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Shattered	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 7713 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Based upon the work of Jim Henson; specifically Labyrinth, copyright 1986 by Jim Henson & associated parties. I do not own or have legal rights to Labyrinth, etc., or make any profit from them. *Individual disclaimers for other works in

Chapter List
- 32
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- 34
In the pavilion belonging to Sir Didymus, Sarah stared at her armour and weapons, all gleaming from the care she had not given to them.
"Didymus-" she began, then stopped. Her heart was in her voice, her eyes. "I mean, Sir Alphonse-"
Didymus shook his head, gently shushing her. "I will tell you all, Sir Sarah," he said softly. "Though I must tell thee first that it was I who had duty as executor this day."
Sarah blinked, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she replied, her voice thick, her understanding of the scattered events she had been through these past several months suddenly congealing into a cohesive whole. "Duty has no sweethearts. I know thou didst as was required, and I cannot-do not-fault thee for it.
Sir Didymus lowered his head, tears standing in his eye. "I thank thee, Sir Sarah." He smiled. "Once did I call the my lady, now I do call thee sister-in-arms." He hesitated, his face hopeful. "I hope, Sarah, that I may again call thee friend?"
Sarah reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. Her desire to hug him to her and cover his face with kisses and weep for sheer joy was not dignified enough for this gentle knight. She saw him clearly now, an honoured and respected knight with the lands and duties of a true kingsman, not the impetuous, foolhardy knight errant. He was nothing as he had seemed, oh, so long ago. She spoke, her voice thick with emotion.
"Sir Didymus, once I did call thee my champion, now my brother-in-arms. May I call thee friend, as thou dost call me?"
Pride and pure joy radiated from the one good eye, his very countenance shining with all of the emotions he could not give free reign. It was not part of the Code to give in to excessive display, but then, when so much joy, pride, and love was vibrating in the air, display was not needed. They stood, hand in hand for a long moment, then Didymus spoke.
"I am sure you have questions, Sarah," he said, his wide, foxlike mouth smiling.
"About a thousand," she said with a laugh, "or perhaps only two or three. I'm not entirely certain the number." She shivered with the feeling of Jareth's authority, the questions bubbling in her mind about him, but unable to form a coherent interrogative sentence. How long, how, was he always, did the power…so many starts, all coming to incoherent ends.
"Ask, my friend, and I shall answer." He looked at her armour. "Very nice. From Tolliver, I surmise."
"His son Oliver, actually. Why did you say you were Sir Didymus if your name is Alphonse?" she asked. It was the first question that came to her, complete and coherent.
"Ah," he chuckled. "I am the eldest of this line-your line now-and as such I am called only by the name of the line, not my proper name. For a very long time, I was Sir Alphonse of the Line of Didymus, which is a very long title indeed."
Sarah laughed. "Polite conversation can be cumbersome," she agreed.
"Ah, but without the courtesies, where are we?" he returned. His eye shone with wisdom acquired through many, many years.
"I know it isn't polite, but…" she bit her lip, not wanting to offend.
"How old am I?" Another chuckle. "I am now in my 1,800th year exactly." He leaned toward her conspiratorially. "And I will tell you that I quested as a new knight with one Jareth of the Line of Carnelian. I will also say," he said, grinning widely, "the boy hasn't changed one bit since I was knighted 1,783 years ago, not some three weeks past by the seasons."
Sarah burst out laughing. "I believe you!" She looked over her arms and armour. "Who did this?"
"My servants," he said, nodding to the smaller tents outside his own. "My lady did oversee the removal of your things from the petitioner's wing immediately following luncheon. She did set our servants to shining everything, just in case you did pass this last test."
"So this was wall eighteen?" she asked, shaking her head. "Well, I will definitely say it wasn't a piece of cake."
"And yet you behaved as though it were, therein proving thy worth as a knight." Didymus looked at her, proud as a father. He was surprised when her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"The air is sweet," she murmured. She closed her eyes, knowing the manner of speech she was falling into so easily was pure Didymus, and her heart ached. "Oh, Sir Didymus, I did wrong thee when first I was here!" She sat heavily on the low bed. The old fox-terrier knight sat beside her.
"How now?" he asked, placing one hand over hers. "What is this?"
