Please enjoy a montage and the passage of time as Jareth and Sarah draw closer. So close that they—well, you'll see ;-)
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The topiary garden, castle at the center of the Labyrinth.
"I didn't expect normal pigeons."
"Technically they're wood pigeons, found in Europe rather than North America."
"Still, pigeons are pigeons," said Sarah, tossing another handful of birdseed to the flock of hungry birds.
"I suppose so," concurred Jareth, coaxing one closer and closer to their bench. He finally convinced one he wouldn't attack and sprinkled some feed onto his boot. The oversized pigeon hopped into his foot and pecked and the birdseed. Sarah giggled. The air smelled crisp yet thick with tree leaves in full flourish, like the early morning of a late-summer day that would grow heavy with heat.
Sarah smiled gently. "This is nice."
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"Jareth said he wanted tonight to be a formal evening. Do you think this will be appropriate?" Sarah asked Ziva, swishing her skirt.
"Oh Miss, you're a right sight," said Ziva, eyes sparkling. "You look like a rose in summer, you do."
Sarah blushed. She had an array of dresses at her disposal, and today she'd gone for an uncharacteristically light one. Layers of pastel pink chiffon and georgette floated around her like cirrus clouds. The waistline was high, the cut of the dress was of a regency era ballgown hemmed and decorated with silk ribbon. Her heels were small, giving her just enough lift to appear as if she walked on air, and Sarah noticed, she felt like she walked on air, too.
A quick knock at the door elicited a squeal from Ziva, and Sarah couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Ziva trotted up to the door and drew herself upright, standing tall in mock ceremony. She swung the door open, and behind the door waited the Goblin King.
Jareth stood there with one hand stroking his chin. His gaze was cast down, and his brow was lightly furrowed, as if pondering something. His right arm arched above his head, propped against the wall on which he leaned casually. He wore a loose, white linen shirt, which was half tucked into gray breeches that were themselves tucked into knee-high brown leather boots. Accompanying his usual medallion were long strings of tiny crystals; they swung as he leaned on the wall and clinked across his chest. Jareth looked up at the open door and immediately straightened up.
"Sarah! My, you look…wow." He was speechless. She was so pretty. Pretty. In her ballgown, she'd been playing pretend, flaunting false womanhood that hadn't flowered yet. In her theater work, she'd always been dressed in backstage black or to the nines, but even her business casual for her curtain calls had been a sort of costume. Here, she was totally herself, no audience to impress, and she was pretty as—
"—as a princess," Jareth thought. "You look radiant," he said.
Sarah blushed a complementary pink. "Thank you, you look well as well," she said, blushing deeper. Jareth cleared his throat and offered her his arm, which Sarah took.
"Now don't expect anything even close to the caliber you're used to," said the king. "The goblins aren't just putting on a play, they're playing at being players in the first place. So don't take this too seriously."
Sarah giggled. "I'm sure a goblin play will be just as impressive as, perhaps even more impressive than, a human one."
The play was ridiculous, but in the best of ways. The first goblin to come on stage came out in a poofy hat with an oversized feather stuck into it and poofy, middle-age style pants. He gave a nonsense soliloquy that would've made Lewis Carroll proud, and was soon joined by his fellow thespians. The costumes were either too small or too big, and the hijinks promptly ensued. Props broke, set pieces fell, and one goblin was interrupted by a violent fit of hiccups. Sarah loved it. It was a silly story about knights, something roughly based on Don Quixote, and the goblins took it very, very seriously; their serious little faces made Sarah chuckle time and time again. Jareth would cast an amused grin her way, and he would look, unseen, at her hand, which he so desperately wanted to hold.
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"I honestly did like the part where they rescued the dragon and fought off the princess," said Sarah, snipping off a rose-bush branch. They spoke of the previous day's play. "It was a nice take on an old theme."
Jareth chuckled, pruning his own rose-bush. "I enjoy their efforts. Whether good or bad, they are always dedicated—and certainly entertaining." Sarah laughed at this.
"How long until these roses bloom?" Sarah asked.
"Not long. You can consider this the very end or the very beginning of the season."
"I didn't know you liked gardening," said Sarah, looking up from her rose-bush.
