Author's Note: This is a little plot bunny that has been niggling at me for a month now and today an idea hit me like a sledge-hammer between the eyes, so I just had to run with it. The chapters (by and large) will be on the shorter side. This story is going to be very much in the vein of 'Dreams, Wishes and Plain Brown Wrappers' – silliness, LOTS of fluff, lashings of UST, and bits of smut (tho the first chapter is a bit on the 'sad Jareth' side…things will pick up from chapter 2 on ;) ). No evil Jareth here. But there will be love – eventually. And lots of mayhem and shenanigans along the way.
I hope you enjoy…and as always…please review.
P.S. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten my other stories. The next chapter of '50 Shades of Fae' is already outlined and I'm getting started writing it.
Quick reminder (in case some people forgot)...this is a work of fiction. I do a bit of real research, then adapt things to fit the story I want to tell. I draw details and ideas from a range of pagan religions for this story, as well as translations from Welsh and Irish. This is not meant to offend anyone, but merely to add to the world-building. That said, I will not quibble over names and details with readers. It is called 'poetic license' and I use it judiciously (it is fiction after all).
Ch. 1
With a quiet smile, Jareth leaned his back against the solid stones of the castle, enjoying the gentle warmth of the late summer sun, as it cast its nurturing glow over the Labyrinth, the kingdom and its monarch. It was these quiet moments in the midday, when the citizens of the Labyrinth kingdom were occupied with their midday meal, that the Goblin King enjoyed most. While others might find his perch, balanced upon the railing of a balcony in the tallest tower of the Goblin Castle, to be precarious at best, it was Jareth's favourite place to sit, meditate and observe his kingdom. From this perch, he could see the vast expanses of the twisting, turning, ever-changing Labyrinth, as well as the gentle rolling hills and fields that surrounded the Goblin City and villages dotted here and there amongst the maze.
If asked what his favourite time of year was, Jareth would be hard-pressed to give an answer. While many Fae had clear preferences, his role as the Goblin King and a member of the High King's family meant that he frequently had a role in many different seasonal festivals, so he loved them all – from the Yule log of deep winter, to the spring flowers and bonfires that heralded Beltane, and the fires that warmed the cool autumn nights of Alban Elfed and Samhain. Each season had its festival and meanings, and while the magic of the Underground was vastly different from the pagan magic of the aboveground, there were similarities, most notably the festivals.
Closing his eyes, Jareth basked in the glorious warmth of the sun, feeling the golden rays seep deep into his very being, warming him inside and out. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of moisture as his body responded to the delicious warmth of the sun, the humidity of midday reaching its zenith for the day. Those who saw the Goblin King at court would probably be horrified by the way his shirt was sticking wetly to him, as were his trousers – and he cared not a jot, neither for the fops at court or the warm sweat which coated him. In fact, if the truth were told, despite all of the frippery and frills he wore when about on court business, Jareth preferred more simple clothing and pursuits. In the early spring he often could be found in the fields around the Goblin City, and in the fall he would venture into the fields once more to assist with the harvesting. As king, he could easily let his advisors oversee the planting and harvesting, but Jareth was bound to his kingdom in a blood oath, and each spring and fall he felt the soil call to him, making his blood seem to itch in his veins until he followed the call and joined with the sacred soil, his hands covered in dirt and loam.
His citizens didn't question it when in the spring he would simply show up in a field, dressed simply, his hair held back by a single leather thong. And there, without a word he would join in the ancient ritual of preparing the soil and planting the crops. When he appeared, he would work all day under the sun, alongside his subjects. At noon he would sit with them and share their simple working day meal, often supplementing the meal with treats from his own kitchens. For the lunch hour they would eat and talk, then return to work. Then when the last of the work was done for the day, a great keg of ale would be found at the edge of the field, and he would join with them in toasting the work of the day, often staying until the sun had fully set, drinking and singing songs with his subjects.
Whenever the king graced a farmer with his presence for the planting, it was viewed throughout the kingdom as the king bestowing a gift upon the farmer – but Jareth knew that wasn't really the case. It was the land. The land called him to a particular place on a particular day and all he did was answer the call. Early in his reign he had wondered about the significance of the call and his actions, but even as Fae with a knowledge of many worlds and the beings 'beyond', he knew that there were some magiks that were not meant to be questioned.
