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(A/N) I know nothing much happened in the last chappie, but my wonderful parental unit was screeching for me to fork over the lap top (Honestly, I think there is some Banshee blood in her…) and I wanted to get at least something up, so the actual progress from the last one got crammed into this one… K
DISCLAIMER: How do you say "I don't own this" in French?
SECOND DISCLAIMER : I disclaim the word 'Muppet' to the Jim Henson company.
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CHAPTER V – Purple Exploding Heads!!!!
"Hob?" Sarah glanced upward, wondering if she might catch a glimpse of the Hob, but no such luck, "Hob, are you there?"
"Of course, milady. How may I assist you?" The voice of the Hob was as cool and collected as before, and like before it seemed to echo down from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling.
"I'm trying to find the kitchen, but I've been wandering around for an hour and I think the hallways are changing on me…" She tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. Leave it to Jareth to have a house that was as obnoxious as he was.
"You wish to journey to the galley?" the Hob asked softly.
Sarah sighed, "Yes, Hob, I wish to journey to the kitchen and I wish to do so now. Can you give me directions or something?" Hopefully that would be specific enough.
The Hob was silent for a moment and Sarah began to hope that he/she/it would actually comply on the first request. "Would it not be simpler for me to bring the kitchen to you mi-" Perhaps not.
"No, Hob. Just the directions."
You wish to walk there?"
"And what would be my other options? Horseback? Light rail? Yeah, if it's close, I'll walk."
"Very well. Walk to the end of the hallway, turn left then left again immediately. You will be in the kitchen." Thank you.
She wasn't sure how she knew, but Sarah felt the Hob leave. She shook her head. It meant well, but it was tedious talking to that thing. She was tired just thinking about their next conversation.
She set out down the hallway, hoping it was shorter than the rest. All of the passages seemed to look the same, so she was never sure if she'd just gone in a circle or not.
After the first few minutes of wandering around she had tried a few of the doors she'd come to. One of the opened into darkness so complete the light from the wall sconces seemed to be swallowed up by it-she shut that door, slammed it really, and quickly moved on. The next one had opened into what appeared to be a pantry of some sorts and for a moment Sarah had considered looking for dinner in there, then she noticed that some of the jars and sacks were shaking and squawking alarmingly and decided against it.
The Hobs directions proved to be harder to follow than they seemed. When she came to the end of the hallway, she took the left as was instructed and then the next left available to her, but that door opened into a back stair way. After retracing her steps several times she decided to take the instructions literally, and-despite the fact that the rational part of her mind insisted she would smack face first into the wall-turned left immediately.
Instead of connecting with the paneling, she found herself in a kitchen of sorts. A huge hearth took up most one wall, with a roasting spit over it. Pots and pans and other implements hung from the ceiling. Dishes were stacked on every available surface, higher than Sarah would have thought possible, but the delicious smell wafting from the far end of the room overpowered her sense of caution and she made a b-line right for it.
Sarah stopped when she noticed that she was not the only one in the Kitchen. At the far end of the room were several large wooden trestle tables, piled with plates and bowls of food. Though she didn't recognize any of it, it smelled wonderful.
Seated at the tables were two…well, she wasn't sure what they were, they looked like a mix between giants and the orc's that were described by J.R.R. Tolkien. Grey lumpy skin, blocky build, teeth to make a dentist cringe; they were probably the ugliest things she'd ever seen. Around them were several smaller goblins, the tallest of which were no more than two feet high.
She was about to turn and look for dinner elsewhere when one of the Orc things noticed her. "OY! 's her! C'mere pinky." It said blithely. Sarah realized that it was a girl.
The other one nodded, "Yeah, 'ave a seat. We won' bite." He scooted over on the bench to make room for her, while the mini-goblins watched her with curious eyes.
Well, too late to change my mind now. Sarah thought. She maneuvered herself into the space left open for her carefully. Sitting between them, she felt like a Toyota caught between two Mac trucks; about to be squashed at any moment.
The female Orc smiled down at her alarmingly, "Hi. I's is Mipsy."
"'N I'm Gorg." Said the other.
Sarah tried to smile politely, but she knew it looked rather strained, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I'm Sarah."
"We knows who you are." Mipsy said, "You's is the one what beat 'Is Majesty's Labyrinth. Everyone knows who you's are."
