The window was slightly ajar when the owl lit on the sill. Looking through the misty panes, he could see Sarah stretched out on her bed, her dark hair spread all around her, her face buried into her oversized pillow. Her shoulders were shaking and shuddering and his keen owl hearing picked up her muffled moans. Something was very wrong.
The owl shifted his weight on the window sill as he watched the sobbing girl. The scene made him uncomfortable. Sure, he'd seen her cry before. She'd cried the first time they had met, but that was different. Those tears were his. He'd given them to her and had relished seeing them leaking from her bright eyes and streaking down her pale face. The tears she shed now were from someone else, for someone else. As much as the thought bothered him, it wasn't really his area of expertise. Turning carefully on the narrow window sill, he prepared to fly back home.
Unfortunately, his normally graceful owl form had been unnerved enough by the crying mortal girl that he lost his footing on the slippery window ledge and ended up throwing himself against the glass to keep from falling. The window swung open further, tossing him onto the carpeted floor of Sarah's bedroom. Hearing the thud, Sarah sat up and looked down at the pile of feathers in the floor at the end of her bed.
"J-Jareth?" she sniffled.
The heap of mottled feathers quivered and shifted and grew into the slightly rumpled, but still regal form of the Goblin King.
"Hello, Sarah," he answered nonchalantly as he brushed the dust and creases from his shirt and vest.
"Hi," Sarah answered hoarsely.
Jareth glanced down at her and frowned. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was blotchy and tear-streaked. She was a pitiful mess.
"What's the matter with you?' Jareth asked a bit too gruffly. He winced a bit when he saw Sarah's bottom lip begin to tremble. She lifted a closed hand to him in answer to his question, raising it to eyelevel before opening it and revealing what lay in her palm. Jareth looked down at the object in her hand. It was a small metal tag suspended on a red leather strap. The tag was flat and shaped like a bone and had letters imprinted on it. Jareth squinted at the lettering (his normal vision was not nearly as good as his owl vision) and tried to read what was printed on the tag.
"Merlin," he read aloud and Sarah sniffled again.
He looked away from the tag and up at Sarah and saw fresh tears spilling from her eyes. She let out a choked sob before closing her fingers around the tag again and falling back on to her pillow.
Jareth shook his head. "I don't understand," he told Sarah.
"Merlin," she answered between sobs, "was my dog."
"Was?" asked Jareth.
"Yes," Sarah replied. "He was old and sick and... he died this morning."
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you have to say?"
"What should I say, Sarah?" Jareth asked, putting his hands on his hips.
Sarah sat up and glared at him. "You could say you're sorry," she told him.
"Whatever for?" asked the Goblin King. "I didn't kill your dog."
Sarah slapped a hand against her forehead and for a moment almost looked as if she were trying hard not to laugh. "That is not what I meant," she said.
Jareth sighed. "You wish me to offer condolences."
"Yes," Sarah answered.
"For a dog."
"He was more than a dog, Jareth," replied Sarah. She slid off her bed and walked to her dressing table. She pulled a small photograph from the vanity mirror and showed it to the Goblin King. He looked at the picture of a beaming, pig-tailed Sarah holding the leash of a friendly-looking canine. "I had Merlin a long time and I loved him. He was family," Sarah told him. "Do you know what it's like to lose a family member?"
"I don't have a family in the same sense that you have one," Jareth explained as he crossed the room to study the Escher print on the wall. "Furthermore, I understand the concept of a finite existence, but in the same way that you understand immortality. We have knowledge of it, but we don't grasp it fully."
"You don't have a family?" Sarah asked, suddenly behind him. He started a bit at her unexpected closeness. "I didn't say that," he answered, drawing away. "I said I don't have a family in the same sense that you have one. There are beings that I consider my kinsmen, but we don't have family mealtimes or road trips or game nights or any of the other silly things mortal families like to take part in. There are no fae soccer teams or chili cook-offs."
Sarah couldn't help but giggle a bit at the thought of Jareth in a plaid apron stirring a pot of cowboy chili or waving a big foam finger in the stands at a play-off game. She looked up at him and noticed him mirroring her smile. She quickly dropped her grin and pursed her lips.
"I'm in mourning," she scolded. "You aren't supposed to make me laugh."
Jareth gave her a sideways glance. "I was under the impression that that is exactly what one is supposed to do when a friend is upset."
Sarah crossed back over to her bed and sat down and was silent for several minutes. "Are we friends?" she asked finally.
"Aren't we?" questioned the Goblin King. He moved to take a seat beside her on her bed. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said softly.
"Thanks," Sarah answered. She looked up at him and he could see tears glistening in the corners of her eyes like diamonds. One slid down her smooth cheek and before he could stop himself, Jareth was reaching out to brush the small, wet jewel away. Sarah held her breath as his gloved hand neared her face, but just before he touched her there was a knock at the door and Jareth drew back.
"Sarah," called Robert Williams from outside her bedroom. "Are you ready for the ceremony?"
"Yeah, Dad," Sarah called back. "I'll be down in just a minute."
"Ceremony?" asked Jareth, standing and moving away from her.
"Yes," Sarah answered as she combed through her dark hair with her fingers. "We're burying Merlin in the backyard and we're giving him a memorial service. You can come if you like. In your owl form, of course."
Jareth had planned to refuse, but instead found himself saying "Thank you," and flying off to the large oak tree in Sarah's backyard. He perched in the top branches where he could observe but remain unseen and watched in wonder as the little family gathered and lowered a large box into a newly dug hole beneath the towering oak. After covering the hole over with dirt, they stood back and joined hands and Robert said a short prayer. The prayer was punctuated with sniffs and sobs and Jareth continued watching with growing envy. Even in their sorrow this little family had comfort in one another. Such a thing was beyond his emotional grasp. He had little use for human emotions like love and sympathy, yet he felt a slight pang in his chest at their absence.
Jareth looked down at Sarah, standing beneath the oak, her hand tightly clasped in the chubby hand of her little brother. She had certainly surprised him when she'd refused his offer and taken up the challenge of the labyrinth. Jareth had been almost certain that the selfish, whining girl would gladly take her dreams over her wailing half-brother, yet she had not. Was family that important? Sarah had referred to the dog as family, and from the stifled sobs coming from the grave site, it appeared to be true.
Fluffing his feathers and stretching his wings, Jareth stepped out on a long branch and launched himself into the sky. He looked down to see Sarah looking up at him and he decided it would be disrespectful to call down to her during such a solemn moment. He couldn't fully comprehend Death, but he knew enough to be respectful of the deceased. Even if the deceased were just a dog.
Winging home in the golden sunset, Jareth wondered if perhaps he should attempt to get in touch with some of his kinsmen. They had not gathered for quite some time and... he shook the thought away. Perhaps he would be better served just getting a dog.
A:N
I know I just posted, but I was in a funky mood today and this just kinda popped out. Soooo... it's basically a word burp. Excuse me.