Then again in the fall, at the time of each phase of the harvest, Lughnasagh, Alban Elfed and Samhain, he would feel called to the fields once more to aid in the harvest. Of all of the seasons and festivals he was a part of, Lughnasagh and Samhain did hold a special place in his heart. His bond with the land of his kingdom and the 'need' to feel the soil in his hands, was important to him and clearly it was important to the land and the citizens as well. On Lughnasagh he would wake far before the first warming rays of the sun, then as the gentle glow would begin to peek over the land, his subjects would silently wait and watch their fields, a ring of late summer wildflowers waiting at the edge of the field. The Goblin King would appear within the flower ring, no glitter, no fanfare, just the king, in his simple working clothes. He would take up the simple curved sickle blade left for him, and cut the first sheaf of wheat. Once he made the first cut, he lay it in the flower circle and vanished as the workers for that field would begin to sing and pick up their own blades to continue the harvest. And so it went, no one would touch the field until the Goblin King appeared and cut the first sheath.
The pattern was repeated the night of Samhain. As the sun began to set, he would appear in the fields, this time dressed in simple black pants and boots, his chest bare, save for the glowing marks of his kingship that were etched across his chest and back. With a crystal blade he would cut the last sheaf of wheat, binding it with plaited twist of the wheat itself. Then without a word, he would present that sheaf to the farmer, before vanishing. For each field in his kingdom, he did this. As he completed the harvesting circle and disappeared, he would hear the singing of his people as they gave thanks for the crops and the final turn of another year.
Although the festivals and seasons were heralded in other kingdoms within the Underground with balls and grand affairs, Jareth far preferred the simple, peasant festivals of his own kingdom. Chuckling to himself, Jareth shook his head at his own thoughts – for despite the magic that suffused the very air and soil of the Underground, for some reason he felt that the simple festivals of the Labyrinthian citizens held more magick and power, than the elaborate balls and fairs held in other kingdoms.
So, he encouraged his subjects to keep to the simple ways. It suited them. And him.
Still basking in the steamy warmth of the golden sun, Jareth lifted his hand, bare of the usual gloves. He turned his hand over examining the pale skin of his palm, marked with what appeared to be a finely raised branding line in the shape of a the triskelion knot work design, that then spread out, faint lines twisting and twining around his fingers and wrists, to disappear up his arms. There were things about the magic of his kingship and his bond to the Labyrinth that only his own subjects knew of. The marks of his position that covered his body were one of those things. Oh, his father and mother knew. As the High King and Queen they knew that the bond Jareth had with his kingdom was far deeper than any previous Goblin King had – although he suspected not even they were aware just how strong that bond was.
His blue eyes followed the shimmering lines that glowed faint orange in the late summer. Even now, several centuries after taking over as the king, he was fascinated by the way the markings changed colors with the movement of the wheel of the seasons. In early spring they were green, with the green growing brighter as summer wore on. Then one day the green would appear tinged with yellow that grew darker and took over until they were orange. As summer gave way to fall, the orange first became brighter, then grew darker and darker until by Yule the lines would appear almost black. When the Yule Log was lit, then the black would fade, giving way to a pearlescent white color, so symbolic of the shimmering snow of Yule. Upon Imbolc the lines would change again, glowing deep blue, which would give way to green as spring once more rolled around.
Around his parents and his subjects he would allow glimpses of his kingship marks to show, but no one other than himself and his healer knew the true extent of them. As far as his subjects and parents were concerned, the marks were on his hands and chest, but they went much further than that, winding their way around his torso, along his arms, legs and even the soles of his feet. The actual process through which the marks appeared was a secret between himself and the Labyrinth – not even the High King knew exactly what the bond entailed. But, it was the secret and supernatural nature of the marks that allowed Jareth to be fascinated with them and at peace with the way they marked him. Of course, while he had come to love them, the Fae still valued physical beauty, so he hid the marks with gloves, long sleeves, and various glamours. Even those lovers had had taken to his bed since his kingmaking rite was completed, had only seen a glamoured version of his body. He dared not show even those closest to him, the full extent of his marking.