"Oh…"
Sarah's eyes fell on a bowl of brown bread which set her mouth to watering. Well, they had said have a seat…
"Are you's allowed to eat?" Mipsy asked politely.
"What?" the Hob said to come to the kitchen to get dinner. Sarah hoped she'd picked the right kitchen; maybe there was more than one?
"I 'eard that mortals wasn't allowed to eat our food, don't you 'eads explode or something if you do?"
This was the first Sarah had heard of it.
"Gah! Mips, you talk a load sometimes." Gorg said, "Their 'eads don't blow up! They just turn purple all over then they die."
Sarah's hand, which had previously been reaching for a slice of bread, was now in her lap.
"And it's not just from eatin out food neither. Mortals can die from just about anything here, they can do it even if they just put a stone in their mouths or from jumpin over some sticks. Right dangerous for you lot it is!"
Sarah pointedly ignored the rumbling of her stomach. She didn't want to touch anything that even might be food. While her turning purple and exploding might be the perfect ending to this little nightmare, she didn't want to take any chances.
"Me mum told me a story once., 'bout it." Gorg continued, "Bout Ripply Wrinkled. He comed here, ate some pommy granite, then jumped over some branches and died."
"You said they turned purple…" Mipsy pointed out.
"Whatever, ate some food, turned purple, tripped over some sticks and died."
One of the little goblins snorted, then stood up on the bench so that he was on eye level with Sarah. "Don't listen to these two." He said kindly, "They are only trying to frighten you and secondly they have no idea what they're talking about. Mortals do not die from eating our food. They simply cannot return to Mortalia henceforth." He proclaimed.
One of the other mini's tugged at the hem of his trousers, "What's Mortalia?"
He sighed in a pained way, "Where the mortals come from, you sod skull!"
"What would a goblin know 'bout it anyways?!" Gorg demanded. He seemed very angry to Sarah but, considering he could have stuffed several of them into his mouth at one time, the goblins didn't seem very concerned.
She sat, listening to the Orc's arguing over top of her, while her stomach growled and grumbled. The goblins seemed to think it was all very funny.
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" 'A course ya can eat! What did you think you were gonna live on? Air?" Hoggle chided, shoving another slice of bread at Sarah. A jar of honey butter sat on the table in front of her, but the bread was rich and sweeter than any she'd ever had at home, so she didn't use it. He'd found her shortly after leaving the kitchen and guided her back to her room.
"Well how was I supposed to know that?" She took a sip of tea. Or, no; it wasn't quite tea. It was almost, exactly nothing like tea. It had a sweet, nutty aftertaste, and was thicker than tea, but it was still pretty good. "They kept arguing about whether or not my head would turn purple and explode, or if I'd just drop dead or never be able to go home if I ate anything. It was nerve wracking!" she said.
Hoggle snorted. "Well, you'd better get used to it! Madame Chasely is no bundle of laughs." He paused as Sarah yawned widely, "You'd better get some sleep. Come morning you belong to her…"
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Sarah woke slowly, like the blossom of a flower unfolding. She yawned, stretching, and wondered absently what that lovely smell was. It took her several moments to realize that it was coffee, and that said beverage was sitting on the table next to her bed.
That got her up.
She picked up the pewter mug, took a sip and grinned. Not just coffee; good coffee. She sighed, still sipping on the coffee, she changed into work clothes, breeches, boots, and a comfortable blouse, and headed downstairs.
The goblin kitchen was the same as most large kitchens in the early hours of the morning; a small universe of barely controlled chaos. She managed to snatch a sticky roll from where a plate of them was cooling on the windowsill, and deposited her mug near a convenient sink on her way out.
She munched on the roll contemplatively. If she was to be stuck here for a month, at least the food was good. If she stood on tip toe right next to the base of the castle, Sarah could see over the wall and out into the goblin city. The city, much like the castle, was just beginning to stir. She wondered if her arrival had caused quite the same stir as last time she'd been here.
She shrugged to herself, she could find out later when she found time to visit the city. For now, she would be content with finding the stables and Madame Chasely.
"Well, c'mon feet. Time to go to work." She said to no one in particular. She found her way out of the castle itself with minimal difficulty and after that it was a matter of following her nose to the unmistakable smell of hay and horses.
