Return to the Labyrinth

I think I’ve made enough disclaimers. We all know who these characters belong to. If you’re confused, read the earlier chapters! The title for this chapter comes from a poem by D.H. Lawrence called Self Pity. The poem and a pronunciation guide are at the end of the chapter.

Keep up the reviews. I need the happy thoughts :)


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I never saw a wild thing


Sarah dreamed…

A little blue cat jumped on her bed. ‘I found you!’ the cat purred to her sleeping self in bed. It pawed at the patchwork fur blanket. ‘I’m so glad. Wake up!’Her sleeping self stirred and stretched and blinked. She looked up at the cat who looked back at her.

‘Who are you, little cat?’ her dream-self asked.

‘Don’t you know? Don’t you see? I am you! You are me!’ The little blue cat laughed a little blue laugh. ‘I was gone, now I’m back. What fun we shall have!’ It’s fluffy blue tail swished back and forth. ‘I thought you were lost, but I found you again.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said to the cat. ‘What do you mean?’ The little blue cat gave a toothy white grin. It rubbed its fur along her hand.

‘I’ll show you,’ it said. ‘Come with me and you’ll see!’ The little blue cat jumped into her eyes and she dreamed she was a bird.

She flew on gossamer wings, the Labyrinth spread out before her. The sky was blue and clear, the day perfect. She remembered feeling lost once, but it passed. Sometimes she felt she had no purpose, but then she forgot. Today she thought she’d try being a bird.

A small sound below caught her attention. Looking down she saw a girl, sitting against a stone wall making soft sounds. She glided down and perched on the wall. The girl was young, with short blonde hair, and she was crying. ‘What’s wrong little girl?’

The child looked up, her blue eyes glistening with tears, blinking up at the dream Sarah-bird. ‘I don’t know the way,’ she wailed. Sarah cocked her bird head and laughed. ‘I do, I do! Follow me!’ Sarah-bird swooped off the wall and ahead of the girl. She could hear the little girl behind her, running to keep up. As she rounded the corner a wall reared up in front of her. She climbed through the air, up and over the wall, and behind her she heard the girl shouting. ‘Wait! I can’t follow! Oh…It’s not fair! I hate this place!’

The girl’s voice grew fainter as Sarah flew away. ‘Not fair, not fair,’ she chanted in a singsong voice. She had forgotten completely about the girl as she felt a pull from the direction of the castle. She headed toward the center of the Labyrinth. She was almost there when a sparkling crystal ball came out of nowhere and shattered against her. Startled, her bird form broke apart and she drifted like a cloud to the ground.

She hovered just above the ground, trying to remember what she was doing, when she felt that same pull again. She was tired of flying, she thought, so she decided to try something else.

Dream-Sarah slunk across the ground, through courtyards and around corners, following the pull. She came to a dead end, an ivy covered courtyard with a fountain in the center and trees made of crystal. The fountain was singing. She jumped up on the fountain ledge, but all she saw when she looked down was the wavy reflection of a small blue cat.

Shrugging, she jumped back down. The pull, almost magnetic in intensity, was coming from the far ivy-covered wall. Creeping over she spied an opening which hadn’t been there before. She slipped through and was off again, loping through the twisting, turning maze until she turned the corner and a stone wall rose up before her. It was the Goblin City wall. She slipped past with ease and loped through the city toward the castle.

Around the back she ventured, following that lure. It was a familiar call, and it grew stronger as she closed in on the castle kitchens. How strange she thought as she ran along. Into the kitchens, narrowly missing a wooden spoon swung in her direction, she darted down the hall and into the little room beneath the stairs. Curled up in the corner was the source of the pull, wrapped in technicolor furs and sleeping soundly.

She jumped on the bed. ‘I found you!’ she purred to her sleeping self. She pawed at the patchwork fur blanket. ‘I’m so glad. Wake up!’

Sarah stirred and stretched and blinked, gazing up into the darkness of her cozy room, trying to chase away the cobwebs of sleep. The edges of her dream were dissipating like smoke as she became more aware of the waking world. She tried to hold on to it, but dreams are elusive creatures, and all that remained was the vague image of a small, blue cat purring in her face. No matter. What mattered was that she dreamed at all and no longer faced that endless void within herself.

Sarah stretched once more and sat up on the straw mattress that was her bed, hunching to avoid cracking her head on the beams overhead. She’d had a throbbing bump on her scalp for the first few days before she learned. There was no way to tell what time it was in the darkness of her room, but she hated to lie in bed for too long. Too many memories of lying awake in the dark afraid of the emptiness of sleep. She was awake now. It was time to start another day.

Her quarters were a bit cramped, but with minimal contortions she managed to wrap the patchwork cloak round her shoulders and pull up the hood. She could almost feel the magic wrapping itself around her, sinking into her skin. She sighed and cuddled into the fur before pushing open the small wooden door to the closet she had been given to sleep in.

The door stopped suddenly with a thud and an outraged squeak came from out in the hall. Sarah scrambled out into the stone corridor and peered behind the door. She winced as a long wooden spoon fell onto her shoulder with a smack.

“Watch where ye go, ye hairy beastie,” chittered an angry voice. Sarah swung the door shut to find herself staring into the wrinkled, nut brown face of Niela, the head chef, flat on her back. The Brownie glared at her as she struggled to get up.

