The girl before him trembled. “You’re him aren’t you? You’re the Goblin King, I’d like my sister back if it’s all the same to you...”
Jareth failed to see the purpose, or the function, in allowing her to continue. “If you want the child back you’ll need to make it through my Labyrinth.” A smooth gesture of his arm and just outside what had been her bedroom window, materialized a vast expanse. High walls comprising acres of mazes and on the other side stood an enormous castle.
She began to cry. “Please, I didn’t mean what I said, I was just upset for that moment.”
“Tra la la,” he sang out. “It was just for that moment,” he mocked. Closing in on her, the verbal assault continued. “When will you children learn that your words have consequences, constantly assuming you can allow all sorts of drivel to pass your lips and never be held accountable for anything that’s said in a moment of passion.” He spun his back to her, the symbolic grandfather clock making its appearance at his side. “You have twelve hours,” he warned, as the hands rewound themselves. Never again would the Goblin King be so generous as to offer a thirteenth hour. His days of reordering time were through.
“What happens if I fail?” she pleaded.
Jareth’s face grew smug, “When you fail,” he emphasized the when, “your sister will become one of us and I’ll have another goblin to add to my collection.”
“My parents have money.” So much had been lost already, what would a little bribery hurt. “Mother has jewels, daddy has any of four cars that you could choose from...stocks...bonds.”
“Do you really think I need money?” the Goblin King laughed. “I’m a king, I have jewels and riches of my own in multitudes that could make your parents blind with jealousy and greed.”
Slowly, she reached for him. Though he didn’t move away, he didn’t seemed pleased either. Her hands ran up the length of his arm, feeling through the loose fitting fabric for the lightly defined arm beneath. “Perhaps then you and I could,” she wet her lips, “work out a bit of an arrangement.” One eyebrow cocked with curiosity.
“Really,” the Goblin King nearly purred. His gloved hands reached around her waist and jerked her roughly to him. “You honestly think that someone so young and obviously inexperienced could satisfy a king.” His lips came crashing down on hers in a way that both terrified and intrigued her. She was sweet 16 and had never been kissed, not like this anyway. Tossing her aside in disgust he spat, “Don’t waste your time. Better than you have tried and failed.” He pulled a gloved hand across his mouth as though he were trying to wipe it free of the taste of her. “Save yourself the humiliation and stay here to play with your dolls, child.” Having said his piece he turned to the window and with a wave of his coat, changed into his owl form and left the girl to stare at the lifeless valley separating her from the Labyrinth, a heavy decision to weigh in her mind.
***** ***** *****
Alone in his bed chamber, Jareth had changed back into his fey shape. His skin shown with perspiration, not all of it entirely from the flight back his castle. He conjured a crystal in his right hand and held it before him. It spun effortlessly in his palm and slowly the fog parted to reveal the face of the teen girl he’d left only moments earlier. She was sitting on the edge of her parents’ bed, still staring at the empty crib. Her eyes overflowed with tears. A weak voice mustered itself up between sobs, “How ? I can’t do this. I can’t be expected to take care of a child let alone hunt through some psychopath’s labyrinth trying to get the thing back!”
Jareth let out a snort, “Perhaps little girls who feel incapable of caring for small children, ought not kiss grown men the way you do, my dear.”
“It’s not fair,” he heard the girl cry. It drew his attention quickly, “My father’s going to kill me!”
The crystal orb shattered against the far wall of his chamber as Jareth released his pent up frustration. “For the love of Christ! This ones not even going to try.” It had been 15 years since the Goblin King had been given any kind of challenge. Since then, the boys and girls who had met with him as a result of their haphazard wishes weren’t much of an obstacle, let alone anything to really worry oneself over. But, he had been beaten once. It would have taken a lot to impress him after that. Perhaps if someone had charged passed him once, as he was explaining the rules of his little game, and started into the maze, eyes blazing, determined to finish him off despite his threats. That may have done it, but most probably not. It didn’t matter how ambitious anyone seemed or how much of their fear they were able to hide. None who summoned the Goblin King would ever be Sarah Williams. She had been the first to defeat him. Treating his Labyrinth as though it were some sort of Sunday stroll, each obstacle he presented her with became another small victory in their little war. More than that, she had been the first to capture his eye and perhaps even his heart.
