New Dawn of May - AC V

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Branching Path

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Lying back on the floor pillows, Jareth's body relaxed while the frenzied buzzing of his mind contemplated all that Suggur revealed. Suggur expeditiously quit the room after explaining, discussing, and debating the full meaning—according to his perspective—of Ninurta's legend and Jareth's consanguinity to the fallen deity. His leaving better allowed Jareth to fathom the reality of his existence.

'Or possible reality,' his ever present voice pointed out.

'True, while the evidence is compelling, it is no way is conclusive.'

'Precisely! As much as I like and respect Suggur he is a man at the dawn of humanity's written history. His belief is based on assumptions and suppositions!'

'But then, how else can we explain me?' Jareth asked his conscience.

'Well...' No ready response for Jareth, his conscience grew silent and Jareth resumed his pondering; when all failed upon challenging the remaining must be the answer, however outlandish. Spending the preponderance of his life walking this world in search of like beings and finding none, Jareth permitted the idea of Suggur's truth to settle weighting it against his beliefs.

Having observed the growth and maturation of humanity, Jareth understood the variety of gods and mystical faiths spread throughout the ages. He witnessed all manner of events named miracles: most hoaxes perpetrated by humans on other humans for power or money or both. However, there were occurrences beyond even his kin and abilities. What did this mean? He could honesty say he believed in some greater power, some supernatural being—or perhaps beings—as one could not live his long years without admitting a certain level of humility in this very specific area. But to subscribed to any one religious theology above all others? Too acknowledge any one god or gods, and now to accept his own possible rank as a divine being wherever it placed him? And what choice did this lead him to next?

This Tablet of Destinies seemed the obvious subsequent step of investigation. If what Suggur said bore any veracity then this Tablet contained enormous power, ruling the Universe variety, and Jareth wondered if the story of its theft by him was true. For whoever possessed and ruled the Tablet became puppet master to all beings: mortal, immortal, and deity alike. And where was it now, back in its rightful place or hidden?

'Why steal such a dangerous artifact? I care naught for such hazardous power.'

'Now you don't, but assuming it's true who knows the why and what of who you were before your father, Enki, exiled you to the mortal realm,' Voice replied, the fact that they held this conversation in a serious fashion within his mind both frightened and amazed Jareth. Too discuss such boggling concepts as truth! Bloody ridiculous!

'Great, bloody wonderful, are you suggesting that I've been altered in some manner?' Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose, a migraine dancing at the edges of his eyes.

'It would explain your amnesia prior to wandering in the desert when Suggur discovered you. Surely the sands didn't birth you!' Jareth practically heard his inner voice shrug. 'It would also explain why you didn't connect this information before now.'

'Assuming all this insanity is true.'

'Yes, assuming.'

'Why, why could I not leave be? Why must I always look in the box?' The laughing in his head sounded borderline maniacal. 'Yes, thank you for enjoying my emotional pain.'

'Any time, old boy, you're endlessly amusing! I wish Sarah were here,' Voice stated sullenly, abruptly changing the subject, and visions of his dark-haired beauty instantly replaced the stressors. Sarah...his Sarah, she would know what to do. Should he forget this preposterous concept or pursue a 7000 year old trail of stale crumbs to locate a plausibly non-existent object of power, Sumerian myths not exactly the most credible substantiation. And what if he chose to traipse about on this adventure? Where to begin? How long when he much rather spend time with Sarah. Did it matter, finding this Tablet? And if he did then what? Would it lead it to more questions or to his place or origin, or something else entirely?

"Devil take it, my head hurts," Jareth muttered aloud. Permutations branched off from one another increasing the throb. He certainly didn't feel like a god, he felt like a very, very old, young-looking man having seen and heard one too many incredible things.

"Just once I wish I could selectively forget. Things were infinitely simpler when I knew less."

'Without doubt.' A soft scratching at the door attracted his attention; Jareth sat up, and announced the caller entrance. The lovely dark skinned face of Ninbanda peered inside and smiled.

'Bloody hell,' he muttered to himself.

'Ninbanda!' his voice stated in awe.

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Two weeks and still no Jareth, not that fourteen or so days without him was an apocalypse but she missed him, terribly; and for once wasn't afraid to admit it. She'd grown used to seeing or hearing him every twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and this bizarre silence deafened her ears as well as her heart. Where had he gone? What did he do? What took him so long? When would he return? What? What? When? She castigated herself with endless, unanswerable questions.

'Would you stop already? You're giving me a headache!' Tutu implored.

"I can't help it!" Sarah poured another glass of chardonnay, a slightly dry label, not too sweet but refreshingly brain-numbing. On her forth glass this evening without dinner to fortify her, she held a sort of partnership-attaining, celebration-for-one party, quasi pre-depression drinking-fest at home as her boyfriend was inconveniently out of town and her usually party companions, Christy and Amanda were occupied. Both stated either personal or familial obligations, but gave verbal congratulations.

"I hate my life." She realized with utter and crystal clear certainty.

'What? But you've got his prancing hotness!'

"Not him, you freak of a pink nightmare!" Sarah shouted to the air, sloshing her wine precariously as she stumbled from her kitchen to her couch, "everything else!" Collapsing upon the cushions, she awkwardly hitched her sweatpants up one-handed. They'd slung low on her hips then nearly off as he sat.

'Oh, right...the life-sucking job which you've slaved over for a decade, the two friends who can't be bothered to be here, and the dysfunctional family you hate dealing with, that life?'

"Yep!" She said, popping her 'p' then chugging from her glass before yelping and dropping the stemware when something touched her lower leg. Her carpet rapidly absorbed the remaining pale fluid.

"Awesssome..." Sarah slurred watching the last of her medicinal alcohol disappear. Then she noticed what startled her. "Ssskittle?"

"Queenie sad?" the little, fuzzy headed goblin asked, his eyes big and soulful. Leaned too far forward Sarah's head swam, and she slid off the couch her butt plopping on the floor next to the goblin.

"Yeah...I am," she said, pouting, her lower lip sticking out reminding her if Jareth were here he'd not only tease her happy but kiss her puffed-out lip.

"Skittle help Queenie." Being a faithful goblin, Skittle cozied up to Sarah until she tossed her arm around the horridly cute monster, his hair tickling her face as she snuggled down.

"Thanks, buddy. It sucks being alone. I used to hate but made myself get used to it." She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She'd need tissues soon unless she used her t-shirt, hmmm...the usually disgusting thought appealed to her presently since Skittle's warm little body felt so comfortable under her arm and nestled to her side. Felt good to be loved, accepted; she gotten spoiled by Jareth's devotion and suffered withdrawal.

"Queenie never lonely, Skittle here!" he proclaimed, patting her leg. "Kingy say Skittle watch over Queenie."

"He did?" she squeaked, jeez, now her eyes watered, too. "I miss him, Skittle. When's he coming home?"

Skittle shrugged, "Skittle no know, only Hoggle know."

"Hoggle!"

'Hoggle!' Tutu echoed in a growl.

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"Ninbanda, it is good to see you again. Does Suggur know you're here?" Jareth asked, standing to greet his friend's wife who held her beauty well into middle age.

"Ninurta," she smiled, closing the door behind her, her dark eyes sparkling in the light of the oil lamps, "of course he knows. He sent me to comfort you."

"Ah, well, how kind of him."

'This can only end badly,' Jareth thought seeing an odd glint in her eyes not there in the preceding visit.

'She won't!' his voice blurted, 'she never pushed before!'

'I never acknowledged my possible lineage before.'

'You think?'

'Gods below, I hope not but I don't wish to find out!'

Ninbanda swaggered the short distance from the door, her robes swishing, and Jareth observed with narrowed, suspicious eyes, his body taut. All his experience with women cried that his friend's wife plotted his seduction whether by her choice or Suggur's arrangement...

'Does it matter?'

'Not one whit, I'm not bloody well sleeping with Ninbanda for too many reasons to count!' Jareth announced to his conscience knowing full well his choice might be different had Ninbanda approached him during his original time in their house thousands of years ago. Apparently, once a god knew of his theistic roots all moralistic boundaries evaporated, at least for mortals and probably most gods.

"Ninurta, you are nervous," Ninbanda touched his arm lightly, Jareth jumped, "please sit and allow me to relax you."

"Ah...ah...really, I'm good, Ninbanda, right as rain I am," he babbled backing from her slow approach, his heel catching on the edge of a rug, tripping him, and he fell to his back. The air knocked from his lungs, Jareth lie momentarily stunned and watched Ninbanda kneel next to him.

"Please, Ninurta, I wish to do this for you." Her hands rubbed his chest while she smiled softly, gracefully, and for a few seconds the peace captured him.

"No, no...I can't, really, it's not you, it's me," he heard his modern speak bubble forth and wanted to laugh if it weren't so pathetic. He, a possible god, reduced to a prattling git by a beautiful woman touching him.

'How is that any different from your usual M.O.?' Voice asked.

'Oh, shut up and help me get out of this!'

'If I shut up I can't offer any useful...'

'You know what I mean!' Her hands reached for his shirt's fastenings while he gently restrained her wrists.

'Have you tried your power lately? Perhaps you're back to full strength.'

'But is hasn't been a full day.' She leaned down, her lips questing for his as he veered his head sharply away.

'Blast and...Remember, Jareth, time moves differently while you're manipulating it, duh! I swear if you're really a god then I'm Shirley Temple!'

'Right...little distracted here!' Jareth risked closing his eyes keeping Ninbanda's wrists firmly entrapped within his grip while he ignored her wheedling protests. There, yes, his power returned! During all the excitement he hadn't felt it or thought to search. Not every day one learns one's a god!