She let herself in through a gate to the main stable yard and sighed contentedly.
Here, at least, was something familiar. The stable–like all stables–smelled like hay, and feed and horse. Halters were hung from their rightful places on stall doors and a shelf of lineament and bandages stood next to what could only be a wash rack.
At the very back of the barn was a large tack room, walled off from the rest of it, with saddles and bridles and assorted other tack in the same familiar piles that seemed to accumulate in all tack rooms over time.
She hadn't seen a single goblin since stepping through the gate. There wasn't a cackle to be heard or a green face to be seen.
Sarah could almost make herself believe she was home.
Her eyes drifted closed. It was so blessedly familiar. She could smell the sticky sweet scent of molasses and hay dust that tickled her nose, and hear the soft waffling of horses in their stalls, the jingling of tack.
Carly and Danny playing…Millie barked orders across the lesson arena… Toby was begging Diana to let him ride on of the 'big people' horses…
She could see them all so clearly in her mind. This tiny world of horses and women.
…Kathy and Spectacles galloping out of the woods, they leapt the pasture fence with careless ease. "Sarah! You're late, chickadee!"
And just like that the image cracked. Shattering like so much glass.
It was replaced with the bloodstained tiles where Kathy had fallen, the mournful, urgent wail of sirens spitting the once tranquil air, Bandit's shod hooves flashing in the emergency lights as he reared a challenge to these strange men who dared threaten his world. Tubes, machines, blood–God! So much blood!–surely she couldn't afford to loose so much?
She sighed, slowly returning to reality.
That was the problem with dreams…they were too easily broken.
"Hi there! Can I help you with something?"
Sarah let out a little shriek and was up off the hay bale and several feet away faster than she would previously have thought possible. "OH MY GOD, DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!" She shrieked.
The woman chuckled, in a bemused way, "Well sorry, luv. I was just curious as to what you were doing."
"Nothing. I-I was told to come here and report to Madame Chasely. I'm-"
"Sarah." The woman said, "Yes, I'm well aware of who you are." She chuckled again, "Sorry I startled you earlier."
"Don't worry about it-"
"I won't."
Sarah let that slide, "I just wasn't expecting to see any…any…"
"People?" The woman supplied, "Yeah. That's what they all say. We may be rare but there's a few of us here. But, time for that sort of talk later. Well, come on then." She said. The woman turned, and started off, expecting Sarah to follow behind. Sarah on the other hand, planned on doing no such thing until she knew what was going on.
"Do you actually expect me to just follow you off towards the wood? Where the hell are we going, first off. Second who are you?!"
The woman sighed in a resigned sort of way. "My name is Augusta Chasely, I am Jareth's older sister, this is my barn, and we are going that way."
Sarah planted her feet so firmly she appeared almost rooted to the cobbles, "That's not an answer. I want to know where we're going before I go anywhere with you; Jareth's sister or not!"
"What do you mean where?" Augusta demanded, "We're going to show you the horses. My dear girl, this is a stable; where did you think we were going?"
Augusta Chasely was not the sort of person to waist time on small talk or slow leisurely walks. This much was obvious straight away. Sarah was almost running to keep up with the tall woman's purposeful stride. Sarah had always thought of herself a bit too tall, but Augusta Chasely was a good four or five inches over her. She had the same platinum blonde hair as Jareth, the same finely chiseled features, and the same arrogant smirk. She was dressed plainly in tan breeches, boots and a loose fitting cream colored blouse and coat. There was also a long green scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. In the days to come, Sarah would learn that she had many of them and was always wearing one.
What Sarah saw of the stable as they moved through it at breakneck speed, was beautiful. White, three board fences, cool, lush green grass. It was all quite nice, but it was the horses themselves that caught her eye.
They were beautiful, in a very narrow sort of way. They were all big, they were all perfectly proportioned and impeccably groomed and they all seemed very aware of their own dignity. Sarah was almost afraid to touch them for fear she might ruin the perfect glossy sheen of their coats.
Unlike the stable itself, these horses reminded her nothing of home, they seemed flat; artificial in her mind. After all, what sort of horse was never dirty, never bucked and played with its pasture mates? She couldn't even imagine one of them having a roll in the sand as so many horses were wont to do.