Another crystal materialized from the air. It had been a number of years since Jareth used his magic to spy on Sarah. Right after she solved the Labyrinth, he could recollect a half dozen or so times that he’d done what he was doing now. Jareth felt it become an addiction not long afterwards. He’d find himself looking in on her two, three, four times a week, until it was nearly an hourly thing throughout the day. Though she had bruised his will, she hadn’t broken him entirely. The Goblin King still had some strength left and so he began the process of hardening his heart towards her. By the time she was twenty-one, she was little more to him than the young girl who’d gotten lucky enough to choose wisely during her stay. By her twenty-fifth year, he commonly referred to her as the insolent nuisance whose consequences he would be forced to deal with for all of eternity.
Then there was Christian. Jareth had peered in on Sarah in the Spring three years ago. He had gotten word from some of his Aboveground connections that Sarah had taken to acting and was to take part in a major production. Something in the message must of been misunderstood, perhaps the date or the time, for when Jareth gazed into the crystal he had been given an eyeful of one of Sarah’s performances, unfortunately it was an off- stage scene with an adult rating and Christian was the co-star. That was the last time the king could remember throwing one of his crystals against the wall until today. She’d obviously found someone else who offered her promises she was ready to accept. She’d been painted a picture of a future she wanted. “Have him then,” he had shouted. “Someday when your child is born, I shall take my vengeance on it and while it may not be as sweet as what I sought for you my darling, it will bring me indescribable satisfaction.” It had also been the last time he’d dared to look in on the child that vexed him so deeply he found it almost painful. Last time that is to say, until now.
It was the same apartment where he’d found her before, only she seemed to have grown more beautiful since he last intruded on her this way. Mortals claimed that only men got better with age, but Jareth found the object of his attentions seemed to age as gracefully as she danced. For a moment he paused in his observation to reflect on a time he’d caught her dancing in her room. She was alone, couldn’t have been more than seventeen, swaying side to side, eyes closed tightly as an enchanting melody hummed over her lips. Similarly, he’d found her alone again this night. There was no dancing, no music. Sarah merely slept peacefully on an overstuffed settee. Her long black hair now rippling over her shoulders in thick wide waves, framing her sleeping head like a royal mane. Her skin still held much of its youthful appearance, a radiant glow with just a hint of creamy bronze kissed on her cheeks, giving the illusion that she was always just a little flushed. With a heavy sigh, Jareth caused the crystal to vanish.
***** ***** *****
“Curse the little brat,” Jareth erupted. “She nearly had me going all soft on her again. Don’t know what made me even give a damn how she was.” Then more softly he mumbled, “Not as though she’s ever thought of me since then.” His tired eyes surveyed the room surrounding him. Today had lasted long enough for the weary Goblin King.
The room was lit by two crystal chandeliers and a dozen large pedestals holding multiple wicked candles. The walls were drenched in a rich Cabernet, the stone sills covered by a decadent black velvet which kept out both sun and moonlight, permitting him sleep whenever he felt it was necessary. He stood in the sunken sitting area where there was little more than a chair and ottoman covered in a forest green leather that had a marble finish to it. They faced a matching settee. The common space between those pieces divided by an oriental throw carpet and an old traveling chest, which he’d decided to use as a coffee table. The focal point of this area, a huge fireplace with a thick mantle which held an array of candles and a five by seven photograph.
Jareth’s boots beat evenly off the marble floor as he made his way to the stairs. It was two steps to the upper deck of the room where a wardrobe and a highboy held the king’s garments. A full length mirror separated the two and provided him the perfect spot for eyeing his appearance from head to toe. On the far wall there was a dressing table and stool next to a large mahogany door which led to a master bath. Jareth paused a moment to gaze at his reflection. He’d filled out some since the eighties, shoulders had broadened a bit and his mid-section carried a newly acquired dozen or so pounds, but he was still far from obese. Being in ones 100s wasn’t easy he decided, giving a wave of his arm, causing his reflection to disappear.
A four poster bed monopolized most of the floor space on the upper deck of the room. It raised another two steps above the rest of the deck. Three more small steps up to the mattress from the raised platform. It was truly fit for a king. The balusters which rose from each of the four corners of the frame were intricately carved with an array of Celtic knots. The foot board too was carved, but rather than continue the Celtic design, it depicted a waterfall scene surrounded by lush vegetation and fairies at play or perhaps mischief. For fairies, they were much the same. All the carvings were impressive, but none so much as the headboard. Between the black velvet and the crimson silk which covered the pillows of the bed was a two foot block of the same mahogany used to create all the other furniture of the room. A dream catcher was cut into the center. Braided threads roped through the opening. Leather cord was fed through tiny tunnels which formed the circular boundary of the catcher. Two stark white owl feathers were attached to each end with hand drilled clay beads. The remainder of the wood was embellished with star markings, some even replicating constellations. Though it served merely to rest a heavy head, it was a work of art. The sheets were made of the same crimson silk as the pillows. The comforter was black velvet as were some of the decorative pillows. With amenities like these, the Goblin King rarely counted sheep or relied on warm milk. He merely enveloped himself in the layers of luxurious fabrics and found himself asleep in no time. Usually.
