S. Jae-Jones Quotes

How I could make myself understand. The restlessness, the anxiety within me. The feeling of incompleteness and dissatisfaction, my frustration with my inability to execute my ideas on the page, either in words or in song. I could not catch my own mind, my thoughts racing past in a blur, like fingers rushing through sixteenth notes without regard to tempo.

Thistle," I said to the waiting air.

The goblin girl materialized before me.

"What do you want now, Goblin Queen?" she sneered.

"Where is Der Erlkönig?" I asked.

"In the chapel. As is his wont these days."

"Lead me to him."

Thistle raised an eyebrow, or she would have, had she had eyebrows at all. "You are braver than I reckoned, mortal, to interrupt His Majesty during his devotions."

I shrugged. "I believe in God's unending forgiveness."

"It's not your God's forgiveness you'd be needing.

But hope... hope was stubborn. Like a weed it returned, even after I had plucked it away again and again.

You can be running toward something or running from something, but you cannot do both at once," she said gently.
But my sister did not laugh, "Ah," she said softly, "but what's the use of running" – she lifted her eyes to mine – "if you are on the wrong road.

Promises, eh? You make so many, but how many of them can you keep?

Once upon a time, a savage, violent time, humans, goblins, kobolds, Hödekin, and Lorelei lived side by side in the world above, feeding, fighting, preying, slaying. It was, as I had said, a dark time, and Man turned to dark practices to keep the blood tides at bay. Sacrifices, you see. Man turned against brother, fathers against daughters, sons against
mothers, all to appease the goblins. To stop the needless deaths, one man - one stupid, foolish man - made a bargain with the old laws of the land, offering himself as a sacrifice.

But does the king serve the crown, or the crown serve the king?

Goblins do not feel the way mortals do," he went on. "You humans live and love so fiercely. We crave that. We need that. That fire sustains us. It sustains me.

I want away. I want escape. I want a life lived to the fullest - filled with strawberries and chocolate torte and music. And acclaim. Acceptance. I cannot find that here.

I hadn't expected the game to start off so poorly, so I hadn't yet gathered any ideas for penalties to dole out. So I asked another question. "Fine. What is your favorite color?"
"Green. What's yours?"
My glance fell on the salver beside me. "Red. Favorite smell?"
"Incense. Favorite animal?"
My eyes lingered on his. "Wolf. Favorite composer?"
"You.

I am not a saint; I am a sinner. I want to sin again and
again and again.

You are the monster I choose

Beware. That on burns like kindling. All flash, and no real heat. But you...you smolder, mistress. There is a fire burning within you, but it is a slow burn. It shimmers with heat, waiting only for a breath to fan it to life. Most curious. Most curious, indeed" -Merchant

If it were only feathers that could transform a sparrow into a peacock" -Liesl

I surveyed my kingdom. Chaos. Cruelty. Abandon. I had always been holding back. Always been restrained. I wanted to be bigger, brighter, better; I wanted to be capricious, malicious, sly. Until now, I had not known the intoxicating sweetness of attention. In the world above, it had always been Käthe or Josef who captivated people's eyes and
hearts - Käthe with her beauty, Josef with his talent. I was forgotten, overlooked, ignored - the plain, drab, practical,talentless sister. But here in the Underground, I was the sun around which their world spun, the axis around which their maelstrom twirled. Liesl the girl had been dull, drab, and obedient; Elisabeth the woman was a queen.

It is not the wolves you need fear, but the sheep skins they wear.

But I love it up here. There is a certain allure to this place, some dark, shameful part of me that thrills at the beauty of death and decay."
Walking arm in arm with the Countess, I understood what she meant. The notion of finding death and decay beautiful should have sounded ridiculous and morbid, yet it resonated with me with a sort of romance of its own.

Even if I did find his name and unlock his soul, there was the man I loved and the monster I craved. I did not know how to free one without losing the other.

Elisabeth." The way the Goblin King said my name made my heart flutter. "Will you marry me?" This time, it was a long time before I replied. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I will.

An inarticulate scream of rage strangled me. I wanted
to destroy something, to spend my anger against the unfairness of every thing. I wanted nothing more than to grapple with the Goblin King, to tear him from limb to limb, a Maenad against Orpheus. I tightened my hands into fists.

