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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
- 33
- 34
- 35
When the morning came, Sarah found herself along in the King's Chambers. She felt the magical high of the night before had conspired with the wine she consumed to give her one hell of a hangover. Groaning, she stumbled into the bathing chamber and drew a hot bath. She vaguely remembered seeing a tray beside the bed, and wove her way into the bedroom again.
Sure enough, on the stand beside the bed was a breakfast tray of mild, nutritious breads and fruits. There was also some gingered yogurt to help her tender stomach and the life-giver, coffee. She lifted the tray and carried it into the bath chamber with her, fully intending to indulge her aching head and well-used body…wait. She wasn't sore at all. In fact, she felt…celibate. She had spent the night with Jareth and they hadn't had sex? It was…strange. The tray was suddenly a source of fascination.
She saw a folded piece of thick paper under the mug, so she lifted it and read:
Sarah,
I apologize for leaving you alone this morning, but I was called back to the castle shortly after we went up to bed. You were more than ready for sleep, so I took my leave after you so charmingly collapsed on the bed. Had we but time, and you the energy, I would have helped you rid yourself of the headache I know you have.
To that end, though I can't be there to assist you, the coffee is a special brew Marta came up with for mornings like this. She has a terrible tendency to party when she's not on duty, so it was in her interest to do so. I keep a fair amount on hand, since it's also good for stress-induced headaches.
You begin the next leg of your journey today, my love. Keep thou well, and listen carefully to the old man in the road.
Choose wisely.
J.
Sarah smiled as she read the letter. The bath finished drawing and so she turned off the water, slipped into the tub and placed a float-charm on the tray before putting it on the water before her. Between the hot bath and the coffee, she was able to lose enough of her headache to eat. The gingered yogurt went down first and settled her stomach. She was suddenly ravenous.
Flashes of the night before came to her. She had danced almost every dance, talked and laughed and indulged in the night among friends. She had also learned that Seff, the werewolf, and Lord Wassail were all in on the last trial-the werewolf was actually Wassail's wife, and Seff was their firstborn son. The sheep that had been claimed as slaughtered had died a few days before from an illness that had struck that particular flock.
Even though she had been whipped, she had also been healed completely, so she couldn't bring herself to be angry about the trickery. Lady Ashcray, the werewolf, applauded her method of distraction. It would, she added, be included on the measures werewolves themselves used to distract the moon-struck among them. A long, fascinating discussion of werewolf etiquette had followed, and Lady Ashcray had been distracted only by her son showing signs of an early first-shifting. She had gone to work a quelling magic, leaving Lord Wassail to compliment Sarah on her actions and quick thinking in the face of potentially violent death.
Giddy as she was, filled with warmth and welcome as she was, Sarah did not hold the trial against him. It was, after all, his job, and she had told him as much. He had invited he to stay at his manor next year during Longest Night ceremonies. For the werewolves who looked to him, now that he had married into a wolfclan, it was a raucous and riotous celebration. Sarah had agreed to join them, whatever rank she then held, and they had separated and mingled and danced with others.
Now, sober and in the light of morning, Sarah let go of her lingering desire to hold a grudge. She had figured out that, had she not placed herself between the boy and the punishment, she would have been dismissed and continued questing until she did intervene in an unjust sentencing. Jareth had told her that much over the course of the evening, intimating that it had taken some years to do as she had done instinctively.
Sarah smiled and finished her breakfast. She would dress, take her leave, and begin her journey anew. Only nine more walls, and she would be with Jareth.
***
In the broken moments, Karen finally gave Jareth what he needed to hear.
"Leave us," he commanded the audience. Leaving Karen as she was, he called the crystal to him. "Have you something to say?"
"I…I was wrong," she managed. "I refused a command." The words grated, even now, but she just couldn't stand any more. Damn, but she hated the man! Well, right now she did.
"Karen," he asked, letting her float to the ground and catching her when her legs couldn't hold her. She shuddered against him and moaned. "How often do I give you a direct command?"