Watching the orange glow of the lines on his hand deepen in the mid-July sun, Jareth smiled. He could already feel the tingling in his blood signaling the coming festival. He looked forward to the fires and feasting that would make the Goblin Kingdom seem to hum with happiness, looking forward to a bountiful harvest in the fall. The sound of singing drifted up to the Goblin King's ears, carried aloft from the workers in the fields, tending to the swaying golden wheat, the bright green leaves of the other crops that sustained his people – corn, beans, potatoes, pumpkins, gourds of all kinds, not to mention the fruits, nuts and berries. The rolling hills and fields were a riot of green, with the rich scent of full-earth and 'growth' hanging heavily in the humid air, alongside the golden haze of pollen as the next round of summer wildflowers began to bloom.
"Ah-ha-CHOOO!"
Jareth sighed and looked back into the tower, not noticing the watches and clocks hanging from silken threads from the ceiling, to dangle above the pit of feathers, pillows and sumptuous cloths that lined the sunken round pit in the middle of the room. The door into the tower opened and Hoggle stumbled in, his bulbous dripping as he held a red handkerchief to it. Sniffling, the dwarf wiped his nose, even as his hazel eyes watered, the mossy-brown ringed with red.
"What is it Hogsbrain?" drawled Jareth, letting his head loll back against the stone as he turned to watch the swaying the wheat fields bordering the Goblin City gates to the Labyrinth proper. He could hear Hoggle's irritated growl at his deliberate misnaming.
With a frustrated sniff, Hoggle shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket, flapping a sheaf of papers in front of his face as a make-shift fan. "I don't know how youze can stand it up here, yer Majesty. The humidity's murder in the throne room, but up heres its so bad even your eyeballs sweat!" he complained, panting in the thick air of his king's private tower.
The king merely shrugged, "Your eyeballs aren't sweating. It's just allergies, Hogsbreath. Now enough about the humidity, what would make you drag yourself up then 1300 steps to my tower in the midday heat, hmm?"
Frowning Hoggle handed Jareth the papers he was using as a fan, then flopped against a nearby trunk, making the crystal baubles on top of it tinkle and chime as they knocked together.
"The mayor of Glennisfyre has asked if you would be willing to grace their Lughnasaugh festival as Lugh this year," he said, running a blue handkerchief over his sweaty forehead, before sneezing again and rushing to pull out his red handkerchief once more.
Jareth cringed in distaste as Hoggle blew his nose loudly, then sniffed twice as loud. "Why don't you go see Aine and get something for those allergies?" he snapped, flipping through the papers Hoggle handed him.
"Dun tried that yesterday," Hoggle said, his words thick and congested. "She dun have anything that seems to work."
Reluctantly, Jareth rose from his spot on the railing and crossed the cluttered confines of the tower toward the dwarf, a tight brown leather waistcoat appear around his torso, pulling his shirt together to obscure most of the markings on his chest, while a pair of simple black gloves appeared on his hands. "All right, I will go deal with the afternoon court. I don't want to listen to you sneezing, wheezing and sniffing all afternoon, so go home. Drink tea. Soak your head. I don't care…go swim in the bog. But do whatever you have to do to get rid of your allergies before you return to your duties at the castle."
Hoggle blinked in surprise and nodded. "Um…thank you…yer majesty. Dun know what is happening with mah allergies this season. They ain't been this bad since I was still on fairy duty at the outer Labyrinth gates."
It was times like this, when his king acted…well…nice…that Hoggle wondered if maybe the king was going soft. Once upon a time he wouldn't have cared if Hoggle were sick or not, but to give him an afternoon off, just for an allergy sniffle? It was completely out of character. But, Hoggle suspected he knew why.
Something changed after Sarah won.
No one really talked about what her win meant, but it was a commonly held belief amongst the people that someday, somehow, there would be more to the story of 'the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything and still beat the Goblin King'.