"When last I was here, I thought…" she couldn't say it. She was too deeply ashamed of herself and her youthful fantasy. He waited, and, when she was quiet too long, spoke for her.
"Ah, thou thought me addled," he smiled, patting her shoulder. "As was supposed to be." He chuckled softly, remembering his antics of nearly four years past, then continued. "Sarah, youngest of my line, I assure thee, no wrong was done by thy hand or thy heart. All was as had to be, and I cannot tell thee more. For thy answers, ask of our King."
Sarah nodded, forcing her tears back. She bit her lip, looking over the armour. "I…guess I'm out of questions for the moment. I understand I'm supposed to put all this on," she sighed, thinking of how much it would hurt her back.
"Thinkest thou of thy back?" Didymus asked slyly. He knew that look. He didn't mean to tease her much, but he didn't want her to worry, either.
"If I answer aye, does that violate some knightly virtue?" she sighed. It probably did.
"Nay, for thy back was healed at thy dubbing." At Sarah's look of astonishment, Didymus shrugged. "None living know how or why, but no knight, when dubbed by the King's hand, is in less than perfect health. Thy Welcoming would be less than a joyous occasion shouldst thou be in agony in thy armour. There are some small ceremonies to attend before the feasting, and to faint from chafing wounds would be unseemly."
Sarah gave a wry laugh and nodded. "And I suppose the festivities begin soon?" she asked.
"In three hours. Thou hast time to sit with an old friend and speak of thy time here and in thy former home." Didymus sat beside her on the small bed, just the right size for a fox-terrier knight and his lady, and they talked for a while of old times and old friends. She told him of her time in the labyrinth and before, adding in some small tales of her training from Redok, at which a mysterious smile crept over Didymus' open face. There was a little gleam in his eyes that made her wonder what was between the two knights.
With a little over an hour to go, Sarah began to prepare for the feast. Didymus's servants offered her a curtained off section to bathe and dress in the padded garments that served to protect her skin from the abrasion of the armour. With Sir Didymus's gentle, adept assistance, she dressed in her simple chain-and-scale shirt, her greaves and gauntlets. Finally, she belted on her sword, put her daggers in their places, lifted her shield, and tucked her simple helmet under her arm. With her hair in a braided crown, a convenient way to move it out of the way and to give a little extra padding to the helmet, she looked nowhere near as nervous as she felt.
Sir Didymus, wearing his lightest inlaid armour, his shield, helm, and sword hanging on the saddle of his no-longer-cowering noble steed, Ambrosius, nodded in approval and mounted.
"The privilege of age, my dear," he said to her conspiratorially. "My legs are, alas, not as they once were."
Sarah nodded, knowing that for him to say such meant he was in very bad shape overall.
"This night, though, you shall meet my lovely bride, and two of my sons. My daughters are not attending this night, for they are with their husbands." He was still glowing with pride and nobility. "My youngest son is questing just now, and could not come."
Sarah replied politely, honestly, with hopes that she would soon meet all of those he named. She did not wonder that the man had a family, or that they would be as knightly and courtly as he. Instead, she wondered only when she would have the good fortune to meet them while they were with Didymus. Her mind spun pictures of the gentle knight surrounded by his family and giving them stern, but loving, admonishments, should they require them. Of course, she knew they would not.
Within a few minutes, they were at the entrance to the hall again. Didymus had warned her that the entire court would be waiting inside, ready to greet her and party after a few minor things had been taken care of. He did not explain what those minor things might be, any more than he had enlightened her about the ceremonies in which she would perforce partake.
The great doors swung open slowly, showing a great hall shining with light and steel and brightly coloured fabrics. In his throne, Jareth sat, resplendent in breastplate and greaves, helm to one side, the amulet he wore shining against the silver of the steel inlaid with gold and copper. To his left and below him sat Lord Ukodus, also wearing armour. To his right and beside her husband, sat Lady Phillya, wearing a light leather bodysuit, a form of armour of which high-level magicians were fond, and over that sleeveless, heavy brocade robes that left her arms bare and free to move. She too, wore a sword, though it was lighter in form and used more as a focus or wand than a blade. She found it strange that Lady Phillya's robes matched Jareth's coat of arms, not Lord Ukodus's.