"Almost never," she chattered. Her jaw teeth were chattering and she was trembling all over. She hated him, right? So why was she snuggling into him like he was a life-preserver? Hello? Hours of agonizing need? Humiliation? And she was all cuddly now? And he was holding her gently? What the hell? No. She hated him. But he felt so good. And he was being nice now. He hadn't actually hurt her, not like…others had. She listened to him, wanting to keep hating him, but not able to manage it. She was not cold, but she was shivering. She…wanted. Jareth. But she kinda hated him. Didn't she?
"Twice. Once for your citizenship challenge, and once more when you were overwrought." He lifted her chin and looked into her hot, bright eyes. She flinched from the gentleness he showed her now. "I rarely give you commands because I enjoy your brightness, your fire. When I do command, though, I expect you to obey, if not instantly then in good order." She started to speak and he shushed her. "There are times, and they are coming upon us very quickly now, when a command can be the difference between life and death. Can you understand that?"
"Y-yes," Karen sniffled. Well, maybe it wasn't hate. Maybe just a bit of resentment. He sounded like her mother had, when she got a spanking for trying to jump off the roof of the barn. At least he hadn't spanked her. That would have been beyond humiliating. And she wanted him. Even though she didn't like him much right now.
"You are not required to like it, Karen, just to obey. I promise you," he said, kissing her forehead, "commands will rarely be issued to you." The soft voice was worming deeper into her heart. Her head said she should hate him, but she'd never been very good at listening to what she should do. She snuggled deeper into him, thinking. Finally, she responded to his words.
Karen nodded, then whispered, "Jareth…is it over?"
"That depends upon you, my dear. Is it?" His lips brushed her ear, his hand touched her cheek so gently. He was treating her like she would snap if he dared to be anything but careful.
Karen nodded again, shaking and holding on to him, trying to keep the thought of more of the same at bay. "That was…humiliating, Jareth," she said.
"I know," he sighed. "It was the only punishment I could think of that wouldn't have you hating me or that wouldn't break your spirit. It was embarrassing for you, but you can recover easily from that." He kissed her cheek. "Can't you?" Another kiss, on her forehead, in her hair, gentle, fleeting kisses meant to soothe, not arouse.
"It wasn't just embarrassing," she said, the need still riding her. "And I just might hate you if you don't do something about it." Maybe she was just horny, not hatefilled or resentful. Being too wired for too long was very bad for a woman, after all. Certainly there was some sort of scientific study out there that said something like that. Or was it only in labrats, and she really wanted more than snuggling and little kisses on her face. A lot more. She could be mad at Jareth later. She had more pressing concerns.
Jareth chuckled. "What do you desire, Karen?" he whispered to her.
She told him, bluntly and with great detail. He laughed. He complied. He was generous, after all.
***
Back in his office in real time, Jareth studied the map and noticed the slight changes in alliances in the lands bordering his own. Two western countries had shifted away from the northern alliances, but they were still not exactly allies for him. In fact, they still leaned toward hostility, but not as allies to the northern countries. The southern nations were busy with countries south of them, and were careful to keep relations with the Labyrinthine Realm on a friendly, even keel. The eastern countries with outlets to the sea were not exactly friendly to his realm, but they hadn't become overtly hostile until recent months. The northern countries had long been at odds with his realm, and they had held an expansionist philosophy for some six thousand years. Even now, they were engaged in the hostile takeover of a small country just west of their borders. They had been greedy for these lands for as long as they had been expanding, and some three thousand years ago, a huge section of flatlands were lost to them. He wanted those lands back, and he also wanted the north to keep their attentions in other directions. While Jareth felt for the little country that was being taken over, he couldn't do anything about it. They were more like trading partners, though it involved heavily armed caravans to travel back and forth through unfriendly territory, but there were too many lands between them for him to send support. More selfishly for his own realm, he needed all the time he could get to prepare for what was to come, and one little country that was a distant trading partner was a small sacrifice.
