Chapter 3.
Knowing all hell was about to break lose, Jareth transformed himself once again to an owl and headed for the castle to salvage what he could of the day.
Toby stared wide eyed at the equally wide eyed dwarf, "You're Hoggle," he said laughing. "God you're short!"
"See here you rude little…" the little man snapped at the impish child.
"Don't you know who I am? I'm Toby," he shoved his hand out in greeting, only to have the man stare at him. "You know, Sarah's Toby." He insisted with a wink.
The dwarf's face shifted, first pained and then shocked, and then worried and lastly fearful. "Sarah's Toby… what are you doing here?" He was feeling panic and it was showing. "She didn't wish you away again, did she? No…no she'd never do that again…" he muttered to himself. "No she learned her lesson, she'd never do that again!"
"Wish me away," the boy blinked, "When did Sarah wish me away?"
Wanting to bite his tongue and crawl into the smallest hole he could find, Hoggle hemmed and hawed. "Did I say wished away, my bad…." He edged his way away from the boy. He was looking for escape, and not finding it.
"Yes, you did," insisted the observant boy, "So talk." He crossed his arms and took a wide legged stance, his stormy blue eyes flashed with fire.
"Damn," Hoggle leaned closer to observer the boy's face, "You look just like him! You even sound just like him!"
"Just like whom," Toby growled.
"Just like Jareth, the Goblin King." Hoggle gasped. "Your eyes, your hair, your manners and demands… everything about you…" The dwarf shook his head in dismay, "No wonder he wanted you…You're the spittin' image of him~"
The crossed arms of the incensed lad fell open and to his sides, "The Goblin King wanted me," he questioned disbelievingly. "Says who?"
"Says him," Hoggle answered, "I thought at first it was because he wanted an excuse to make Sarah run the labyrinth. It was only after you and she left that we learned how much he enjoyed keeping you… now I know why… He saw himself in you."
"Saw himself," repeated the boy, "In me?" He shook his head, knowing he'd heard this before. "No, that was only in that silly story… the book that Sarah read to me… that can't be real."
"One of the guards in the throne room told me," Hoggle leaned toward the boy, as if telling him a deep dark secret, "That the King was going to rename you after himself."
Toby was unsure of what he was supposed to feel, anger at having been wished away, honored at being desired as a adoptee of the Goblin King, or grateful to his sister for having run the Labyrinth to find him. "The Labyrinth," Toby focused, he could worry about the rest later. "How do I get into the Labyrinth?" He looked at the span of wall before him. "How do I get in?"
"I'll show you," Hoggle said proudly, "Just like I did your big sister…." 'Only this time, I'm not spy for the King,' Hoggle thought to himself.
--
Jareth flew into the tower window, observed the young woman on his throne, almost as if she belonged there. He glided gracefully about the circular room before landing transforming as he did so. He was well aware of the goblins in hiding, but chose to not pay them any attention. He stood regally, just as he had that night five years ago in the nursery bedroom. He would have preferred a more dramatic entrance, something with more flare, something with thunder and lightning. He would have liked trumpets or armed guards; instead he stood in the dingy, cluttered throne room and peered at the young woman dressed in wedding finery sitting quietly on the throne.
Sarah had been sitting, her elbows on her knees, and her chin propped in her hands. When the owl entered through the window she looked up and sighed. "Bout time," she muttered as he transformed to the handsome figure that was the Goblin King. For a moment she forgot that she'd been wished away, forgot that this man had been her foe, her antagonist and troublesome opponent. She looked up and remembered a moment that she'd thought him the most handsome creature that ever lived. "Hello Jareth," she greeted him quietly, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips.
Taken aback by the gentle greeting, his mood softened, and he greeted her just as quietly and cordially. "Hello Sarah." Placing his hands to his hip, he moved forward majesticly, "Have you been waiting long?"
"Long enough," she mused, waving about the empty room, "I seem to have scared off your minions."