Sarah, with Didymus beside her, walked the length of the hall, knights on either side drawing swords and lifting them in salute, consorts and courtiers bowing or curtsying, as the case may be. Sarah reached the foot of the dais and stood for a long moment. Then, when Didymus dismounted, she drew her sword and knelt, not because she was certain this was what she should do, but because it felt right. She put her helm on the floor beside her and, placing the point of her sword on the ground and her gauntleted hands upon the bare blade, bowed her head.
It was time for her formal presentation.
"Sire, I do present to thee Sir Sarah Joy, Knight of the Line of Didymus. With thy permission, I would her shield reflect her place in my line." Sir Didymus' voice rang through the hall.
"Then I shall put to her the question: Sarah Joy, Knight of the Line of Didymus, art thou satisfied with thy place in mine kingdom?" Jareth's voice rolled out into the room, making all present shiver with the power. The longer he was at court, the stronger his effect became.
"With respect and honour to Sir Didymus, eldest of my line, no, Sire, I am not." Sarah spoke easily now, and her own strength was reflected in her voice. Her magic, long attuned to Jareth's put weight behind her words.
"What wouldst thou, then?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"Would I were thy Queen, Sire, as have I said twice before." She made it clear with that last part that this wasn't a sudden change of heart or a new grasping. It was her original intention all along.
"Then, Sir Didymus, I do give thee permission to mark the bar sinister, with the crest and colours of thy line beneath."
"As thou hast said, so shall it be," Didymus said, bowing. He lifted his shield from Ambrosius' saddle, then, turning to Sarah, murmured. "Lift thy shield to me." When she did, Didymus touched the face of his shield to hers and spoke in the seventh language of magic. She caught one or two words, but the rest was lost. When he moved his shield, there was a clean bar sinister, a left-handed slant across the shield, and under that, a red fox curved around a downward pointed sword, wise green eyes and sly face resplendent upon the brilliant blue background.
"As true as thou art, Sir Sarah, so shall these colours remain." It was a warning that her shield would reflect the colours of her heart, the truth of her knightly virtues and advertise them to all who saw it. As a way of keeping one's knights in line, it was effective. No glamour or spell could change the vibrancy, no paint could cover it.
Sir Didymus then presented her with a cup of potent brandywine that had been left waiting on the step for them. The wine was the spirits of a particular honey-wine, his favourite from his own estates. The plain wine was one of his best trading items, too. The king actually paid very well for the casks he received in his castle, and tonight the honey-wine would be imbibed throughout the feast. Didymus was glad he had plenty laid by for his own manor, and a few dozen casks of more potent brandywine, too. He did enjoy his brandywine at a Court feast! He had not stopped to think about the effect of the beverage on Sarah, who was not used to strong spirits, especially when they were magically enhanced.
"Drink, Sir Sarah, of the cup of our line, that thou mayest learn of our traditions and the rich history of our line unimpeded." He paused and she took the cup from him. She sipped once from the cup and returned it to him. Her magic responded to the drink, absorbing something from the man before her and the shield he held. It was a powerful magic that seeped into her. Her magic lapped at the wine greedily. It was an effort of but a moment to tame it.
"Drink, Sir Sarah, that thou be'st known to all of our line as one of us, no matter the fog of war and enchantment surrounding." She drank again, and she felt a web of connexions throughout the room. She could literally feel the rest of those in the Line of Didymus, be they knights or mages or simply those sworn to serve the House of Didymus. Her magic bloomed, and the brandy slipped a little deeper into her body. Her mind grew just a bit fuzzy from the liquor and the magic.
"Drink, Sir Sarah, that thou mayest seal thy place within this line and these halls." She drank one last time and felt the room open to her. She marvelled, eyes closed, that it had ever been otherwise. This hall now felt like home to her, a place she would always be welcomed, where she could always find respite and solace. She knew that even if she failed to become Queen, these halls would forever bring peace and contentment to her. She was basking in the warmth and power and welcome pouring into her. She was flying on the magical high, the potent brandywine buzzing through her veins. She hadn't eaten much lunch, nor had she snacked while reminiscing with Didymus. The honey-smooth drink packed a powerful punch.
Sir Didymus turned and bowed to Jareth. "Sire, I give thee thy knight, youngest of my line, and thy Runner."
