“Just one small thing Gavel,” Sarah said stepping forward. “How is it that you expect me to ride horseback in this?” Her arms opened wide, the huge bell sleeves of her medieval gown drooping to her waist which was cinched tight by a gold rope. The skirt narrowed and pooled around her feet obscuring whatever shoes she had been given. Her hair was plaited back. The gown was lovely and fit her well, highlighting her curves and swelling breasts, but in no way was it meant for riding.
“Why side saddle of course.” The Gavel spoke as if it were simple math or remedial reading, something she should have practically been born knowing how to do.
“She only learned to ride at all three days ago, for pity’s sake Gavel, provide her with something more suitable.” Jareth knew this was another of his games. He suspected that Sarah had done or said something to upset this particular member of the trio or that the Gavel had such disdain for Jareth himself, that he would choose to attack someone he was fond of.
“But that is appropriate, just what a woman of this realm should wear.”
A tingling filled Sarah’s fingertips as she grew more infuriated by the fey who smiled at her innocently while double talking them both. Her hands settled on her hips, her mind repeating, ‘I wish I had a pair of riding pants. I wish I had a pair of riding pants.’ Slowly she smoothed her hands from just above the golden tie all the way to her ankles. When she stood upright, her lower half was clad in a taupe pair of riding pants and black leather boots. “I am no woman of this realm,” she told them, continuing to adjust her wardrobe by sliding her hands over the incredible long sleeves and shortening them to a more reasonable length. Though they had taken Jareth’s magic from her, she retained a piece of his soul that, and so it seemed, was a piece large enough to continue to keep her mortal magic thriving.
In his throne, to the Gavel’s right, the Cleric did his best to suppress a laugh, but when the pressure of his amusements grew to large, he let it free. “Seems as if she’s one-upped you old man.”
“Indeed.” The Gavel’s focus switched back to the mortal, “Tis true, Sarah Williams, you are no woman of this realm.” He bit his tongue to keep from going on to say she never would be. He would see to that because of her insolence. Jareth loved her and it disgusted him, especially after the others convinced him to allow her to stay, but he would not be so easily swayed when she stood before him again in six weeks. “Thank you for reminding me,” he said instead. Sarah’s skin rose in bumps when he spoke.
“Off with the two of you, then. Long way to go and I want you clear of these mountains by sun down. They’ll be no replacing anything that is stolen now.” The Cleric rose from his chair and hurried toward them. Whispering in the king’s ear he told him, “Mount Bagheera and ride before he’s angered any further. When you are gone I will set to calming him down a bit. Go now.” The Cleric was a man of immense stature. When he greeted the mortal he took her by her shoulders and winked. Softly he told her, “Yours is a true magic that is both powerful and comical, very much like its keeper I suspect. The pleasure in meeting you has been all mine.” A gentle bow and soft kiss to the back of her hand followed before he lifted her easily onto her horse and helped her steady herself until she could get situated. “Goodbye my friends. We wish you well.”
Nearly in unison the duo turned their horses and kicked them into a start. Behind them two fey waved while a third sat in his throne, the forefingers of his hands in a sharp point which stabbed into his chin, a sneer disfiguring his lips.
***** ***** *****
Jareth and Sarah rode in silence to the base of the mountain which took the better part of their day. Both of them had eaten more at breakfast than they had in some time and without hunger as an obstacle they were able to leave the mountains well before sunset. When they reached the open fields of the Northwestern sector, they turned the horses to the water. The stream which created this sector’s waterfall came from the mountain a bit further north than where they had camped on their way to the Triumvirate. They would follow the water home as they were no longer on a schedule and traveling beside the water was always safest. It wasn’t until they reached the stream that Jareth finally broke the silence that had settled between them. “You shouldn’t have done that?”
“Done what? I haven’t done anything in hours,” Sarah said surprised.
“You shouldn’t have spoken to a member of the Triumvirate the way you did and then showed off your magic. He was being generous providing you with that gown.”
“He was being snide.” Was this the same king she’d faced the Triumvirate with the night before?
“You know so little of this world Sarah, I’m sure you misinterpreted his intentions.”
“I interpreted his intentions quite well. Insisting what a woman should be, well maybe here they all still flit around in long skirts with their breasts tucked up under their noses, but where I come from a woman can wear pants Jareth, and she can wear them just as well as a man.”
Chataigne had wandered to the water’s edge for a drink. The king and Bagheera remained behind them. “You certainly can,” he said absent mindedly as he looked at her shapeliness filling the breeches she wore. In an effort to quickly cover his blurt he continued, “In your world, but you are no longer in your world and if you are to remain here for six additional weeks, I think you should make an effort to blend in.”
For a time she did not reply. Her horse had finished drinking and they had gone on a good way before she said calmly, “It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the dress. It was a lovely though unnecessary gesture, but very impractical. Honestly, could you see me riding this horse with those extra acres of material blowing behind me? The first low tree I pass and I could have been hanging from it!”
This made the Goblin King smile. In fact he had pictured her riding horseback in the dress, only she was sat side saddle, his protective arms around her. “Point well taken.” There was a great pause before he added, “But you still should not have angered the Gavel. You must stand before him again.”
“So?”
“So, the next time you go before him Sarah, the Labyrinth, the Underground will be repaired and he will have no use for you. You saw how opposed he was to your staying, even now, when he knows you have great power. What do you think he’ll do when you’re are just a foolish little girl with nothing to offer him?”
“I’m neither foolish, nor am I a little girl Jareth.”