She wondered absently if they got sweaty like normal horses after a workout.
"Well? What do you think of them?" she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Augusta's voice so close behind her. If she hadn't seen the mud on her boots, Sarah would have sworn the older woman floated instead of walked-how else could she make so little noise?
"They're…beautiful." She said reverently, "Perfect…almost too perfect."
Augusta smirked. "I had a feeling you might think so."
With that self-satisfied grin on her face, Sarah no longer held any doubts that she really was Jareth's sister. Sarah mentally chided herself, there were probably a hundred obvious reasons why they were the pinnacle of equine perfection-reasons that she had just as obviously missed. She waited for August to point them out, no doubt with much arrogance and distain.
Instead, the older woman leaned in close and whispered, "I know exactly what you mean. They're too damn clean! It's not natural…"
Sarah smiled nervously. Alright, maybe a few, small doubts…
"Don't worry. You won't be doing much with them. Despite what they look like, they're pretty low maintenance; it's a side affect of being immortal. The regular horses, however are not low maintenance; they require the same care as any equine you've dealt with before. I want you to work with Justine. You two should get on quite well I think. She's human, like you, she was wished away when she was nine, and she's been here ever since. She'll be in the barn straight across from here. Go all the way to the back near the hay loft. Small, blonde and loud; you can't miss her."
Justine was indeed small and unmissable, with a wiry build and even more wiry blonde curls that adamantly refused to be tamed by hair ties and combs alike. Sarah watched her for a moment as she tossed the hay bales around like feather pillows. Even under all the dust, Sarah could see that she had that sort of full-lipped, doey-eyed beauty that she-who had never been anything but tall, fierce and uncompromising-had always envied.
"Err….Excuse me? Justine?" she said softly.
The girl jumped several feet in the air. The bale she'd been holding went wide, missing the stack entirely and rolling to a stop on the other side of the loft. "Jeeze!! Don' scare me like that!! Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone 'round here?"
"Sorry. Madame Chasely said to report to you."
Justine looked quizzical for a moment, "Madame-Oh! You mean Augusta. Nobody but the guards calls her Madame Chasely." She trotted over to retrieve the bale.
"Are you my new Barn Rat?" the girl called. With a grunt of effort she heaved the bale up and onto the top of the stack.
"Barn rat?" Surely she hadn't been here long enough to be called a barn rat. Sarah thought of Kathy's older sister, Brittany, peacock feather in hand as they inducted new Rats to the St. Ivy Barn family.
"Yeah." Justine said, "Barn Rat. Groom, barn worker, some one who looks after the local equine population? You know; Barn Rat."
Sarah smiled, "Yeah. I guess that's me."
Justine nodded, satisfied "Did she say what she wanted you working on?"
Sarah shook her head.
"Oh, well. Her loss. Don't worry, there's always something to do around a barn-more's the pity. Come on." She jumped down from the pile of hay, dusting her hands off on her breeches, "I'll give you the grand tour."
The tour, as it turned out, was grand indeed. The stable was larger than Sarah had expected, much larger. They had five different fields and paddocks, three barns, and two arenas. Sarah couldn't help but drool over the jumps, they put her little PVC pipe/lawn-chair-set-up to shame.
Justine also introduced her to the mortal horses. These were much more like what Sarah was used to.
"Okay," said the younger girl, "See that big black gelding on the far side of the field? That's Judgment; he's Jareth's favorite." Sarah rolled her eyes, but stayed silent, "The sorrel mare in the corner is Lady, and the little palomino next to her is her daughter, Duchess. See how round they are? They're both gonna foal in the next few weeks. The two duns are the twins, Spring and Autumn. Then there's Ace, Pashta, Delilah-she's the whitish-tannish appaloosa, the one with blue eyes- Cavalier, Cherokee and Comanche." She said, pointing to each on in turn.
"They're wonderful." Sarah exclaimed, and she meant it. This was much better than the magic ones.
Justine smiled proudly, "They're ours; they're the ones we look after."
Judgment, noticing the attention he was receiving, tossed his head and pranced back and forth along the fence line. Justine snorted, "Gawd, he's such a ham. I swear, he knows it's almost fair day."