Didymus then mounted Ambrosious, lifted shield and cup, and returned to his place in the hall. The Line of Didymus had a place near the front of the hall, one of the oldest and most prestigious names in the kingdom, so it wasn't far. Sarah waited patiently, tipsy from the little ceremony and letting her magic assimilate all of the line of Didymus that could be magically learned. She had a new language of magic, specific to her line now. And she felt the magic of each of the line, knowing which would be most complimentary to her own. And, wow, the king was in the mix, too, since Didymus was sworn to Jareth. Talk about complimentary powers! Personal affinities for Fire and Water, grounded by mutually powerful Earth and Air? They were…perfect together.
"Rise and come to Us, Sir Sarah." Jareth's voice created an urge to do as he said. It was the new magic of her oath as Knight of the Realm, the power of him filling the hall and the air, the rawness of the magic around her that moved her so quickly. She was floating on enchantment, giddy from the web of connexions to her line and the feeling of home radiating from the walls.
Sarah rose, sheathed her sword, lifted her helm and, shield in place, lightly ascended the steps. She didn't see the lord and lady share a smile as she passed, knowing what she was feeling. They understood the high of the magic. Just as Sarah could feel the halls now, her line, so could they feel her. This was the reason a Welcoming was always so intoxicating, and tended to get a bit out of hand, given that these were generally well-disciplined and self-contained knights.
Once before Jareth on the dais, she knelt again. She didn't see the cup by his side or the smile on his face. She was almost blind to everything around her, her eyes drinking him in like a thirsty beggar does water. Eagerness to do whatever he commanded swam through her. She knew it wasn't all her own emotion, her own idea, but the magic, the welcome, the web that surrounded her-all of it was pushing harder and harder toward the one man who held her loyalties twice over-as citizen and as knight. She wasn't in the mood to fight her own inclinations, however under-the-influence they may be. She had missed Jareth.
Jareth smiled. He remembered the feeling, even though it had been nearly 1800 years ago that he was knighted. The giddiness always returned to him, if only for a moment, when he arrived in these halls. He could feel the Carnelian line, strong and vibrant, and they could feel him. It was a unique feeling of family and connexion and a greater good. It was the same feeling he had gotten when with Tanaka, for Tanaka was his brother-in-arms and knight of the same line. The other lines pulsed to him, too, but weaker. He held their loyalty, but he was not one of their numbers.
"Rise, Sir Sarah," he said, standing. He lifted the cup beside him, pleased that she did stand so quickly. She was standing so close to him that their armour brushed lightly together. She was so high on the magic that he felt almost guilty for adding to it. Almost.
"Drink, and confirm thy desire to be my Queen." His voice was soft, for he was speaking only to her. The rest of the room could clearly hear, the magic amplifying his words.
Sixteen times had he done this, and sixteen times had they failed. Not all sixteen had become knights of the realm, though they had managed to pass the walls of the Central Lands. The knightly virtues had to be already within the runner for that to happen. He hoped that Sarah would be different. Taking a sip from the cup, he turned to her. She looked at him blankly, expecting the cup to be given to her. He pursed his lips lightly and she got the hint. Even intoxicated, she recognized the signal for a kiss. Sarah kissed her king, receiving the bit of wine from his lips. It tasted of him.
"Drink, and prove this desire is thine alone." Again, he sipped. Again she kissed him. The wine tasted of him and his magic now. One more drink and she would probably pass out, or at least that was what he thought might happen.
"Drink, and show thy reasons for thy run," he whispered. It didn't matter that he had whispered to her, intimate as a lover, for his voice carried through the silent room.
Again Sarah kissed him. Instead of the quick, almost businesslike kisses of the first two given sips, she kissed him until she was breathless. She had also jumped the gun-he hadn't taken a sip from his cup yet. The way she was kissing him, it didn't matter. Jareth felt her melting into him her magic, drunk as it was, leaning into his, even through the steel and enchantment of armour. Taking a small pause in the kiss, he sipped quickly and lips found lips again, letting her drink the wine. Her kiss of love and desire lasted far longer than was proper. The kiss went on and on, until grins throughout the room turned into coughs and stifled giggles. The wine did the trick.