Tonight; however, it seemed as though he’d never sleep again. So many thoughts ran around in his mind. Thoughts of the new baby he’d have to contend with, thoughts of Sarah and perhaps the hardest to cope with, thoughts about himself and his own inadequacies. Jareth fought back all those related to that last category, after all he was king. “A bath before I retire,” he decided. The door to the master bath opened slowly on its own.
This room was as impressive as the one he had just left. Grey marble floors spread out to meet black walls speckled with silver flecks, it was almost like being out doors. Small torch-like sconces lit the room with a subtle warm glow. In the center of the furthest wall were more of the familiar black velvet curtains and gold braided ropes, which hid the commode and wash sink. To either side of the curtain stood a statue, each abstract in nature and reminiscent of the Escher room, where he and Sarah had said their final words to one another. Jareth sighed again. With a wave of his arm, the sunken tub before him filled with steaming water. Jareth shed his clothes, depositing them in the jeweled hamper to his left. His boots stood as a pair by the door. The Goblin King sunk into the tub, water covering him to the neck. He closed his eyes. ‘There had been days like this before,’ he thought. ‘Days that had come to pass and would again, soon.’
Feeling more relaxed already, Jareth’s head fell back to rest against the cool tile. The contradicting sensations thrilled him. He began to hum an enchanting melody. “Why do I know that song?” he asked out loud as the room about him began to dance.
***** ***** *****
Outside the castle walls, the kingdom was filled with activity. The goblins who had taken the newest child were rushing her to the throne room. This was cause for celebration. One of the larger, more coordinated goblins was given the task of carrying the child, who wore only a soft pink bunting. She did not cry, nor did she appear to find any of this the least bit distressing. In fact, she giggled several times when some of the more comedic in the group would dance passed her. Through the dirt roads of the reconstructed Goblin City they danced and sang. “You remind me of the babe” one began.
“What babe?” another played along.
A third, not wishing to be left behind continued, “The babe with the power.”
Beyond one of the labyrinth walls sulked a heartsick beast. His head raised as the singing got nearer, “Sar - rah?” he moaned. “Ludo miss Sar - rah?”
By his side, a regal fox mounted atop a shaggy sheep dog. “Say again dear brother? Whyst does thou speak of my beloved lady Sarah?”
A mighty paw reached down and raised him from his saddle, lifting him to where he could hear the goblins’ song. Once Ludo saw Sir Didymus’ face wash over with recognition, he lowered his brother in arms back to his mount. “That music’s not been sung since milady made her stay,” Didymus noted. “Ludo miss Sar - rah”
“As do I brother, as do I.”
The goblins continued their song right up to the castle gate. Two larger goblins hoisted a third smaller species by the knees and elbows. Using his spiked helmet they repeatedly bolted him into the doors in an effort to attract the attention of their king. In this they succeeded, but perhaps not wisely. Jareth shot from his tub. A snap of his fingers had him dry, dressed and looking as royal as any day. His head jutted from one of the windows in his chamber. Keen ears picked up the music on the wind. A growl came from his throat as he used his magic to slide back the draw bar and allowed the hoard to gain access to the main courtyard. By this time, their song had looped. “You remind me of the babe.”
“What babe?”
“The babe with the power.”
‘A goblin babe,’ Jareth had sung to a candy stripped pajama clad baby, in the heart of his throne room so long ago. The memory now suddenly evident. The nagging familiarity of the melody which had plagued him suddenly obvious. In as loud a voice as he could muster Jareth ordered, “QUIET!!”, from his chamber window. All but one of the goblins stood deadly still under the watchful eye of their majesty.
“Slime and snails,” that foolish goblin sung on, “and puppy dog’s tails.” The king pulled a crystal from the sleeve of his white painter’s shirt and cast it at the half-witted creature whose mouth continued to disobey his direct order. Before the captivated eyes of the halted on-lookers, the crystal transformed into a silver lightning bolt. Jareth rode the bolt from his chambers toward the ground, quickly taking leave from the contraption just before it struck the mouthy goblin. Dazed the goblin’s smoking body stumbled back and forth for a few seconds before he toppled to the ground.
