Return to the Labyrinth

Jareth was extremely put out that he had such a small part in that last chapter. He pouted so prettily. I’m such a tease, aren’t I? No worries, I’ll make up for it in this chapter. Much Goblin King goodness coming up. I hope I do him justice. :P

I own none of the canon characters. They belong to Jim Henson. If I keep saying it, I might start believing it! The chapter title comes from the book “Where the Wild Things are” by Maurice Sendak. I’ve included the relevent excerpt at the end of the chapter, if you want to read it. It could apply to both Sarah or Jareth…hm?

Oh, and keep reviewing! It is both my sustenance and my inspiration!

Where the Wild Things are

Strange was not a term the Goblin King used lightly or often, yet he found himself thinking it now as he peered up into the ancient ironwood tree where their quarry had hidden itself. He tried to catch a glimpse of it, but the foliage was too dense. A soft rustle and scraping coming from among the branches was the only indication the creature was still there. Jareth’s eyes focused on the spot the noise came from and he caught a glimpse of a large, hairy form.

“You’ve led us a merry chase,” he commented almost to himself. The dogs whined softly, as if in agreement, but quieted when he turned to glance at them. The persistence of his hunting dogs had been the first clue that aught was amiss. His hounds were simple creatures of magic, and as such their attention span was, to put it kindly, minimal. If the chase ran too long they were quick to lose interest. However, as fleet of foot as they were, the chase was very often over before it had truly begun.

Not so with this hunt. Even now the pack of hounds was focused on nothing else but the tree, their red eyes never wavering from its branches. Jareth wanted to know what had grabbed their spotty attention so thoroughly. He was…curious, for now.

The Goblin King’s hair seemed to flutter, as if moving in its own wind, as he focused a small bit of persuasive magic at the creature. “Come down, little one,” he murmured, “Let me see you closer.” His voice was smooth and cajoling. It inched forward just a bit into the light, but stopped suddenly, shaking its shaggy head.

“No,” it said defiantly. Jareth frowned slightly. It should not have been able to resist the persuasion spell with so little difficulty. Strange indeed.

The voice sounded feminine, soft and lyrical, an oddly pretty sound coming from such a form. It also roused the dogs again. Their soft whines turned to growls, and one even leapt at the tree with teeth bared. With a sigh Jareth waved one hand and the dog was gone, dissipated like smoke on the wind.

“Will you come down?” he asked of the creature. If magic would not work, then perhaps good old fashioned charm would do the trick. He was speaking to the tree again however, as it, she he amended, had hidden again when the hound attacked.

“No,” the answer came from out of the tree.

“Why not?” he asked conversationally, studying his leather gloved hands as if completely disinterested in the answer.

“It’s not safe,” she replied in a tone that implied he was a fool not to have figured it out on his own. The dogs growled louder. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Time enough later to teach a lesson if need be. Instead he dismissed the remaining hounds with another wave of his hand. One instant they were there, the next, smoke. Silence, but for the stamping hooves and jingling tack of the horses, descended.

“And now, my dear?” he asked smoothly. The she-creature shifted forward, back into the light, but made no move to climb down. Jareth straightened, holding his hands out from his sides, and took three steps back from the base of the tree. He could see her watching him intently, thinking. He tried once again with a bit of magical persuasion, and once again it seemed to have little effect.

“Won’t you go away?” she asked a little desperately, as if hoping he would say yes.

“I’m afraid not,” he said gently, a smirk on his face. He wasn’t going anywhere until he had satisfied his curiosity. The Goblin King did not take no for an answer. “Not until you come down and speak with me.” The beast seemed to consider this for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh and nodding her head. She scrabbled down the gnarled trunk with a surprising agility, watching him very closely as she did so. As soon as she reached the ground she stopped, watching him and waiting. He saw her glance at his five companions, but only for a moment. It was him she watched, as if expecting him to do her some harm.

Jareth studied the odd female creature crouching before him. He had never seen her like in his Labyrinth, and he was fascinated. Her hunched figure was covered with fur of many colors, somewhere between calico and patchwork. Only her hands and face were without hair, the skin black and leathery, what he could see of it. The fur around the she-creature’s face was longer, almost like a head of hair, or a mane, concealing the details of her features in shadow. All except for wide brown eyes, the whites a startling contrast against her skin. He didn’t know what she was, but those eyes, full of a curious caution, intrigued him. He walked around her, studying, and she turned with him, watching him back with her bright eyes.

He reached out one gloved hand toward her, but she shrank back, as if suspicious of his intentions. Jareth frowned, eyes narrowing, but pulled his hand back. He hadn’t been reaching to touch the thing anyhow. He had tasted her magic, trying to determine her origin, and he was perplexed by what he found.

“Impossible,” he muttered. This was no natural creature of Faerie, hence why he had never seen its like. It was made up of magic with no master, magic created by mortal dreams that had lost their way. Such magic seemed to have been increasing in Faerie, most notably in and around his Labyrinth. It caused havoc when it met the stable magic of the maze, changing things randomly which he had great difficulty undoing. He could usually do little but wait for the magic to grow bored, dissipate, and move on. Until now it had been small patches of wild magic, small unstable changes. It shouldn’t be possible for such random, lost bits of magic to come together in such a stable form, yet here she was. Standing before him and watching him with intelligent eyes.

“What in the world is it, Jareth?” asked Leila from atop her horse behind him. He did not answer for a moment.