"Do you blame them," he teased softly with twinkling eyes. "The last time they saw you, you and your friends damn near destroyed the town." He moved closer until he was standing directly before her. "I believe you have my seat," he teased.
"So I do," she agreed making no effort to vacate the throne. "However it was the only place to sit that would not ruin the stupid dress." A hand motion toward her gown indicated that the white gown wouldn't have stayed white anywhere else in the room.
Jareth tried not to smirk, not to laugh, but the girl's words amused him. "I suppose the place could use an occasional cleaning," he agreed.
"Occasional," she asked incredulously with more than a hint of sarcasim, "When was the last occasion?"
"Oh," shrugged, pretending to remember, "A century or so ago," Leaning on and resting upon the side rail of the throne, Jareth let his eyes feast on the green eyes that haunted his dreams when he allowed himself to dream. "You've changed," he observed.
"So have you," Sarah's voice was pleasant, calm and tranquil.
"Have I," he asked feeling suddenly like a drunken man, basking in the presence of his long absent lady; "How?"
Sarah smiled softly and blushed, "You're still handsome, if that's what you're worried about."
"Still," Jareth asked pleased that she had found him handsome. "Funny I wasn't aware you'd noticed… your last visit was so… hurried."
"I noticed," Sarah assured him softly, "So much so that I nearly lost... so much so that I forgot Toby for a few brief moments… So much so that I've never been quite able to enjoy any other man's company…"
The smile faded and the stormy eyes of the Goblin King darkened. "And yet you were about to marry…"
"Yes," Sarah sighed, "I was." The fires that had once been so evident in her lovely green eyes seemed diminished.
Her sad eyes disturbed Jareth, and he suddenly found himself wanting to comfort the girl. "Why Sarah, do you love this man?"
Ashamed, Sarah lowered her eyes, and shook her head. "No, I don't."
"Then why marry him," Jareth asked softly, trying to understand her sadness, and his own feelings of needing to protect the very person he had sworn vengeance upon.
"He asked," Sarah sighed, "And my father thought it would be a good match…"
"But you don't love him," protested the Goblin King. He was not sure if he was trying to convince her or himself of that truth.
"No, I don't..." Sarah agreed again sadly, and refusing to look at him.
Releasing his breath in a long slow exhale, Jareth stepped closer and inched his way into the wide seat of the throne beside her. He looked at her, dressed in a wedding gown that didn't really complement her. "That's an interesting dress," he commented unable to keep the hint of mockery and cynicism out of his tone.
"Do you like it," she asked turning her head to look at him sideways. Her eyes showed surprise at his comment.
"No," he answered honestly, "Do you?"
"No," she said feeling awkward and embarrassed about the dress. She tried to cover herself with her arms. "Actually I don't."
"It's not you," Jareth said soundly. "Did you pick this dress out?"
"No," Sarah cleared her throat, "My mother picked the dress… and paid for it…the veil too…"
Jareth snickered, and then chuckled. "So your father picked the groom, and your mother picked the dress… did you pick the honeymoon?"
Sarah's chuckle sounded much like Jareth's, "No that would be Jefferson's area of expertise."
All the anger and turmoil he'd felt vanished as Jareth placed a comforting arm over the shoulder of the young woman seated beside him, "Would you like me to exchange that," he pointed to the dress, "For something a bit more you?"
"No tricks," she questioned, "No removing the dress and leaving me naked?" He crossed his heart with his gloved hand, Sarah thought about it, her lip between her teeth, and then slowly nodded her head in agreement and acceptance of the King's offer. A moment later Sarah was dressed in a long green jersey gown that was cut to flatter her figure but not give it away, "Thank you," she whispered feeling a little shy. "This is much better…"
"You're welcome, Sarah." Jareth kept his harm over her shoulder. His leather clad fingers were firmly placed on her arm, and going nowhere.
Sarah looked about the throne room, the goblins were still in hiding, and it was as if they were alone in the world. Sighing deeply, she let herself relax, her head moved to his shoulder as she leaned back. "I'm so tired," she admitted sadly.