“You’ll sing only when and if I allow it.” Jareth scathed at them. At his outburst the child began to cry. “Bring the child forward,” he commanded. The goblin who had been holding the child, stepped forward to kneel before the king. As he did, he raised the child up as though it was an offering. Jareth lifted the child into his arms effortlessly. Her chubby fingers reached out for his face. In an attempt to avoid her touch, the king pulled back his head. The pink bunting looked quite bright against the black leather of his waist coat, which intern matched the black of his pants and finally those matched his riding boots. Despite his attempts to escape her reach, the baby made a desperate lunge for Jareth’s nose and succeeded in catching it by the end.
“Your majesty?” one goblin inquired. Eyebrows raised in his direction. “In less than nine hours, the child will become ours. Is this not cause for celebration?”
Eyes narrowed, the reply practically spat back, “We’ve celebrated the first 4,081 children that were inducted into our kingdom. I see no reason to continue with these ridiculous formalities.” He rose the child into the air, studying her thoroughly. “When the time is complete, should the child’s sibling fail to reach my castle and defeat me, you may request the Triumvirate christen her Gossamyr.”
“Gossamyr, your majesty?” One of the goblins repeated the command.
“As I said, Gossamyr, for the child is light and would likely make a good wood sprite or water nymph,” the king explained. Another goblin questioned,
“But your highness, will you not make the request of the Triumvirate yourself?”
“The Triumvirate will not miss my presence. In fact, I think they’d rather welcome my absence.” He set the baby back in the arms of the goblin before him. “Now then, you have my instructions. Go about your business and send me the dwarf.”
“Which dwarf my king?” asked the goblin who had received the child.
Another replied, “Hog Brain.”
“No,” another cried, “Higgle.”
“Hog’s Breath,” offered a third.
“Hoggle!” Jareth said clearly. “Send me Hoggle!”
***** ***** *****
Feet kicked up on his desk, Jareth waited in what served as both an office and a library. If he was to ask anyone in the kingdom about Sarah Williams, Hoggle would be the one to ask. What was taking him so bloody long? The Goblin King began to tap his crop against the desk impatiently. Everyone was so determined to keep him from getting any rest tonight. Slowly he opened the slender drawer in the center of his desk, withdrawing a pen-sized flute. Lifting the instrument to his lips he produced four high notes as his fingers frolicked over the tone holes. Upon hearing the notes, a house elf entered through a service entrance built in to appear as though it were a part of the wall. She curtsied graciously before her sire. “How might I be of service, sir?” She asked, never meeting directly with his eyes.
“I’ve requested the company of a certain dwarf,” Jareth explained, indicating that she was permitted to rise from the floor before him. “Where is he?”
The elf straighten the light blue shift which covered her pale narrow frame. Pushing back the mid-length blond strands which interrupted her vision, she replied. “The kingdom has been searched your highness. Even his wife has been questioned.”
Impatiently, he interrupted her, “Hogwart has a wife!”
“Hoggle’s wife said her husband had left earlier this eve to tend to wood for their fire and has yet to return.” Uncomfortably, she shifted her weight from foot to foot waiting for the king’s inevitable disappointment.
“Unacceptable!” Her expectations had been met. Emotions were easy to read on the face of a fey. “I want him found immediately!” Just as the last of the sentence’s syllables were rolling off of Jareth’s tongue, Hoggle gently pushed open the double doors to the king’s office. His brazen entrance demanded all of the king’s attention.
“I was told you were lookin’ for me, yer Majesty.”
“Indeed,” he purred. His hand waved to the house elf. “That’s all Arulan. You may go.” Though he was addressing his servant, his eyes never left the dwarf who stood in his doorway. “Come in Hedge Hog.”
“It’s Hoggle,” his fists balled up at his sides. It had been years of being in Jareth’s employ and you’d have thought he could’ve remembered his name by now.
“Have a seat.” The doors behind the dwarf shut with a loud thud, sending him scurrying towards the semicircular Louis the XIV. A few grunts and flailing limbs and he was situated, opposite the king, unnerved by the way he was being looked over. “When did you last have contact with the mortal?”
“Which mortal?”
Jareth strode around the desk and lifting his long leg to a ninety degree angle, he sat upon the desk and peered down at the terrified dwarf. “Don’t play with me Hoggle, or I shall suspend you above the bog of eternal stench.” A hard gulp could be heard. “Along with your wife.” Wide eyes began to narrow, as he leapt down from the chair and wagged a fat finger in Jareth’s face.
“You leave my wife alone. She ain’t never done nothin’ to no one, ‘specially you.”