Not wishing to travel back in Ninbanda's company, Jareth first dematerialized using a normal teleportation spell reappearing in the desert at the outskirts of Girsu sometime after nightfall.

"Entirely too close, what the devil was Suggur thinking offering me Ninbanda?"

'You're asking me about the thought processes of an ancient Sumerian? Maybe he just wanted you to feel good.'

Shaking his head in frustration, Jareth inspected his immediate area. Burning torches traced the stone parapets of the city, and knew this might be the last he saw of Girsu; definitely the last of his friend. He couldn't risk tampering with Suggur's memories or his timeline further.

"Goodbye forever, my friend," Jareth declared to Girsu as a whole wishing he dared returning to Suggur's home, knowing he could not.

'Let's go home, Sarah's waiting. We'll deal with the rest of this another time,' Voice said, giving good advice.

"Agreed." Focusing his magic, Jareth repeated his actions while reversing the mechanics of the spell returning him to the 21st century, sand devils kicked up from the winds of his wake.

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"Hoggle, I need you!" Sarah called into her childhood vanity mirror usually kept hidden in a box underneath her bed. She rarely used it since having Jareth in her life as she usually saw her friends while she visited. Hoggle's worn face shimmered inside the glass.

"Sarah! I hasn't heard from you like this in ages!" he said, surprised and smiling, the throne room framed behind him.

"Hoggle, how are you?"

"I'ms fine, Sarah," he peered closer from his side of the mirror, his large eyes pinching, "but yous look like you been crying, yous okay, Sarah?"

"Oh," she sobbed once and Skittle patted her leg again outside of Hoggle's view, "no, I'm not. I miss him, Hoggle. I miss him so much!"

"Oh...Jareth yous mean." His head dipped and if Sarah had paid attention she would've seen his chin waver.

"Yes, he's never been away this long, and I...oh...Hoggle, I finally made partner and I can't even tell him!"

"Yous did? That's great, Sarah!" She smiled, her tears brightening.

"Thanks," she said realizing how selfish she sounded, "I'm sorry, Hoggle, I should've called you sooner to tell you personally. I just got distracted and..."

"It's okay, I understand." He shrugged.

"No, it's not. I haven't been a very good friend to you, or a sister to Toby, or...or..."

"Sarah, it's not that bad, really," he said.

"Oh, yes, Hoggle," now she cried in earnest, tears free flowing, hands covering her face, "where is he? When will he be home?"

"Nows none of that," he touched the glass separating them, "he'll be back soon, I knows it. Then yous feel all better."

"Where he go?"

"Oh, well now...I-er...nows, Sarah," Hoggle verbally backpedaled.

"Hoggle?" Sarah straightened up her tears slowing, "what aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing, see...not like he made me promise not to say!"

"Hoggle!" A dazzling light burst behind the little man followed by a maelstrom tossing loose chickens and goblins. Simultaneously Sarah leapt forward pressing her hands to the glass and hooding her eyes for protection from the blinding glare haloing Hoggle, who shielded himself from low flying fowl.

"What the...?" Hoggle exclaimed. Skittle hopped onto Sarah's bed in order to peer into the mirror then started jumping animatedly.

"KIngy back! Kingy back!" As the light diminished and receded, a Jareth-shaped figure emerged; at first standing before crumpling and languishing to the stone floor.

"Jareth!" Sarah cried slapping her hand on her mirror, "Hoggle, Hoggle, bring me through, hurry!"

"Oh, brother, Jareth'll have my head for this..." Hoggle concentrated for a moment then reached through the mirror to Sarah's waiting hand to tug her effortlessly through. The dwarf and the lawyer ran to the Goblin King's side where he lay motionless.

"Jareth, Oh God," Sarah turned him to his back quickly checking his breathing and pulse, both present she relaxed...but only. "Jareth, my love, wake up." She kissed his forehead trailing down to his lips while Hoggle, a few fee away, snuffled his feet and coughed while studying the flagstone. Fluttering, Jareth's eyelids opened.

"Sarah, thank God!" he exclaimed in a raspy voice, the irony only occurring to him later, but for the present he gave thanks to whatever force, deity, or power permitted her love of him. He raised his hand to her face and she placed her hand over his, trapping it against her cheek. He looked tired, haggard even. Leaning down she rested her head to his chest and sighed.

"You're home," she said, her voice full of contentment.

"I am," he repeated, his other hand embracing tightly to him. "I missed you, my love."

"I missed you, too. We have a lot to talk about," she declared brightly and Jareth felt only assurance in her tone. He smiled as she turned her happy face towards his.

"That we do, but not now, rest first."

"No, not now," she agreed pleased just to feel his flesh to hers. He was real and he was home.

TBC in

"Days of Independence"