For all that I could not bear my own silence, I wanted the voices of the world around me to disappear. Solitude was different from loneliness, and it was solitude I was seeking.

It was a pleasure to open that door and turn the lock, hearing the solid thunk and clang as the mechanism slid into place. I had done this so many times to my own heart; it was a pleasure to do it to the world.

What would you do, if you were a free man?"
"I would take my violin and play. I would walk the world and play, until someone called me by name and called me home.

I did not want to fight. I wanted to surrender, because surrender was the greater part of courage.

Was my sacrifice worth it? I felt hollow and bereft, yet the grief in my heart had palpable weight, bearing me down to the ground. I could not breathe. I carried the burden of my love for my family, and it threatened to suffocate me.

Once I had finished conducting business with Herr Kassl, I went in search of my sister. Käthe was easy to find, even in this sea of faces in the square. Her smiles were the broadest, her blue eyes the brightest, her pink cheeks the rosiest. Even her hair beneath that ridiculous hat shone like a bird of golden plumage. All I had to do was follow the path traced by the eyes of the onlookers in the village, those admiring, appreciative glances that led me straight to my sister at the center.
For a moment, I watched her bargain and haggle with the sellers. Käthe was like an actress on the stage, all heightened emotion and intense passion, her gestures affected, her smiles calculated. She fluttered and flirted outrageously, carefully oblivious to the stares she drew like moths to the flame. Both men and women traced the lines of her body, the curve of her cheek, the pout of her lip.
Looking at Käthe, it was difficult to forget just how sinful our bodies were, just how prone we were to wickedness. Born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward, or so saith Job. Clothed in clinging fabrics, with every line of her body exposed, every gasp of pleasure unconcealed, everything about Käthe suggested voluptuousness.

So I tried my best to stifle hope. Because hope's twin was despair, and despair was infinitely worse. If hope hurt, then despair was the absence of hurt. It was the absence of feeling. It was the absence of caring. I wanted very much to care.

Love is the bridge that spans the world above and below, and keeps the wheel of life turning.

Take me," I whisper. "Take me back."
The green and gray of the Goblin King's eyes flash white and blue, white and blue, the pupils shrinking to a pinprick of black. The corners of his lips curl, close - so close - to mine.
As you wish, my dear.
As you wish.
A breath, a sigh, a kiss, and we are met.

I am,' he whispers, 'the monster I warned you against.'
'You are,' I say hoarsely, 'the monster I claim.

All that remained of a person once they were gone was a legacy, which would linger only as long as you were loved or hated. Immortality was memory.

Yes, you have the very soul of me, Elisabeth."
"Then your name, mein Herr."
He laughed softly, but it was a gasp of pain, not of joy. "No."
"Why?"
"So you will forget me," he said simply. "You cannot love a man with no name.

Skills could be taught, but talent could not.

I am merely mortal," I said hoarsely. "Not magic."

"Are you so certain of that, my dear?

Her grandmother had told her to beware the wolves that prowled in the wood, but the little girl knew the little boy was not dangerous, even if he was the king of the goblins. Will you marry me, Elisabeth? the little boy asked, and the little girl did not wonder at how he knew her name. Oh, she replied, but I am too young to marry. Then I will wait, the little boy said. I will wait as long as you remember. And

Farewell, Mother, careworn and abiding,
Farewell, Papa, faded brightness hiding.
Farewell, Constanze, I took your tales to heart,
Farewell, Hans, and your fumbles in the dark.
Farewell, Käthe, I'm sorry I did you wrong.
Farewell, Josef, may you play ever-long.
Farewell, all, to you I give my love.

If- if I could find a way to free you," I whispered, "would you walk the world above with me?"
My back was to the Goblin King; I could not face him. It was a long time before he answered.
"Oh, Elisabeth," he said. "I would go anywhere with you."
I turned around. His eyes deepened in color and for a moment, just for the merest glimpse, I could see what he would have been like as a mortal man. If he had been allowed to live the course of his life, from the child he had been to the man he would have become. A musician- a violinist. I ran back into the circle of alder trees, wanting the circle of his arms around me. I reached out my hands, and his fingers brushed mine, but we passed through each other like water, like a mirage. We were each nothing but a shimmering illusion, a candle flame we could not hold.
And yet, the Goblin King was still here, in the Goblin Grove, with me. He stood in the Underground while I stood in the world above, but our hearts beat within the same space.
"Don't look back," he said.
I nodded. I love you, I wanted to say. But I knew these words would break me.
"Elisabeth."
The Goblin King was smiling. Not the pointed smile of the Lord of Mischief or Der Erlkönig, but a crooked one. Twisted to one side, lopsided and goofy, it cracked my heart open and I bled inside.
He mouthed a word at me. A name. "You've always had it, Elisabeth," he said softly. "For it is you I gave my soul.

