Hunting the Gowk, a labyrinth fanfic

Title: Hunting the Gowk

Author: Yodeladyhoo

Beta: Anij

Summary: The Gentry have a wicked sense of humour that doesn't always mix with humans sense of justice.

Genre: Fantasy

Pairings: none

Rating: K

disclaimer (dĭs-klā'mər): noun

1. (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something

2. denial of any connection with or knowledge of

syn: disavowal

c.1986, 2007 The Jim Henson Company.

LABYRINTH is a trademark of The Jim Henson Company.

Labyrinth characters c.1986 Labyrinth Enterprises.

All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. Permission for the use of the non-original characters and implications to Grimm Brothers stories have not been requested by the author or granted by the licensors. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.

Plea for Reason: Sorry that this is a day late. You don't want to know what Karma/Life/The Gentry threw my way for an April Fool's prank!

His usual mutterings were punctuated with the not so usual expression "scheming rat" as he hoggled up the stairs to the main entrance. Most times, he despised being interrupted from his daily routine. This time, he actually looked forward to the change of scenery. After so many years away from the community of the Goblin City, a friendly visit was quite the treat, even if he was being asked to come a-callin'. Even if the only way he would be allowed in is if he were to be invited.

Like the last time he came this way, he was taken aback by the formidable entranceway that guarded the portal. Unlike the last time he came this way, Hoggle banged on the smaller cut-out in the door to his right, meant to give access to those of diminutive stature. A few moments had passed and he was about to give another round of pounding, when a viewing door was pulled aside and brown, watery, irises sitting in jaundiced scleras peered out at him through the grating. A disembodied, rasping voice accompanied the eyes with a "Who goes there?"

"Lemme in. I've been summoned by th' King." 'Th' scheming rat,' Hoggle knew better than to voice that opinion so close to His Majesty.

He kept his peace as the Palace Guard opened the door. Hoggle passed through and on into the stone passageways that would lead to the Throne Room. For all that Hoggle was not, he was the King's man, and this was not the first time that his Liege had called upon him. Nor was this the first time that he had been summoned to the castle beyond the Goblin City, although it was the first time since the last time he came through here.

It had been a while since his last visit, if you could call storming a castle a visit. Hoggle tried not to think about that as it usually ended up poorly for him, in the end. Because of his involvement ('Forced involvement' Hoggle reminded himself) in that incident, when all was said and done, Hoggle found his snug little cottage not where he last had seen it that fateful morning, residing beneath the shade of rock outcropping. No, he found his abode nestled quite comfortably in a nook of a corner of a bordering wall. That bordered the Bog. On the Bog side of the wall. Seemingly always downwind of it. He was not happy with this turn of events, seeing as that he was more than happy to leave the girl to her own devices when he had left her within the outer wall. But, the King had come for a visit and told him to see her back to the start of the Labyrinth. Then the wench took his property. In any case, he was only doing as he was told to do; how was he supposed to know that the Rat was manipulating the rules too much. All he wanted was his things back, much like she wanted her brother back. Now, look where that ended him up--a waterfront residence to the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Hoggle entered the circular room through the arched doorway after ascending the short staircase. He was accosted by the usual mayhem that always seemed to accompany a company of goblins. In the rear of the room, seemingly in the center of activities, lounged a male on a barbaric throne, made regal by a grandiloquent drape. He seemed to be amused by the antics of a troupe of goblins that had perched themselves on the heraldic crown that a vulture had appropriated for a nest. The vulture was not happy. Jareth was. The sun streamed in almost impossibly from both circular windows, even though they were on opposite sides of the throne. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Hoggle announced himself by clearing his throat.

A few goblins looked over to see who the newcomer was. A couple gave each other elbow nudges and one accidentally shoved the other into the King's leg. Jareth looked away from his current distraction to see Hoggle at the entrance, cap in hand. "Ya' asked for me, yer Majesty?"

"Hedgewart," a smile graced the King's face, before a scowl replaced it with Hoggle's correction. "I've an offer for you."

Now it was Hoggle's turn to scowl. There was always a catch. An offer offered usually meant that he wanted something done; the sweeter the offer, the more detestable the task. "Oh? I appreciate yer generosity, yer Majesty, but..."

"But? But, Higgle?" The King swiveled his legs so that both feet now rested solidly on the floor. "I'm offering to return your shack to its previous location and you have a but?" At that utterance, Hoggle's jaw dropped at the reward for the unnamed task, but Jareth brushed it aside with a wave of his hand, "But, I can see that you are pleased with your current accommodations..."