"I don't, not in the traditional sense of getting down in the dirt or harvesting vegetables. But I like flowers. Tending to the rose garden is relaxing. I do enjoy caring for something other than myself on occasion." Sarah chuckled again, and a soft smile passed between them.
"I'm going to try over here with the yellow roses," Sarah said, wandering over to rows of yellow rose bushes already in bloom; she didn't question Labyrinth seasons. She clipped and snipped, humming happily as she did so. She'd seen Karen do this before, so she wasn't too worried about cutting too little or too much.
"Pssssst."
Sarah looked around. A rose-bush was trying to get her attention.
"PsssSSSsst," it summoned her again, trembling as it did so.
Hoggle stepped out from behind.
"Hoggle!" exclaimed Sarah, half-whispering. "What are you doing here?"
"Just looking out for you. But you seem just fine." He crossed his arms, his already wrinkled brow wrinkling even further as his eyebrows tried to tie themselves in knots.
"What's that supposed to mean? Can't I take a load off in the garden? And I'm visiting you tomorrow, what's the fuss?"
"The fuss is," started Hoggle, stepping forward, "that you could be stuck here forever, and it doesn't seem to bother you one bit. You're letting him charm you!"
"Am not!"
"Are too! You're getting charmed, he's sweeping you off your feet, and you're getting lazy."
"Hoggle!"
"It's true. It's been a week since we've talked, and I've been watching you; you act like you're here on holiday." Hoggle had seemed angry and frustrated, but now he just looked sad. And hurt. "Jareth is a rogue, Sarah. I don't want to see you get hurt. Just remember what you really want."
"Oh, Hoggle," she said, setting her cutters on the ground and hiking up her skirt so she could kneel. "I won't, I really won't. I'm just taking a break is all. I promise, I won't get caught up in the magic and glitter of the castle. I'm working on it, in fact we both are." She drew the dwarf in for a hug. When they pulled apart, Sarah could see Hoggle wasn't convinced. Still, she let it lie and waved goodbye, picking up her hedge cutters and returning to work.
Hoggle's brow was furrowed; he brainstormed how Sarah could return home, and how he could put some distance between her and the king while she was still here. Meanwhile Sarah's face was still, a shadow of serenity fallen over her; she'd already forgotten what there was to worry about.
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Sarah jumped; a knock at her door startled her off the ship on which she'd stood within a novel of swashbucklers and mermaids and treasure. She put the book down and went to the door, behind which stood the Goblin King. He wore a black suit jacket over a black shirt and purple vest. Burgundy leggings were tucked into black, knee-high boots. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he shifted his weight from one foot to another.
"Your majesty, I wasn't expecting you," said Sarah, leaning on the doorframe and crossing her arms. They had croquet plans in two days time, and Sarah wondered if she'd gotten her days mixed up.
"Ah, yes, well, I hope I haven't interrupted anything," he said, ruffling his hair with one hand and shifting his weight yet again.
"Not at all. Just an adventure on the swarthy sea."
Jareth's face showed momentarily confusion until it relaxed as he deduced she'd been reading. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to dinner. And I was wondering if, maybe, you would do me the honor of joining me for meals without an invitation? Let's call it an open invitation."
"I'd like that," Sarah blushed. They'd spent basically every meal together, every meal that hadn't been spent with her friends. Every time Jareth carried out the ceremony of asking her to join and then acting surprised when she'd said yes. Skipping ceremony would certainly save them a lot of time and awkwardness, but Sarah somehow felt as if a new, unspoken strangeness hung in the air, as if they were both aware they'd crossed a line in their relationship and a certain nearness buzzed between them. Jareth cleared his throat; they'd been standing in silence, and Sarah was staring. "Shall we go now? I'll just put my bookmarker in my book." She tucked a creamy tan feather into the slightly worn pages and hurried back to the king. He offered her an arm.
"Brace," he said, the usual warning they were about to teleport. Sarah used to grip his arm, close her eyes, grit her teeth, do whatever she could to abate the flip-flopping of her stomach that usually accompanied a teleport. Now, she'd grown used to the strange whooshing feeling. It was no more uncomfortable than butterflies in your tummy.
