions. He should've tried to think of an alibi ahead of time. He cursed himself inwardly for not being able to focus on small details. He'd always been a bigger picture kind of guy.
"No, sir. They are back at home. I'm going to visit my… grandparents. They're still a few villages away, but, uh, my parents thought I could make the trip on my own this time."
"Well, you are practically a grown adult, aren't you?" the judge said and the adults around him chuckled. Older than you, Jareth thought, his eyes flickering a bit in annoyance, but said nothing. "Are you thinking of staying long, Mr. Faeson?"
"Um, perhaps a few weeks," Jareth said. "I think it's good to rest a while. And as long as I'm travelling I think it'd be nice to get to know each town I stop at and the people there."
"Well, you're quite welcome here Mr. Faeson," Braen reassured him. "Perhaps such a talented musician would assist with Church services on Sunday, yes?"
The idea terrified Jareth. He had never been to a church or performed in front of humans until just then. He'd never even considered playing for his fellow fae, but he stammered,
"Sure… if I'm needed. But I don't think I'm that—"
"Excellent, boy," Judge Braen interrupted jovially. "Enjoy your time here." And he walked away. The crowd around him started to thin, but the occasional person would welcome him briefly before going on their way. One man, who was around Braen's age, wearing a black robe and white collar approached Jareth.
"Hello, Mr. Faeson," he greeted him. "I'm Reverend Verity."
"It's nice to meet you, sir," Jareth shook his hand politely.
"I'm head of the Church here in Dreadful," he explained.
"Oh," Jareth swallowed.
"Or the Dreadful Church, if you're feeling cynical," Verity said, with a twinkle in his eye. "No need to be frightened, you don't have to perform for the village. I must apologize; Judge Braen tends to volunteer people against their will. He means well, but can be a bit… forcible."
"I noticed, sir," Jareth admitted, sheepishly. The reverend laughed.
"You can come to Church tomorrow if you like, but you don't have to," Reverend Verity told him. "We'll still be glad that you're here."
"That's a relief, sir," Jareth replied. "I just don't want the Judge to volunteer me again."
"He sits in the front row of the church," Reverend Verity advised. "As long as he's the first one in, you should be fine."
"Alright, then I might join you," Jareth said, truthfully.
"I'll do my best to make the sermon up to your standards," Reverend Verity winked. "Also, there's an inn right by the barns if you're looking for a place to rest."
"Thank you very much, sir," Jareth said, gratefully. "I would've been quite turned around looking for it. Have a nice day, sir."
"God bless you," were the reverend's parting words and Jareth made his way for the inn Verity spoke of.
The fae was starting to see the humor of the town as he headed for the Dreadful Inn. He wondered if there were other places called Peculiar or Uninteresting. Maybe he would find villages like that when he continued his travels. Approaching the innkeeper, he paid him a few silver coins and was then shown to a room where he could stay. It was quite small, but Jareth assured himself he didn't need too much space. The wooden floor creaked under his feet and there was a musty smell that hung in the air. There was a small straw mattress covered with a thin quilt in the corner which he was amazed to see was an actual bed. Was it like this for everyone? The town really was quite poor. He supposed it was better than the hard rock of Freecloud, though. At the foot of the bed there was a chest where he could put his things and a table and stool on the opposite side of the room. The thing he appreciated most was the window through which he could watch the people who passed by.
He removed his cloak and hung it up by the door, setting his bag and guitar by the table. Afterwards he headed for the chest at the foot of the bed. He'd have to store clothes there, but the question was as to the amount of clothing he should keep. He wasn't sure how much clothing the average human wore in a poor village like this. He shook his head, realizing how much of this he was making up as he went along. He summoned a crystal and let it drop into the chest. In a shift of magic the orb transformed into neatly folded articles of clothing. The clothes consisted of two poet shirts, one white and one black, three other pairs of leggings in black, grey, and dark blue, and an extra pair of brown boots. Surely that wasn't too much. He'd normally changed outfits many times during the day depending on his mood, and lately his mood had been rather glum. He knew he wouldn't be able to change clothes at the snap of his fingers because of the whole humans/magic issue. He huffed. Being incognito was a bit of a downer.
"Hello."
Jareth's head shot up in surprise and he let the lid of the chest fall shut. The voice had come from the window and was connected the face of a young girl. Her hair was wavy and brown and hung loose around her shoulders. She had downturned eyes the color of the sky and her skin was a soft cream.
"…Hello," he replied hesitantly.
"I'm Catherine," the girl introduced herself.
"I'm Jareth," he replied.
"I know," she said amiably. "I saw you in the market."
"Oh, yes," Jareth stood, walking towards the window. "I suppose there was a large crowd. Um, how long have you been standing here?"
"I just got here," she replied. "I know you're new here so I wanted to meet you."
"Oh," Jareth said, pleasantly surprised. "It's nice to meet you." He extended his hand through the window and held hers briefly.
"Also, I don't mean to be too curious," Catherine said, "But what were you doing with that crystal?"
Jareth froze, "I was… just… unpacking my things."
"Alright," the girl said without giving the subject a second thought. "But are you gonna visit the other kids here in the village?"
"I'd love to," Jareth said truthfully, "But I only just got here and I've been travelling a lot."
"Well, we have church tomorrow," Catherine told him. "And usually we children get together while the adults talk afterwards. So, I can introduce you to everyone then."
"That sounds nice," Jareth said, smiling. Catherine smiled back.
"Oh, and I don't mean to be rude, but I have a question," she said suddenly.
