This is the sequel to 'Such a Sad Love, Deep in Your Eyes'. If you haven't read it, pop on over, take a squiz, leave a nice, juicy review, then come back here. Otherwise, most of this one won't make much sense.
Yes, I survived the move and return to you with a belated Christmas prsent! I never intended to write a sequel to 'Sad Love' (I wanted to leave you sobbing, wonderful person that I am), but, due to popular demand, here it is. It's funny, contains a little crack, and has a decidedly happy ending, which is a little different for me.
However, it was not without drama that this tale was formed. First of all, I suffered major writer's block trying to come up with a tale that was not tired or cliched. I think I've partially succeeded in this respect. It had to survive origins in maths class, schoolies and an interstate move. On one day at schoolies, I was up before anyone else trying to come up with a decent plot. My plot device was eventually inspired by the novel 'Hush, Hush', by someone or other, though in a weird way that can't really be explained (I do recommend the book; the plot is essentially the same as Twilight, almost exactly, but it's better written and the characters are far more interesting). Then, my computer did something very odd and over half the document turned into little boxes and those letters with the little dashes over them. I stoically moved past this without committing murder or computicide, and eventually managed to finish it off without any more dramas. Then, all I had to do was wait a little over two months for the internet to be hooked up. This was a highly arduous experience.
In light of all this, I think I need an enormous amount of reviews, and possibly a muffin basket. Just saying.
Lixxle's influence is evident in this one, especially in the abuse of poultry and references to leather pants. If you haven't read her stuff, then do so immediately. It's far superior to mine, and is the hallmark which all Labyrinth fanfiction writers must strive for.
This story is set in current day-type times, due to use of internet and Matt Preston (it shall all be revealed in futher chapters).
Sadly, devestatingly, I do not own Labyrinth or anything associated with it. If you are in any doubt as to why, I leave you with this thought: gold hotpants.
And thus, it begins.
Jareth paced back and forth in the throne room. The chamber was ominously peaceful, like the calm just before a storm. The goblins, normally boisterous, today sat in (almost) orderly rows around the walls. They stared at their king with wide, curious eyes. This level of attention was usually reserved for a Summons.
"Did he say it?" One goblin asked loudly. He was quickly pounced upon, quieted with a volley of goblin palms over his large mouth.
"Ssshh!" The crowd warned him. One goblin waved a fork threateningly.
Jareth paused in the centre of the room, expression thoughtful. He tapped a gloved finger against his chin.
"Clearly," He said to no one in particular, "something must be done."
The goblins sat up a little, eager to hear The Plan.
"But what?" Jareth narrowed his eyes in concentration.
"Bog her?" Came one timid suggestion.
"Turn her into a chicken!" Came another, more loudly this time.
"Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been over this, you imbeciles! I want to woo her, not... traumatise her."
"Take her out to dinner!" A goblin squeaked. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him.
"Finally, some sign of intelligence!" Jareth cried. "I'm promoting you to Royal Advisor. What's your name?"
"Hig, Your Majesty." Hig took a deep bow, bulbous nose pressing into his protuberant belly.
"Well Hig, that's all very well and good, but how am I supposed to get her to come to dinner with me?"
Hig considered, tugging thoughtfully at a drooping earlobe. "Tie her to a chicken?" Jareth's eyes narrowed. "Sorry. Instinct."
"Do you have a serious suggestion, or am I going to have to demote you?"
"Demote me to what?" Hig asked suspiciously.
"Guardian of the Bog of Eternal Stench." Jareth answered with relish.
"Ah." Hig did his best to look deadly serious. Mostly he just looked like he had wind, but obviously the cogs began to turn.
Hig and Jareth both paced the throne room for a further ten minutes, until Hig let out a triumphant 'aha!'.
"If it has anything to do with chickens..." Jareth warned. Hig shook his head vehemently, large ears flapping. The Goblin King bent down obligingly, and Hig whispered his plan into his ear.
"You are remarkably intelligent for a goblin." Jareth commented a few minutes later.
"Mam was a dwarf." Hig said proudly.
"Remind me to encourage interspecies breeding." Jareth said, then paused, and shuddered delicately. "On second thought, that is a concept far too hideous to contemplate. But good work, Hig."
"Thankyou, Majesty." Hig looked down at the floor, placing his hands behind his back and kicking softly at the pavers. His cheeks blushed a delicate shade of blue.
Jareth stood, regarding his (generally) loyal subjects with a stern smirk and his hands placed regally upon his hips. "Come on, chaps! We have work to do!"
The room burst hurriedly into life.
Sarah lay on her bed, watching the patterns on the ceiling made by the headlamps which flashed past outside her window. As usual at this time of night, when the sky was black as pitch and all sane people were fast asleep, she was wide awake, thoughts tumbling above and below each other like the sea in a storm. Sarah hadn't had a decent night's sleep for five long, long years.
Maybe it was time for her to get some form of prescription.
She knew the cause, of course: a thirteen-hour trip to a fantasy land and a man with blond spiky hair and tight pants. Those few brief hours had turned her world upside down, destroying everything she thought real and making the familiar all the more precious. It had also left her somehow empty, like there was a hole in her chest that nothing seemed to fill.
And then there were the memories.
These memories filled her mind every time she let her concentration falter, overtaking her consciousness whenever she tried to sleep or rest. Worst of all, not all of them were from her time in the Labyrinth. They seemed to belong to someone else, for surely she had never lived these moments. It was impossible.
And yet, when she thought of a certain stretch of maze or a path of stone, another one blurred with it. When she thought of one hedge maze, another, far tamer, one wound its way through her mind. When she thought of one beautiful ballroom, a garish, bawdy one invaded her mind.
Sarah's night time routine had all the calming effects of sleeping on a bed of nails.
These memories confused her, giving her headaches and panic attacks. As a result, she never let herself lose concentration. She was more attentive than anyone she knew, focusing on whatever was at hand with a razor-sharp precision. She passed all her subjects at school with flying colours, and was now beginning a law degree (not because she necessarily enjoyed the subject, but because she felt it would keep her mind occupied).
However, the only time she was never able to satisfactorily apply her mind to something was when she fell into bed at the end of the day.
Tonight, strains of music battled for supremacy in her sleep-deprived mind. When she thought of one delicate melody, the comparatively harsh strains of another song had come crashing over the top. It was the same basic tune, but the instruments sounded positively medieval. The sounds clashed, making her head ache.
The only common element tying the two songs together was a honeydew voice singing a song of beauty. Sarah could barely remember the words, but she remembered the sound of his voice as well as if he were standing in the room with her. A voice so beautiful it made her heart ache with longing against her will.
Fed up and exhausted, mind tired from the confusion of strange memories and heart aching, Sarah began to sob.