After they poofed away, they stood in a large dining room. It'd been one of the first rooms she'd seen in the castle. The Wiseman, Sarah thought. She remembered when Jareth told her he'd passed. How the maelstrom that tried to tear the Labyrinth apart had taken several with it as it disappeared up into the sky. In a flash of guilt, Sarah wondered if it had hurt, or if everyone had simply blinked out of existence. These days it was easy to forget why she was there, how she'd come to the Labyrinth this time around, how everyone had almost been destroyed. Guilt mixed with confusion with fear.
"That smells nice, doesn't it?" asked Jareth, grinning at the table. Laid out before them were steaming plates of what looked like beef stew. Jareth looked at her. "Hey, thought you were getting used to teleporting?" Sarah looked down to see both her hands clinging for dear life to Jareth's arm. She released her white-knuckled grip and chocked it up to a sensitive stomach. They sat at the table, and the beef stew turned out to be more like some kind of stroganoff or goulash made from nuts and mushrooms. One bite, and Sarah forgot her troubles. She could go back to playing princess in the castle and not worry about stressing magical rules and being trapped in the Underground.
"Would you like to read together after this?" offered Jareth. "I'd like to dive into the Aeniad."
"By Virgil?" asked Sarah. "Color me impressed, sure!"
As if on cue, a goblin guard scurried into the hall. The whiskers in his dog-like face quivered with nervous energy.
"Your highness!" he cried rushing forward. He stopped, almost tripping over his feet, and saluted. He opened his mouth to say something, but then glanced nervously at Sarah. He scurried forward and cupped his hand around Jareth's ear. Sarah watched the king's eyebrows rise and furrow in response to the guards whispering. The guard backed off and saluted again, and Jareth rose.
"I'm afraid we'll have to read another time. Matters in the Labyrinth need attending to." Jareth's face was serious and stern, and Sarah wished she could remember him like this for always, regal and caring so deeply about the Labyrinth.
"Another time," smiled Sarah. Jareth went up in a whirlwind of feathers and took to the sky.
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Jareth and Sarah sat in her cozy library, the doors to the little balcony wide open. Fresh air swept around the room, and gentle sunlight lit the words on the pages of the books each of them held open. They sat in the armchairs with the little circular table in the middle, though it might as well have been an ocean between them. Comfortable smiles brightened their faces, but they were each intensely aware of the other. Neither looked, neither peeked, but they could feel each other's presence like static electricity before a lightning strike.
Jareth couldn't resist. He looked up at Sarah—and found her looking back. He gently extended a hand, which Sarah took. They balanced the books in their laps while they read and held hands, the ocean between them crossed.
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It was unusually dark for the day. Sienna and charcoal clouds crowded a lavender sky. Sarah had hoped she'd get to spend time outside with the goblin steeds today, but she decided against it. Did it rain in the Labyrinth? A knock came at the door.
A forest green clad Goblin King stood behind it.
Sarah placed her hands on her hips with a mirthful and mocking disposition. "And what is so important that you couldn't have told me twenty minutes ago at breakfast?"
"Hello, yes I know, me again. But I wanted to do this a bit more formally…" A sheepish grin spread across his trickster mouth. He balled up a fist and coughed into it, followed by a clearing of his throat and posturing that reminded Sarah somewhat of a peacock. "I was wondering if you'd accept an invitation to a ball this evening."
Light sparkled across Sarah's eyes in excitement—and was promptly extinguished. Her eyes clouded like the skies outside as she remembered the masked faces, the sinister smiles, the groping hands and spinning room. Jareth noticed at once, raising his hands up in either defence, assurance, or both.
"No masks. No enchantments. The goblins will be there, but I assure you they'll be themselves. Perhaps this wasn't the grand gesture I thought it would be…" he took a step back. Sarah didn't notice she was holding her breath. "You don't have to come if you don't want. But the evening will be for you, not against you." Jareth's eyes were wide in his face, and they seemed to dim in color and come nearer to each other in shade.
Sarah exhaled. "A proper, normal ball sounds lovely. If you can really assure me there will be no tricks, I happily accept your invitation and will accompany you to the ball." She gave a little curtsy.
Relief washed over the goblin king's face. "Capital. I will collect you and escort you myself this evening. Please don't expect me for lunch. I am honored at your approval." His sentences were choppier than usual, and his bow was jerky and nervous. The king's face looked so much more boyish than Sarah had ever seen. He looked so, so…human.
