Author's note: Standard disclaimer still applies. This chapter's a bit shorter than the last one, sorry. Please review!
Sarah held onto Jareth's arm the entire way to her room, sending shivers down Jareth's spine each time her grip changed. Did she know how much she affected him? Jareth was surprised that she had taken his arm: he'd spent over an hour at the tannery today, and he knew he didn't smell like a peach. Still, if she noticed, she chose to ignore it in favor of walking beside him, and that would put a spring in Jareth's step any day.
They made small talk until they arrived outside her doors. He took his temporary leave of her, saying, "If you would give me half an hour to clean myself up, I'll return for you and escort you to dinner. I paid a visit to the tannery today and those visits tend to …linger, as I'm sure you've noticed," he said wryly.
Sarah nodded, a smile forming on her face. "Half an hour, then?"
He nodded, and watched as she slipped into her room. When the door shut, Jareth vanished, reappearing in the kitchens. He alerted the cook, a frazzled-looking goblin wearing a spotted white apron that both he and Lady Sarah would be dining in his quarters tonight, and to please have a tray for each of them brought up within half an hour. He waited only for some sign that his request had been received before vanishing once more, this time appearing in his chambers.
In record time, Jareth divested himself of his smelly clothing and sprinted into his bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged, confident he'd scrubbed the smell of rancid hides off his flesh. Running a hand through his hair, he felt it dry immediately at his magic's urging. Now, he was faced with the difficult question of what to wear. He pulled open his wardrobe doors, a furrow forming between his brows. What would Sarah like? What's her favorite color? Jareth knew very well that she didn't have one. That's why he'd changed his clothes so many times when she ran the Labyrinth before: he hadn't known what color would please her the most. Sarah loved color, period. Or she had, when she was a child. This new, adult Sarah was deliciously unknown to him. A quick glance at his wall clock revealed he had less than ten minutes left. Jareth quickly selected a cream-colored shirt, a midnight-blue waistcoat, and black pants. No high vicar's collar tonight; tonight, he wanted to be just Jareth, and not the Goblin King. He also decided against a cravat, leaving his neck and the surrounding flesh revealed. Maybe Sarah would be as accommodating?
Sarah! Another glance at the clock revealed he had less than five minutes before he was due at her door. Jareth adjusted his waistcoat before giving the room a quick once-over. Thank goodness for Mrs. Chartha, he thought. Without her, the room would be a mess. As it was, he had only to pick up his malodorous clothing and stow it somewhere out of sight before the room was ready. One more glance at the wall clock: one minute left!
Jareth looked himself over in the mirror. He looked a little excited, a little nervous, a little tired, but other than that, he looked …as good as he ever would. Jareth vanished, reappearing outside Sarah's door. He cleared his throat and knocked.
"Come in!" came the muffled reply. Jareth turned the door handle slowly, Sarah's room coming into sight. He'd spared no expense when he'd decorated it. They were, after all, the queen's quarters. He'd chosen cream and varying shades of green as the primary colors, accenting them with rich tapestries depicting battles long past. It looked as if she kept things tidy enough, or perhaps she had Mrs. Chartha to thank for that also. Or perhaps she had done the same, quick tidying that he'd done in his chambers, which meant that she'd planned for him to come inside.
In the corner, on the polished, wooden desk, Jareth noticed a stack of stationary and an ink well. Had she been writing? If so, what had she been writing? Before he could investigate further, she emerged from the bathroom. Jareth felt his breath catch in his throat: she looked radiant. Dressed in black slacks and a wine-colored blouse that modestly revealed some of her delightful décolletage, with her hair flowing softly down her back, she looked stunning. Beyond beautiful. She had looked ill when he'd looked in on her before she came here, and she'd still had traces of that emaciated look when she arrived. But now, only a week later, she looked – lively, healthy, and happy. And she was waiting for him to say something.
Jareth closed his mouth, and offered her his arm again to make up for his speechlessness. She accepted with a grin, and he magicked them away to his chambers.
Once the world righted itself, Sarah reluctantly let go of Jareth's arm. She looked around his room. So this is where he sleeps. I mean, sothis is his room. She hadn't meant to think about him sleeping. Sarah noticed that a table had been set for them, between the cheery fireplace and the large windows. The room was lit by a few, tapered candles on the table, the fire in the fireplace, and a few orbs of Jareth's own, unique form of lighting. There were no faeries in this room.
Jareth pulled out a chair for her, waiting until she'd seated herself before taking a seat himself. My goodness, he looks good! I can just see the top of his chest…. Sarah realized she was staring, and averted her eyes, unfolding her napkin and setting it across her lap. Jareth mirrored her action, and then met her eyes.
"I must say, Sarah, you do look beautiful tonight."
Sarah was grateful for the firelight; he wouldn't be able to see her blush. "Thank you, Jareth. So, what's on the menu? It smells delightful!"