Indeed, she had become a woman from head to toe and all points in between. “By the standards of the Underground you are.”
“Why? Because I’m not a few hundred years old? Because I don’t know who to bow down to? Well then what does that make you in comparison to them?” She paused a moment waiting for him to reply, “Young and foolish too!”
He hadn’t thought of himself as young in more than a century. There was some truth to her analogy, a truth the king hated to admit to, “I am a king, no ordinary mortal, because I was descended from a bloodline chosen to rule this kingdom and not the entire realm makes me no less experienced than any of them. In fact, quite the contrary. I would daresay I have experiences those fey could never dream of. What is it that you rule over Sarah, please, remind me?”
Not since he had first come to abduct Toby had she heard Jareth speak to her that way. “Nothing I suppose.” Jareth gave her a satisfied look, “But at least I’m not afraid of him.”
“Who?”
“The Gavel. At least I’m not afraid of him.” She stressed I’m in a way that Jareth didn’t care for.
“Do you mean to say that you believe I am?” Sarah rose an eyebrow at the king’s reaction, nothing more. He stopped his horse before the gelding, giving him no choice but to halt. “I fear no one in this realm. No thing. But I know great power and I respect it. ‘Tis a lesson you would be wise to learn.”
Sarah’s expression remained unchanged. Once the king set back on their course and he could no longer see her, the steely gaze fled from her eyes taking the stiffness of her lip with it as it went.
Up ahead there was a large open patch and the stream widened some. “We’ll camp here tonight,” Jareth commanded.
“Yes your majesty,” she replied.
He looked at her torn between laughter and castigation. “Set about preparing a fire for our meal and I will put up the tent.”
“Do the women in this realm cook while the men tend to the more physical labors your highness? After all I do so wish to fit in?”
Once was cute, twice was obnoxious. “And this is supposed to prove to me you’ve reached some sort of increased level of maturity.”
As he walked away, she jutted her tongue out at him. ‘Spoil sport,’ she thought as she gathered wood for the fire.
***** ***** *****
When dinner had ended, they doused the fire. Sarah yawned and stretched before heading to their tent. Jareth waited until he saw her shadow go flat before he entered. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked when he came inside.
“Going to sleep.”
“In here?”
“You would prefer I sleep outside?”
“Yes,” before he could turn to leave she changed her mind. “No. It’s just that when the Triumvirate saw fit to replace our things, they didn’t leave me a night shirt to sleep in.”
“Be glad,” Jareth mumbled under his breath recalling how disappointed he had been with the one they’d left for him.
“What?”
“Too bad,” he lied. From the edge of the blanket he could see her bare shoulder peeking out from under her long black hair. “So you’re naked under that then?”
Embarrassed she admitted, “As a matter of fact.”
“Right. Well there’s a simple remedy to all of this. I will sleep wearing my clothes above the blankets and you may rest safely beneath them without fear of my wanton advances.” Jareth tried to hide the truth in what he said by masking it with sarcasm.
Sarah wouldn’t have exactly called it fear, maybe anticipation, but she smiled sweetly and thanked the king for his chivalrous gesture. ‘Jareth, prone to take advantage of woman, ha,’ she thought remembering what the Gavel had told her. She watched him as by the moon’s light he removed his boots and undid his vest. The breeches he wore buckled and he quickly undid the devise for more comfort in his sleep and untucked his shirt from the waistband.
Once he was undone and had positioned himself on top of the blankets, he turned his back to the mortal who still watched him, watched the easy rise and fall of his rib cage as he breathed, watched the strands of hair fall off his shoulder as he slid onto his side. “Goodnight Sarah.”
“Goodnight Goblin King.”
***** ***** *****
Sometime in the middle of the night Sarah awoke to what sounded like gnashing teeth. For a moment she thought that something had gotten into the tent and was hungrily devouring all their food, but when her ears grew more alert she realized it was Jareth. He was drawn into a tight ball at her side, his teeth chattering together in the cold. Her eyes looked at his form with pity. After all, he had volunteered to sleep above the covers, but this was too much to expect from anyone. Her hand reached to touch his face which was quite cold. Sarah pulled the blankets from underneath him, sending him rolling just a bit. Shuffling her body closer to his, she tossed the weathered brown blanket over him. In minutes his body relaxed, the warmth doing it’s part to ease his rigidity. He faced skyward now that she had moved him. The brilliant blue of his eyes obscured by his closed lids. Daring to risk his waking, Sarah took his arm into her hand and rose it above her head. She slipped her naked body against his, the tails of his shirt tickling her hip, the coolness of his leather breeches giving her an unexpected thrill between her thighs as she tossed her leg over his. Settling her head on the bare part of his chest which his shirt exposed, she let out a long sigh and watched as it turned into a soft cloud in the cold air.
***** ***** *****
When morning caused them to wake, they were both entwined in each others’ arms, legs stacked like logs in a cabin wall. It was her scent that hit him first, then the feel of her eyelashes on his chest, as her lids fluttered open. Lastly, the sensation of her open palms on his stomach as
she shoved him back. “Oh I knew it, knew you’d weasel your way into bed with me!”
“I did no such thing,” he claimed.
“Then how,” and before she could finish she remembered what had happened when she heard his teeth clanking in the night.