Grea, thanks to Tanaka and Hiroko continued to be firm allies. Their own alliance with the merfolk coming in to play with escorting trading vessels. He looked at the letter from the Magician Danforth, the update about the Grean girl and the merchant-boy. Hiroko would have a fit to hear about this. She didn't understand his realm at all. Tanaka, though, would take it in stride.
So, the young pair were falling in love were they? Jeral and Danishi, bringing the first good news to him in all of his correspondence today. She had decided to be named as his wife, according to the customs of his father's people, and had told him that, for now, it was in name. Should they be suited to one another, and it appeared they were, she would accept him as husband-in-fact. Danforth said that their studies and their affection for one another were proceeding apace. Of the two the girl was stronger, though the boy currently had more skill and more practice. Both would be formidable, and it looked like the girl was becoming one of the rare balanced magicians, with no elemental affinity stronger than any other.
Jareth made a mental note to append that little bit of information to his letter to the King and Queen of Grea and, encapsulating it in a crystal, sent it directly to Tanaka's desk. While he pitied his old friend his Queen's displeasure, he also knew it would drive her to question Tanaka more about the Labyrithine Realm and the practices found here. A little learning, a little expansion of philosophy in exchange for a little temper-tantrum. And none of it that Jareth had to deal with. That was his kind of gift. Tanaka would return the favour, in spades. Hiroko, on the other hand, might try to poison him. It kept things interesting.
Sighing, he turned back to the map. He studied the layout of his realm, the Goblin lands far to the north of the realm, the gentler folk to the south. There was nothing for it. Preparations had to be made. He called Oakheart to him and began dictating a series of letters.
"Call a meeting with my generals," he said. "They are to meet here in the dedicated rooms in no less than a fortnight. Send out notices to the goblin clans, telling them that a formal declaration of war will most likely arrive in less than two seasons. The Grippoldar ceremonies should be adhered to with strict regularity, not the half-assed schedule they're keeping now. Grasch are expected to attend to their arms and armour, regularly. Gana who have not mated and have no children are to do the same. To the ogres and orcs…"
Oakheart scribbled as quickly as the king spoke.
He wanted to weep as he wrote. So it was coming. The elves would harvest the deep forests to build the wagons and war-machines needed for their king.
The sorrow at the death of so many trees ripped at his leafy heart. He ached for his kinsmen, and knew the elflords would bow to this edict, though it would pain them dearly for their insentient children to leave the living too soon.
***
Sarah walked out of Central City, heading north as instructed by Lady Phillya. Didymus had given her the crest of the line to affix to her jerkins and pack, a bright scarlet ribbon from Lady Ashcray decorated the hilt of her sword. The meal and the coffee had done its work. She felt strong and light as her steps took her out of the city and into the wild lands of the northern Inner Lands.
She was slowly working closer and closer to the heart of the labyrinth, and to her place by Jareth.
The day was bright, the air was sweet, and possibilities stretched out before her in an endless, shining path.
She was ready for anything.
***
Now thoroughly contented and relaxed, Karen curled up in Toby's room, watching as he packed to spend the weekend with Robert. She had given the news to Toby this morning after she'd bathed and dressed. She had even called Robert back, saying that Toby could stay the weekend, so long as the nanny also stayed. He had eagerly agreed to that, thanking her for the extended time. She had managed a gracious, if distant, reply and gone to spend the rest of the morning with Toby.
And she didn't hate Jareth. While she would and could hold a grudge until it begged for euthanasia-like the one she still had for that bitch who had played Cassie in A Chorus Line some twelve years before and the way, well, nevermindallthat-she just couldn't bring herself to hold one against Jareth. Maybe the magic was doing the thinking for her, but she wasn't upset now. In fact, she felt pretty damned smug. He did have a way…
She focused on her son, carefully drawing her mind out of the ever-so-nice hours she'd spent with an almost apologetic Jareth in no-time. Toby was running around, picking out everything he wanted to take with him for the weekend, no matter that it was five times more than he'd need for a week. She couldn't help but smile.