The kiss is sweeter than sin and fiercer than temptation. I am not gentle, I am not kind; I am rough and wild and savage.

What will happen to you if I win?" I whispered.
A smile crossed his lips, but the corners were downturned, more sad than satisfied. "You know," he said. "You're the only one who's ever asked.

Life," he said softly, "is more than flesh. Your body is a candle, your soul the flame. The longer I burn the candle..." He did not finish.
"A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick," I said."I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out than sit forever in darkness.

There is music in your soul. A wild and untamed sort
of music that speaks to me. It defies all the rules and laws you humans set upon it. It grows from inside you, and I have a wish to set that music free.

All things on earth and beneath it passed away, but music was immortal. Even if I was dead to the world above, a part of me would live each time my music was heard" -Liesl

We were as far from each other as we could be in that moment; he on one end of forever, me on the other.

You are the one who wanted a happy ending, my dear. So you tell me, how does the story end?"
Tears slipped from my face, and he wiped them away with his thumbs.
"The foolish young man lets the beautiful maiden go."
"Yes." His voice was clotted thick with unshed emotion. "He lets her go.

The sun was high overhead in the world above. My husband slept soundly beside me, his breathing soft and even. We had fallen asleep resting against each other, but during the night we had drifted apart, founding our separate kingdoms on opposite sides of his bed. Our borders were delineated by a pile of bedclothes. We had touched each other in the most intimate ways possible, but neither of us could bear the other's closeness. Not yet.

My music was elegant, transcendent, ethereal, and I could not bear to behold its beauty. I longed to pull it back beneath my skin, to hide it away in the shadows where it properly belonged, safe where no one could judge it for its flaws.

What will you do when there is no one left to take care of, no one left to look after? Is that when you will finally look after you?

Your music," he said at last. "Your music was the only thing that kept me sane, that kept me human instead of a monster.

Those eyes. So pale, so startling, so different. His breath was hot against my face, and we stared at each other. I was stunned to see I was looking into the face of the austere young man, not Der Erlkönig, not the wolf, and suddenly I understood what he had been pleading.
Don't leave me.
A warmth spread from my center, turning my limbs liquid. But when that warmth reached my heart, it turned into pain.
"Never," I breathed.
At my word, his eyes transformed. Hardening into jewels, the mask of Der Erlkönig returned. He lowered his mouth to the column of my neck, a light touch of teeth, his hand moving to rest lightly against my collarbone.
"Good," he growled.
And then with one swift motion, he tore the fabric of my dress from the neck down.

Madness is not a gift," I said angrily.
"Nor is it a curse," the Count returned gently, "Madness simply is.

What I wouldn't give to be the object of someone's desire, just for one moment. What I wouldn't give to taste that fruit, that heady sweetness, of being wanted. I wanted. I wanted what Käthe took for granted. I wanted wantonness.

And at the center of the room, a girl. A woman. She sits at the klavier with eyes closed, playing their song. Their story.
Elisabeth.
Her image flickers, wavers, a reflection seen on the edges of a candle flame. The shadows wriggle and writhe with curiosity, and with tremendous effort, the monster holds them back.
Please, he whispers. Please, let me have this one thing.
As he plays, the darkness recedes. From his skin, from his hair, the weight of the rams' horns on his head lightening. Color returns to the world and to his eyes, a mismatched blue and green as the monster remembers what it is to be a man.
Elisabeth.
He sits down on the bench beside her, begging her- beseeching her- to open her eyes and see him. Be with him. But she keeps her eyes closed, hands trembling on the keyboard.
Elisabeth.
She stirs. He sucks in a sharp breath and lifts his hand to stroke her cheek with fingers that are still mangled, broken, strange. His touch passes through her like a knife through smoke, yet she shivers as if she can feel the brush of his fingers in the dark places of her soul, her body, her heart. She is as insubstantial as mist, but he cannot resist the urge, the itch, to kiss. He closes his eyes and leans in close, imagining the silk of her skin against his lips.
They are met.
A gasp. His eyes fly open but hers are still closed. Her hand lifts to her mouth, as though the tingle of their unexpected caress still lingered there.