"Are you, precious," Jareth asked, his lips touching her forehead.
She nodded again, and looked up at him with sad eyes, "He didn't mean to you know…" she knew Jareth would understand instantly whom she was referring to.
"I know," Jareth assured her.
"Don't be angry with him," she pleaded softly. "It's not really his fault…"
"I'm not angry, my dear," Jareth stated firmly, firming up his grip of her shoulder, "At least not with him."
Sarah looked at his firm jaw, "He didn't know that it was going to really happen… just as I didn't… that other time."
"I know," Jareth sighed, "I know."
"Don't make him run the Labyrinth," she pleaded softly. "He'll never make it," she fretted. "He's not as strong as I was, he's not old enough to understand all the ins and outs…Please Jareth… I'll stay, it would be better for me to stay… just don't…" long lean gloved fingers silenced her request.
"Sarah, my dear precious Sarah," his voice wavered. "Were it within my power to send him home… I would…"
"He's in the Labyrinth?" Sarah stood up, moving quickly toward the window. "OH Jareth no! He's just a little kid… can't you re order time, put him back~ put him back in my bedroom…"
"Unfortunately, not…" Jareth stood with his hands resting on her shoulders. "Sarah," his voice was grave and somber. "Listen to what I'm about to say, and try not to be too angry…" He felt her stiffen, and didn't blame her. "Even if Toby makes it to the center of the Labyrinth, even if he makes it to the castle… I cannot send either of you home… ever again."
Her hands gripped the sill of the window, "Why," she gasped.
"There's a little matter of you and Toby both having eaten Fae food…" Jareth explained softly, trying to soften the blow, "That and the fact that you've both been Fae Touched." Resting his head against hers he whispered. "It's why you've never found love with a mortal…" The young woman turned, her eyes filled with worry and hurt. "I'm sorry… as generous as your offer to stay is, as unselfish an act…"
"Fae touched," she questioned. "What does that mean?"
"It's a very old canon, a rule that was made long before I was even born." Jareth explained softly. "You do understand that there are rules that govern and laws of convention that are in place between your world… and mine," he waited for her nod, once he received it he spoke again. "It comes from old traditions, it was written down long ago, and is still enforced."
"Written down by whom?" Sarah questioned, looking for a loophole.
"By a scribe," Jareth said gently. "I can show it to you; if you like… every Fae King has a copy in his archives."
"Yes," she stated firmly, head held high. "I should very much like to see this for myself."
Extending his arm to her as if they had been companions for eons, he watched as she placed her hand upon his offered arm with graciousness he'd seen lacking in most modern mortals. But then, Sarah Williams was not more modern mortals, she had never been ordinary. "The archives are just down this corridor," he said as he led her out of the throne room down a long hall of what looked like endless doors and pathways.
"How do you remember all the paths, and not get lost," she asked marveling as they strolled down the hallway.
"Practice," he teased gently, enjoying this reprieve from animosity betwixt them. "Once you settle in you'll get the hang of it."
"Do you really see me 'settling in'," she questioned.
"I hope," he admitted quietly as they entered a passage that seemed as long and straight as the one they'd just left. "Just through here," he waved toward an archway. "This is the archives."
The room was filled, top to bottom, bottom to top with literally thousands of wooden bookshelves covered in scrolls and leather bound books. It held the fragrance of velum and leather and rare inks. Sarah was sure one could easily get lost in this treasure of literature and history. "This is amazing," she commented as her hand left the arm of the King. She took a step toward one of the shelves and noted the strange lettering. "Is this in Aramaic?"
Jareth stepped behind her and looked down his elegant nose at the lettering, "Yes, I do believe that one is…" he shrugged, "You'll find every known and some unknown language written in this archive." He advised. "I doubt anyone in your world even remembers the elven scripts."
"Tolkien," Sarah argued, "He seemed aware of it."