“I am not sure,” he replied softly, eyes never leaving the beast in front of him. “Roarke,” he said, his tone commanding. Behind him he could hear a leather saddle shifting as one of the men dismounted. The she-creature’s eyes shifted to watch Roarke approach, but seemed to dismiss him soon enough and return back to Jareth. Roarke stopped beside him, sweeping his green cape in a small bow toward the king.

“Your majesty. What is it, my lord?” he asked softly. Jareth glanced at him.

“Tell me if my sense is deceiving me, Roarke,” he replied. Roarke frowned, but obliged. He too reached out toward the creature, tasting her aura. Jareth noticed that she did not shrink from his hand, as his fingertips lightly brushed her fur. He frowned, strangely irritated, but said nothing. Roarke too was frowning, but in pure puzzlement, tinged with a hint of worry.

“Wild magic? But Jareth, it’s not possible, is it?” he asked, looking at the king.

“I thought not, but…” The Goblin King shrugged, his own findings confirmed. It explained why his persuasion spell had not worked. The she-creature looked back and forth between the two of them, and Jareth wondered how much she could understand.

A small, irritated huff came from behind the two men, followed by the sound of several people arguing in hushed tones. “But I want to see what’s so interesting,” Leila finally said loud enough to be heard. Jareth turned this time to see the raven haired beauty picking her way toward them over the uneven ground, holding her bright yellow skirts out of the dirt. The rest of the party followed behind at a distance. His mouth thinned in irritation at the interuption, but he said nothing.

The girl paused when she reached Jareth’s side, studying the furry creature. “What is it?” she asked, a curious look on her face. “Is it one of yours? It’s certainly ugly enough to be.” A look of irritation passed over the creature’s face. Jareth had a feeling she was offended by Leila’s petty insult.

“She,” he corrected.

“Pardon?” Leila asked, looking up at him.

“Not it, my dear, she,” he replied. Leila’s pixie face scrunched in confusion for a moment before she realized what he was saying.

“That thing is female? How on earth can you tell under all that hair?” she asked in a disgusted voice. Jareth noticed something like anger pass over the creature’s face and wondered suddenly if she could be dangerous.

“Leila, my dear, perhaps…” he began, his hand wrapping around her upper arm, poised to pull her away. He didn’t get to finish.

“I’d rather be ugly than stupid, little girl,” the creature sniped. Leila’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and the rest of the group gasped. Except for Jareth, who’s lips momentarily twitched up in amusement.

“How dare you!” Leila hissed in outrage, “How dare you speak to me that way! Do you know who I am?” She stamped one dainty foot, glaring at her offender.

The creature shrugged. “Do I care?” she asked.

“Oh!” Leila sputtered, “Jareth, Jareth, do something! You can’t let it talk to me like that!” The more demanding her voice the colder grew the Goblin King’s eyes.

“Can’t I?” he asked in a soft, dangerous tone. Leila did not seem to notice, although the rest of the group shuffled nervously. She was busy glaring at the creature. “I think it is time for you to return to the castle, Leila,” Jareth said. The girl whipped around, a shocked look on her face.

“But, Jareth…I…” she began.

“Now.”

The creature spoke again. “I do know who he is,” she said, pointing to Jareth, “and you must be more stupid than I thought to try and give orders to the Goblin King.” Leila stood momentarily stunned before realization seemed to dawn on her. She looked at Jareth with pleading eyes.

“I didn’t mean…your majesty, please…” she began, hands out in supplication. Tears filled her green eyes. Jareth’s mouth thinned, but he did not look at her.

“Marlee, escort the Lady Leila back to her horse. I will deal with her later,” his voice was cold and ominous. An older blonde woman in a dress the color of orange sherbet swept forward with a curtsey and took Leila’s arm. She drew the distraught girl away, speaking in hushed tones. The third woman followed quickly behind. The creature stuck out a small pink tongue after them, much to Jareth's amusement.

No one spoke a word after the women had moved off. Jareth and the creature stared at each other in silence, each contemplating the other. The forest was silent, as if holding its breath, waiting to see who would make the next move.

“So,” Jareth finally spoke, “You know who I am.” He said it lightly, but not idly. She nodded, rolling her shoulders in what could have been a shrug.

“You’re the Goblin King,” she paused, “Master of the Labyrinth.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Then you have me at a disadvantage,” he replied softly, silkily. “I do not know your name, nor where you come from.”

The creature seemed to hunch further into herself. Her bright eyes followed the retreating women, then cast down to the ground as if searching. She was silent for long moments and Jareth almost decided she would not answer him. Then her voice came, soft and sad. “I...don’t know who I am,” she said, “I was nothing, before today.” She paused. “Before today,” she said, a tone of wonder in her voice, “I don’t…believe…I really existed at all.”

Jareth studied her in silence for long moments before speaking. “Very well,” he said abruptly, “then you will come back to the Labyrinth with me.”

“Oh, but I don’t…” she started to protest. He held up one hand and she stilled.

“You will return with me to the Labyrinth,” he stated, his tone brooking no argument. “And we will give you a name.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “Aisling, I think. It will be a very good name indeed.” He turned on one booted heel and strode away, expecting them to follow. The wild magic creature, Aisling, would need to be watched very carefully. Jareth wouldn’t be surprised if the magic that made her suddenly grew unstable and broke apart into smaller magics, but until it did he wanted to keep her close. Beyond his own curiosity at her existence, some instinct told him that this was the start of something strange.

>:o_o:<


“Where the Wild Thing are”

By: Maurice Sendak


That very night in Max's room a forest grew

and grew-

and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.

And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth

and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws

till Max said "BE STILL!" and tamed them with the magic trick

of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all

and made him king of all wild things.

"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"