After Sarah's Labyrinth challenge, the Goblin King had been in a foul temper, and rightly so, since Hoggle, Didymus and Ludo had all disobeyed direct orders to lure runners off the correct paths. They expected to be punished for their traitorous behavior, yet they weren't. Not really, anyway. True, they had been called before the whole Goblin Court and chastised for their role in Sarah's win, then they had been 'punished,' though Hoggle and Didymus thought it was more an act of show than actual punishment. Hoggle had been pulled off duty by the gate and reassigned as one of Jareth's undersecretaries – which basically meant he assisted the king with matters relating to the goblin and dwarf citizenry, and more specifically he was in charge of the castle goblins. It was dealing with the castle goblins that made the 'promotion' and pay rise seem like the punishment it was, as the castle goblins only ever listened to Jareth.
Didymus on the other hand, had been reassigned to the castle as well, acting as military trainer for the goblin army. Hoggle suspected there was more to Didymus's new position, as the goblin army – the real goblin army, not the underlings Sarah faced – were already well trained by Didymus's own twin sons, who, as their father before them, were some of the finest military strategists in the kingdom. The reality of Didymus's new position was that he was in the castle as a military advisor, and given the peaceful state of the kingdom, that meant the old, partially lame fox-goblin had plenty of time to rest his weary bones.
As for Ludo, Jareth had him use his rock-calling abilities to help rebuild the Goblin City, then gave him leave to do as he wished. Since he didn't really have a 'job' within the kingdom, Ludo chose to stay in the city near his 'brothers'. So Didymus and Hoggle helped Ludo build a home of his own near the den that Didymus resided in with his wife and youngest daughter. Hoggle, being one of the undersecretaries for the crown had a room of his own in the castle, but frequently stayed in a room of his own in either Ludo's cottage or Didymus's den.
By all accounts, the three traitors had been given a complete pardon, despite being handed down 'punishment' at court. Not that they weren't grateful for it. Hoggle and Didymus spoke of such things late at night over a glass of fairy mead, the two of them musing that perhaps the King knew that there was something more to the girl, something that only those who got close to her during her run, could see and feel. There was something special about her and even though they knew they had orders from their king, they felt compelled to help her through to the end. And while they didn't know what happened when Sarah ate the spelled peach, they knew it involved Jareth. The two old friends suspected that their King was no more immune to the 'something special' the girl had, than the rest of them – after all, he lost, and the king never lost…until that day.
In the days after her run, the kingdom had been focused on rebuilding, but already there were whispers amongst the people, sharing the tale of the young girl's victory. True, she'd done a fair amount of damage to the Goblin City, but no more so than the goblins themselves did several times a year. It was the fact that she beat 'Him' – the Goblin King - that set her up as a folk heroine for the people. If the Goblin King bristled at the fact that there was now a 'Lady Sarah Victory' day in mid-July, he never let on. In fact, rumour had it that every year, each town was 'mysteriously' gifted with a cask of peach wine, that those in the know said tasted just like the wine made by the Elven vinter and brewer who worked as the King's private brewmaster. Whether it was a gift from the brewmaster or the king himself, no one knew. But every village and town used that wine to toast the victory of 'the girl' and drink to her health and well-being.
Glancing up at Jareth, Hoggle sighed inwardly seeing the far-away look in the Goblin King's eyes as he stared off over the horizon. He knew what the king was thinking of, or more specifically – who.
Hoggle's knobby fingers ran lightly over his silver pocket watch, caressing the engraving on the back that read – go deo mo chara ~ Iúil 7. He couldn't prove it, but he believed it was the last gift Sarah had given him. It was a year ago, on July 7, Lady Sarah Day. He had been dancing in the twisting chains of the victory dance through the goblin city, when he had clasped hands with a cloaked human woman, spinning each other and releasing them to take the next partner's hands. As the woman pulled away, Hoggle felt an unfamiliar weight in the pouch that hung upon his hip. Stepping out of the chain of dancers, he leaned breathlessly against the front of a pub and opened his pouch, only to gasp when he saw the silver watch. With trembling fingers he pulled it out, wondering if it were stolen, until he saw a small white note tied to it with red ribbon. Holding his breath, Hoggle opened the note, then felt his eyes grow warm and itch with tears demanding to be shed.