"Fair day?" Sarah asked,
"Yeah, the Great Fair. It's this big well, fair type thingy. It's held every four years here in the Goblin City and it's probably the only reason the other Fae tolerate Jareth and Augusta. It's the coolest thing to go to though. It doesn't matter if you're the poorest man in the city or the King himself; once you're inside the fair grounds everyone's equal."
Sarah nodded as though she had some idea of why this was so important.
"It's great," Justine continued, "We get the horses all dressed up and ride them in, flowers, blankets, silver and tassels and ribbons; we clank so loud you could hear us coming a mile and half away, but it's good fun. It makes some of them nervous but Judgment absolutely loves it; I think he likes knowing that everyone's looking at him…"
Sarah smiled, "Sounds like fun."
"You have no idea. It's a lot of work to get everything ready though. That's why there's like, nobody here right now, everyone's out getting things set up."
"Jareth too?"
"Yeah, he's got more to do than any of us."
Sarah snorted. "I would have thought he'd be out here making me miserable while he had the chance," she said sourly.
A slight frown creased Justine's brow, "Not really. He's got a lot to do, and he's not that sort of person anyway." She said.
"Whatever…"
"So," Sarah said after a while, " Augusta said you got wished away?"
Justine smiled, "Yep. One minute I was waiting for the school bus the next I was standing in the middle of the paddocks. Come on, walk and talk, I gotta get hay for the yearlings."
Justine led the way back to the hay loft.
"It was funny really. After the initial freak out, I figured it was some kinda weird science experiment gone wrong. I figured I was in another city back home or something, so I planned to hightail it out of here and catch a bus for home just as soon as I could." Somewhere along the way she had acquired a pitchfork which she put to work immediately "I had stolen some bread and cheese. I meant to make a run for it once it was dark but I fell asleep in the hay loft. That's were Augusta found me. Jareth wanted to toss me in the bog, but Augusta insisted that I had to pay for what I'd taken first…"
Justine smiled nostalgically, "She put me to work with the mares. It was the worst day of my life; I got stepped on, bit, run over, pushed around, you name it. I was bone tired by the end of the day, I grabbed some bread-fully prepared to be dumped in the bog of whatever-he'd-called-it, then I pretty much just collapsed in the hay again." She punctuated her sentences with flicks of the pitchfork, sending chunks of hay flying over the fence to the waiting foals.
"So, the next morning rolls around," flick, "and I'm expecting Jareth," flick, "but Augusta shows up and says that since I took more bread" flick, "and spent the night" flick, "I'd have to work off" flick, "my debts" flick, "again…" finished, she shoved the pitch fork into the remaining pile and dusted her hands off on her breeches.
"Like most humans do I kept eating and sleeping, and one thing led to another, and, well, here I am-five years later-still eating and sleeping and still working it off in the morning."
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"So, the works done for today," Justine said, once they'd finished the tour of the barn and the haying of the foals, "I just have to grab a flake of hay for Muppet and then we can head in." Justine called, scurrying up the ladder to the hay loft at break neck speed, "Just wait there, I'll be right down!" she called.
"M'k!"
Sarah glanced around the part of the barn she could see. Other than storage, it didn't seem to be in use any longer. There was, however, one stall at this end, though she doubted it had seen an occupant in many years. Just as she was contemplating this, something-she couldn't be sure what-moved inside the stall in question, startling her out of the recesses of her own mind. So there was a horse in there after all.
Sarah looked at the door and was horrified to see a thick layer of dust on the latch. Oh my god, poor thing! She grabbed the latch, trying to pull it open. The rusted metal squealed in protest, only making her more determined. She heard movement, and realized this might not have been such a good idea only a moment before something-she couldn't be sure it was a horse-threw itself against the door, shaking the old wood on its hinges, but it held up.
"No!" Justine shouted, poking her head out of the loft, "Don't open that. He's not supposed to come out."
"Wha-what's in there?" She asked nervously.
"That's Monsters' stall. He's big, he's mean, and he's loco." She called down from the loft. There was the telltale pop of a bale being opened, followed seconds later by two flakes of hay soaring over the edge and down onto the waiting cart.
"How long has he been in there?!"
