A/N: Hello! Welcome to the first fanfiction i've really written in many, many years. I (sadly) do not own Labyrinth, David Bowie, or any of the other productions associated with Jim Hanson & Co. Thank you for clicking on this little story. I hope you all enjoy it and please leave a review/comment/like.
The sickening aroma of rotting flesh became common in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.
At first, the strange stench was blamed on that of the Bog. Perhaps some goblin had snuck his way back into the city, and had brought the odor in with him. It had been the case a number of times; the guards following their noses across the city in hopes of capturing the guilty goblin, but finding nothing.
A couple of days later, the guards were ordered to search outside the city instead, within the Labyrinth. It was a small party of about six goblins: reportedly, some of the best in the goblin army. Eagerly, they had set forth on their quest, in hopes of pleasing the Goblin King.
Surely it couldn't be that hard to find a smell? The goblins weren't terribly stupid creatures. It seemed like a simple task they could perform while the Goblin King was setting out to repair his city. The girl had more power than anyone thought, and the aftermath of her confrontation of the Goblin King was devastating to the castle. Off the guards went, out from the city gates to the Labyrinth, with a single thought on their minds.
He had too much faith in his subjects.
It had been over a week since the patrol was sent from the castle to find the source of the stench, and still no word had come back. They were expected to send a messenger orb if they found anything to report.
Of course, he could just summon a crystal bauble and see what was causing his guards to dawdle around, but he simply couldn't. It was as if all of Jareth's magic had been drained from his body, the simplest of spells causing him to fall to his knees from exhaustion. He had tried to spawn one earlier only to collapse down on his throne, his body drenched in sweat.
Luckily, he was alone in his throne room at that time, without a goblin in sight to witness his weakness. It was better that way. Rumors would spread quickly among the realm. There was already too much chatter of her.
"Drat," Jareth mumbled as he gritted his teeth. For the past hour, he had been pacing back and forth in his bedchambers, pondering on his ailment. The stride of his walk, causing his boots to echo, was the only noise he allowed.
Never in the many centuries of his life had Jareth faced the waning of his powers. Something had happened to him when that girl repeated words from that stupid book of hers. She was just a weak human - a mortal of only fifteen years. He could have snapped her neck with a wave of his hand and this silly drama would have been avoided.
But he had been captivated by her - mostly by her determination and optimism to defeat his Labyrinth and save that baby. Yet, a sort of desire stirred in Jareth. Not borne of lust - she was just a pretty child - it was more of a need. He felt a sort of completeness around the mere presence of her. Jareth needed that stupid human, more than the return of his powers, more than food or water. It was a curse.
Sarah.
A loud knock interrupted his thoughts, halting his pace.
"Y-your majesty? I was told you were in your bedchambers," called out a muffled voice through the wooden door. "You requested me to see you."
"Enter," Jareth ordered, not glancing in the direction of the opening door. He noted the rustling of clothes to be a bow, then the cautious waddle of a dwarven mage. Dramatically, he turned to face the dwarf, swinging his heavy cloak around to swallow his body - and to intimidate his subject. Jareth was still the Goblin King, after all. The girl hadn't knocked the crown from his head.
The dwarf had recoiled at this display, but remained in his spot. The Goblin King seemed more on edge these days than he had remembered when he had first encountered His Majesty. Then again, who wasn't these days? The dwarf thought about inquiring on His Majesty's health, but decided not to. Not like I could anyway.
"You are called Rooster, correct?" Jareth asked, wandering over to a sizeable table where dinner was set up, the golden trays magicked to keep the food warm.
A miniature feast was displayed before the two: a platter of roasted hams glazed with honey adorned the table as a centerpiece. The other trays kept piles of potatoes, onions, radishes, and many other vegetables, all piping hot. On Jareth's side sat a crystal pitcher with a diamond pattern etched into the glass near his plate, filled with only the finest goblin wine. The table was long but narrow, covered with a plain cream-colored tablecloth. At each end, two mahogany chairs with the same cream color on their cushions awaited. Jareth pulled out his chair, slipping into it as gracefully as a Goblin King could. "Sit."
"Yes your Majesty," Rooster said as he followed the Goblin King to the table, sitting on the opposite end of His Majesty. His chair had been magicked to boost his small body so he could reach the table, and be fully seen by the Goblin King. "Though it is only a childhood nickname that has stuck by me through the years, used by most of my peers and family members. My real name is just Ro." You would think he would remember a name as simple as mine. The rumors are right. He really has become an old, crazy hootbag.
"I have many subjects in my Kingdom, Rooster. I can only remember so many when so few are useful to me." The Goblin King spat his name dryly, glaring down at the dwarf with his mismatched eyes. He poured himself a small glass of wine as the dwarf squirmed in his seat.
Rooster's eyes widened, trembling at the thought of having his mind read again. He had no idea that the Goblin King had such power. With a grumble, the dwarf averted the Goblin King's gaze and focused his eyes on his supper. "I-I apologize for my rudeness, Majesty," Rooster stammered.
"They should have called you Chicken - not Rooster. Isn't a rooster more brave than an everyday chicken?" Jareth wondered aloud, raising an eyebrow as he pulled a string from the hem of his sleeve. With an idle flick, the strand floated away into nothing. Rooster swallowed, but redoubled his inner resolve.
"Chickens can put up a mighty fight. My mother raises a dozen of 'em at a time, along with a rooster or two. They would fight the rooster if he caused too much trouble around the coop," Rooster explained, pensively picking up a fork. The Goblin King hadn't touched his food yet, and Rooster wouldn't dare take a bite before his king has.