“Sorry, Nel,” Sarah apologized, reaching down to set her back on her feet. As soon as she was standing again the long spoon started down for another smack. Sarah held up one hand, catching it on the down stroke. She held it there and just looked at the angry Brownie, saying nothing. Sarah had learned quickly that if you gave Nel’s temper an inch, it took a kingdom. She wasn’t giving her a third swing. Second. She only swung at you once. Sarah paused at the thought, but only for a moment.

The silence stretched out, the two of them standing almost nose to nose, until Nel gave a small “hmph” and pulled the spoon away. She adjusted her frilled white cap, which had gone askew when she fell. The spoon disappeared into one of her apron’s many bottomless pockets. Sarah often found herself wondering what she kept in those magical pockets, but at the same time she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“’Bout time ye rolled yer lazy arse outta bed,” Neila groused. She turned on her heel and trundled back down the hall toward the kitchens. “Well, come on!” Nel stopped and turned, ready to urge her on, almost running into Sarah who was already following close behind. “Watch ye don’t run me over,” she snapped, grumbling something else beneath her breath and continuing on again. Sarah held back her smile until Nel’s back was turned, but followed a little less closely.

“Days half done,” she continued as they walked into the spacious kitchen. Sarah noted that although a fire blazed in the main hearth, none of the other kitchen staff were there yet. Outside the kitchen’s many windows there was darkness, although perhaps with a hint of graying.

“The sun isn’t even up yet, Nel,” Sarah commented, her grin widening.

“No excuse when there’s work that needs doin’,” Nel snapped back. “Now wipe that silly smile off yer face and get tae work.”

“Yes, Nel,” Sarah laughed as she headed out the door to get more wood, ignoring the Brownie’s irritated huff.

Sarah hummed as she set about her chores, enjoying the quiet of the early morning before the castle really began to bustle. Two months had passed since her return to the underground and Sarah could not remember ever feeling so…right. She had seen neither hide nor hair of His Majesty since the day he had her brought back to the castle, which suited her just fine. Although it was glaringly obvious that he hadn’t recognized her, she would just as soon not tempt fate until she had to. She hadn't seen Amaranth either, but she'd been expecting that. She knew her instructions.

In the meantime, she worked for Neila in the kitchens and slept in a closet beneath the stairs. Nel was firm, but fair, most of the time, although she never gave Sarah, “that Aisling creature” as she called her, a moment’s peace. Sarah was pretty sure they’d gotten off on the wrong foot from the very beginning. Neila was the master of her kitchens and nobody, not even the King, was allowed to tell her how to run them. So it hadn’t sat well when Jareth had ordered Neila to give “his new creature” a job and a bed, before walking out without a second glance.

Still, Sarah had been only too glad to be set to work. It was a far sight better than the desperate tedium of her life before now, spending her days in white walled rooms trying not to think too hard. She found, in fact, that she liked keeping busy. It gave her a feeling of accomplishment that she couldn’t remember ever having before. She had thrown herself into the work, doing such a good job that even Nel eased up a little. Sarah was sure she was winning the temperamental woman over bit by bit.

Morning blossomed in the Labyrinth, shedding a shimmering golden light over everything. Sarah was out in the yard sweeping, enjoying the light, when she was interrupted by a flock of panicked chickens suddenly surrounding her. Batting at the birds and spitting feathers out of her mouth, she looked to see what had startled the stupid fowl. She spotted a small goblin with red, yellow, and grey speckled fur chasing one of the hens, cackling gleefully.

“Twiggy!” she barked, glaring at the little creature. He froze in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. “No chasing chickens. You know that!” she scolded. The little goblin grinned sheepishly and started playing nervously with his tail.

“Sawy, Aisling,” he giggled, looking anything but.

Sarah shook a finger at him. “Should I tell Neila?” she asked threateningly. The little goblin’s eyes widened further and he shook his head vigorously. His floppy red ears whipped back and forth.

“No, no. Twiggy be good. Don’t tell Neila,” he mewled. His lip quivered.

Twiggy was the only goblin who worked in the kitchens, although he wasn’t very good at it. Normally, according to Neila, getting a goblin to do anything took more work than just doing the job yourself. And they were absolute troublemakers of the first degree, which was why she wouldn’t even allow them in her tightly run kitchens. Except for Twiggy. He stayed, and tried to work, because, for some unfathomable reason, he was thoroughly smitten with Neila. Sarah didn’t know why Neila let him hang around though, given the trouble he was constantly causing.

“Why are you out here, Twiggy?” Sarah asked, suspiciously.

“Oh!” Twiggy jumped, forgetting his contriteness. “Neila send Twiggy to get Aisling! Twiggy forgot when he saw chickens.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, wondering why Neila would pull her from her chores. It wasn't like her.

“’Cause chickens make Twiggy laugh when they run away!” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sarah rolled her eyes.

“No, why…oh, never mind. I’ll find out myself,” she sighed. “Let’s go, Twiggy. I’m not leaving you out here alone with the chickens.” Twiggy screeched as she picked him up by the scruff of the neck and headed back inside.


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Pronounciation Guide:

Aisling – ASH-leeng

Niela – NEE-la

Self Pity

By: D.H. Lawrence

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself