~Story One~
The Bog of Eternal Stench
Adapted by Strawberries-N-Cream
~*~
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There was once a small house in the Labyrinth very near to a bog called the Bog of Eternal Stench. No one for sure knew why the bog was called this. Some people thought it was named this because of the eternal reek that spewed from its bubbling waters. Some claimed that the bog sunk so badly because of all the bodies the King of Goblins had threw into it when he was angered by the victims' stupidity. Never the less, the bog stunk and every sane person stayed clear of it. However, a tiny, finely built shrine was placed at the banks of the bog so that visitors could leave offerings in a wooden bow within its shelters—so that when they passed through—the stench of the bog would remain behind them.
One midsummer's day, the dwarfs who worked on the outside of Labyrinth, where they squirted evil faeries with bug spray, gathered around a huge bomb fire after their days work was completed.
As they counted their dead faeries by the light of the fire, they amused themselves by telling ghost stories. By the time a dozen stories were told, even the bravest began to grow scared and they all became uneasy about walking home through the shadowy paths of the Labyrinth.
Then one of the younger dwarfs, who actually enjoying the thrills of fear he was receiving, said, "Think of goin' all alone tonight to the Bog of Eternal Stench."
His suggestion provoked cold shudders and nervous fits of quiet laughter.
"Why not?" demanded the dwarf, unwilling to allow his bright idea to rest. "I'll give all my dead faeries that I killed today to the brave soul who goes!"
"And so will I!" another exclaimed.
Before long all the dwarfs promised their share of dead faeries as a grand prize to the one foolish enough to go to the bog that night.
Only one of the dwarfs did not join into the chants of the others and his name was Hoggle, the king's main faery killer.
"If you are really goin' to give me your faeries, I'll go."
His bargain was meet with cries of astonishment and blank stares; most thought that Hoggle was merely joking. But he repeated his dare several more times and they realized he was serious. Each of his follow dwarfs promised to give up their kill of evil faeries to Hoggle, if he ventured up to the bog.
"How will we know that Heggle will go up there?" a small dwarf with yellowed teeth asked. The horde nodded in agreement at the dwarf's reasoning.
"Why--" remarked the oldest dwarf, "let Headwart bring back the offering box from the shrine." The elder thought for a moment, and then added, "That will be proof enough, I believe. Then he shall return the box in the morning, after he has shown all of us."
"It's Hoggle," grimaced the unfortunate dwarf. "I'll bring your box, ya'll see!" he boasted proudly to them all as he left the shelter of the small house. Hoggle was foolish, for he did not believe in the spirits that brought forth the smell of the dreaded bog. In his greed, Hoggle had made up his mind to steal the treasures locked away within the wooden box before he returned it.
He hurried along the twisting path of the Fiery Forest. The night was cool and crisp. Hoggle's leather-soled shoes made abrupt crunching noises on the pebble-crusted path as he rapidly darted down the vacant pathway. All of the shadows were stilled and the eerie moonlight wavered against the calmness of the dead night. But the unwise Hoggle thought only of the riches he would uncover from the box at the bog's shrine in a short while, and the bounty of dead faeries he would take from his friends in the morning to come.
Soon he left the village far behind and scurried along the steep, meandering road that ran between lust forests and rough walls of stone that glittered in the mystical starlight. For nearly half an hour, Hoggle weary traveled through the great silence. Then he heard the distance farting noises of the Bog of Eternal Stench.
A while later he began following the narrow path that wound under high cliffs. His way grew darker and more dangerous as he neared the bog, but he had visited the smelly palace before, so he knew the way. The smell of the bog grew bolder and Hoggle's stomach churned with sickness.
The path ran around a huge boulder and opened onto a stretch of pebbled shore. The smell of bog was now agonizing; he could see the murky water like a boiling stew in a hot cauldron against the calm surface. In the starlight he could just see the curved branches of the shrine, which was really a hallowed out tree, and the shadowy offering box underneath.
Hoggle rushed toward it eagerly and stretched out his hand to take it.
But the smell of the bog made him grow faint and suddenly a babble of ghastly voices cried, "Oh! Wicked dwarf!"
For a moment Hoggle stood frozen, gripped with terror.
But he was a bold young dwarf. It's only the sound of the water, he thought to himself. When he looked at the bog, he seemed to see strange, twisted shapes boiling amongst its waters. But he told himself, That's only the bubbles.
He snatched up the offering bow and ran.
Behind him a chorus of ghost-like voices cried, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Wicked, wicked, dwarf!"
Hoggle did not stop running until he reached the top of the path. There he paused a moment, gasping for breath. Then he ran back to the village. Around him, the wind began to blow about the stilled air, then faster and faster. It rose as if it were trying to push him the way he had came; in it's howling he thought he could smell the bog terrible scent.
But he kept on, eyes watching the twisting path. He was back in the village before long, and he could now see the flickering light of the huge bomb fire ahead.
Before he went any further, Hoggle took shelter in an alleyway between two homes and opened the offering box. He took all but a handful of copper coins and tiny gems, then put these into his leather vest. Then he walked toward the glittering flames of the bomb fire.
The other dwarfs had all stayed to see if Hoggle would make good to his boast. They cried out in amazement when he entered, panting, with the offering bow from the shrine.
They brought him to the fire, asking breathless questions about what happened. Hoggle told him in a few sentences about hearing ghostly voices—though he did not tell them that the voices had called him "wicked." He said nothing about the coins and jewels he had stolen. When the elder dwarf opened the box and only spied a few copper coins and tiny gems in the bottom, Hoggle was loudest in crying out how miserly people were to leave such a miserable offering at a shrine.
"How brave you are," said the young dwarf whose challenge had started the whole business. "You have really earned the dead faeries we promised."
The other agreed, and they good-naturedly turned their day's kill over to Hoggle. Then they hurried away to their homes.
When he was alone, Hoggle took the stolen goods out from his vest to count then by the ruddy glow of the fire.
But the offering box, on the floor beside his large feet, suddenly began to quake from side to side.
"Oh! What is this?' cried the startled dwarf.
As if to answer him, the lid of the box flew open, and a green bubbly mist issued from it and a strong odor followed. Hoggle looked on in horror, as the mist began to take on strange forms and suddenly became a howling cloud of ghosts. Their bodies were drawn out to amazing lengths; their legs dwindled away to nothingness; their neck were long and twisted like snakes; they stretched their long arms out and clutched at Hoggle with thin, pale fingers. Around and around the frightened dwarf they spun, like a horrible whirlpool, screeching, "Wicked dwarf! Wicked dwarf!"
Hoggle thought he might fain. The terrible smell made him want to gag. He sank to his knees and begged the ghosts to leave him alone. Then an idea occurred to him. He took the stole items he still held within his hands and returned them into the offering box. When all the money had been put back, the ghosts poured back into the box, taking their horrid smell with them. The lid closed with a snap.
Quickly, Hoggle took the box and hurried back to the shrine. There he replaced it, with a promise to give the spirits of that place all the money the Goblin King would pay from the bodies of the dead faeries that he had gained by his disrespectful deed.
This he did the very next morning, and the ghosts never troubled Hoggle again.
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Author's Note~
I don't own the Labyrinth. If this were so, I would be married to Jareth. Please review. Thanks!