The note had no signature, but he felt sure it was a gift from Sarah, but how it hand ended up in his pocket he never knew, he only knew that it couldn't have been Sarah because two weeks before Lady Sarah Day the year before, at the end of her 18th birthday, the mirror portal between Sarah and the Underground closed forever. By rights, Sarah had no way to reach them anymore, but the inscription on the watch said 'forever my friend' and was dated with the date of Sarah's victory. No one called him friend, except for Didymus and Ludo, and the silver of the watch had a distinctly 'mortal' feel to it.
The memory of Sarah's 18th birthday was bittersweet to Hoggle. Didymus, Ludo and Hoggle had all gone to visit her on her 18th birthday, trying to remain cheerful and jubilant, despite the heavy burden they bore; for each knew that at the stroke of midnight heralding the day after that birthday, the mirrored portal that connected Sarah to her friends would be closed forever. Jareth had called Hoggle and Didymus into his study the week before her birthday to remind them of the rules.
"I've been generous, allowing the portal to remain open, but once she reaches the mortal age of majority, it must close. If she still wishes to access the magical realms, then it will be up to Sarah to find her way," the Goblin King had told them, his face solemn, while his pale eyes seemed sad. To their knowledge he hadn't spoken to Sarah since their final meeting in the Room of Broken Dreams, yet he too seemed to be pained by the coming loss of contact with the girl. Before Hoggle and Didymus had left the king's study, he had handed them a small jeweler's pouch of purple velvet. "Give this to her…as…well…a gift from her friends," he said quietly, his gloved fingers seeming reluctant to let go of the purple silk ribbons of the pouch, even as Sir Didymus took the delicate parcel with a grave nod.
"I swear it will be done, Sire," he murmured, bowing.
And they had fulfilled the King's request, giving Sarah the small pouch as a gift from her friends – even though only Hoggle and Didymus understood that those words included the Goblin King as well. They had felt a bit of their hearts break when Sarah opened the purple pouch and a fine golden chain dropped into her hand. Hanging from the center of the chain was a golden triqueta, with a small crystal dangling from beneath the golden sigil. Hoggle and Didymust were quite sure Sarah couldn't see or feel the magic of the tiny crystal, its golden hue shimmering upon her palm – but they did, they had felt it often enough being subjects of the Goblin King. He had gifted her a tiny, yet perfect crystal of his own creation – a bit of pure magic. Labyrinthian magic.
Although no word was ever said about the necklace again, not by Didymus or by the king himself, Hoggle knew what it meant for the king to give it to the girl who bested him. It was a way of ensuring that no matter what happened in her life that may take her away from them, robbing her of her belief in magic and fairy tales, a tiny part of the Labyrinth would remain with her - A tiny bit of Jareth's magic, pulsing with a faint power of its own upon the silken flesh of her chest.
Shaking his head from his reverie, Hoggle sneezed again, rubbing at his sore nose with the red handkerchief, his sneeze having pulled the Goblin King back to himself as well.
"Go on, Hoggle. Go home and get yourself feeling better so you don't miss tonight's festivities," Jareth said, nodding toward the tower door.
"Fes-um-festivities?" Hoggle stammered, eyeing Jareth warily. In the five years that the Lady Sarah Day celebrations had been held, he had never heard of the Goblin King acknowledging them, much less mentioning them.
"What? Do you think me that much of a fool that I don't know that today is Iúil 7…exactly fourteen days following Sarah's 20th birthday and the fifth 'Lady Sarah Day'," the Goblin King chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You should know by now, that I am aware of everything that happens in my kingdom, Hogsbottom. Don't ever think otherwise."
Blinking and nodding frantically, Hoggle rushed toward the door, before the King's tolerant mood morphed into something 'less' nice. "Oh…um…okay…if yer sure. I'll…um…go now."
"I'm sure. I'll keep the cretins of the castle horde busy for the rest of the afternoon before releasing them to pursue their celebrations of the day Sarah bested me," the Goblin King said, his expression and tone unreadable.