She and Nurse both knew the luggage he packed would be repacked every night as he thought of different, better things to take with him. She talked with him, again, about what he could and couldn't say about where he lived. They'd had this conversation several times when Toby had asked about his father and going to visit. She was pretty sure he wouldn't slip up now. Granted, it was the first time Robert had shown any indication that he wanted to see Toby, but a lot of that was probably the way he'd left and the Rex name. Still, she was a bit worried that Toby didn't quite understand everything about the way they were living apart now. She really believed he knew what not to say, though.
Talking about pixies and elves and castles like they were real would not help his father, since Robert didn't believe all of those things were real. Trying to tell him otherwise would just frustrate them both. They talked again about what Toby couldn't say, and he gave her all the right answers.
Nurse knew to cover for him, too, and she had been human-born and reared in the "mundane world" as Karen had learned to refer to her home. Like Sarah, she had wished for something and gotten it. Unlike Sarah, Nurse hadn't wanted to win, or to go home, and had struck a deal to stay here instead of going back to the hell that was her life in Harlem. Karen adored Tatiana, named for the fairy queen in Shakespeare's play. Even though she had had the name of a queen, she'd been treated in ways that made Karen cringe to think about.
Not wanting her sister to have to go through everything she did, Tatiana wished her little sister, Desdemona, away to the "Night-walker King" of the old stories her grandmother had told, and the King had answered. Even better, the King had given her a home, a family that adored her and her sister, and, later, a job keeping his "fair-haired, scrawny ass in line, when he needed it!"-mostly by taking care of the children who stayed after being wished away. She was also married to the castle blacksmith and had several children of her own. Her magic wasn't strong, but it was snoopy. There wasn't a lie the woman couldn't sniff out and Karen dreaded the LOOK, the one she'd get if Tatiana asked where she'd been and Karen didn't 'fess up.
Toby chattered on about how he was excited to see his father. And that's when Toby said something Karen never expected.
"Will he be so mad at me he won't let us go back to visit?" Toby said, his voice suddenly small.
"What?" Karen asked, staring at her son. What was this all about?
"Well, that's why we had to leave, wasn't it? Because I did something wrong?" The question gutted Karen and she sat, stricken for a long moment. Then she got up, flew over to Toby's side, and, picking him up, hugged him tightly.
"Don't you ever say that again!" she said, her voice shaking with pain. Toby thought she was angry, though, and got upset. "You did nothing wrong, do you hear me? Nothing!" She hugged her child, hard, and Tatiana tilted her head to one side, raising her eyebrows in an 'I told you, girl!' when Karen looked at her with wide blue eyes. Tatiana had told her, many times, to make sure he understood that he was not to blame. She thought she had. She'd been wrong. Again.
She started crying, trying to tell Toby it wasn't his fault. Toby cried harder, absolutely certain he was the reason for the divorce. It was becoming very dramatic, and Tatiana was starting to get severely irritated with the artiste that was Karen Souter, once Williams. Tatiana started fussing at Karen, which upset Toby even more, because Tatiana never fussed. She warned, she laughed, she coaxed, she cajoled, and she teased, but she never, ever fussed.
It was into this very damp scene that Couric walked, searching for Karen. He was a bit late for his dance lessons. When Karen hadn't been in the studio, he figured he'd find her with Toby. More than one person had told him her punishment was over, and he had had no reason to doubt it. Karen didn't mind when he visited with Toby. She knew he had several younger siblings, and Toby liked him. Besides, the kid was fun.
"Karen?" he asked, looking at the woman holding her son, who was now howling, Karen, who wasn't much better, and Nurse, who was looking at them both like she was ready to start spanking. Between Toby's question and certainty that he was somehow at fault for the divorce and Karen's intense reaction, Tatiana was at her limits.
"You deal with these…" she didn't say fools, because she wouldn't hurt Toby's feelings for the world. "I'll be in the main nursery, gettin' the little girl ready for her foster-parents." She speared Couric with a glare. "An' don't you go makin' it worse, you hear me, boy?"