"So why do they call you Rooster then? Is it because your nose is the same shape as a rooster's?" He questioned the mage, flashing a sly smirk, then snapping his fingers together once more. Rooster flinched, expecting his nose to change or some other trickery to happen, but nothing did. The Goblin King almost imperceptibly looked puzzled for a moment. Clearing his throat, Jareth grabbed his fork and stabbed it into a helpless slice of potato, shoving into his mouth.
"It's a silly story, Your Majesty. I'm sure you wouldn't really want to listen to me tell it. Now, I would just like to know why-", Rooster started, but was interrupted by a snort.
"Rooster, when your King compels you to do something, I think you ought to listen to him and obey," Jareth commanded, slicing off a chunk of ham without a care. Rooster furrowed his eyebrows.
I am NOT telling him the story. I will not tell you the story. Please don't actually read my thoughts this time. I'll tell the Goblin King a story as close to the truth as possible. Rooster panicked, his mind jumbled up from paranoia of the Goblin King prying at his thoughts again. His lips pursed and eyes closed, he began to weave the tale in his mind.
"I'm waiting," The Goblin King sang, smacking his lips on the ham. As usual, the cooks had made the most delicious meal he had ever tasted. The ham was on the sweeter side, but he didn't care too much.
"Well," Rooster began, trying to buy himself more time to come up with a believable story. "When I was little, my powers were not fully in control yet. Like most mages, as a child, magic can be a bit wild, and have a tendency to cause mischief. Nothing too dangerous, but silly little things, like a hairbrush disappearing, or a rose bush turning into a tree. Silly little things…" Rooster trailed off, as he realized the Goblin King had his full attention on him again, his eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of the dwarf's soul.
"Continue," was all that was spoken, along with another smack and a delighted purr.
"Anyway, my mother was out tending to her chickens, and I was playing near the front of our cottage, 'Jacks,' I think it was. Y'know, the game with the ball and the spiky metal things?" Rooster attempted to chuckle, but was met with naught but the same smacking sounds. "I tossed the ball right up into the air, collected my jacks, but the ball fell right on my head. Gave me a big ol' bonk on my little head. I let out shriek of pain as any hurt child would, and my mother came around the corner to find that my hair had turned red." The dwarf moved his hand to touch his hair, still the same fiery shade at it was on that day.
The Goblin King remained silent for a few moments, before replying "Charming" in a flat, monotonous voice.
The two finished their meal in silence, leaving Rooster alone in his thoughts. He had heard that the Goblin King was mischievous, but not quite like this. Jareth was domineering - and well aware of how powerful his mere presence was. He was the proudest of faes, never faltering in the slightest. Now, as they sat, it was like watching one of the goblins that would dirty up the throne room, jibbering and jabbing at other goblins for amusement.
"Why did you summon me here, Majesty?" The dwarf found himself saying. His words grabbed the attention of the idle Goblin King, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Jareth raised his eyebrows at Rooster for asking such a sentence.
"I…", Jareth started to speak, choosing his words carefully. "You are aware of the mortal who was here, yes?" Rooster nodded as he leaned forward. "She did something to me. I don't know what or how, but she bewitched me in such a way that I cannot fully recover from it. My powers are gone. I can barely scrape the bottom of the barrel of magic, and I am nothing but a weak fool." He clenched his left fist tightly as he spoke, ashamed of what he had admitted to the dwarf.
"Your Majesty..." Rooster began.
"Silence! I have not commanded you to speak!" the Goblin King roared, seating himself high on his chair and waving his hand as if he could silence the dwarf's voice. "...As I was saying, I have summoned you here to help me. I need to find a way to gain my powers back. I am still responsible for a kingdom, and I cannot let anyone else know. If there were to be... talk, I will have heads rolling on the throne room quicker than a fairy's flutter."
"I won't say anything to anyone, Your Majesty. I am sworn to secrecy, I promise you," Rooster nodded, as his brain began to devise a way to temporarily remedy the issue. He felt pity for the Goblin King now. The city was still reeling from the destruction brought by the human girl's visit. Who knew how the people would react, should word get out that the king of the realm himself lost his powers? Suddenly, the dwarf's eyes flashed in epiphany. "Your Majesty, if I may, I can brew you a thistlewink potion tonight. If everything goes as planned, it will be ready for you by midnight."
"A thistlewink potion? Are you sure you are able to handle it? If I am correct, not many mages have ever been successful in brewing it. The magic held within it is incredibly strong. If done improperly, the mixture can explode in the brewer's hands, killing them instantly," Jareth commented with a hint of a smirk. He was beginning to like the dwarf mage, though he'd be more tolerable without the stammering and frightened facial expressions. Before Rooster was able to respond, Jareth stood up from the table. His cloak fluttered around his body as it did before. "Very well. I will meet with you at midnight. Good luck," he purred.
Rooster's forehead creased, slightly puzzled. "Thank you, Your Majesty." The dwarf slid off the table with ease, giving a short bow before he bounced his way out of the Goblin King's bedchambers. He had never attempted to brew a great potion such as the thistlewink, so he was eager, if a bit anxious, to get started.
Once the dwarf had left, Jareth collapsed on his bed with a deep sigh. The plush mattress sunk his body down. He stared at the stone ceiling, once again lost in his thoughts.
"Sarah... Sarah. Come back to me, Sarah."
"Goblin King?" A voice whispered back. Startled, Jareth lurched himself upwards, the soft mattress bouncing in response.
"Sarah?" he called out again, this time a bit louder. A few moments passed without a response. Why would the voice respond? It was all just in his head. Jareth snorted, rolling his eyes. How silly was this all.
How very silly indeed.