Disclaimer: I do not own the Labryinth, Jareth, Sarah, her dad, Karen, Toby, or any chickens that may or may not appear. They are (c) Henson, Lucas, Froud, Bowie, Connelly. Boddran the tanner might be mine.

A/N: I was going to have only a one paragraph intro, but then it grew, and became an official prologue.

Prologue

The journal was leather-bound, with unlined pages. Given its thickness, there should have been around a hundred of them, but somehow whenever she'd fan through them, it seemed as though they had multiplied. Still, the outside of the book was soft, and of an unusual color: blue, yes, but it shifted from palest sky-blue to deepest indigo, and without an apparent cause.

It had been a gift, from her mom's sometimes-boyfriend, on that last Christmas before Dad met Karen. Sarah used it as a diary for a time, and doodled some, as pre-teen girls were wont. Her entry on the day she met Karen was indicative of the fact that Sarah didn't realize what was coming. However, the entries from the time she first really understood it, until the night before her and Toby's Adventures Underground showed a surprising grasp of reality; this view of reality was, naturally, highly biased, selectively, and quite whiny.

Present in all of Sarah's pre-Adventure journal entries were a few characteristics: a longing for her mom; a homesickness for her dad (who was trying to cope with the joint emotional traumas of the leaving of the woman he thought he'd love forever AND with the pain of a soon-to-be-teenaged daughter); a sense of guilt that she loves her brother (once he arrived); and an underlying sense of hope and magic.

She didn't know that she was writing magic, except when she would ponder about fanciful creatures. She thought that the optimism and enthusiasm that she had for life was typical, normal.

Her post-Adventure journal entries kept that sense of magic, dropped the guilt over loving her brother, gradually lost her bitterness toward her own family, and, strangely enough, were addressed to Jareth, the Goblin King. But then, that was no different than the earlier entries.

"And you've gotten that inscription exactly?" Jareth strode across the work-shop, crossing its narrow span in fewer than three steps. He didn't doubt the tanner's skill, merely his ability to spell in a language other than… well… actually in any language.

"Your Majesty, please check it yourself, since it's that important. You know I don't read nor write." Boddran handed the supple leather to his sovereign, hoping that his meticulous attention to every flourish on the parchment provided as exemplar had paid off. Plus, Jareth had been hovering at regular intervals to check on the work.

Jareth released a long-held, deeply-caught breath.

The words of Sarah Williams, beloved of Jareth, King of the Goblins, to Jareth, King of the Goblins

"That is adequate." Boddran nodded his thanks, aware that he had received very high praise, indeed.

"Now, begin work on another, the same color and treatment. Here's what it will say." Jareth pulled a different piece of parchment from the air. He handed it to Boddran, making sure that it was right-side up, and allowing the leather-worker to put his own mark on the top, just in case.

"As before, I will be checking on the progress. Do let me know of any problems." The tone of Jareth's voice conveyed simultaneous messages: There had BETTER NOT be any problems, and If there are ANY problems, let me know the INSTANT you're aware of them, or else you will think longingly of the Bog and of Certain Death.

Boddran bowed, fully aware of the import of this task, even though he didn't understand it. Once His Majesty had left, Boddran smoothed out the parchment before placing it on his work board. He was not surprised to notice that his previous work had disappeared, along with the exemplar. Disappointed, as he had hoped to use it to learn a little bit of reading with it, but not overly so.

The parchment for this next task, pinned up, was thus:

The words of Sarah, Queen of the Goblins, and beloved of Jareth, King of the Goblins, to Jareth, King of the Goblins

Modest and self-effacing, the Goblin King never was, nor ever would be.

A/N: I know little to nothing about leather-working, so anything that doesn't fit with how you handle leather is excused by the fact that this is Underground, and the craftsman uses magic. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Yes, this is going to have at least one more chapter. Yes, starting another multi-chapter fanfic is one way that I'm avoiding the other(s) I have going. (Actually, probably 5 or 6 more chapters. I've finished the 2nd one, and am debating how in depth to go.)

Please review! Provide feedback! Help me tame the plot-bunnies!