"I stand corrected," Jareth mused.
Sarah looked and gently fingered the lettering of one bound volume, "I envy you, Jareth." Her voice trembled.
"Do you," he mused. "For what reason could you envy me?"
"To be able to read all the languages of the world," Sarah replied with a softness, "That's a rare and immeasurable treasure. It's beyond my dreams," she whispered.
"I once offered you your dreams," he reminded her with ice creeping into his tone.
"It cost too much," she removed her hand from the rack of scrolls. "Where is this canon you spoke of?" She had turned formal, business like and cold.
Jareth mirrored her iciness, "There, on that wooden stand," he pointed to the raised almost podium looking item along a wall that had a table covered in more scrolls.
Sarah waltzed past him, maneuvering in the dress as if she'd been wearing that style of garment all her life. Looking down at the open scroll, she frowned, "I can't read this," she complained.
"Of course you can't," Jareth had not followed her, but rather stood aloofly, watching her having crossed his arms. "It's written in Celtic Gaelic, and in a dialect that is no longer even in existence. "I could translate it for you," he said coldly.
"You expect me to take your word on it," she asked just as icily.
A smile crossed the grim features for an instant. "No, I don't." He moved forward, "However," he reached out a hand, gently pressed his fingers to her forehead and sighed. "I think you can trust your own eyes."
Sarah looked down, what had moments ago seemed like gibberish were now words that looked recognizable, "This is in English," she marveled.
"No," Jareth sighed, "You're just seeing it in English, it's still in Gaelic."
"Whatever," Sarah sighed, leaning over the document. "There are certain rules and regulations that must be observed when one is dealing with the community of beings known as the Fae.
Don't ever ask a nature spirit's name. This is bad manners and, besides, they won't tell you. It is said that knowledge of a faery name by another confers power over the faery on that person.
Never eat their food, even when offered, because something may be asked for in return. Accepting the faery cake may put you under an obligation to them.
Some nature spirits dislike being disturbed by humans or even being seen by them. Never intrude. If they run from you, don't give chase and if they ask you to leave, go.
Never put a faery down or make comparisons that put them in a bad light. Claiming, for instance, that a child is fairer than a faery is certain to provoke their anger.
Some traditions warn of even speaking of the faeries.
Above all, tread lightly.
Or stay away. An Irish lady was asked if she believed in the little people. Her reply was that she didn't believe in them but that she knew they were there. Maybe she had the best idea.
People carried off to fairyland cannot return if they eat or drink there. Fairy and human lovers can marry, though only with restrictions whose violation ends the marriage, and often, the life of the human. Some female fairies are deadly to human lovers. Fairies may resemble humans in size. Female fairies may be fortune tellers, particularly prophesying at births and foretelling deaths. Celtic folk beliefs generally paint fairy rings as dangerous places, best avoided. Mortals who have danced with the fairies are rarely safe after being saved from their enthrallment. Often, they find that what seemed to be but a brief foray into fairyland was indeed much longer in the mortal realm, possibly weeks or years. The person rescued from the fairy ring may have no memory of their encounter with the sprites. In most tales, the saved interlopers face a grim fate." Sarah read aloud. Jareth had taken a seat on the only chair present. Her face became rigid as she read, and her voice edgy. "Is this for real?"
Jareth nodded, not bothering to look at her, "Of course."
"So all you had to do was wait for me to somehow end up here again… if I had ever ventured here, and visited Hoggle or Didymus… I would have fallen prey to the clauses of this… document?"
Jareth sniffed, crossed his arms and said, "Yes."
"Wait," she shook her head violently and in a manner of refusal. "Toby, he… you never sang to him did you?"
"No,"
Thinking she had him she crowed, "Then he's not subject to this!"
"Wrong," Jareth closed his eyes, he should be enjoying this… he should be the one crowing but instead he felt tired. "Toby is subject to the having eaten Fae food clause."
"You fed him," she asked in an accusatory tone.