Dazed, Sarah finally let the kiss end. Jareth took a slow breath and looked down at her. He was not unaffected by the wine and the kiss, and his eyes were a bit dazzled by the strength of emotion she had shown. Her magic was also much stronger, and it pressed and purred against his shamelessly. The moment their eyes met, Jareth saw her eyes were now firmly separating colours, blue and green, and had just enough time to brace before she fainted.
The crowd roared its approval. It was clear that they liked this runner, their new sister-in-arms, more than those of the past. Jareth hoped that was some sort of sign. As it was, he juggled Sarah in his arms, the cup in his hand making her difficult to hold. He handed the cup to Lady Phillya, who had come up to help him with Sarah, while Lord Ukodus just watched and grinned.
Jareth laughed, delighted in her responses to him, even through the ceremony and charged atmosphere. Cup out of his hands, Sarah firmly in them, he turned his attention to the matter at hand-opening the festival. But first, he had to get back in place.
Gently, he settled into his throne, holding Sarah next to him. The impishness that he was well-known for gripped him and he turned sideways in his throne, lying indolently across the curved stone, his legs over one arm and his shoulders braced against the other side. He held Sarah to him in the curve of his body, her cheek lying on his shoulder. Not a comfortable pose in armour, he remedied that, too. With a wave of his hand changing into his usual wild coat and breeches. Where the king led, the people followed, and the rest of the crowd used magic to change into their party clothes with varying degrees of difficulty. Turning his attention to Sarah, he glanced down at Didymus' lady. She nodded up at him, her own formal gown changed for a lighter party dress. She sent him a message on the air, telling him where the change was and where to place the armour and underarmour the unconscious girl wore. Jareth carefully sent Sarah's armour to Didymus's tent, and materialized the gown of brilliant royal blue with fox-red, bright-silver, and emerald-green accents in its place. Her daggers, of course, remained with her, properly in boots and wide red and silver belt.
Sarah woke leaning on Jareth's chest, her legs slanted and barely touching the ground. She looked around and remembered the last kiss and looking into Jareth's eyes. After that was a big blank spot which meant…she groaned.
"I fainted, didn't I?" she asked softly. She was blushing.
"You did," Jareth replied, "and no one holds it against you. In fact, they cheered."
"Because they've all been drinking?" she asked, hopefully.
"No," he smiled at her and kissed her lips. "Because you kissed me for so long, it was practically sex on the dais." She recognized the look on his face that said he wouldn't have minded that, either.
Sarah groaned again, then giggled. "It's your fault, you know."
"Lovely," he replied, voice dry. "And why is that?"
"Because you're so damned attractive and I love you." Her declaration was accompanied by her hand cupping his cheek. She felt his smile against her hand. She leaned in and kissed him again, her hand wandering lazily down his chest until he caught it and smiled against her lips, breaking the kiss.
"And you, my dear, need to eat something before you give the company more of a show than you intend." At her slow, unintimidated smile, Jareth groaned. "Monsters. I create monsters."
Sarah laughed, and, sitting almost on the lap of her liege, lord, and king, watched the bouts of skill with weapons and magic below them.
"Do I have to participate?" she asked, a bit nervous.
"No," he laughed. "No one wants the new knight to be embarrassed, and, if your swoon was any indication, the magic still has you high as your proverbial kite."
"Mm. It does." She sighed, still more than a bit buzzed, but now able to think. "Jareth, why did Didymus act so…"
"Silly the last time you were here?" he finished, not at all surprised that she had thought to ask the question. "To answer that, I must go back to the rules of the runners. You see, there are rules for the runners who are after getting back the children they've wished away, Sarah, even though I can play with the runners, make them sweat and nervous, I cannot deny them the full chance to run, or the chance to win over three champions as they work toward the goblin city.
"You," he tapped her nose with a finger and grinned when she bit at him, "were young, stuffed with fairy tales and that damned book," his voice was a bit surly at the mention of her little red book, but smoothed out with his next words. "Your three champions, the three that, should you win them to your side, would assist you through the labyrinth, were based upon those tales. Hoggle is one of my gardeners, but he doesn't hate me as much as he pretended, and he's not nearly that cowardly. You'll have to see him in his element. Ludo, alas, is just as sweet and loving as he was then with you, but he's not quite so simple. He shows promise, given his age. He's still quite young, so allowances must be made. And Didymus," Jareth smiled softly, "was doing a favour for an old friend and receiving a reprieve at the same time. When you ended up heading to the Bog, I jumped ahead and gave him a way to get out of bridge duty. He could be the slightly addled, aging knight errant, or he could continue with the bridge every year until his hundred years were up."
