Author's Note: Many moons ago (read: many reviews ago), someone complained that this chapter lacked continuity with reality, that some of the films I reference are dated far too contemporary for the "time frame" of the original Labyrinth film. Fooey, says I. This is fanfiction and, while I admit to taking some things more seriously, real time is not one of those things I choose to focus on. And if that destroys your experience and enjoyment of this story, then it is probably not the story for you. And you probably have missed the point that I am trying to get across with this chapter, anyway. Sorry if I've harshed your mellow with my tone here, but there it is. … Clearly, that criticism is one of those things I took more seriously. And persoanlly. ;D
Checked for continuity, grammar, and spelling: May 2, 2011.
Chapter Three: Looks Defined
"Oh, come on, Aggie. Every romantic movie has a look to it." The only male in the light booth suddenly found himself on the receiving end of two exasperated, and female, glares.
"We are not talking about styles of film within a genre." Agnes whispered over the channel from where she sat at the sound board. "We are talking about Looks."
"Who's good looking? Oh, and Nate on headset." The voice of a second young man came over. "Sarah said she'll be coming on as soon as she finishes chewing out her fellow Seniors for screwing around with the prop table since they should know better."
"They're talking about romance movies, Nate," Gus informed him over several sounds of indignation.
"Oh right. I'll tell you who's good looking in those. Meg Ryan."
"Everyone thinks she's good looking. Be original. Courtney Cox Arquette."
"She's original? Ashley Judd."
"Ingrid Bergman."
"I thought he was male."
"No, that's Ingmar. I'm talking about Ingrid Bergman. The chick in Casablanca."
"Ah, good call. What about -"
"Before you continue with this fascinating litany," Agnes interrupted, "allow me to clarify for you. We are not talking about 'looks and feels' of movies, nor are we talking about the supposed good looks of actresses."
"Female actors," came the voice of a girl with bleach-blonde hair, a pair of safety goggles on her head, and a wrench sticking out of her back pocket from where she stood behind a spotlight.
"Same difference, Carrie." Agnes continued over her friend's snort. "What we are talking about, however, are Looks. Note the audible capital 'L'." Gus and Nate responded with dubious murmurs.
"Take your example of Casablanca," said a third girl, Louella, from her vantage point on a ladder behind the other spot. "Classic Look: Rick telling Ilsa 'We'll always have Paris'."
"Or the scene from the extended version of The Fellowship of the Ring when the Fellowship leaves and Aragorn holds back to give a Look to Arwen," suggested Carrie.
"You three are making this up," said Gus.
"We are not!" Louella nearly fell off the ladder. "You ask any girl what a Look is and she'll come up with one." The other two girls seconded that statement with whispered fervor.
Gus laughed quietly. "Prove it."
The two girls with him in the light booth saw him gesture to the slight figure settling behind the Stage Manager's desk. She fiddled with something then the others heard her low voice. "Sarah on headset. Warning, five minutes to Curtain."
After the customary response of "Thank you, five," from each crew member, Louella spoke up. "Hey Sarah, I need you to prove something for me."
"What? Prove what? What did I do?" she asked.
"Can you, off the top of your head, name a Look?" Louella asked with a grin.
"Oh sure. Mr. Darcy's Look." The other three girls heaved large sighs, breathily repeated "Mr. Darcy." Even in the dim light, Gus could make out Louella and Carrie's dreamy expressions.
"That's not just a Look, Sarah. That's The Look," intoned Carrie.
"What? Who?" asked Gus.
"Duh. Elizabeth Bennet rescues Georgiana from a potentially embarrassing situation after dinner at Pemberley," began Carrie.
Louella picked up the explanation. "In his gratitude, compounded by the fact that he is completely in love with Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy gazes at her with profound thanks and devotion."
"This would be at the beginning of the fifth episode in the six part series of Pride and Prejudice by the BBC and A&E, by the way," finished Agnes. The three sighed again.
There was a moment of silence. "How did you know that?" asked Nate.
Sarah's grin could be heard in her response. "Every female knows what a Look is. Especially if she's seen P and P." The two boys groaned and she grinned even more.
All of them heard Mr. Teadle's interrupting cough. "Are we teching for your Senior play, people, or are we having a gossip session? Let's get the show on the road," he told them good-naturedly. One of the mysteries of their Drama program was how he linked into the system with an unidentified headset. But it was tradition for him to come on just before the house lights were to go down and give the go-ahead on opening night.
"Aye-aye, Captain," Sarah said. She reached over and pushed a button on her panel. "Places, for Curtain. Break your legs." In short order, the house lights dimmed, the audience settled, and the show was under way.
As Jareth leaned against the outer wall of the Castle, he chuckled at the antics from last night.
He had just returned from a rather long meeting with some of the Goblins he put in charge of reconstructing part of the Castle. It was, admittedly, something he could have done by magic. But he noticed that his people were often gratified to be given such responsibilities as that, feeling trusted, appreciated, and important. So he let them get on with it for the most part, touching base with them now and again to see how things were progressing. It was slow going, for he insisted that it all be perfect and the control the Goblins needed to make it so was, while coming easier with practice, difficult for them to manage at times. The meeting went on longer than planned at the end of an already long day, so he retired for the night rather than have the cook stoke up the fires so late in the day.