Calm and frosty, with a measure of hostility, Jareth looked over at her, "I'm not a monster, I don't starve children." He claimed resolutely.
Before she could respond something irksome picked at her memories of her last visit, "You didn't just feed Toby; you tricked me into eating a peach as well."
"Yes," he sat smugly smiling at her. "I did."
"You… bastard." she accused.
"Sometimes," he agreed with a wicked wink.
"You knew all this, even before you set foot in that bedroom… before you offered me that orb... before…" She railed.
"Yes, yes," his voice sounded bored waving a gloved hand at her in the air to finish. "I was well aware of the sensitive material contained in that scroll."
"You never told me any of this, no warning…" she slammed her hand down on the wooden stand.
Jareth smiled, "Now Sarah, you had a good deal of the information already." He chuckled, "I am familiar with your reading material." He leaned back and observed her, "I was very well aware of you; otherwise I'd never have allowed that little red book to fall into your hands."
Sarah's mouth dropped open, "You sent that book, no," she shook her head, falling back on denial. "My mother sent me that book… from a play she was doing…"
"Whom do you think directed her to that very play," he asked smugly.
Knees shaking, Sarah stared at him, her lips moved and the word, "Stalker," erupted.
"Thank you," he crooned back totally devoid of shame or remorse.
"How could you… I was a child!" she bellowed.
"Not in all respects," he reminded her with a smarmy leer.
"You're perverse beyond imagination," she crossed her arms and turned her back on him.
"You've no idea of how vast the imagination can be," he teased. "But I will take great pleasure in awaking you to such vastness." He noticed the shiver that traveled though her at his suggestion. "Sarah, we can make the best of this…" he purred. "You know that don't you?" Pivoting slightly, looking at him over her shoulder, her lips pressed together and her brow raised she made a formable figure. Observing her, he felt his pulse quicken, and his chest tighten. In her eyes he saw the flames that had been so evident reignited, and defiance and determination reawakened in her. "There's so much I can~ teach you." He suggested in the next purr.
"And I'm supposed to what," she let her lashes flutter slightly. "Fall into your waiting arms and bid you do with me what you wilt?"
"Something like that," he growled in the back of his throat.
"Ha!" she pivoted the other direction and began to head for the door, "Cold day in hell…"
Chuckling, Jareth watched her storm out of the room, "Sarah," he called after her. "Where are you going?" She didn't answer, and he could hear the sounds of her footfalls moving away, "Blast it all woman, just give in…" He muttered rising from the chair to follow her into the corridor. "Sarah, just where do you think you're going?"
She had taken a turn, she had thought it was the right one but it had only lead her to another set of paths. "I'm going to go back to the throne room, I know the way out of here from there."
"You can't just leave," Jareth reasoned with her gently.
"Watch me, pal!" she huffed moving down another hallway. "Blast it all, this is not right."
"And once you're out of here, then where," he asked with amusement.
"Into the Labyrinth," she snapped.
"Now why would you want to do that," he chuckled.
"To find my brother," she paused and looked and then turned only to find her pathway blocked by the King. "Get out of my way!"
Refusing to move, he asked again, "Why would you want to do that?"
"Because he's just a little kid," she fretted, "He has no idea of what he's doing… he doesn't understand any of this… an it's all my fault. I should never have read that stupid story to him, not after my being here…"
Jareth snorted, "You won't find him grateful if you do," he warned. "Right now he's on a guilt trip a mile wide, and being 'rescued' by the very person he's trying to rescue will infuriate him, trust me on this one."
"Toby thinks he can save me," Sarah reasoned. "Jareth, you have to bring him in… get him out of the Labyrinth before he gets hurt."
"He won't get hurt," Jareth promised. "He's not alone." The hint of sarcasm became more like a boast.
Sarah stopped trying to push past the King, her hands were on his sleeves and she stared at him, "What do you mean he's not alone? Who's with him?"
Looking down at the hands gripping his arms, he smiled, "Hoggle."