"But why-" She didn't even get a good start.
"This is a long story, Sarah, but I will give you the short version." He moved a bit and Sarah turned to face him a bit better. She was still very drunk, but she was also curious. In short, she was charming him all over again. "In the last small skirmish I had reason to attend, though I did not actually fight in this one, Sir Didymus was seduced by an enchantress. He forgot his wife and family, his oath to me, and," Jareth took a slow, pained breath, closed his eyes, "lost most of his magic." He opened his eyes again and put one finger over her parting lips. "Shush. It can be done, but please, do not ask how. I would not hurt him with relating the particulars, and, should you become Queen, you will learn of it." Sarah closed her mouth, gave the finger over her lips a little lick, and nodded, but did not interrupt. "He gave secrets to the enchantress as he lost his magic to her. She was, of course, a spy for the enemy, and when she had gotten those from him she lost control of him. He fought her then, weak as he was, and she tried to blind him so that he could not find his way back to us. She managed to get one eye, but he wounded her badly-she later died from complications from the wound-and, riding the sorceress's own direwolf, escaped, being the quarry of a long, heated chase back to my encampment. Once he arrived, he refused the healers, came to me and confessed all.
"I offered him a pardon, for I've known him almost all of my life, and he would never do any such treason willingly. He refused, but was so wounded that I could not order a quick punishment for him. I told him to have his wounds tended, that we would discuss this once the matter at hand was finished. He, understanding the gravity of the battle, did as told and I finished directing the battle." He sighed.
"I won't lie to you, Sarah, the secrets that he told have cost us dearly in the past century, but the cost to him was far greater. He was not young, but his magic was still strong and vital, so was he. When he escaped the woman, his magic was shattered, and so was his health. The chase without access to his magic, without the greater part of his power was a terrible trial to him. It is truly a wonder he survived at all. Despite your younger opinion, Didymus is the epitome of a knight. Because I knew all of this, I knew he could not and would not accept the pardon I offered, even if I commanded him to do so. He would obey, but would forever be searching for a way to atone for his misdeeds, which would be the death of him. On the other hand, I could not bear to punish him harshly for falling victim to power greater than his own.
"In the end, I sent him to guard that damned bridge in the Bog of Eternal Stench for thirteen days every year for one hundred fifty years. You happened to be running while he was on duty, and so I offered him respite from the rest of the sentence if he fulfilled the somewhat embarrassing role you needed fulfilled-that of the knight errant with no sense whatsoever." He waited while Sarah mulled that over. It was time for a question, and he knew she would supply one for him. He didn't expect what she asked.
"Jareth, when we were walking through the forest, he said his nose was keen-but he's not a true canine, is he?" The idea of a dog or anything with a sensitive nose in the Bog disturbed her.
"His nose is very keen, Sarah," Jareth said quietly. "And he is truly a knight of the Code."
Sarah's eyes closed. "The air is sweet," she whispered, tears slipping from her eyes.
"Yes," Jareth replied, sorrow reflected in his own eyes. He had been trapped by his own duty as King and the unswerving nobility of the knight in question. It had been a painful time for dear little knight in the Bog, but it did not bring true harm to him and preserved his honour and health at the same time. In short, it was sufficient that Didymus did not try to kill himself atoning for being mortal, and thus imperfect.
"He could not live without attempting to reconcile his wrongs to you, and yet he would endure without complaint…" Sarah opened her eyes and looked up into Jareth's eyes. "He also would not disappoint me, so he still he appeared as the knight errant to me, when I called upon my…champions to visit."
"After he knew you, knew you were willing to face me alone when you were terrified of me, all for the sake of doing what was right and good, he did not see the persona as a part of his punishment. I think he rather enjoyed it. He got to act the silly pup again." Jareth chuckled. "The tales I could tell of his early years questing."
"He said the same of you, though not in so many words," she replied, smiling. Jareth brushed the tears from her cheeks.
"He wouldn't," Jareth said.