"Yes?" Jareth asked.
"Hold on," Catherine requested and then ran from the window. Jareth was taken aback. Where was she going? After a moment's hesitation, he stuck his head outside to see where she'd gone, but she was nowhere to be found. What was the meaning of that? Just then the door opened behind him. He whirled around.
"I don't like window conversation," Catherine said as she entered. Taking her appearance in fully, Jareth saw she was dressed in a worn white poet shirt, a greyish brown skirt, and a light blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "Anyway… wait, why are you still at the window?"
"I…"
"What, did you think I just left?" she smiled as if it was something quite funny.
"I just didn't know where you'd gone," Jareth said, shifting on his feet in embarrassment. "You didn't say anything, you just took off."
"True," she relented, "But anyway, my question."
"Yes," Jareth nodded.
"You said to Judge Braen that you came from a village by Freecloud," she told him. "What's it called?" There was a slight challenge in her voice.
"Um…" Jareth fumbled for words, but his hesitation was obvious. "It's uh…"
"I knew it!" Catherine exclaimed. "You did come from Freecloud."
"What?" Jareth cried indignantly. "That's outrageous."
"No, it's not," Catherine folded her arms. "When people asked you where you were from you said, 'Freecloud.' But when you realized that was a bad answer you corrected yourself and said 'A village near Freecloud.' It wasn't too convincing, though."
"What are you trying to…?"
"But adults never notice those things, they think children are idiots and don't pay any real attention to what we say. They only hear what they want to hear," she huffed and was silent for a moment. "But anyway, you definitely came from Freecloud and there's no way you can convince me otherwise!"
"Shhhhh!" Jareth took her by the shoulders and shook her once. "Sh." He headed for the windows and closed the shutters. "Not so bloody loud."
"So you are from Freecloud," she said victoriously, but more quietly.
"Yes, fine, I came from Freecloud," he replied irritably. "But you can't go telling anyone. You humans obviously don't like the mountain for whatever reason."
"Humans?" Catherine cocked her head to the side.
Jareth's slip became apparent to him and he let out a groan.
"Idiot," he said. "I'm an idiot." He kicked the chest at the foot of the bed angrily. "Why can't I just keep my mouth shut!?" He flopped onto the mattress face down. He hadn't even been in the village for a whole day and already he'd messed up. He'd more than messed up. He'd drawn attention to himself, he'd let some girl figure out he'd come from Freecloud, and now he'd just let on that he wasn't human. He heard Catherine walk over to the table, pick up a stool, and then set it down by his bed.
"What do you mean? Why do you say 'humans' as if you're not one?" she asked. He turned his head to the side to look at her. "And why are your eyes… different?"
"You can't tell anyone," he said. "Not a single living soul."
"I won't tell anyone," Catherine said earnestly, leaning forward.
"You must swear an oath of fealty," Jareth demanded.
"Um... how about we do a pinky promise instead?" Catherine suggested.
"This will be sufficient," Jareth said reluctantly. Catherine held out her hand and extended her pinky. Jareth did the same and they hooked their little fingers around the other.
"There," Catherine said. "Now I can't tell anyone. That done, tell me about Freecloud! Do you live there? Are there other people on Freecloud?"
"No," Jareth propped himself up on his elbow. "There's no one on Freecloud. Not even animals. And I don't live there. I rested on its peak for a time before I came down to Dreadful."
"How did you get up there?" Catherine inquired.
"I flew," Jareth replied.
"Humans can't fly," Catherine scoffed.
"I'm not human," Jareth admitted, quite annoyed with all this information he had to give under the protection of the pinky swear. "I'm fae. That's why my eyes are different than yours. I didn't know that was one of the defining differences between human and fae when I came."
"Fae?" Catherine asked in awe. "Really?"
"Really," Jareth rolled over onto his back.
"Well… if you're magic… then do something magic," she instructed. Jareth sighed and raised a hand, focusing hard. Soon, a crystal started to form in his hand and eventually became solid. Catherine gasped. "That's amazing."
"You're not afraid?" Jareth asked, genuinely surprised.
"No, of course not," Catherine said. "I mean the adults would probably have heart attacks and try to hang you for being a sorcerer, but I think that's truly fantastic."
"That sounds… unsavory," Jareth said.
"Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone," Catherine reassured him. "Cross my heart and hope to die." She mimed the action with her finger.
Jareth frowned. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Oh, it's just a phrase for a promise," Catherine responded. "I guess it's a bit morbid, isn't it?"
"A bit," Jareth said, jokingly. Catherine smiled, but then her face dropped. "Oh, wait, what time is it?" She stood and opened the window. "Blast, I need to get back to my parents. They'll wonder where I've been." Jareth sat up. "I have to go. Will I still see you at church tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course," Jareth replied.
"Wonderful," Catherine said, heading for the door.
"Wait, Catherine," Jareth called. She turned. "Take this." He tossed the crystal to her. As she caught it, it transformed into a rose bud. "And don't tell anyone about me."
Catherine's cheeks turned bright red. "Thank you. I won't." And she was gone. Jareth leaned back against the wall, his mind whirling. Things went so much faster in the world of humans than it did in the world of the fae. Had all that really happened in such a short amount of time? He sighed. He hoped he could rely on that girl. If she went about telling everything he'd just told her, it would be enough to get him hanged, just like she said. He shuddered. He firmly decided he would not let himself slip up like that ever again. Catherine, he hoped, would stay true to her word. As long as none of the adults found out, he was sure he'd be fine.