After he left, Sarah realized she was going to a proper ball. "Well, a goblin ball," she said out loud. She wondered if it'd be anything like the goblin play. The butterflies in her stomach were impossible to ignore; the last time she'd been to a ball it hadn't gone so well for her… She hung onto Jareth's assurances. The last time she'd been to a dance was her friend Carla's wedding. She hadn't slow-danced with any man, she hadn't slow-danced with any woman for that matter. Bopping and grooving to upbeat music didn't bother her, and was in fact fun. But the thought of slow dancing, of swaying and being rocked to music that had once almost swept her away forever, too much to bear. In her life since running the Labyrinth, she'd been a wallflower at two school dances and a fun-only dancer at three weddings. She felt the fact she'd now have to slow-dance settle into her bones; her mind began to race. No, she wouldn't panic. She'd convince herself this was a good thing, this was now a place of consent and truth; this was a good thing. She would not fear.
"But what to wear…" she surmised out loud. The wardrobe waited, and seemingly buzzed with energy as if it held some secret. Sarah opened the doors to find all clothing pressed to the sides and framing something new; in the middle of the rack, facing outward, was a blue ballgown that shone like a thousand stars. Its dark, royal blue looked like the sky late after sunset but long before midnight. The bodice was covered with lace and had a neckline that dipped in a deep V. A ruffled, top layer of chiffon or organza, something that blended seamlessly from the lace of the bodice, hung from the waist. Underneath was a skirt of smooth, silky material that lay in a voluminous A-line that was not so dramatic as to be distasteful. Every inch of the dress was covered in crystals. It shimmered like the night sky.
Sarah's lips parted as she picked it up and turned it around, the crystals twinkling as she did. The back was low, it looked like it hit mid-back, and Sarah marveled at the beautiful thing. It wasn't too sexy, wasn't too pompous, it wasn't the stuff of a child's dreams, it was…
"Me. This is very me." She hung it up with a grand smile. "Well, Goblin King, prepare to have your socks knocked off."
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Jareth picked at the black lace hanging from his sleeves awkwardly with his white gloved hands. Would she like this? Would they even match? He wasn't sure what the Labyrinth had given her; what if she came out in canary yellow? He looked at his shimmering blue jacket disapprovingly.
Her bedroom door swung open in answer to his knock.
It was all he could do not to sprout feathers. She stood there like the night sky, like a sapphire dream, like a, like a…
"Like a princess…" he thought to himself. Her hair was piled high and pinned half-up with sapphires. White eye shadow shimmered around her eyes, and her bottom lid was heavily lined with black.
Sarah's emerald eyes widened in shock; the king wore the same outfit he had all those years ago, the same outfit that night at the ball. His royal blue jacket was encrusted with innumerable gemstones, and beneath his throat billowed white ruffles, attached to which was a silvery, rectangular brooch with a black Greek cross in the center. Black lace hung from his sleeves and his tuxedo tails hung loosely at his sides. His hair had even been streaked with blue, and his makeup was just as ethereal and androgynous as the last time; he looked like magic personified.
But Sarah wasn't thinking about magic. Before she even registered a conscious thought, her heart began to race and a pit formed in her stomach. His appearance triggered feelings before it triggered her memory. Jareth caught the fear in her eyes and took a step back.
"I hope you don't mind; I know it's a bit on-the-nose. But I figured we needed a do-over. Let me make this night a second chance?" His brows were soft with the unanswered question. He extended a hand to her, beckoning but not demanding.
Sarah's face immediately relaxed. Her shoulders lowered and she stepped across the threshold, taking his hand as she did so.
"I don't mind. A do-over sounds nice." With that, they disappeared.
When they reappeared, Sarah found herself standing in the same ballroom as she had when she ran the Labyrinth—the same, but this time so different.
Instead of bubbles and crystal and silver, the ballroom was decorated with color. Sashes of red and orange and yellow hung around the room. The silvery drapings from before were swapped out for ordinary curtains of black and red velvet. The candle stands were all golden and lit up the room in a warm, fiery light. In the pit in the center of the room, jade green pillows with gold embroidery and tassels were thrown about. And running around the room, unmasked and unenchanted, were dozens of goblins. They moseyed and meandered, many of them eating as they did. Compared to the size of the crowd, few danced. But, it was a jovial atmosphere, and Sarah was not afraid. Gold-skinned attendants still walked around with trays of food and drink, and Sarah wondered who, or what, they were.