"No," she agreed, "he wouldn't." When her brow furrowed in thought again, Jareth laughed.
"I know what you're going to ask now. Watch the magicians, and I'll tell you." Sarah directed her attention to the magicians battling in the hall, a form of magical jousting carefully shielded by Lord and Lady. "Some years ago-"
"One thousand seven hundred eighty-three years," Sarah said, grinning.
"No, some dozen years before that, actually," Jareth tapped her nose. "Now, hush. As I was saying, some years ago, my mother, Queen Janna, was out with her youngest son-that would be me-and her son had run off in search of something interesting for her, the usual little things sons find for mothers-most likely something slimy that would make her squeal and tell me to put it back. I was nearly 200 at the time, but some games are just too much fun to give up. Well, while her son was gone, something odd happened. A large predator, one you've not heard of and that no longer exists here, came out of the woods and rushed her. Normally, the King and Queen are recognized by all beasts, no matter how dangerous, and are left alone. This time, though, the beast was mad and could not sense the Queen's power.
"In the same woods, a hunter-Well done!" Jareth interrupted his tale to compliment the victor of the magical skirmish. Other cheers echoed around the hall. The victor and loser clasped hands, then went to drink one another's health. "A hunter with a little fox terrier was in search of game. This hunter had trained and treated the little dog so well, that, when the Queen screamed and was fighting for her life, he commanded the dog to run ahead and guard. The little dog did. His name was Alpie, and little Alpie not only guarded the Queen, it managed to harass the beast and get it to turn its attention from the Queen to itself. The little dog guarded, loyal to his master even unto death, and the beast nearly did kill him. In the end, the Queen's son returned about the same time the hunter arrived. Together, the three fought and killed the monster, but little Alpie was a broken pup, bleeding and slowly dying from his wounds, and yet still whimpering and scratching at the ground to keep guarding as his master bid.
"Queen Janna, drawing on powers seldom used by the Kings and Queens of the realm, did gift the dog who had saved her life without regard of his own two things: The gift of magic, and the gift of intelligence. In doing so, she created a halfling race, half humanoid, half fox-terrier. She told the hunter that, if the little dog survived the next three days, he would heal, grow, and become human in understanding and magic, if not in form. The hunter thanked the Queen for her kindness and cradled the little pup in his own cloak. He was very upset, for he couldn't see how to save Alpie, the dog he had come to love so well.
"It was then that the Queen's son, also moved by the little dog's loyalty and love for his master, gave his own gift to the dog. He worked a healing over the little dog, patching him up so well that it wouldn't take long for him to heal the rest of the way on his own.
"Now, I'm not a healer, Sarah, and for me to work a healing that is strong enough to save anyone or anything that is mortally wounded is, well, you'd call it a bit of a miracle. I was inspired, though. I've not managed a healing like that since. The strain was intense, but I didn't mind at all. He had saved my mother, after all, and I did love her dearly." Jareth paused, thinking of his gentle mother, a princess from outkingdom who had managed to survive the Tests and, though she was never whole afterward, became Queen.
"To continue the tale, Alpie survived the next three days, and, over the course of a few years, grew much as the hunter's own children did. Later, that hunter would take the trials and become a knight himself, but not until after Alpie had become Sir Alphonse.
"You see, the little fox-terrier halfling had become so human, yet had retained so much of his good heart and nobility, that his master let him go only a few years after he had grown strong enough and become knowledgeable enough in the way of magic and arms to make a fair go of the trials." Jareth smiled. "We were knighted the same year."
"But you took different lines," Sarah added, it was almost a question, but also an observation.
"Yes. The reason is simple: The original Sir Didymus was the first halfling who became knight. He was a half-goblin, half-elf. All others were true races, be they elf or human or whatnot. You'll enjoy the story of the first Didymus, the one that gave the line his name. As a halfling with such a stirring history, the Line of Didymus claimed Sir Alphonse with a promise of violence should any other attempt to do so. I, however, went to the line of Carnelian, which was the line I was most fitted for, temperamentally." Jareth grinned at Sarah. "You fit with the Line of Didymus more than anyone could believe, my dear lady." he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, eyes dancing with mirth.