Though he admired the display, Jareth laughed at the threat presented to him, “Just tell me when you last spoke to the her.”
It was fruitless. Jareth could out threaten Hoggle easily and he wasn’t above misusing anyone to get what he wanted. Even Hoggle’s unusual strength and glamour magic couldn’t compare to what the king was capable of. Even when he had done it so many times before, it still made his insides quiver, “Just this night,” he admitted, betraying his friend once more.
“When this night? What was said between you?” Jareth steamed with a healthy mix of jealousy and anger.
“Moments ago.” Hoggle took his seat once more, not believing he would be excused anytime soon. “As for what was said, it ain’t none of your business. It was all private, bout me and my family.”
In an effort to offend him, Jareth made clear, “I don’t wish to hear any details of your personal life. Bad enough my servant saw fit to inform me that you’ve wed. Let us rest it there. Tell me what of Sarah’s state of affairs? Is she well?”
Arms crossed, Hoggle questioned the intentions of the man who’d never shown the lady’s best interests to be much of his concern, “Whatta you care?”
Perhaps it was the rest he’d been repeatedly denied or a moment of weakness. “I care is all. I keep getting distracted with things that remind me of her and it’s, well it’s annoying.” Realizing Hoggle had now witnessed a side of Jareth he’d intended to remain private, he burst forth in more typical fashion, “Just tell me, is she well?”
Stunned by the revelation, Hoggle offered forth more information. “Her body is well, her heart and mind are a story all their own.” He looked into the king’s mismatched eyes, nearly positive the left one was holding back a tear. One thing was unmistakable; more questions would be asked and perhaps it was best if Hoggle just offer up the information rather than make Jareth dig. “Lady Sarah has forgotten her magic, your majesty. No longer does she believe in the power of wishes. Only by accident did she call upon yours truly.” Even if it was an accident, Hoggle still held great pride in the fact that he’d been chosen to be called upon. “Sarah had come to think we were all just imaginary childhood friends.”
The Goblin King’s face was full of sadness. Although he had come to terms with the idea that Sarah was not able to return his love, to be thought of as imaginary, to have himself swept from her consciousness was unbearable. Part of him cursed her for being ungrateful. Another part envied the fact that she could so easily rid him from her memory as he had tried so many times to do with her. “And your presence in her world, was this enough to convince her that what she lived through here was real?”
It was as though he needed the answer to be yes. “I can only hope. When I left she was asleep. Poor thing was exhausted. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow thinking it was a dream, but I hope not.”
For the first time in all the hundreds of years they’d shared the kingdom, Jareth and Hoggle agreed. “Her heart,” Jareth said weakly, returning to drape himself across his leather high back chair. “You said something was wrong with her heart.”
“The lady Sarah’s heart is broken I thinks. It seems to me as though she’s lonely, yer majesty. When I found her she was on her couch and she seemed as though she hadn’t poured her heart out in awhile.” Hoggle confessed.
There was a change in the Goblin King’s tone that made the temperature of the room seem to drop twenty degrees. “Where was Christian?”
“Who?”
Jareth’s hands spread flat as they slammed down onto the blotter covering the desk. “Hogger! I have been more than tolerant when it comes to your acts of stupidity. It would be quite unwise for you to play stupid with me now,” he hissed.
“I ain’t playing. I didn’t sees anyone at the apartment with Sarah and she ain’t said nothin’ ta me ‘bout no one named Christian,” Hoggle swore.
Instantly a crystal began to spin on Jareth’s palm. He again concentrated on Sarah. She appeared curled beneath the blanket on the couch. No man in sight. “Christian,” he repeated. The vision in the crystal remained unchanged.
“Ask if she’s involved with anyone,” Hoggle offered.
“It’s not a magic 8 ball you idiot. It should be focusing on him when I concentrate on him.” Jareth spat back. “Quickly, what is your wife’s name.”
“Drema”
The Goblin King repeated the name in his mind until a clear picture of a goblin woman appeared inside the crystal. “Is this your wife?” Hoggle nodded. “Damn!” Jareth shouted swatting the crystal to the ground where it shattered. “Someone’s been tampering with my magic.” He stewed for a while in an attempt to ascertain who. “Her. She’s using her magic to protect him.”
“I hardly think,” Hoggle began.
“That is entirely besides the point.” Jareth interjected.
“I hardly think,” Hoggle repeated more determined. “Sarah couldn’t have mustered a simple glamour when I saw her, let alone cast a protection spell.”
“Leave me Haggle.” Jareth commanded as a glow overtook his eyes. “I’ve a christening to prepare for.”
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