“I don’t know. It must have been in my sleep. I must have…”
“Never mind,” she cut him off. Jareth thought he saw her blush, but said nothing. She was sitting up from having been startled and he could see her full breasts, kissed golden by the sun streaming into the tent, the nipples already alert. “Argh!” she screamed when she noticed his stare. “You act as if you’ve never seen them before.” Hurriedly she gathered the blankets around herself. Her eyes grew wide as she curled her lip at him. “Well don’t just stand there, get out so I can change.”
“You just said I’ve seen them before.”
“Get out!”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Before he left the tent, Jareth reached down and yanked on the blanket. He could have effortlessly removed her covering, but he just meant to give it a tug. Smirking he walked out. Sarah’s heart fluttered even if her face scowled at his little game.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Sarah asked him when she finally popped out of the tent.
“Nothing. I slept quite well last night. When we arrive home I shall have my magic back. What is there to brood over?”
“Brood over? Is that what you call the tantrum you threw last night?”
“I do not throw tantrums,” he reiterated as he poured them some juice. “I was merely trying to warn you that the Triumvirate is not a collection of individuals you would be wise to anger. Besides, you heard them, for the duration of your stay, you will be my responsibility. This means that the things you say and do reflect on me, the more trouble you cause me while you’re here, the more trouble they’ll give me when you’re gone.”
“Oh,” Sarah grunted, ripping a bagel in half, “you just can’t wait until I leave, can you? I mean it’s all you talk about. When I go home. When the Triumvirate sends me home. I wish they would have jus...”
Jareth held up a soft grey leather glove as he cautioned her, “Careful. After all, you are very powerful now.” His voice was almost sing song when he said it.
“You mean to tell me that all I’ve had to do this whole time is wish myself home.” Jareth smiled at her broadly, a devilish grin he tried to use to combat the anger knitting her brow. Even anger made her beautiful. Sarah moved into his face, still irate that he had failed to point this out to her. “You held me prisoner...”
“You said yourself you were a guest.”
“...drug me through...”
“I believe you called it paradise.” Each interjection he made was calm and pleasant. His voice never rose, in fact, he never stopped nibbling at his breakfast.
“...get me attacked by trolls...”
“One troll.”
“...make me contend with...”
“You knew your wishes came true. You knew fifteen years ago when you wished Toby to me.”
“Yeah, but Hoggle said I needed you or the Triumvirate to send me home. You even said I needed them to send me home.”
Finally he met her eyes, realizing how close to him she had placed herself, “Not so. I said they would return my magic before they sent you home.”
“So you made me go trough all of this so you could get your magic back?” Jareth didn’t answer. “Unbelievable. You’re are absolutely unbelievable, do you know that?”
“You know now, don’t you? I told you now. My magic is back at the castle waiting for me, tell me Sarah,” he pulled her to him with one arm in a swift movement that forced air from her lungs in an audible burst, “why haven’t you done it?”
“Done what?” Words with no momentum came from her mouth, suddenly, her whole demeanor changed.
“Wished yourself Aboveground.” His head cocked from side to side as the king repeated the rhetorical question. “Now that I have been completely honest with you, now that my magic has been returned, why not wish yourself away?”
Sarah’s eyes swung with his head as she tried to follow his lips, too distracted by their graceful movement to pay much attention to what he had said. When his eyebrows rose, she knew she needed to say something, “I...I helped destroy this place and I should stay and clean it up.”
The Goblin King let loose the hold he had on her. Her feet fell flat against the ground without his might to pull her on point. “I’m glad we got that straightened out.”
Much as she wanted to deny it, his little display had aroused her. She could feel her body reacting the way it always did to his touch. Shaking knees, dry mouth, heart beating fast as a rabbit’s, they all betrayed her when she tried to stare him down, vainly combating his natural cool. Six years of studying how best to annunciate, pronounce and project her voice all so that face to face with the king everything she learned abandoned her. “Um huh,” she peeped out before returning to her breakfast. Satisfied, Jareth smiled when she wasn’t looking.
By the time they’d finished eating, Sarah regained control over her muscles and her voice box. “So if we’re going to be living together, let’s get a few things straight.” Jareth looked up with great interest in her recently developed authority. “First off, I will not be a prisoner. I will be permitted to come and go as I please. I will have my own room, where I will be permitted to sleep without supervision.”
“You will not be a prisoner, I agree. You will be given some freedoms; however, due to your unfamiliarity with this realm I would hope you would listen carefully to and heed my advice when it relates to matters of your coming and going. As for your accommodations, when we return, I will happily instruct my servants to ready a room for you. Until it is available for use, you will remain a guest in my room, that is, unless our camping has been such a pleasurable experience that you wish to continue sleeping this way while you are here.”
“Why not just use your magic to make me a room?”
“Construction is a task best not done by magic, Sarah.”
Even though she wanted to debate him, it had been by hand that Mason was repairing the Labyrinth rather than some spell Jareth had cast. Maybe he wasn’t trying to torment her like usual. “Couldn’t I share a room with Arulan?”
“If that is what you wish. I’m sure you’ll be terribly comfortable in her elfish bed or on her elfish furniture, wherever she chooses to let you sleep.”
Arulan was rather petite, almost a foot shorter than Sarah. Sharing her room, in hindsight, was not the best idea. “Fine. I’ll stay in your room...UNTIL...your, must we call them servants?”
“But that’s what they are.”
“But it’s rude, not to mention antiquated. I mean no one has servants anymore.”
“My world is not like your world. Here everyone is very aware, very proud of who they are and what their roles are in our society. Take Arulan for example, she is no ordinary servant.”
“How so?”