"No, ma'am, Miss Tatiana," Couric replied, having learned the hard way exactly how to respond to Tatiana on the warpath.
With a sniff, head high, Tatiana sailed out of the mayhem, leaving Couric to clean it up. If he didn't do so to her satisfaction, she'd make sure he knew about it. And then she'd read the riot act to Jareth for setting up incompetents in the palace. Jareth, not being stupid, would listen carefully and then have to take care of it himself. Tatiana had a way about her, and he was wary of exactly what she could and couldn't manage to pull off, even in his own palace.
Karen spoke quickly in the first language of magic, something Toby hadn't learned yet, explaining what happened. Couric listened, then asked, "May I?"
Distressed, Karen nodded. She still had Toby in a deathgrip.
"You'll have to let go for a few minutes, Karen," he said, amused and a bit worried. Karen set Toby down and said that Couric had come in and he wanted to talk with Toby. Toby calmed down and nodded, sniffling. He liked Couric, and Couric usually had good things and smart things to say.
"What's wrong, gai-ran?" he asked, using the Grean phrase that meant 'little man'. It was an affectionate term for a boy that was well-liked or loved, but not one of the family.
Toby looked over at Karen, then back at Couric, and shook his head. Couric caught on that Karen was going to be a problem if they tried to talk in front of her. He handed Toby a handkerchief and let him straighten up.
"That bad, huh?" Couric said. When Toby nodded miserably, he asked, "Would taking a walk help? Maybe through the pixie gardens?" Toby nodded again, perking up a bit. Pixies could fix any number of things for Toby, or at least cheer him up.
He knew the pixies adored Toby, and Toby enjoyed playing with the pixie children. In fact, he took lessons in botany with the pixie children, as he took literature with the daughter of the poet laureate, an orc, and played rough, boyish games with the children of the goblin guards. There were other lessons and other children, but Couric kept up with the pixies himself. Couric had more than one younger sibling and so had learned to deal with the little heartaches and big questions that only children seemed to have. He also understood how to talk to and listen to children, especially boys. He was certain he could help at least a bit, even if he couldn't fix it all.
Karen watched as the two walked outside into the gardens, heading for the pixies. She went over to the little washstand and scrubbed her face. Once she was something close to normal, at least in appearance, she went in search of Nurse Tatiana. She needed advice, and she needed a lot of it. Irritated as Tatiana may be, she was a font of wisdom when it came to childrearing, and Karen, despite her sometimes flighty nature and her wild tendencies, wasn't stupid. Stupid didn't survive in the arts, much less running a business dedicated to the arts.
Out in the garden, Couric and Toby talked about a dozen things, none of them what was bothering Toby. Finally, after they'd been in the pixie garden for a while and had perked up considerably, Couric asked what had made Karen and Toby so upset. He left out Tatiana.
"I asked a question, and Mama got all mad and said I shouldn't ask it ever again." This brought about a new little sniffle. Couric nodded and thought for a minute. Great. Parental edict to not talk about it. He wiggled around this with some spurious logic, but it was also a very real fact.
"Do you think I could help?" he asked. "Sometimes mamas get upset, even though boys think the questions they ask are very reasonable."
"How do you know that?" Toby asked, not sure if he should obey his mother or talk to Couric.
"Because I asked my mother some questions that got her upset, too, but my uncle told me that this was part of the way of things. Sometimes, mothers are upset because they love us so much that they can't stand to hear a question because it hurts them to think about it." It was slightly convoluted, but it got to the heart of the matter. Couric watched as Toby sorted through the answer and nodded slowly.
"I asked if it was my fault that we had to leave Daddy," he whispered, "and she got all upset. I didn't want to upset her," he said, his voice getting tighter with worry and misery.