"I was just sayin', yer Majesty, that I thinks I can find th' time to work in yer request."

The King's smile returned to his countenance. "That's a good man. Now Hogsbrain,.."

"Hoggle."

"Yes," Jareth worked diligently not to allow the annoyance to surface, least it spoil his fun, "I've a task for you. You have a keen nose for treasure and there is a treasure to be had for one who can grasp it."

Jareth had him at the reward; the idea of treasure drew the dwarf closer to the throne where the King sat comfortably, leaning back as he worked two crystals across his hands. Multiple pairs of eyes followed those rolling orbs of dreams--some hungrily, some amused, some nervously--but none of those eyes belonged to the manipulator of the orbs. Jareth seemed preoccupied with what he about to impart. The crystals rolled effortlessly over his palms and fingers, across the length of his hands and arms as he visualized the story he told:

"It is said that somewhere in the clouds Aboveground, there lives a giant. How he came to live there, I do not know, nor do I care to. Perhaps it was part of a magic spell that he acquired, as giants have a way of 'acquiring' things. It is one of these 'acquired' possessions that interest me." With that, Jareth held aloft the crystal in his right hand. Spinning it quickly atop one finger, the edges of the sphere blurred, and an image of a large bird appeared. "A gowk. It is said that this particular gowk has the ability to lay eggs of solid gold. One of those eggs would go a long way to replenishing the Kingdom's coffers after the extensive repairs that were made recently." At this, Hoggle winced, an expression that was not lost on Jareth. With a quick motion, he grabbed the bird within his hand--the image became an orb again. "Your task, Hoggle, is to retrieve the egg of the gowk. Do so, and your home shall be returned to the exterior of the outer wall."

Hoggle shuffled his feet nervously towards the exit. He did not like ultimatums. "An', if I don't?"

Jareth returned to juggling. "Then; nothing."

"Nothin'?"

"Nothing. You shall remain where you are currently residing." With that, Jareth tossed up one of the crystals towards the ceiling. All of the goblins that were cavorting on the mounted crown reached for it; one of them did so with both hands. In comedic slow motion, the goblin acrobat's face contorted to shocked disbelief in realization that there was no reason for his body to defy gravity before he succumbed to it. Jareth joined in the laughter, perhaps not as raucously as his minions, but enough to miss Hoggle's retreat from the room. His laughter resumed when he realized that the dwarf had undertaken the fool's mission. He tossed up the second crystal to see what the krewe near the ceiling would do. This time, they merely watched the crystal ascend and then pop like a soap bubble before showering them with glittering broken dreams.

Hoggle stomped his way down the well-worn stairs of the castle. He muttered about treasures and how they would be his undoing as he limped out the rear gate on his way to his humble cottage. His gait dictated that he move slowly through the forest; his inclination dictated him bypassing the city dump. Hoggle learned a long time ago that there were no real treasures to be found there, only the detritus of abandoned dreams, much like many found throughout the Labyrinth.

It would be nice to be living on the outside of the Labyrinth again. His walks to and from the gardens would be much shorter and far more pleasant than trying to have to outrun the wild gangs, not to mention that he missed his begonias. Stinkweed and pitcher plants just did not have the same appeal to him. Stinkweed was too ragged to make a decent border with and pitcher plants needed standing water to thrive. He missed the trailing trellis roses and coneflowers that the fairies liked to parasitize. Heck, he even missed hearing the buzzing and tinny pinging of the fairies that infested his zinnias bushes that used to grow right outside his bedroom window. For all the appearance of being an arid wasteland, the surrounding earth surrounding the Labyrinth was surprisingly fertile for the lack of heavy magick that was found inside the bordering walls. Even the grasses were sweeter outside of the Labyrinth, making his goat's milk fragrant and rich. Hoggle was sure that the rancid growth that she was eating now was the cause of the foul aftertaste to his cheese and yogurt. Moreover, whatever the chickens were scratching in made their eggs inedible. He had let them all fly off to their own devices weeks after his 'relocation'.

In the clouds! Aboveground! How was he ever to get there! Were clouds solid, like land, Aboveground? How was he to know? Hoggle pondered this paradox as he relieved himself of an itch just beneath his shoulder blade. 'Caw! What I wouldn't give for a helping hand of a friend right about now!' A realization dawn upon him that could possibly solve both of his issues. He had a friend Aboveground; someone who could give him the answers, and quite possibly the means, of attaining the gowk's egg. Besides, she did owe him a favour or two. Hoggle picked up the pace of his limp. The faster he was able to get home to a quiet bowl of clear water, the sooner he could talk to Sarah. The sooner he could talk to Sarah, the sooner he could get some answers to get back home.

Maybe, just maybe, she'll give his back a good scratching, too.

Sarah Williams loved her life. At seventeen, she was a confident freshman in college, in her second semester after a glowing first semester with a 3.8 GPA (stupid calculus!), a weekend job in the college bookstore, and a can-do attitude that would knock your socks off. So, it was with a tune burbling from her lips as she sat on the floor of her room, assembling an Easter basket for her kid brother on her usual Friday off (man, did she love having the freedom to chose her schedule!) before her Spring Break vacation to South Beach. Her father and stepmother agreed to pay for the trip and expenses after such a good first semester. Now, all she had to do was to get to the library this afternoon and all day tomorrow to put a real dent in that paper that was due two weeks after the return to classes...

"Sarah, I needs you."

The brunette was startled to hear a familiar voice that was not crooning out of the radio that she was humming along to. Lifting her head to look at the mirror that was a part of her dressing table, she was not really surprised to see the leathered features of her dwarven friend looking back at her as he sat on her bed behind her. "Hoggle!" Sarah exclaimed as she rose from the floor to greet her friend. "How sweet of you to visit!"

"Yeah, well," he responded as he tried not to appear tickled by her warm greeting, "I gots a problem."

"What's up?" She asked as she sat down on the bed next to him.

Hoggle recounted all that Jareth had told him about the gowk. As he progressed with his tale, he became more and more nervous as he watched Sarah's eyes narrow and her lips thin to a pressed line.

"Did he tell you how you were to get into the clouds? Did he mention planting beans, or something to climb to get there?" Hoggle did not like the cold calculation that entered her eyes.

"N-n-no," his gravelly stammered.

"Well, he's sent you on a wild goose chase," she informed him frankly. "There are no gowks here or any other bird that lays golden eggs, other than the ones in fairy tales, and those are just stories here. What did he threaten you with if you failed?"

"Nothin'," was the mumbled reply.

"Hoggle..."

"Really, Sarah, nothin'! Ya see, after ya left us, we waited for ya. Then, there was this rumblin' an' tumblin' an' th' next thing I knew, I was a-standin' outside of my house, 'cept it was in th' swamplands of th' Bog."

Sarah's eyes grew wide with shock with that information before Hoggle continued. "Ya see, Jareth said that if I came back with an egg, he would move my house back to where it was. If I didn'ts, he would do nothin'."

Sarah's face took on a fierce look of determination. She knew the King of the Goblins could be cruel, but that was too much to dangle in front of the man. She moved to her desk to gather some supplies. "Oh, don't worry, Hoggle, you'll be returning with an egg, all right. One that he'll wear all over his smug face!"

--nudge--

--poke--

--elbow--

--shove--

--totter--

Jareth felt a solid body collide with his shin. Sighing, he put down the goblin that he had by the collar. The toss would need to be delayed, yet again. Looking around for the cause of the latest distraction of his activities of keeping himself distracted, he spied Hoggle standing in front of the throne, but facing him. His cap remained on his head as his hands were full of some sort of gaily colored basket. "Well, if it isn't you."

Hoggle tried a weak smile, failed miserably, and then settled on muttering. "I've-ah-I've brought ya a gift."

Amusement overtook the Goblin King's face. "Oh, you have, have you now?" This should prove to be a very interesting distraction.

Hoggle moved forward just a bit; he really was not able to go very much farther for the press of goblin bodies curious to see what sort of gift their King had received.

Jareth snatched the basket by the handle perhaps just a bit too forcefully. Looking inside, he tried to fathom what it was he was holding. "Hoggle, what is this thing that you have brought me?" Nestled within the white plastic, wicker basket, tucked with loving care atop a bedding of shredded plastic sheeting colored a ghastly shade of florescent green, sat an egg. An egg approximately as long as his hand--that was the color of new daffodils. "Plastic?"

"Oh, no, yer Majesty. That's just th' coverin' to protect it." Hoggle's chest swelled with pride. "That, yer Majesty, is the egg of a gowk."

At this, Jareth's eyebrows rose up so quickly and so far that they were all but lost underneath his layered bangs. "This basket is far too light for it to be solid gold."