“Take my word for it.” Something about this mortal made him open up too easily. Before he had time to realize it, his secrets rose to the surface and prepared to leap from the tip of his tongue. Jareth forced himself to regain his focus. “What are your other demands?”
“Well nothing really.” She looked away, unable to say what was on her mind while he looked at her. “Just something stupid,” Sarah laughed nervously. “What are we, exactly?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and I, what are we?” Flagging her arms back and forth between them, she attempted to make her question more clear.
“I am a 257 year old fey and you are a 30 year...”
“257?”
“Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?” Jareth rose his eyebrows, his vanity capturing the best of him as he awaited her response.
“You don’t look like you’re 257.”
“Fey don’t age like mortals do. Sometime I’ll explain it to you.”
“Why not now? Why not explain it to me now?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
There was nothing Sarah could say in response. The Goblin King didn’t do things if he didn’t feel like it. In 257 years no one had changed that, it wasn’t about to change today. “I meant what are we to each other?”
“What a divinely mortal question!” The king laughed out loud as she finally made her way around to the point.
“It’s a perfectly normal question, Jareth.”
“For a mortal.”
“For a woman.” Did she really just say that? There wasn’t a rock big enough in the Underground for her to crawl under. “I just mean that something happened between us the other night and I just want to be clear on what that means, if we’re going to, because we have to...”
“Does being with me make you that uncomfortable?” Sarah didn’t answer. Uncomfortable wouldn’t be the term she would use. “I would have called us enemies when you were here last. When I came Aboveground for you...”
“For your magic,” she corrected.
“When I came Aboveground, I would have liked to call us lovers.” Just hearing him say this made her tremble. “Friends is not a term in which I put much trust, which might make it a fairly accurate term to use where we are concerned. We are both interested in repairing my kingdom...”
“So, what, we work together?”
“Yes, that’s it. We’re colleagues!” The disappointment which ravaged her face made him second guess the term he had chosen. “As for what transpired between us the other evening,” at this point he took her hand into his in an effort to be compassionate, “I assure you it was pleasurable, as I hope it was for you. But it was you who said that sometimes sex was just about having sex. In the Underground we have a similar philosophy. Some employ the services of a courtesan, a woman who is trained in the art of love making and whose purpose is to bring pleasure to the man or men who keep her in their employ.”
“So I’m your live-in whore! You think I’m just going to stay in your castle, your room, your bed for you to fuck whenever you feel like it?” Sarah tried to jerk her hand from his, but he only tightened his grasp.
“Nothing like that.” When he spoke, he spoke slowly and sincerely, not something he was used to doing with her. “A whore implies that you would be compensated for your services, by monetary means. It’s something done in cheap motels and backseats of vehicles and dark alleys. In the Underground, we don’t have disease, making sex far less dangerous between multiple partners. Having a courtesan is really more of a status symbol. They are trained in ways of giving and receiving pleasure. It’s an exchange of physical satisfaction where neither partner is left feeling as though they are deserving of compensation. Many boys are given a courtesan before they wed so that they may learn ways of pleasing their bride. Others employ the woman to satisfy urges for which a steady mate is not available or is unable to perform.”
Art of making love, exchange of physical satisfaction, he had a way of making it sound so romantic. At least better than the ‘let’s do it’ she had become accustomed to. “So I’ll be a courtesan to you while I’m here?”
“I have never required the assistance of a courtesan Sarah, although I have been asked to train a few in the past.” She wasn’t surprised. “There is no shortage of female company when you are king. Most are happy to offer themselves up to you just for the prestige of bedding a king.” Though it sounded boastful, Jareth wore no look of pride. “You are not expected to serve as my courtesan; however, if you find yourself with urges, such as the one you experienced the other night, I am happy to satisfy them for you. At least that way I would have the piece of mind of knowing you were with someone honorable,” he said trying to sound less obvious. “I am here to satisfy all of your needs as long as you are in my kingdom.” Between the sincerity in his voice and the strength of his stare, Sarah grew uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” she told him, pulling back her hand as she turned to hide her blush. It had suddenly seemed quite warm to her.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed you know.”
“I’m not,” Sarah lied.
“Nonsense, all mortals blush that same way at the mention of sex.” He paused before changing the topic.
“I suppose we should get started on today’s ride. As I figure it, we should reach the waterfall by night. We can camp there.” Jareth packed up their bags and left the mortal to her solitude. The topic had obviously made her uncomfortable. He wondered why it was that mortals were so shy about sex and sexuality. Everyone was created out of it. Everyone possessed it. Most everyone engaged in it and yet, they perpetually denied it’s existence. When he had wasted all the time he could, Jareth approached Sarah with Chataigne in tow. He knelt beside the horse to offer Sarah a leg up.
Atop the horse, Sarah became very aware of the steady rocking sensation that riding gave her. Jareth’s words repeated in her head, ‘I am happy to satisfy...all your need as long as you are in my kingdom.’ Before long, she noticed a warmth growing between her legs, a longing that made her want to take him up on his offer immediately. “Jareth,” she called a bit more huskily than she meant to.
Halting Bagheera, he turned to face the mortal. “Yes?”
“Can we walk awhile?”
“If you are growing uncomfortable on horseback, we may.”
“Yes.” It wasn’t completely a lie to say she had grown uncomfortable. “Please,” she added.