Bittersweet Elisabeth Vogler Goblin King

Without sacrifice, nothing good can grow. Without death, there can be no rebirth." -Der Erlkonig

Through him I could play the music I heard in my soul. I was the violin, he was the bow.

That one," the merchant said, pointing to Käthe, "burns like kindling. All flash, and no real heat. But you," he said. "You smolder, mistress. There is a fire burning within you, but it is a slow burn. It shimmers with heat, waiting only for a breath to fan it to life.

This was the Goblin King. The abductor of maidens, the punisher of misdeeds, the Lord of Mischief and the Underground.

Humans were not meant for isolation. WE were not meant for loneliness.

If I were a burning smolder, he was the poker, stirring
me into flames.

You asked, I answered," he said. "The answer is you. What I want is you - entire.

I am not afraid of you," I said quietly.
"Oh?" The Goblin King lifted his head. "I am the Lord of Mischief, the Ruler Underground," he said, mismatched eyes glinting. "I am wildness and madness made flesh. You're just a girl" - he smiled, and the tips of his teeth were sharp - "and I am the wolf in the woods.

I would shape the world to fit the music in my soul. I

The last night of the year," Constanze said. "Now the days of winter begin and the Goblin King rides abroad, searching for his bride.

I love you, Elisabeth." I hold him tighter to me, even as my heart unravels. "By God, I love you so.

His beauty hurt, but it was the pain that made it beautiful

I was content to shape the quiet into the structures I wanted.

It takes love, you see, to bring the world back to life.

What did you think the answer would be, Elisabeth? I toy with you because I can. Because it gives me great pleasure. Because I was bored.

Beware the goblin men and the wares they sell.

What would be enough? He had an answer he wanted to hear, but I withheld it. Games and more games. We would always be dancing with each other, the Goblin King and I.

You have something much more enduring than beauty," she said severely. "And what is that?" "Grace," she said simply. "Grace, and talent." I

I had not thought goblins believed in God."

A small wrinkle appeared between his brows. "They don't," he said. "But I do.

Wait? I had waited my entire life for this moment. Not for consummation, but for validation; I desired so hard I wanted to be found desirable in return. The Goblin King saw me - all of me - and now I wanted him to know me. I pushed away his restraining hand and leaped forward; I was a cat, a wolf, a huntress. I was out for blood and flesh.

You are the monster I claim, mein Herr.

Trapped and tormented by your own wishes. I knew intimately how that felt; I was often strangled by the tyranny of my desires.

What did immortality do to one who was once mortal? It stretched him thin.

He looked at me as no one had before, as though I were more the sum of my eyes, my nose, my lips, my hair, and my wretched plainness. He looked as though he saw me entire, as though he knew me" -Liesl

You have to love the land, and the people who live in it. Love is the bridge that spans the world above and below, and keeps the wheel of life turning" -Der Erlkonig

I am..."
Who was I? Daughter, sister, wife, queen, composer; these were the titles I had been given and claimed, but they were not the whole of me. They were not me, entire. I closed my eyes.
"I am," I said slowly, "a girl with music in her soul. I am a sister, daughter, a friend, who fiercely protects those dear to her. I am a girl who loves strawberries, chocolate torte, songs in a minor key, moments stolen from chores, and childish games. I am short-tempered yet disciplined. I am self-indulgent, selfish, yet selfless. I am compassion and hatred and contradiction. I am... me.

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My hopes and dreams, so tattered and tender, had been sheltered by secrecy for so long that I could not bear to bring them to light.

How did we get there?" I asked in a muffled voice. "What are we to do?"
I felt Josef's shoulders lift in a shrug. "What we've always done, I suppose. Survive.

The wishes we make in the dark have consequences, and the Lord of Mischief will call their reckoning

What's the use of running, if we are on the wrong road.

You live an unlife instead," I said. I held the ring before me and looked at it. It was old, tarnished, and even a little ugly. "An unlife, a not-death. You exist in the in-between spaces, between sleep and waking, between belief and imagination. I wish I could wake up, mein Herr. I wish I were awake.