Clearing his throat, Hoggle started to weave his tale. "That's because it's a fertile egg, Sire. Th' solid gold ones are sterile and are only as good as th' gold that they are. This one here is fertile, an' if I understood rightly, about to hatch."

Jareth looked dubiously at the basket, then at Hoggle. Pressing his luck just a bit further, Hoggle continued the tale. "Th' ways I sees it, Sire, wouldn't it be better to have a gowk of yer own instead of just one solid gold gowk egg? This way, ya have yer own to keep laying those golden eggs."

Now, Jareth was wondering if there was some truth in the old fable. For here in his hands, lay the foundations of wealth beyond the means of his meager kingdom. Why, with his own gowk, the infrastructure projects that could be built--the rumours of such projects as he ordered the fine materials would fuel an envy between the other kingdoms to rival those of the High Courts of Avalon itself. Why, he was almost certain that the High King himself would covet his gowk. A wicked, toothy grin spread across the Goblin King's face. "Well done, Hedgehog."

Hoggle's face beamed with pride, even if he could not look up at his monarch. Quickly, he remembered that there was a reason why he went through all of this trouble, "Uhm, er, yer Majesty?"

"Hmmm, yes?" Jareth was preoccupied with his new gift, gingerly nudging the plastic egg shaped case carefully around in its packing.

"My reward?"

Pulled out from his focus, Jareth was almost bemused and perhaps a bit absent minded. It came to him that he was being asked to retract his original 'consequence' for Hoggle's actions in the affair. It occurred to him that he did not expect Hoggle to succeed, yet here he was, holding the egg of the gowk, with its impending hatching. Eager to be left alone with the chick, Jareth waved his hand and Hoggle vanished from the castle to his own 'castle', newly restored in its original location.

He delicately lifted the pale yellow ovoid from its nest and placed it next to his ear. With a bit of a start and a childish grin of glee, Jareth thought he heard some stirrings from within the casing. He discarded the basket and gave its former contents all of his attention. The basket was quickly fought over by three goblins and the winner of the grabbing contest proudly wore his trophy instead of his helmet. The 'grass' was passed around and sampled. The general consensus was that, although it was visually appealing and the texture was 'strlicky', the flavour was 'blechty' and did not warrant the ale it would take to sample it with. The remainder was tossed to the edges of the Throne Room, destined to become bedding either for the goblins or for the chickens.

Ignoring the battles surrounding him, Jareth pondered over his gift. Should he place it in the warmth of the sun and allow it to finish its incubation within the casing? Or, since he had heard some motions from within, should he attempt to open the shell and inspect it? He assumed that the egg was only recently placed in its protective enclosure for transport, to remove it would not harm it. Or, what if the chick had already hatched and was now trapped within the casing, struggling and near suffocation?

With a firm grasp between both hands, he cautiously twisted the egg along its equator. The halves moved easily enough. Jareth brought the egg closer to his face so that he might look into the base at the first opportunity. Do gowks impress like ducks and cranes? Jareth's curiosity would wait no longer. He lifted the halves apart to have something fly into his face and over his head. The surprise of the attack jerked Jareth back and off of his center of balance. The ruckus over the basket and the grass surrounding him limited his feet, so he could not recover and remain standing at the same time.

The King toppled backwards over the goblin with a basket on its head. He landed on his back on the moving masses of his troops as they jostled around the winner and as they sampled the basket filler. Not realizing that it was their monarch that had landed on them, the goblins pushed and shoved Jareth until he landed in the central pit of the room, discontented, discommodious and disjointed.

"Yer Majesty?" A snout nosed goblin leered over the edge of the pit, holding something rather small and yellow towards him, "Is this yers?"

Jareth restrained himself from ripping the object from its hand. With deft fingers, he plucked it from the grimy talons that secured his gowk. Sitting up, he marveled suspiciously that this bird was very flat for a living creature that, when matured, would lay solid gold eggs. With the creature now in the hollow of his palm, Jareth could now see that this was no living creature. It was a construct from wire, paper, some sort of rubber ribbon, and diaphanous coloured tissue. No, this was not a bird, nor was it a pixie that it was meant to depict. He could now see that the fluttering motion that set all of this off was caused by the latent power held within the twisted rubber band that was in the center of the pixie's form. The wire formed the frame for its 'wings' and the tissue paper created the membrane of its wings. However, what really burned the king was the message inscribed on the wings. For, written in a tight, but neat, print read;

"April Fool's, you overgrown Faery! The 'yolk's on you!"

Author's Note: I've done it for you. Now, please return the favor. Review. Thank you.