"Ah." Couric thought about what he'd learned over the past months about Karen, Robert, and the divorce. "Toby, do you remember the fight you had with Ix last week?" Ix was a pixie, of course, and she and Toby had had a terrible fight that lasted almost four days-an eternity to a pair of six-year-olds. When Toby nodded, Couric went on. "Should I blame myself for your fight?"
"NO!" Toby said, shocked. "We fought over an assignment we had. You didn't have anything to do with it."
"Well, that's a lot like what happened with your parents. You were there, and you've had to deal with the result of their fight, but you, gai-ran, are not part of it." He stopped, trying to think of how to explain what he didn't fully understand himself. "They fought over things you probably won't understand until you're a lot bigger, but the one thing that they agreed on, the one thing that kept them from ending their…friendship more than four years ago, was the fact they both love you." He paused, seeing the uncertainty in Toby's expression. Couric took a different tack, putting it in six-year-old terms.
"Think about Ix for a minute. Is there a fight you could have that would keep you from being friends?" When Toby nodded again, he continued. "Is there something or someone that would keep you talking to one another and trying to be friends, even though you weren't happy with one another anymore?" Again Toby nodded. "Well, that's a lot like what Karen and Robert had to do. You were the one thing that kept them trying to be friends, but, after a while, the other things that were pulling them apart got to be too much. Because they love you so much, they tried very hard to make the divorce-you know what that is, right?"
"When two people aren't married anymore, and one of them doesn't get to be a mommy or daddy like they used to be." Couric winced. It was a succinct way of putting it, and not entirely wrong.
"Well, they tried very hard to make that as easy on you as they could, because they love you. While you don't get to see your daddy like you used to, he still loves you, and it's okay for you to still love him." Couric smiled, looking at Toby's face as he worked through this problem. "Just like it's okay for you to still love your mama. Just like it's okay for you and Ix to be friends or not to be friends, and both of you to still like me."
"Can I think about this for a while?" Toby asked, trying to take it all in. He was a smart child, but he was still very much a child. This was a lot of information and a lot of feeling to get through. It wasn't going to be done in a day. The acceptance wouldn't take long, but there was still way too much hurt and worry about how Karen had reacted that lingered for the afternoon. And Couric knew that, to get through some things, you had to forget about everything-especially when you're a little boy.
"Of course. Meanwhile, how about we get a few of the pixies and play a game of dandelion-dart-by?" It was a game with a lot of running, a lot of searching for and pulling weeds in the gardens, and a lot of yelling and laughing. In short, it was just what Toby needed to stop worrying for a bit and let everything he'd just been told sink in. It also let Couric run around for a bit, which was also a bonus. Grean he may be, but every Grean had time to take care of a child who was hurting. Even the King and Queen, it was rumoured, would play games with their children in the Great Gardens and comfort them when they were upset.
"Okay!" Toby said, eyes brightening. He tossed a weed that had been growing next to a bright pink flower onto Couric's lap and shouted, "You're the weed-king!" Toby's shout drew the pixie children, who quickly took their larger, wingless forms and began running from Couric, who made all the right, scary noises while he chased them.
From his office, Jareth heard the happy shrieks of children and some strange snarling sounds. He looked out the window to see the game in progress, Couric, dignity forgotten, chasing children and being pelted with muddy-rooted weeds. The king smiled wistfully, then turned back to the matters at hand.
Sarah was speaking to the old man who stood at the junction of some dozen roads. It wasn't a junction as much as it was a humongous fork in the road. Each road led in a slightly different direction, and she listened carefully as the old man explained that her choice had to be made by her heart and her magic.
"How do I make a choice with my magic?" she asked, not having heard that phrasing before.
"Ah, now, that is different for everyone. I cannot say how you will know the path you must take, only that you will know it." He reminded her of the old man with the talkative hat. In fact, he looked like he could be that old man's twin, minus the hat. Was the lack of a smart-alecky hat a good sign, or a not-so-good sign? Only one way to find out. Sometimes the way forward was the way forward.