Jareth removed the polished silver dome, revealing a roast chicken, steamed vegetables, and a fresh loaf of bread. It looked delicious. While Jareth carved the fowl, Sarah poured the wine, setting his glass by his plate. Jareth served both of them, and Sarah accepted her plate gratefully. She wondered if it was customary to say grace in the Underground, but it seemed not. Jareth tucked into his food with relish, and Sarah hastened to follow his example.
"Mmm," Sarah hummed. "This is good. I've never been any good at cooking myself, and this would be completely beyond my culinary powers."
"Yes, I quite agree." Sarah raised an offended eyebrow, and Jareth corrected himself. "I mean I too am helpless in the kitchen. I scarcely believe I could manage to boil water, but then again, one of the benefits of being a king is that I get to employ a chef."
"Hear, hear." Sarah said. "Now, I'm not so hopeless that I can't boil water – I practically survived on that ability in college when all I could afford to eat was ramen noodles."
"Ramen noodles? I'm not sure I'm familiar with those; do elaborate."
Sarah blushed, "It's sort of a just-add-hot-water dish. The noodles are all dried out – you do have noodles in the Underground?" If they didn't have noodles Underground, and she wasn't going to take it for granted that they did, then she wasn't so sure she could explain the dish.
Jareth was tempted to say no, just to see her get flustered explaining what a noodle was, but he decided to spare her, and nodded.
Relieved, Sarah continued, "Well, you add the hot water to the noodles, and wait for them to get soft, and then you take this little flavoring packet and pour it into the noodles. It's a powder that makes the noodles taste like some sort of meat broth, like beef, chicken, or pork. Shrimp too, and a lot of other flavors that I've never really cared for. Anyway, you add the flavoring, and heat it up some more, and then voilà! It's Ramen noodle soup." Sarah suppressed a groan: had she really just spent all that time talking about noodle soup? What was wrong with her?
Jareth watched as Sarah tilted her head down ever so slightly, presumably to hide another blush. She needn't be embarrassed; he delighted in learning about the Aboveground, especially if it was anything to do with her, and she'd never looked lovelier than when she was animatedly explaining that dish to him, the candlelight glinting off her eyes and the fire suffusing her face with rosy hues. Still, she was uncomfortable; he'd better change the subject.
"So, I'll give your regards to the chef?"
Sarah's head popped back up as she nodded. "Please, do. Mrs. Chartha always disappears before I have a chance to ask her to do that for me, before I even have a chance to thank her for what she does for me."
Jareth thought he heard an underlying, discordant note in Sarah's words, prompting him to ask, "How do like Mrs. Chartha?"
Sarah considered her words carefully; she couldn't be blunt and say she didn't at all, because one: it wasn't true, and two: this was a King she was speaking to. One didn't say such things to a king. "I like her well enough. It's just that, well…" She searched for the right words, and this time Jareth didn't come to her rescue. She'd just have to spell it out. "I get the feeling she doesn't like me. Not that it matters; we're hardly meant to be bosom companions, and it doesn't bother me at all."
Clearly, Jareth thought. Maybe he'd have a chat with Mrs. Chartha. "I quite understand your concerns, Sarah. Mrs. Chartha has been a bit…distant, lately. I suspect it all has to do with the dwarves downstairs. She has always prided herself on keeping an orderly and immaculate household. Indeed, that's what led me to hire her as my housekeeper. You can imagine how the extra mess and disorder gets to her. It has nothing to do with you." He reached a hand across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, bringing a smile to her face.
Sarah neglected to remind Jareth that if it hadn't been for her, the dwarves would not be downstairs, cluttering up Mrs. Chartha's neat household. She pushed the thought away, wanting to enjoy the evening. "You said you had been at the tanner's – what were you doing there?"
Jareth released her hand and clasped his together. "Well, that tale actually begins at the shoemakers. I'd received several complaints that the tanners were sending up poor-quality leather, which, of course, the shoemakers couldn't do anything with. They hadn't sold a shoe in almost a fortnight, and called me in to do something about it. So, I went, and indeed, the leather was poor quality. Well, it might have been moderate quality, save that it wasn't quite finished. I went down to the tanners to see what the problem was. I'm not sure if you're familiar at all with the process of leather-making, but let me assure you, it is a grisly, noxious business." Jareth shook his head, as if to clear it of some disgusting image, and Sarah giggled.
He continued. "Well, it turns out that the tanners were short on a certain – ingredient – needed to finish the process. I have since taken steps to prevent such a shortage, and I hope it resolves the problem all together." He took a sip of his wine, and then said, "So, tell me Sarah, what did you do today?"
So Sarah told him. She told him about walking around the city, about catching up with her friends, and about the children. "Sir Didymus is quite a spirited story-teller. He had all of the children enthralled, and I think he really enjoyed himself. I caught quite a few mutinous looks when I called it a night and asked the children to go home, but I think it's safe to say that he'll be back. Hoggle carried in one of the dwarf-children who'd fallen asleep by him. I didn't know Hoggle had such tenderness in him, the way he held that little boy. And then I found him with the boy's mother – Clara – was it? And the rest you know. Actually, you probably know more than I do, since you knew about Clara."