"Thank you," Sarah replied. "And if I knew anything about Carnelian other than it's a pretty stone, I'm sure I'd repay the compliment to you." She was settling a bit, now that she had been in his arms for a while. The buzz of the magic had muted some, letting the rest of the evening come clearer to her.
Jareth laughed, pulled her down, and kissed her again. "You'll learn," he promised, resting his forehead against hers. The moment lasted a bit, then faded. More than one courtier looked at them and smiled. A pretty picture they made, curled together in the massive stone throne. "Now, we must watch the bouts, my dear."
Sarah smiled, then turned to watch the knights now fighting with swords. Redok was sparring with someone she didn't know. "What was the hunter's name?" she finally asked, watching the spin and play of the blades, not processing anything of the bout other than the pretty flash of light on steel and sparks where the blades met.
"His name?" Jareth teased. "Why, it was Redok."
Sarah's head whipped around. The smile she saw on Jareth's face was enigmatic.
"What a tangled web," she murmured, still gazing into his eyes.
His smile didn't change, and he didn't respond.
Shortly after the sparring bout was over, Redok winning, the feast was laid before the courtiers. This time, the magic was applauded and appreciated, as were the efforts of the servants who had prepared the feast while the courtiers were celebrating and focusing on court duties. The servants, then, were the ones who received first plates from the dishes. A feast in the Court of Knights was enjoyed by all. Though the servants retired to the walls to sit on benches and eat there, they had the finest of the food they had prepared and served. They were also given little gifts by the courtiers at the end of the feast, appreciations for their efforts. The system assured the court of two things, one, the servants would truly work for the feast, and two, that they would not be upset when the feasts and festivals did come round.
Jareth sat up and escorted Sarah down to eat with her line. She was given pride of place as the newest of the line, between Didymus and his wife, the Lady Rhia. Knowing she was still mostly drunk, Jareth was not about to let her take the steps on her own in her long gown with unsteady legs. He grinned wickedly at her before giving her another sound kiss, at the table for the Line of Didymus, then surrendered her to Sir Didymus with a courtly flourish. The little knight was doing his best to look disapproving. The pleasure on his face, however, belied the stern set of his eyebrows. In response, Jareth gave his old friend a wicked grin and a little bow before returning to his throne.
Much as he wanted to join his line, as lord and lady had done, he could not. Not until he had his Queen. It was a lonely dinner, but one he endured in the hopes that soon he could join the revelry of the joined lines of Didymus and Carnelian, for the tables would be joined as King and Queen were joined.
Sarah enjoyed a long talk with Lady Rhia over dinner, discussion focusing on her life with Didymus as his wife and mother to their several mischievous children. During their chat, Sarah learned that Didymus had, some seven hundred years ago, saved Rhia's life and stolen her heart. She had been of the race of kings when he had rescued her, daughter to a line rich in magic, but, when she fell in love with him, she changed to match his halfling form. She was not his first wife, nor he her first husband, nor were their children the first they had reared, earlier marriages being rich in love and children, too. Sarah learned that Lady Rhia was not a knight, but she was magically powerful, and so she had lived and loved him for seven centuries. He, in return, adored her. She met many others of her line, if not all of those present. The magic of the line focused each face and fixed it with a name, so no matter where they met, or how, they would know each other. She felt wanted, comfortable, and happy among the varied and many-raced line named for Didymus. When Jareth came to claim her hand, she had to leave the warm comfort of those of her line, and she was almost sad for it.
After the feast, Sarah felt well enough and stable enough to go visit and meet her fellow knights. To signal the beginning of the real party the King left the dais and claimed his runner's hand, joining the revellers in the talking and mingling that always was left until after dinner.
On the King's arm, she was introduced to the eldest of each line, and met many other people. Not all were human-shaped, but all were simply people to her now. The goblin knights, so different from the little, stunted children she had met at the Goblin City, were intelligent and courteous. She didn't understand what Jareth said to them in Goblinish, but she did understand the very male smiles they exchanged. So did the goblin's lady, who promptly narrowed her eyes at her husband and sniffed. Jareth chuckled as the man immediately turned and attempted to placate his wife. Shortly after the mingling and meeting and general chatting, the music changed and Jareth led Sarah out on the floor to open the dancing.
A familiar tune began to play. Jareth sang softly to her, and Sarah whirled in his arms, memories and hope spinning between them on their path between the stars.
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