Jareth helped her to the ground and for a bit they led their horses by the reigns as they walked the miles toward Jareth’s home. Sarah watched him more closely than she had dared before. She noticed his ease with the horse, the way he would sweep the hair from his eyes every now again, the graceful gait of his unnaturally long legs as they strolled. Shaking her head side to side she attempted to clear it of the music she heard playing.
The music she heard hadn’t originated in her head at all for it drew the attention of the Goblin King as well. Humming along, Sarah found her feet joining in the unique rhythm and asked, “What is making that music? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it before.”
“It’s called a lute.” For Jareth, that was a complete answer. When he noticed his mortal’s brow furrow and lips curl, he gauged it hadn’t been such a satisfactory response after all. “A lute is a stringed instrument played by an individual called a bard.” The mortal always had more questions, so before she could ask, he continued, “A bard is a wandering musician. They sometimes travel in groups with other minstrels. Either way they travel the lands on foot singing songs in exchange for coppers, a form of money, or just to pass the time of day.”
Sarah continued to hum and skip. Jareth watched her utilizing the sound, he loved the way she let music pass through her, making her whole body seem like an instrument. In the distance, he could see the bard happily plucking his instrument still oblivious to his audience. He reminded the king very much of his mortal. Jareth reached for her with a gloved hand. Once he had her attention, he pointed out the music maker. “There you have the source of your music. Just a silly troll.”
“A troll? What do you mean a troll? One of those things that robbed us in the mountains?” Sarah stopped her humming and shuffling and looked at Jareth in great fear.
This made him laugh a bit, for this creature was an unbelievably timid breed. “ A troll; however, there are many different species of troll. What we encountered in the mountains was a species called a cave troll. That,” he pointed at the bard, “is a flod troll, a far less intimidating and more peaceable. You’ll find they’ll go anywhere there is water.” Finally it seemed he became conscious of his onlookers and began to move in their direction. As his music grew louder, Sarah began to hum with the unusual sound.
The troll stood before her, rocking from one foot to the other, a wide grin spread over his face. “Milady,” he said bowing to her. Sarah smiled and performed a small curtsy in response.
“He’s going to sing to you,” Jareth whispered in her ear.
“To me?” Sarah asked, bending back her fingers against her chest. Jareth nodded.
“I was thrown on the cobblestones, tossed at her feet. My fool’s mouth was filled with the dust from the street. An out of work court jester with nowhere to go and no need to speak for she seemed to know,” the bard played a note or two before he sang the chorus. “She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet’s can say and her eyes offer something that won’t go away.” Sarah continued to smile at his laughing eyes. Seeing the lady was pleased, he continued to serenade her. “This mad mocking town and it’s dishonored guests disappeared in the colors that danced on her dress. She led me to safety in a forest of green and showed my stale eyes some sights never seen.” The bard turned his attention to Jareth this time, “Won’t you join me in the chorus my lord?”
“Indeed.”
Together they sang, “She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet’s can say and her eyes offer something that won’t go away.” By now Jareth’s own feet had begun to shuffle.
“You sing magnificently, if you don’t mind my saying. Now,” he told the king with a wink and a nudge, “why not dance with the young lady.”
Jareth bowed to Sarah, taking up the hand that wasn’t holding Chataigne’s reigns. “May I?”
Her mouth couldn’t form a reply, between the melody of the king’s voice and the touching lyrics of the bard, she was powerless to resist. Jareth swept her neatly into his right arm, his left hand holding her right as he delicately swept her over the grass. The troll carried on with his song, “She spins magic and moonlight in her meadows and streams and seeks deep inside me and touches my dreams. The morning comes smiling and I laugh with no sound and snuggle in silence in the sweet peace I’ve found.”
Once more, Jareth joined his voice together with the bard, “She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet’s can say and her eyes offer something that won’t go away.” Sarah stared open mouthed into the king’s eyes, reminded of another time, another dance.
Playing a bit of an extended solo, the troll allowed them to continue their elegant waltz a while longer before concluding his song, “No they won’t go away, go away.” As the entire song had been slow and folkish, these last few notes were especially slow. Jareth held his mortal a moment longer than the music played, finally setting her free with a bow of gratitude. Both bowed to the bard for his fine entertainment.
“I apologize, good man, but I’ve no coppers to share with you. In fact, I’ve no monies at all.”
The bard grumbled at Jareth a bit, “Never mind the coppers, my lord, I sing for the privilege of witnessing milady’s ravishing beauty.”
“If I had a guitar...” Sarah began.
“A guitar milady?” Two sets of quizzical eyes focused on her when the minstrel asked.
“May I?” Sarah reached for his lute, which he relinquished to her grasp. “Thank you. A guitar,” she explained, “is much like this lute, only with a longer neck.” Her magic hands slid over the neck of the lute causing it to extend. “And the bottom kind of has a curve in it, like a figure eight.” A few more passes over the body of the instrument and it became an acoustic model guitar.
“Play something for us,” the troll clapped his hands together as he watched in awe of her creation.
“By all means,” Jareth added. His hands were resting on his hips as he looked at her in amazement for her magic and anticipation for her song.