"Yes, I did. It's been going on for a while now, ever since she moved into the hall with her son, Gerry."
"What would you have said to Hoggle if you had had that 'little chat' with him?"
Jareth laughed for a moment, and then said, seriously, "I would have said that Clara and her son had experienced a great deal of grief recently. She was widowed a few years ago, just before Gerry was born, and then she went and lived with her brother, Thineus-"
"Disby?" Sarah asked, alarmed. Jareth nodded. "That poor woman!"
"Yes, exactly, which is why I would have warned Hoggle not to trifle with her; but given what you saw today, I don't think that will be necessary."
Having eaten their fill, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Ask him about the war, Sarah's mind prompted her. But Sarah was reluctant to bring up such a heavy topic. Thus far, they'd avoided all talk of the Labyrinth and it was a welcome relief. She sat back in her chair, wine glass in hand, and looked around the room. In the far corner, Sarah could make out a small, shining something dangling from a nightstand by ….Jareth's bed! It was the only part of the room not illuminated, as if Jareth had wanted to pretend it didn't exist. She could see that the coverlet was dark, but there wasn't enough light to make out an actual color. Stop thinking about his bed; soon you'll be wondering if he sleeps in the buff!. Sarah averted her eyes, telling the voice in her head, Yes, thank you, but I think you've just taken care of that.
Jareth watched as Sarah looked around the room, apparently lost in her own world. "Penny for your thoughts?"
That brought her back to the present. She searched for something to say, anything other than 'do you sleep in pajamas?' What? Hurry up, think of something! "Sir Didymus mentioned a great war fought a thousand years ago. He said you were there. Is that true?"
That was certainly unexpected. "It is." Jareth didn't elaborate.
A light bulb went on in Sarah's mind. "You were the first Goblin King, the only Goblin King." It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact.
Jareth, trying to keep the evening light, said, "Yes, you've caught me. I am the one and only Goblin King, but please, no autographs." Sarah didn't say anything, and Jareth realized she was waiting for him to say more. "Look, Sarah, it was a very long time ago. Almost a different lifetime. I didn't tell you because I thought you'd find it unsettling to be around a being that was – as I said – considerably older than you."
"It's a bit disconcerting, yes, but it's really not that big of a deal to me. Would you mind telling me about it ? The war, your past – you must have seen and lived through so much."
"Of course, if you wish. But not now, not tonight." Tonight, he just wanted to dwell on the present, not the bloody past. Sarah was nodding, and he sensed that she really did want to know about it, about him. "I'd be delighted to start the tale tomorrow, but - I have to ask - shall we be continuing your proposition? Quid pro quo?"
Sarah perked up, "Yes, absolutely. And if we are resuming that tomorrow, then tonight is off the record, so to speak. So tell me, Jareth, are you ticklish?"
She'd surprised him again. "Do you know, I have never been asked that question before? Am I ticklish? I really can't say; I've never had any experience in the matter. What about you, Sarah; are you ticklish?"
Sarah was, terribly so, and rather than let him know, she asked, "Is that the time? I really should be getting back." She placed her napkin on the table and stood.
Jareth copied her actions. "Allow me to escort you back to your chamber."
Sarah took his proffered arm, and let him lead her from the room. When they were in the hallway, Sarah realized how closely they were lodged. I've been here a week and I never realized he was sleeping right next door to me? They walked the few feet to her door in silence, and then Sarah released Jareth's arm.
Turning to face him, Sarah said, "Thank you, Jareth. I had a wonderful time. I'll see you in the morning?" Sarah met his eyes and found she couldn't say anything more; didn't he know that she lost all powers of speech when he looked at her like that?!
He nodded, "First thing." She turned to go, but he caught her hand, and raised it to his lips, bestowing a light kiss. "Thank you for a splendid evening, Sarah. Sweet dreams."
Sarah nodded, and retreated inside her room before her knees turned to jelly. As first dates went, that had been perfect. Wait. First date? Hardly. That was dinner between two friends. Yes, an unromantic, candlelit dinner for two…inside his bedroom. So unromantic, she told herself sarcastically. Even if it had been only that – a dinner between two platonic friends – why had she not been able to take her eyes off of him for minutes at a time? Did he know how well that shirt brought out the blue in his eyes? Had he done it on purpose?
And she had asked him if he was ticklish! She wondered how she had dared. Still, she had learned something about him – he'd been the Goblin King for over a thousand years. That meant for the past thousand years, he'd not talked with another person like him. Sure, there were dwarves and goblins, but there weren't any fae. He must be so lonely, Sarah thought. To be the only one of his kind, on his own, for so long. No wonder he'd looked so careworn when I first arrived – he'd been dealing with the problems in his kingdom alone, with no friends to confide in, to share the burden of his crown with.
"Well, he's got me now," she said to herself. "I'm not fae, but I'm the closest thing at the moment. Maybe I can show him that he's not alone in this. He's not alone in anything."
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Author's Addenda: What's your favorite flavor of noodle soup?