That was another change over the past few years. He now had servants. Kitchen staff, footmen, messengers, all manner and skill. It took time to get used to, but he rather liked it that there were no more Goblins lolling about the Castle lazily. One drawback of this, if it could be called a drawback, was he found that he needed another way of venting his frustration besides kicking and tossing Goblins around. However, as he was actually taking active part in running the kingdom, he also found that he was rarely bored. And boredom, he discovered, was often the source of his previous level of frustration.
Last night, however, he was frustrated for no reason. He put it off as being over-tired, and planned to get to bed. Instead, he found himself once again spinning crystals in one hand and bringing forth an image within them.
It had been nearly three and a half years since he last looked in on her. She was in the same theatre, though this time it was full of people and dark. He realized that there was a play going on, though she was hiding in the shadows behind a lectern or a desk of some sort and not acting. Remembering what he had seen her accomplish that day in her Drama class, he wondered at first why she was speaking in the dark as opposed to lit up on the stage. It did not take long to realize that she was actually running the show that night. She spent the evening alternating between having her nose buried in a manuscript in front of her and glancing at the stage, at the same time as giving instructions to people running other pieces of equipment. During lulls between instructions, she partook in various little conversations, which she frequently put stops to when they sounded like they would either get too out of hand or when it was time for more of the things she called 'cues'. But those conversations were quite amusing.
In some ways, this was not the Sarah he remembered. In other ways, he realized she was on her way to becoming the woman he had seen in the eyes of a young girl nearly four years ago. It was almost unnerving, but he got a strange sense of satisfaction from what he saw. He could not explain it to himself and that bothered him slightly. Jareth shook his head and resolved to put it, and her, from his mind. At least for now.
Bringing himself back to the present, Jareth surveyed the clearing before him. It used to be, he surmised, a garden, though it was quite run down. Brown and dried branches rising from the ground indicated hedges of some sort. Along the wall and scattered throughout were more, this time with vicious looking thorns. What once might have been orderly rows of flowerbeds and a small lawn area was now overrun with weeds. There were broken stones peeking through on the ground, which were probably a path through the flowerbeds. There were clumps of trees, gnarled, crumbling, and bearing no leaves. He knew the area stretched beyond his vision, which was blocked by the dead trees. Jareth wondered who originally planted the expanse, when it became overrun and wild, and when it finally succumbed to neglect and disarray.
"Yer Majesty?" A familiar voice interrupted his musings. Without moving from the wall, he turned his head and regarded the small figure standing hesitantly off to one side and wringing his hands. "Er, Yer Majesty, I got a message that you wanted to see me. So here I came, right away, just as you asked." The little man looked around nervously, feebly attempting to hide that nervousness. He was dressed much as before, in earth tones, a white linen shirt, patched leather trousers and vest. A little bag with bits attached to hit hung from his belt and, unsurprisingly, a plastic bracelet adorned his wrist.
Jareth smiled wryly. Some things never change. "Ah yes," he said aloud. "I have been waiting for you, Hoggle."
"Er, it's Hoggle, Yer Majesty," said the dwarf automatically before realizing that was exactly what Jareth had said. He seemed to grow even more uncomfortable.
"Yes." Jareth's smile widened. He pushed himself off the wall and strode into the middle of a patch of weeds next to one of the thorned bushes. Reaching out, he carefully snapped off a dried twig and called over his shoulder. "Come here, Hoggle. I have a task for you."
Hoggle hurried over, not sure if it was the wisest thing to be near the Goblin King, but knowing that Jareth could just as easily appear next to him with a blink of an eye. As he stood there waiting for the cryptic and vengeful commands he was sure would come, he watched Jareth twirl the twig. In the silence, he wondered why he had come to Jareth's attention after almost four years of being ignored. He also contemplated the outrageous rumors he had been hearing about a change in Jareth's character. Hoggle wondered if the king had gone mad, something that seemed to be supported by Jareth's distracted study of a twig from a dead rose bush.
When Jareth placed his hand on Hoggle's shoulder, the dwarf nearly jumped out of his skin. Jareth tried to refrain from showing too much amusement at Hoggle's obvious discomfort. He turned them both around to face the small clearing, dead bush at their backs. "I believe this used to be a garden. What do you think, Hoggle?"
This is a very strange turn of conversation, thought Hoggle. I hope it ain't a sign... "Er, well Yer Majesty, I would have to agree with you on that one."
Jareth gave Hoggle's shoulder a pat. "Good. Since you know enough to tell that, is it too much to presume you have some skill as a gardener?"
"Why, yes Yer Majesty. I've been tending the plants at the entrance to the Labyrinth for years now. They ain't really my choice of plants, but -"
"That's fine, Hoggle," Jareth interrupted. "I would like this garden to be returned to a living environment. Take a look around here and see if you can come up with any ideas for what to do then come see me in my study. One of the servants will show you the way." He gave Hoggle another pat then started back toward the Castle. "Good luck. It should be quite the project. It will probably take a few years just to get it up to par, and then it will be a full time job to keep it running. But first, just see if you can make it look like a garden."
Hoggle stared after him, dumbfounded. By the time he was able to speak to voice his thanks, Jareth had walked out of sight. "Well," he said to himself, "strange turn of conversation leads to strange requests. And him walking away as he did. More is going on here than as I can figure. But I ain't going to be turning an offer such as this away. Heh. I wonder what prompted it all." He continued muttering on about it as he turned to the plants.
Around the corner, Jareth listened to Hoggle's monologue. What prompted it all, indeed. If he only knew...