"Is this to your liking?" Jareth asked.
"Oh yes," sighed Sarah.
"Then, may I have this dance?"
They twirled around as if they were in a dream—a good dream. Sarah's mind was clear and her goal was sure; she wanted to dance, and she wanted to have fun.
She wanted to dance with Jareth.
Sarah realized, somehow, her eager anticipation for this evening had no longer been for her dress and dance, but for this evening with Jareth. She knew he'd look the part of a king, but standing here next to him, he felt like a king. He felt like a protector, like a ruler, like a leader she could trust. Letting him lead the dance was as easy and natural as breathing; this time, Sarah felt as if she too were a participant rather than a fallen leaf swept up in the current of this magical dancing river. As she thought about all this, she decided to dive in, to lose herself in the evening. She was safe.
The ball was nothing like Sarah imagined, and yet it was so much more. They stopped to dine on hors d'oeuvres and drink sparkling ciders. They chatted, albeit briefly, with several goblins come to dance and dine. And they danced, oh how they danced, like no one was watching. Sarah was surprised she knew many of the dances, such as the quadrille and the gigue; thank heavens for her theater studies and courses on commedia dell'arte. The night was long, and their dancing eventually dissipated into a gentle rocking back and forth. Sarah's arms hung slack around Jareth's shoulders, and Jareth's regal posture had relaxed into the gentle swaying of their dance. His hands were both on her waist, slipped around to the small of back to hold her closer.
"Is this…" he began, stopping himself. He wasn't sure if he should ask, for fear of breaking the spell. "Is this everything you'd hoped for?"
"All that and then some." She smiled up at him, the corners of her eyes soft and mouth in a gently crooked smile. The night had been wonderful, magical in the best sense. All at once, she realized how close they were, how easy this had all been. With men before Jareth (what men, she inwardly scoffed), it had been either awkwardly obligatory, she had dated just to date—whenever she had the time, which was basically never.
Men before Jareth? What was she thinking. They weren't dating. They weren't romantic. They weren't anything. But then, why had they held hands yesterday?
Jareth's look had changed from one of easy revelry to fiery intensity. His eyes seemed to beg her mercilessly for something she couldn't understand.
"Jareth?" she asked.
"Hm?" he acknowledged, eyes unblinking, gaze unwavering.
"I'm going to go home, aren't I?"
"I'm doing everything in my power to make that happen," he said. He believed, under the circumstances, he told the truth.
"Then why do I feel like I'm already home?"
They looked at each other earnestly, and suddenly the electricity between them seemed magnetic.
"Sarah…" he said quietly.
"Jareth, I like you," she said quickly. It sounded so juvenile to cut straight to the quick. But, she needed to be direct, she needed to tell her heart's truth.
"I like you too, Sarah." He kept saying her name. Her eyes darted down to his lips and back to his eyes.
Jareth leaned in and kissed her. The world froze for a moment, and Sarah, incorrectly, believed even the music had stopped. She kissed him back, tender and still, and all of eternity was contained in this moment. He pulled away, slowly, and looked at her with a look that told her every secret he'd ever kept.
"Let's try," he said quietly, softly. Try what, Sarah asked herself. Try to love, try to care, try to escape? Everything. She'd try everything, she'd try to be with him. "Let's try this," he said again, confirming everything she already knew. She nodded, and she smiled doe-eyed and gentle up at him. She leaned in and initiated this time, claiming another kiss. It was still and slow, tender and caressing. Their lips worked together in unison, but not vulgar, not even passionately, only caring and sweet.
"Let's try this," whispered Sarah, breathless despite the careful tenderness of the embrace. Jareth leaned his head down and rested his brow against the top of her head. They swayed to the music, they swayed to the rhythm of each other. Whether by Jareth or the Labyrinth or pure magic itself, somehow the candles glowed gentler, and the lights dimmed, casting protective shadows around the ballroom.
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Sorry again that this has taken so long, but I now have more time and am back in the swing of things. I truly hope you enjoy where this is going, or maybe you are more on the side of Hoggle. Either way, off we go!