Sarah fiddled with the strings a bit, warming up, practicing a couple of cords. “It’s been a long time, but I think I remember one song.” She cleared her throat and in a voice that stifled all the power she had shown at her audition, one that rang like a bell while staying light enough to ride the breeze, she sang for them. “Wish I could tell you something you didn’t know. Wish I could give you something you didn’t own. Wish I could tell you a joke to make you smile and I could be with you awhile. Just want to be that someone you weren’t looking for. Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door, and when you’re sad and blue my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. I just want to take you somewhere you haven’t been. Find an old time movie where we don’t know the end, lost in the radio, drive another mile, so I could be with you a while.” As Sarah replayed the chorus on the guitar, she took in the expressions of the men who watched on. Both seemed pleased and that made her smile. “I just want to be that someone you weren’t looking for. Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door, and when you’re sad and blue my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. Tired of serious conversations, tangled up in situations,” her fingers began to strike the strings powerfully, the speed of the song changing for a few lines. “I feel so free cause you want nothing from me.” She returned to the more easy, steady rhythm, the refrain changing just a bit this verse, “I just want to be that someone you weren’t looking for. Some hopeless vagabond asleep there on your floor, and when you’re old and gray, my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. I just want to be with you awhile. I just want to be with you.” The final brush of her delicate fingers over the strings echoed around them.
None of them spoke until the final note was carried out of earshot. It was the bard who piped up first, “Milady, you sing like a bird, no, like an angel. ‘Tis I who should be giving up my coppers.”
Sarah held up a hand to refuse his generosity, blushing as Jareth continued the flattery, “That is unlike any other song I’ve heard you sing.” They weren’t the most poetic words he’d ever spoken to her, but the expression on his face spoke more than his words.
“Thank you both. Guess I kept up with it more than I thought over the years.” Sarah smoothed her hand over the guitar as if she were going to change it back.
“No, no, please,” the bard interrupted. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it that way. No one will ever believe me if I do not show them the instrument with which the angel played. Tell me again how you call it?”
“It’s a guitar.” Sarah was actually relieved he had asked to keep the guitar. Either her magic didn’t allow it or it just hadn’t developed enough yet, but she wasn’t capable of turning it back. The last pass of her hand did nothing to it’s shape.
His fingers strolled over the stings familiarizing himself with the feel of the new instrument. “Milady, I thank you for your most generous gift. I hope to someday play for you once more.” He bowed low before bounding off with his new guitar, pleased to have a story to sing about and such a beautiful new gem with which to do just that.
Jareth gathered Bagheera’s reigns once more. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“Sing? It’s part of being a musical performer. Damnedest thing really, if you audition for musicals and you can’t sing they really frown on giving you the part.” Sarah stroked Chataigne’s blaze when she grabbed his reigns.
Matching her sarcasm, “You don’t say! What a bizarre place the Aboveground is. Why, absolutely nothing makes sense there.” His mocked shock made her chuckle. Seeing her chuckle made him smile and seeing him smile made her heart jump. “I meant play the guitar. That is what you called it, right?”
Sarah nodded. “My father taught me. I was ten when he bought me a guitar. It was rosewood with a mahogany neck and black body accents that had humming birds painted on them. To a ten year old it was like getting a new car. I couldn’t let it out of my hands once I got the feel for it. I’d set it down and after a minute or so, I’d twirl around looking for it like I’d set down my own arm or something. The first night I had it,” Sarah paused in the telling of the story from her childhood and started walking again. Jareth followed behind eager to hear about that first night.
“What happened the first night you had it?”
“I slept with it,” she admitted. “Every night after that, when dad got home, I’d wait for him to take off his coat and kiss my mother, then I’d crawl into his lap and ask him to teach me something new, a chord or a bridge, anything. By the time I was 12, I was taking lessons at school instead, while dad sat at home waiting for me to get back so he could leave to get Karen.” Feeling as if she’d said too much, Sarah concluded the tale, “I still have that guitar...at home.”
“You miss it don’t you? Home I mean.” His mortal certainly seemed forlorn.
“I miss my father, the one I remember, not the one Karen made.” Sarah’s shoulders squared as she kept moving, desperately avoiding his stare, ashamed that even after all these years, she was unable to put that part of her past behind her.
Jareth mourned for her. After all, he knew what it was like to remain just out of reach of a parent’s capacity to love. What Sarah felt was not so different from what he had lived through with the Leanan Sidhe, but at least she had a handful of pleasant memories where her father was concerned. Quickening his steps, the king joined her at her side, “Perhaps you might do me the favor of teaching me to play this instrument, this guitar of yours.”
“You? The Goblin King playing guitar.” Even the idea made her laugh. “But I didn’t think you had those here.”
“No matter. Now that I know of them, I shall summon one with my magic, or you could fashion one with your magic, out of a twig and a few pieces of twine.” She smiled as he bent to offer her a branch that had fallen in the path before them.
Her tiny hand reached out and pushed it aside while she did her best to contain a giggle. Happy eyes looked up at him, charmed by the tender way he chased the pain from her heart. “I’d be happy to teach you,” Sarah told him, “but you must teach me something in return.” There was an inflection in her tone that was neither shy, nor demur.
Jareth widened his eyes before cocking one eyebrow and wordlessly surmising that she was hinting at the skills they had discussed earlier, the courtesans he’d been asked to break in. Her fingers walked along the laces of his vest as she stopped him by crossing into his path. “Come now Jareth, there must be some skill you have that you could teach me.”
“Sarah, if you’re suggesting that I…”
“Something you’re very,” she kissed just below his chin, “very,” then a little further down his neck, “very,” and lastly at the hollow of his throat, “good at.”
For the love of the Underground, she could be cruel. “If you are suggesting,” he said firmly and patiently, “that I teach to be a courtesan, my answer to you will be the same as it has been to the others who have asked before you.” Grey leather swept over his neck in a vain effort to remove the heat which had developed there.