"Sarah," Justine said patiently, "I know it seems cruel, but it's the best way. If we turn him out with the others they only tear each other up. We've tried working with him, but he almost killed Augusta the last time she tried to take him out. He's mean Sarah, like dangerous mean. Don't lift the canvas, don't stick your fingers in there." She spoke slowly and patiently, in the sort of tone one would use with a particularly dim child. "It's just…the only way." She retreated back into the loft.
Sarah waited until she could hear hay being moved again before cautiously pulling back a corner of the canvas to peer into the gloom. Nothing…big dark shapes and little dark shapes and a few more shadows, but she couldn't see a thing. The canvas effectively blocked out what little sun filtered down from the loft window. "If I could just get some light…" she muttered.
She glanced up at the canvas, which seemed to be secured with nothing more than a few tacks and some string. "There!" She grabbed a wad of material in each hand and gave a good, sharp tug. There was the telltale sound of tearing fabric, then the whole thing came sailing down, sending up a cloud of dust as it did. Light from the hay loft now streamed into the opening, and Sarah bit back a gasp as she look in side.
Inside was the biggest horse she'd ever seen. He stood as far back from the newly lit opening as was possible in the small enclosure, dancing nervously on the tips of his hooves. His mane hung in tangled cords down over his shoulders and in his eyes. A thin layer of grime and dirt clung to his coal colored coat and Sarah just knew that when the dust was gone he would be a true black. Scars, both old and deep, crossed his hide; she was relieved to see that none were fresh.
Even in his panic, Sarah could see that he had none of the clumsiness larger horses so often did. He never bumped against the walls, didn't stumble did trip. He gave a series of little half rears-all he could managed in the stall. Sarah opened the door wider to let in more light, and this time when he went up it was all the way, hooves flailing towards her.
"Never let 'em see you sweat; they're stubborn animals, Sarah, you've got to be the more willful of the pair…" Kathy's warning rang sharp in her mind; she stood her ground.
"Now, stop that…" she said sternly, "Is that any way to treat someone who's trying to help you?"
Sarah watched his gaze dart back and forth from the open door to her-standing between him and it-as if considering his chances of literally running her down. He pawed the ground nervously, snorting and tossing his head. She realized the poor thing was probably scared out of his wits. Who is this strange little human, and what was she going to do to me?
Sarah dug in her pocket and fished out an extra sugar cube from the tea Hoggle had brought with him. Just as she'd hoped, Monster's eyes focused on that, instead of the light and the open door. "That's right. It's for you…" He stretched his neck out as far as he could, lipping at the empty air in a vain attempt to reach it without having to step any closer than he already was.
Sarah smiled, "No, not yet. First you have to come over here. Then you can have it." Slowly, cautiously, he took a step towards her, then another. "But to do that, you'd have to trust me, wouldn't you?" He paused every little bit to paw the ground.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was close enough. He stretched out his neck again, carefully, slowly, and took the proffered sugar cube from her palm so gently she could barely feel it.
He leapt several feet away from her before he even finished gobbling it down, and snorted loudly. Sarah smiled, reaching outside the door, she grabbed a halter off the hook and sat down in the doorway to wait.
After about an hour the stallion had made his way from the far corner of his stall to about two feet in front of her, curiosity outweighing his fear, just as she'd hoped it would. "That's right, buddy-boy, I won't hurt you." She murmured. Slowly, she stood, halter in hand and took a step towards him. He snorted and tossed his head, but he didn't run.
"Yes, good boy. You're alright, eh? I'm just gonna walk over there and put this nice halter on you, m'k?" she said softly, "And you're gonna be a good boy and just stand still, so I can put it on you, hmm? Can you do that, buddy?" She slipped the lead rope over his neck, "I'm sure you can. Good boy."
She unbuckled the halter, holding it up so he could see it. "Just a halter love. It's not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna slip it over your head…" slowly as she could she slid it over his head and into place, being sure to buckle the ends securely instead of just tying them as she usually did.
Through it all Horse-she refused to call him monster, even in her head; it was no name for a horse-stood perfectly still. She gave a little tug on the rope and he stepped forward obediently. He knew that the hated halter was his ticket out.
"Come on, buddy." She said. Grinning, she led him forward, "Let's go get you some sun."
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(A/N) Well? What did you think? Does anyone have any ideas for a name for Horse? If so, message me. I'm not quite sure what to call him yet.