Sarah looked ahead of her and tried not to sigh. And sometimes one step forward was one thousand steps sideways. Well, there was nothing for it. She walked to the branch to the far right hand of the bunch. Something about that road repelled her, and she quickly move to the next one. After carefully weighing each road before her, only one felt, well, right. She put her feet on that path and turned to the old man.
"Thank you. I think I understand now," she told the old man. "It's a feeling, isn't it?"
"I've heard it called that, yes," the old man said. "Now as you go, remember all you have learned and keep in mind these words: To succeed upon this path, those you meet must accept you as one of them." With those words, he leaned even more heavily on his staff and seemed to fall asleep while standing in the road.
Shaking her head and being careful to keep the path to success in mind, Sarah started down her chosen path.
Late that evening, just before he was about to leave for dinner, Jareth looked up from his last bit of work for the day. He had been startled by Oakheart's sudden laugh.
"What is it?" he asked. Oakheart was standing by the Runner's Crystal, something Jareth hadn't really had time to look at in weeks. Instead, he had Oakheart checking on it and giving him a quick summation as the days wore on. Other than the occasional direct comment from Sarah, the wonderful hours in bed with her after she finished her training with Redok, and the court visit, he hadn't looked at the crystal at all. Just after those words were spoken, Karen walked in.
"It would seem that Sarah has chosen her path," Oakheart said, still chuckling.
"What does that mean?" Karen asked, wondering what was so funny. She had seen the elf more than once, and even enjoyed several walks and dinners with him, usually with Jareth, Toby, Tatiana, and Couric. She had never seen him snicker like that. It sounded almost like one of Jareth's wicked little laughs.
"It means, Lady Karen, that Sarah's heart and magic has driven her to choose the path that holds Elvenwood, Pix-Hold, and the Grasch-gana-grippoldar." There was a kind of wicked glee on his usually proper face. It didn't seem to quite fit there.
Jareth closed his eyes and shook his head. "How in the hell does she manage to do it? Either she falls in with some of the lightest parts of the labyrinth, or finds people that put her through misery and heartache that hate her and ultimately end up adoring her, or…"
"Or she gets screwed seven ways from Sunday," Oakheart was now holding on to the counter where the orb sat in an effort to keep from rolling on the ground, laughing. "Good thing she's flexible!" He wasn't referring to her agility.
"That wasn't what I was going to say," Jareth said dryly, "but," he sighed, "it fits just as well."
"What are you talking about?" Karen demanded, more than a bit mystified. In response, Jareth stood up from his desk and went to a shelf dedicated to the various races of his realm. He lifted off the books pertaining to the elves, pixies, and goblins, none of them as light or small as they seemed. Magical books were quite useful when one had limited space, and these operated by the simple method of compressing all the pages into the covers so that only about 100 pages were actually shown between the covers. Behind them, there was a heavy thunk as Oakheart lost his battle with gravity and fell to the floor with the heaviness of an oak statue. Karen turned and stared at the usually composed elf and Jareth ignored his gleeful secretary.
"You're familiar with the magical printings, Karen." Jareth's voice drew her attention again. "Just tell these books to open to the acceptance rituals for taking in a new member of each race, one not born to the race and unlikely to change form. All of your questions will be answered then." He paused. "I would advise," he added, "that you not do so until well after dinner." When she opened her mouth to ask why, Jareth held up a hand. "Please, Karen. Just trust me on this."
Karen left to take the books to her suite, and Jareth stared at his now-howling secretary.
"It's not that funny, leaf-boy," he sighed. Jareth grimaced. Actually, it was a bit…disturbing. On the bright side, he did get to see her for the goblin's section of the trials. It would also be the last time he got to see her until she finished her run.
Such was life as King. He allowed himself a brief wallow in self-pity, which was rather difficult to do when his secretary showed no signs of stopping with his disturbing display of merriment.
He glared at Oakheart, who was still rolling on the floor and laughing.
"Oh, shut up," Jareth snarled.
Oakheart didn't hear him. He was laughing too hard.
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Shattered