“I don’t want to be a courtesan,” Sarah told him in a mixture of mischievous laughter and mild shock. “I merely thought we could have an exchange of the arts, if you will. I teach you the art of music. You teach me the art of making love, unless you think I would do poorly as a student.”
Jareth mustered all of his calm. ‘You do poorly as a student,’ he thought. Was that possible? She was testing his limits and he knew it, trying to use the same twisted rationale he’d used with her in the past. The king loved and hated the games they played with one another. She was still before him, looking up at him, trying to destroy the trance he’d put himself in that kept him from reacting to her nearness and her suggestion. “We’re out in the open,” he said grasping her hands stilling them from the busy work they were doing to unlace his vest.
Even Sarah didn’t know where this boldness had come from, but it had grown furiously, quickly taking control of her. Making love to Jareth had been like sampling someone else’s plate, suddenly, she no longer wanted what she had, instead she wanted more of what she had sampled. Nothing else seemed satisfying. “That’s the beauty of our little arrangement, isn’t it? We’re not some naive couple, head over heals in love with one another to the point that we can’t fulfill our most carnal desires for fear the other will feel unappreciated. You said yourself, that you would be happy to satisfy all of my needs while I was in your kingdom. Don’t tell me you’re going all mortal on me now, suddenly embarrassed at the innuendo of sex?” Lips pursed, eyebrows raised, she awaited his reply. Opportunity had lent itself to her being able to use his own words back at him, an opportunity that she was going to take full advantage of.
She had bested him again. Jareth’s hands reached to remove the vest her roaming fingers had undone. Sarah backed away in surprise. “So I did.” He advanced toward her, but she backed away as he got close. “Sarah, for someone so eager to take lessons, you seem to be ready to leave before class has even begun.” The king could be smug.
Sarah had not counted on Jareth’s response. She thought he’d back down as she became more aggressive. In hindsight, she had no idea why she’d thought that. What to do? Come up with something clever to push this whole exchange off as a bit of a laugh or rather, admit to what her body craved, surrender to her king and quench a thirst which had arose in her much more quickly than she cared to admit?
The flowing sleeve of her shirt rose to her elbow as Sarah set her wrist against his shoulder, her long fingers twirling a few strands of his unruly blonde hair. “I do so hope that my insolence won’t cause me to be detained too long after class.”
Both shock and sensuality surged through the Goblin King. His hands found her hips and swung her round where he could lean her against the trunk of the tree whose branch they had picked up just moments earlier. With one arm securely around her waist and the other braced along the trunk, above her head, he leaned over her. ‘Mortal girl, you know not what you do to me,’ he thought as his attention flicked from her hungry eyes to her parted lips and back again. Glove rising from hip to head, he gently lowered Sarah’s temple against his shoulder, Jareth’s mouth descended on her neck, open lips cascading over her flesh, sliding up behind her ear, before pulling back to reveal his elongated eye teeth. Sarah’s eyes closed as she gave in to the sensation of his mouth on her, the mild and delightful pain of being massaged by his teeth, the wetness his tongue left behind. When she felt the coolness of the breeze against the spot he’d just warmed, Sarah opened her eyes. “Lesson one,” he purred capturing her mouth with his.
‘Dear God,’ Sarah thought, ‘if that was lesson one she would be doing a lot of studying.’ Foolish analogies fled her head as Jareth’s hands began to massage her breasts through the thin blouse she had been given. Her focus switched to returning the kiss he gave, which until then, she had only been doing passively. Arms reached out for the hips of the king pulling him closer to her, where she could feel his thigh as it slid skillfully between her own and against her crotch. Sarah was regretting that she had traded the dress for the riding pants now that they were obviously so restrictive. Magic coursed through her which only seemed to heighten the sensation of his lips as they left her mouth to trail over the swells of her breasts. Jareth cold feel her magic and backed away.
The riding outfit she had made out of the dress the Gavel had given her had reworked itself into a shorter version of the original gown, one that still swelled her breasts and cinched her waist, but now with a loose skirt which hung to just above her knees. Jareth sunk before her, his hands to either side of her knees and slowly he rose the hem of her dress, never removing his stare from his mortal’s. When the king felt no panties beneath the skirt, he locked on to her hips. A devilish grin curled over his lips, “Did you wish for that or did I?”
Sarah returned the smile, happy that the change had pleased him. Returning to his knees, Jareth began encircling her belly button with small, peckish kisses which he allowed to grow in intensity as he made concentric circles until he reached her bikini line. Sweeping a soft leather glove over her mound, Sarah shivered. Jareth appeared satisfied to evoke the response. His thumb slid expertly between her folds and continued the circular motion he begun on navel. Sarah arched her back against the tree, her fingers reached for something to grab, but found nothing. Grinning madly, the king lay his cheek against her thigh stretching out his tongue to bathe her fair skin in his affections. Her taste was like honey, more powerful than any mead he’d ever drunk.
“Jareth,” Sarah moaned as her hips bucked at his touch.
“What is it, love?” he asked when he didn’t really need to.
There were no dignified words for what Sarah wanted to ask of the Goblin King, “Jareth, please.”
“You disappoint me, Sarah. Where has my fearless woman gone? The one who spoke of fulfilling carnal desires, ready to rebel against her conservative mortal restraints. Lesson number two, I can only guess what brings you pleasure.” He spoke a breath away from her engorged folds. Sarah quaked in anticipation. “Stop thinking about what’s to come Sarah,” he said a slight play in his words, “and concentrate on what’s happening now. Tell me what it is you want.”
