For Whom the Bell Tolls

Happy birthday to David Bowie! He would have been 70 today, but I'm sure he's still having a cracking good time Upstairs nonetheless. Please enjoy a little extract from my fanfic. Warning: if you're allergic to kissing, you'll break out in hives straightaway.

Other notes: at Buddhist temples on New Year's Eve, the bell is tolled 108 times, once for every human sin that needs to be purged. There are 107 before midnight, starting around 11:30, and 1 afterwards. Sarah doesn't know this information, so is understandably confused when midnight isn't...midnight.

Ode to Joy (Beethoven's 9th) has been a really important part of the Japanese holiday celebrations since after World War I. It's played hundreds of times by symphonies all around Japan each season.

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The opening strains of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony danced on the air from a nearby cell phone, followed by pockets of cheers from the crowd. A group of teens gathered around the source of the music, eager to drink in the lively tones that were so integral a part of their celebrations. Even here in Japan, the land of extreme courtesy, customs like this could not be suppressed by the wearing of headphones. As the notes built up, the youths began crooning along, mumbling long chains of nonsense when they didn’t remember the words exactly.

“Deine Zauber binden wieder was die Mode streng geteilt...” (Your magics join again...what custom strictly divided.)

Sarah hummed along wistfully, waiting for Jareth’s return. In a few hours, her family back in the States would be doing their own New Year’s Eve tradition of riffing lyrics to Disney songs on their karaoke machine, dancing in the glow of a six-inch disco ball projector, and consuming any food not bolted down or in Karen’s diet stache. Since she had been a little girl in pigtails to the time she left for college, Sarah had never failed to attend one of these New Year’s Eve parties, not even when her friends invited her to join them at much wilder and interesting activities, nor when she had the option to stay at university over the holiday. Home was home.

The realization that those parties and those people were nearly seven thousand miles away now, with an ocean and the glimmering lights of countless cities between them, stung a little, even amid a crowd of people celebrating merrily.

“Missing home?” Jareth asked, approaching her side. She nodded absently and accepted the steaming cup of amazake he offered.

She took a slow sip, immediately pleased that the subtly sweet rice drink warmed her so well. Oh my, that’s good, she thought, taking in a little more. Dollar store horchata, I’m sending you packing.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it here,” she began, stopping herself from saying anything disparaging. Every moment of time spent in this glorious land of mountains and sea so far had indeed been wonderful, with people so kind and hospitable it was almost beyond belief.

"It’s just that I feel the absence of family traditions pretty strongly this year.”

“What would make it better?” he probed. “Is there anything you can do there you can’t do here?”

She took a few moments to contemplate. “Well, I guess they still have board games and karaoke wherever you go, so I guess not much,” she hedged, trying to save face. “And I guess although they don’t really do kissing at midnight here, I can’t say it’s a tradition I particularly miss per se,” she sighed, looking at the platform where a line of priests prepared to preside over the midnight rituals. “I know they say that not kissing someone on New Year’s results in a year of loneliness…but that’s a bit superstitious, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve never been kissed at midnight and I’ve done just fine...," she trailed off.

“Oh yes, probably just an old wives’ tale,” he drawled, trying hard not to point out the fact that she had arrived alone and had hitherto been alone at the celebration. “Though perhaps loneliness isn’t so much a function of how much company one keeps, but the type of company.”

“Maybe so,” she agreed. She smiled at him, thankful that she’d chanced upon him here tonight.

The music-broadcasting group of teens made their way closer to the dais, taking “Ode to Joy” with them and stepping into a long queue of people holding numbered cards waiting for their chance to ring the bell. Jareth marked their passage with a benign smile.

“You know, Sarah, I’ve never kissed anyone at midnight, either. Sounds promising.”

Sarah turned toward him, surprised at both his revelation and their sudden proximity. Her nose neatly grazed his, but she didn’t step away. It felt too much like backing down from a challenge.

“And how close are we now?” she queried.

“I’d say about 1½ centimeters to impact,” he breathed, trying not to laugh.

She worried her lower lip, trying to remember her train of thought or anything else other than his nearness. “To...midnight,” she corrected. “How close are we?”

Before Jareth could answer, a toll echoed through the courtyard.

“I’d say right on time.”

“Well, happy new year, Jareth,” she said, giving him a shy peck on the cheek.

His eyebrows drew together almost accusingly. “Admittedly I’m no expert, but I’d say that isn’t quite how one enacts the custom back home,” he smirked, knowing full well the extent of her timidity. “Seems to be missing some of the ceremony.”

Dong! The bell sounded again.

She found herself unable to withdraw her attention from contemplating his mouth, yet hardly daring to bring herself any closer. After a few false starts, she began to feel like a chicken bobbing its neck forward and backwards. Jareth’s arm snaked around her waist, anchoring her in place.

“Although I hate to be contradictory to such a beauty as yourself, I feel the need to help you out here.“

“Please enlighten me.”

“First off, love, it’s not quite midnight. It’s only 11:40. But as you’re so eager, I’m more than happy to get the celebrating underway...Western style.”

Dong.

"And secondly, kissingly usually involves the joining of lips. Allow me." Jareth completely closed the distance between them by pushing his warm mouth against hers. “One, two, three,” he counted between kisses. “Four, five...six, seven, eight, nine...ten, eleven...twelve. Thirteen. And another thirteen for good measure….”

Sarah smiled against his lips, blinking in a starry-eyed stupor. “What, one for each time the bell tolls?”

“Well, hopefully…” he mumbled. “Kind of making our own tradition, see.”   

Dong!

Kiss.

Dong!

Kiss.

“And just how many times does it ring?!” she asked, a little breathless after they’d reached twenty-something.

“One.”

Kiss.

“Hundred…”

Kiss, kiss. Kiss.

“...and...”

Kiiiissssss.

“Eight.”

Gentle kiss.

"Times."

“And how many are we up to now?” she laughed, getting cut off by another insistent liplock.

“Clearly not enough if you’re still speaking," he groused, going in for another round.

After that, it is safe to venture that they lost count. When the bells stopped tolling nearly twenty minutes later, the pair found themselves standing apart from the crowd. Whether from a desire to grant them privacy, or from a general dislike of public displays of affection, those around them had long since scattered.

“Now it is a Happy New Year,” Sarah declared, wrapping her arms around the goblin king and feeling like "home" had found her unawares.

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Excerpt from my New Year's fanfic, "Auld Lang Syne." It's set in Japan (yes, for good reason). More to come later.

Labyrinth and its characters (c) Henson, Froud, Bowie, Connelly.

Background image from Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

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