Seven

Chapter 5: The Greatest Fool

Sarah opened the heavy door to the chamber where Jareth slept and peered inside. He lay on his back on the narrow bed, his mane of gold hair a wild halo behind his head. The grey light filtered through the arched window, falling gently over his pale chest and kissing the left side of his face. Sarah moved quietly toward the sleeping mortal, her feet soundless on the hard stones, and stood beside his bed. She reached out an alabaster hand and touched it lightly to his cheek and he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Good morning, my Lady," he said with a yawn.

"Good morning, Jareth," she replied, still stroking his cheek. "I hope you slept well."

Jareth turned away from her caressing hand and sat up. "I did, my Lady, though I'm famished," he told her. He had not eaten the night before and as if on cue, his stomach rumbled its displeasure.

The sorceress laughed. "I will have your breakfast brought to you," she said. "When you have eaten, you will join me in my chambers. We have things to discuss." She turned to leave.

"Will there be no challenge today, my Lady?" Jareth asked boldly and the sorceress paused and looked back at him. Her eyes were cold, but she smiled.

"There will be a challenge, my pet, make no mistake," she answered. "However, instead of fumbling about my kingdom, today you will remain in the castle. I find you entertaining and as I am often alone, I wish to be amused."

"My little songs are not enough entertainment for you?" Jareth asked with a smirk.

The sorceress's smile faded. "I would not mock me, mortal," she growled. "I am being generous in allowing you to attempt to earn your freedom. I could be cruel and turn you into one of my imps instead."

"Forgive me, my Lady," Jareth apologized, bowing before her. "I meant no offense. I should be happy to spend the day at your side." In truth, he was more than a little curious about the woman. He knew nothing of her or how she came to be. The dwarf remembered a time before her, but what was that like? What had happened to cause her to live in such barren isolation?

Sarah's face softened. "Very well," she said. "Eat and come to me." She turned quickly, the skirts of her gown swirling behind her, and disappeared from the room.

A few minutes later an imp flew into the chamber carrying a covered tray. The imp set the tray on the small table and flapped out, but not before swooping tauntingly low over Jareth's head.

"Get out of here, demon!" Jareth spat as the winged fiend chattered and shrieked at him and flew out the door.

Jareth pulled a chair over to the little table, sat down and lifted the lid of the tray. The tray held a bowl of porridge, a small pitcher of sweet cream and a pint of ale. He ate and drank his fill, picked up his guitar and began climbing the swirling steps to the sorceress's chambers.

The oaken doors to her boudoir swung open before he even knocked. "Come in, Jareth," the sorceress purred as she slunk toward him. He stood motionless as she strode stealthily forward, her hips swaying side to side, her long dark hair swishing behind her. She beckoned with a crooked finger and he stumbled into the room.

Sarah studied him, eyeing his disheveled and matted hair and his muddied clothes with disapproval. "You stink," she hissed. Jareth had no doubt of it. He was quite certain he smelled of sweat and mud and wild beast. The sorceress frowned and put her hands on her hips. "You shall be bathed before I allow you to occupy the same space as me." She called to her imps and three of them flew swiftly down from the rafters.

"Take my pet to the bath and see that he is thoroughly scrubbed," the sorceress commanded them.

Jareth crossed his arms over his chest and stared her in the face. "My Lady," he announced. "I do not wish for those creatures to touch me. They have injured me once already and I am not keen to have my flesh gashed open by them again."

The sorceress lifted a dark eyebrow and clucked her tongue at him. "Poor Jareth," she teased. "Did my imps hurt your delicate mortal flesh? What a pity. Very well then." She waved her hand in a circle in the air and the hideous imps melted into the floor like candle wax before rising up and reforming as beautiful nymphs. "Are they more to your liking?" she asked Jareth.

He stared wide-eyed at the nubile young women with long hair the color of flax and arms and legs that looked as if they had been carved from polished marble. He let the guitar slide off his shoulder as the young women approached him, giggling, and took him by the hands, leading him into an adjoining room with ebony granite tiles and a large soaking tub in the center of the floor. Hot water was already filling the tub, sending billows of fragrant mist into the air and making the black walls shimmery wet. The nymphs chattered pleasantly to one another as they tugged at Jareth's shirt and pants. Tossing the dirty clothes aside, they drew him with them down into the steaming tub. He felt his tense muscles relax immediately as the water enveloped him. One of the nymphs poured a basin of water over his head while another scrubbed his chest and arms with a soft sponge. The third nymph positioned herself between his knees with her back to him and set about washing and massaging his feet.

Jareth moaned in bliss as the nymphs caressed and fussed over him. They cleaned and rinsed his matted hair and rubbed his back and shoulders. The nymph between his knees turned and took his hands in hers. Her diaphanous gown was soaked through and Jareth could clearly see her milk-white breasts with rosy nipples. She smiled prettily at him before bringing his right hand to her mouth. Slowly, she slipped his bloodied index finger between her pink lips and drew it out, licking it clean. She did the same for his others fingers and Jareth could not stop his body's reaction to her ministrations. His breath came in short pants and his heart thundered in his chest as she cleansed his fingers with her mouth. She crept forward slowly when she was done, hand over hand until her breasts rested against his chest and her face was level with his. She pressed her lips, still stained with his blood, against his and kissed him gently. He felt her tongue slide against his bottom lip and he opened his mouth and let her kiss him fully. His mouth moved over hers as she and the other nymphs caressed his body. He closed his eyes and slid further down into the water with them, his limbs becoming loose and relaxed under their soothing touches.

"Enough!" bellowed an angry voice from above him. Jareth thrashed in the water, choking and gasping for air, as a pale hand reached down and dragged him up and out of the tub. He fell with a wet plop at the feet of the sorceress and looked up into her glaring eyes.

'I should have known better than to leave you alone with the nymphs," she hissed. "You fool. I should have let them drown you."

Jareth turned and looked back at the beautiful nymphs. They giggled at him, but hissed at the sorceress who had stolen their plaything. He shook his head and lifted himself off the cool black granite and stood before the sorceress. She looked down at his naked body and smirked as he tried unsuccessfully to hide his arousal behind his hands.

"Ridiculous creature," she said shaking her head. "Come with me. You can clothe yourself this time." She turned and led him from the bath and into her chambers. A suit of clothes lay draped across a chair and she motioned for him to put them on. With only a small flourish of the sorceress's hand, Jareth's hair and body were dry. Stepping behind her dressing screen, he pulled on the clothing: a shirt of garnet silk with flowing sleeves and a ruffled neck, soft charcoal breeches with a wide black belt, a black velvet waistcoat with silver stitching, and shiny black boots with pointed toes. He gazed at himself in the mirror, turning this way and that, pleased with how he looked.

"You're a vain little peacock in your shiny feathers," the sorceress mocked as she watched him.

"And you care nothing of your appearance, my Lady?" Jareth shot back. "You in your midnight satin and shimmering jewels. Tell me you didn't stand before this very mirror and angle back and forth to make sure the scoop of your gown fell across your breasts just the right way."

Sarah smiled, thoroughly pleased. "Why Jareth," she said in feigned surprise. "I didn't think you had noticed."

Jareth grunted and Sarah moved toward him and took his hands in hers. He had expected her touch to be cold and clammy, but her hands were surprisingly warm and soft. She drew him with her across the room and motioned for him to sit beside her on a cushioned settee. He did and she let her hand fall across his lap.

"What is it my Lady desires?" Jareth asked uncomfortably. The sorceress laughed.

"Only your company, my pet," she purred. "I am lonely in this place. I have no one to talk to besides my imps and they are not much for conversation." She looked up at the vaulted ceiling where the imps skittered and screeched before turning her attention back to Jareth. "Will you keep me company today? Talk to me? Sing for me?" she asked sweetly.

Jareth was caught off guard by her simple request. "What of my challenge?" he questioned.

The sorceress stroked his arm with a milky hand. "Tonight you will sing me a song about the greatest fool who ever lived," she told him. "Are you worried about finding your inspiration? You have found it among my subjects so far, have you not? Today you will find it in me perhaps." Her hand moved to his shoulder, slowly gliding over his collarbone. "Do you agree?"

Jareth nodded. "What do you wish to talk about?" he asked breathlessly as her thumb found the hollow of his neck.

"I wish to know who you are," she told him, her voice dark. "Who is this tiny mortal with a god's voice and an owl's wit?"

"I am no one," Jareth answered, pulling away from her. "I was born to simple parents who died when I was young. I was taught to play and sing. I write the songs that are in my head, nothing more."

"Why are your eyes so strange?"

"I don't know. I was born with these eyes. My mother always told me my dark eye was a gift from the fairies to ward off evil, but I never believed her."

"Rightly so," laughed the sorceress. She fingered Jareth's ruffled collar. "What questions do you have for me?" she asked.

Jareth stared at her for a moment before answering. "What is your name?"

Sarah drew back, surprised by his question. "I—I am called by many names," she stammered. "But none that I can give you."

"Why not?"

Sarah sighed. "For my kind, to give one's name is to open oneself up to all manner of trouble. My name is my protection. I keep it to myself."

"What may I call you then?" inquired Jareth. The sorceress gave him another sweet smile.

"Whatever you wish," she whispered. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek and his breath caught in his throat. Leaning in again she kissed his right eye, then his left. He sighed audibly and cursed himself. The sorceress laid a delicate hand against the curve of his jaw and pulled his face closer to hers. His heart pounded as her lips moved to his and just before they touched, he jumped off the settee and rounded on her.

"No!" he cried. "Evil witch, you're trying to trick me. You're trying to distract me from the challenge!"

Sarah scoffed at him. "You silly creature, sit down. Trust me, pet, I have no desire to stop you from fulfilling your end of our bargain. I desire to know you more." She looked up at him with smoldering eyes. "Do you desire to know me, Jareth?" She patted the cushioned seat beside her and he hesitantly reseated himself.

"I'm becoming fond of you," Sarah said as she raked her blood-red nails through his golden hair. "The challenge is a formality. Fulfill it and earn your freedom if, by that time, you still wish to be free," she added with a wink. She brushed a pale finger over his arched eyebrow and gazed deep into his eyes. "I wish I could keep you," she whispered.

"I think you would quickly tire of me, Lady," Jareth told her.

"Perhaps," she said, searching his face. Her eyes fell on his lips, thin, but pink and pleasant. His lower lip curled ever so slightly when he sang, making him look a bit dangerous and wild.

His strange eyes found hers and held her gaze. She peered deep into his large dark pupil and saw swirls of stars and nebulae spinning and moving and imploding in on themselves before reshaping into constellations. His eye seemed to pulse with all the mysteries of the Cosmos, drawing her into it like a sucking black hole. She closed her eyes to shut out the hypnotic dance of the stars and felt his mouth press warm against hers. His lips were sweet from cream and nymph kisses and she moved her lips over them, savoring him.

Jareth's arms wound around her waist and he pulled her into his chest as his mouth moved over hers. Their tongues glided against one another and Sarah moaned aloud. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers get lost in his mass of silken hair. She wanted him, this pitiful human, this ridiculous mortal. She wanted him to kiss her senseless and hold her and caress her and make love to her.

Sarah laughed out loud as she pulled herself out his arms. "Go," she panted. "Write your song. Complete my challenge. Free yourself."

Jareth stared at her unblinking. His lovely lips were red and swollen and she could imagine that his lips weren't the only part of him that was.

"Did you not hear me, my pet?" she asked, her voice tinged with anger. "I said for you to go. You have a song to write unless you forfeit the challenge right now."

Jareth made no reply, but stood and angrily snatched up his guitar before stalking from the room. He stomped down the winding stairs and down an echoing hall, cursing as he walked. How dare that evil witch! She had teased and taunted him and toyed with him. He stopped and leaned against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes. Her kiss had been so sweet, so intoxicating. He touched his hand to his lips which were still tingling from the caress of hers. He had wanted her. Only for a brief, breathless moment, but in that moment he had desired her so completely he had almost forgotten that he was her captive, she his jailor.

Jareth shook his head and pushed off the wall with a sigh. "She's a duplicitous bitch," he reminded himself. "Don't fall for her games. Don't play the fool." His eyes widened at the thought, and with a determined nod, he took up his guitar and thoughtfully strummed.

The fire in the sorceress's chamber crackled as Jareth let his fingers glide over the sharp strings of the guitar. His fingertips were toughening and the strings no longer bit so fiercely into his flesh. He looked out at the sorceress, sitting passively on her carved throne, her face unreadable. He strummed a minor chord on the guitar and began to sing.

Daft and delirious giddy as ghouls

Mad and mysterious, both of them fools

He, the vain Love in his prime and his peak

She, the pure Dove, demure, mild and meek

He jibes and he jiggles and sings odes to her hair

She blushes and giggles and kisses the air

They stutter and mumble and fall 'neath the moon

They rut and they tumble and find that too soon

Their ardor has cooled, their gold turned to brass

Their hearts have been fooled and lay shattered like glass

Their glances are spears, poison in each embrace

No kisses, but tears lie cold on each face

But with the change of the sun and the rise of tide

They find a new one to play young groom and bride

They flatter and flutter and prattle in vain

And make themselves and each other fools once again

Jareth leaned the guitar against the hearth and smiled smugly at the sorceress. She raised an eyebrow at him, but returned his smile.

"Did you enjoy my song, my Lady?" he asked as he strode boldly to stand before her.

"Yes," she replied, offering him her hand. He took it and kissed it before pulling her with a yank up from her seat and hard against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and stared down hard into her pale face.

"Don't think to make a fool of me," Jareth snarled before kissing her fiercely. She clung to him desperately, running her hands across his firm chest and over his shoulders as they tasted one another. He released her lips and pushed her away from him and she stared into the fire, her breathing ragged and her face flushed.

"Till tomorrow, my Lady," he said calmly and bowed. He then turned on his heel and left her studying the flames.

Sarah sank, boneless, into her chair. The chains around her waist had fallen away with Jareth's song, but a new cord had formed around her heart. It hung heavy on her chest, tightening with every breath and every thought of the mortal. A cold tear slid down her ivory cheek as she fought the swelling tide of emotion down. This could not be. Jareth was her freedom. He and his voice and his words were beautiful, but she could not afford to be swayed by any feelings of tenderness. She was so close to emancipation at last. She hung her head and wept bitterly as the fire died and the room fell dark and cold.

A/N:

Thank you all for the lovely reviews and comments! I appreciate every single one, so please keep them coming!

Now... has anyone guessed the overall theme of Sarah's seven songs? There is one, I promise.

Who do you think we'll be meeting next? I think if you can guess the theme question, you'll probably know who Jareth will run across next.

Happy reading, everyone!

Fanny