“You.” It was a weak answer, one she knew would not satisfy him, but she just couldn’t articulate the ideas in her mind.
“You want me to?” He leaned in this time, replacing his hand with his tongue, he continued the circular motion Sarah’s body had grown to love. No longer capable of coherent speech, the mortal moaned an indistinguishable cry. The Goblin King stopped his vicious assault on her most sensitive location, “You’ll develop that skill in time love. Do you wish me to satisfy with these lips?” Jareth kissed against her mound, “And with this tongue?” he added flicking it across her pleasure center.
“Oh god yes, please.”
Soft leather fell across the fleshy cheeks of her backside, as Jareth volunteered to support her weight. Wasting no time, he took her bud between his lips and began a gentle sucking motion which caused waves of pleasure through Sarah’s body. Her king pushed Sarah closer and closer to bursting with his torment, adding to it a quick flicking of his tongue. Jareth struggled against her writhing so that he could continue this intimate kiss. Sarah’s hands found his locks and roamed them wildly. It pleased him that she took an interactive approach. To reward her, Jareth’s mouth sought out her opening. Again he began the circular motions he’d been using to pleasure her.
“Dear God,” Sarah moaned, her shoulders digging into the tree trunk she steadied herself against. Without warning, he plunged his tongue into her opening, making soft strokes against the front wall. The second wave of pleasure filled the mortal. At feeling the familiar convulsing begin within her, Jareth increased the speed and forcefulness of his movements until she begged him to stop in a throaty voice that seemed short of breath. A few moment’s more and he conceded to her request.
When he stood before her, he felt himself fill with pride at her flushed and disheveled appearance. Today’s lesson had not ended. Lowering the waistband of his breeches, the king purred into her neck, “Lesson three, Sarah.” She had never heard her name sound so sweet coming from any other lips before. His fingers gathered the hem of her skirt once more as he pressed his stiffness against her still tender womanhood. “When you think you cannot tolerate another second of pleasure, is when you hunger for it most.” No one knew this better than the king. For as he buried himself inside her, he was unsure of his ability to keep the promise the king had made himself to withhold his pleasures and retain his soul and yet, he felt as if he’d die without the perfect closeness that joining in this way afforded him.
At first his thrusts were slow with small pauses between as he gave her a chance to come down from her last orgasm. “My legs,” he heard her mutter as his lips worked against her throat.
In concern, he asked, “Are you uncomfortable?”
Sarah’s eyes met his with an intensity he had never seen in them before, “Grab my legs and wrap them around your hips,” she requested with slow determination.
Unable to hide his enthusiasm, Jareth half smiled at her as he obliged. The new position allowed him to access her more deeply. Driven by his determination to please her, Jareth increased his momentum. Sarah’s ankles locked with one another at his back as she held to him tightly. The bark of the tree scratched at her skin where her shirt had bunched up. At first she found the mild pain pleasurable, but as the speed of his thrusts increased the pleasure aspect disappeared. Sarah took his strong shoulders in her hands, pulling herself forward until she could capture his mouth with hers. Mimicking the rhythm of his hips, Sarah moved her tongue inside his mouth. Jareth’s hand grabbed her buttocks, the leather of his gloves tickling her flesh causing her hips to rock into his movements. Jareth thanked the Supreme One that he had been given the endurance of three men, right now, he needed it. He used his hands to help reset the timing of her anxious hips until it better matched his own.
Sarah’s head threw back as a new and more intense feeling than before filled her. The king moved a hand to support her back now that she was without the benefit of the tree for balance. He was nearing his own release. With determination he began a circular motion with his hips, allowing three sides of her opening to feel him stoking in and out of her. It wasn’t long before he was able to finish her off. Sarah collapsed against him, one hand filled with his hair, the other clutching his shirt.
The waves that continued to roll through his mortal continued to stimulate the king as he remained inside her. With tenderness, he lifted Sarah and set her on her feet once more. Sarah reached for the tree immediately when she felt her legs begin to quake like Jell-O. Her face was flush, her hair wild, as she held the nail of her pointer finger between her teeth and smiled coyly at her lover. Had they really just done that? Out in the wide open, in the broad daylight? Sarah ran her fingers through her hair while Jareth pulled his breeches back up to the waist, hoping as he did so that his untucked shirt would hid his still straining breeches until the blood from his erection could redistribute itself to a less noticeable region.
When feeling returned to her legs, Sarah came up beside Jareth taking his cheek into her palm she met his lips. “Thank you,” she told him kissing his mouth gently and briefly. “I had no idea it could be that way.”
His hand covered hers, “Do mortal men not please their women before themselves?”
“Mortal men don’t please their women much, in or out of bed, for that matter. Least not the one’s I’ve ever known.”
Pulling Sarah’s hand from his cheek, he kissed her warm palm, “It was my pleasure to please you. Thank you for that privilege.” He led her passed him, “Go refresh yourself in the cool waters of the stream and I’ll prepare us something to eat.
“Great, I’m starving,” she said as she went to the water’s edge.
The Goblin King watched her leave his side, the way the skirt swayed, the way her legs seemed to glide. Reaching her satisfaction wore well on her, put her whole being at ease. It was much different for the king. Denying himself satisfaction had filled him with a tension, one which he wondered whether or not he could withstand for six more weeks. He raised his brow when Sarah spoke of hunger. His was a hunger he would never satisfy.
Leave a comment or review in my LJ Community.
Please remember to include story title and chapter!