Hoggle rushed down the stairs, narrowly avoiding tripping as the Goblin King strode smoothly down the steps behind him. By the time they reached the bottom and exited into the hidden door of the informal throne room, Hoggle was panting and wheezing like an ancient squeezebox being played by a drunk goblin. "Go home, Hoggle," the Goblin King ordered, striding out onto the circular walkway that led from the door down into the informal throne room. The goblin horde assigned to the castle filled the throne room, with some goblins playing cross-bones under the large clock upon the wall. Another group of goblins were busily chasing a black chicken with what appeared to be a fragment of an old sock, fashioned into something that loosely resembled a butterfly net. Yet another group of goblins appeared to be sparing with wooden swords over a filthy colander which they both seemed to want as a hat. And still another goblin was snoring under the throne, hugging a black chicken who pecked periodically at his face and nose.
Sighing, Jareth flopped carelessly into his throne, the goblins scattered around the room essentially ignoring the appearance of their king – as was the norm. While other kings maintained strict protocols throughout their castles and realms, the Goblin King only cared for protocols when it came to high court occasions and ritualistic celebrations. When it came to the day-to-day matters of the kingdom, the closest thing the Goblin Kingdom had to 'standard protocol' was – 'Wear clothes and shoes when you attend court' and 'No chickens allowed in the formal throne room or anyplace above the third floor of the castle.'
All and all, no matter what others outside the kingdom thought of Jareth, he was far more easy-going than they believed, and still ruled his kingdom with iron-will and the adoration of his subjects.
With his thoughts still on Sarah, Jareth absently pulled a golden crystal from the air. He balanced it with a precise hand, upon the tip of his finger and gazed into it. The glittering wisps of magic within it seemed to shift for a moment, letting a brief burst of hope burn in his chest – hope that he might actually get to see Sarah within the sparkling orb. Then the wisps merely swirled in lazy circles, the fire of hope inside him fizzling once more. Jareth sighed to himself, letting the golden crystal roll gently across his fingertips and hand. Since midnight of her 18th birthday, he had been unable to scry for Sarah, yet still, his subconscious would randomly will scrying crystals into his hand. And despite the knowledge that he would not be able to see her, he would always find himself trying.
He wasn't even sure why.
She had beaten him. His subjects adored her and celebrated her. And as for himself – well, he wanted to see her, but was bound by the laws of his throne and his kind. She was a wisher. A runner who beat the odds and won back that which she wished away. She was kind to her friends and loyal to a fault. And she loved…oh how she loved. Even as she wished Toby away, the Goblin King could sense her capacity to love and envied Toby for it, knowing that should she win, he would be the recipient of such love and devotion as everyone should dream of – including the Goblin King himself.
At the time, she was still a wisp of a girl, untouched, untested, untried, but she had potential, he could see that the very first moment he stood in her parents bedroom. He could feel the power embued in her by her sheer potential, a power that rivaled Fae magic. In those first moments, he was fascinated by her determination, but by the end of her run, he had begun to fully feel not only the depth of her devotion and determination, but the depths she would go to for those she loved.
His words to her at the end, meant far more to him than her. Even as he said them, Jareth knew that she was not old enough to hear, much less feel the meaning in his plea, but he could no more stop the words pouring from within him, than he could stop the very breath in her lungs.
Fear me…love me…do as I say…and I will be your slave….
Her capacity for feeling and dreaming drew him in, ensnaring him much as it did her friends, until he too played a role in her victory. But unlike her friends, he was forgotten in the years following her win. She called on them. He never asked them about it, but he knew. And they never spoke about her, or their meetings where he might hear. So, all he could do was play over his memories, mull over what it was about her that bewitched his people and himself, and listen to whispers of the folk tales that his subjects wove of her exploits.
A mortal…made myth, in a land of fantasy and fairy tales.
The Goblin King felt it was more than a bit ironic.
In fact, it felt a great deal like this particular game of fate, were not yet finished.
And it was that thought that helped him through the long hours, days, and years since the mirror portal had fallen shut, and removing the only link he had to the girl, since he was bound by his sacred duty and Fae law from going to the girl unless she found her own way back to the Underground.
Sighing once more, the Goblin King peered around the throne room and frowned. At the back of his mind there was a niggling little feeling that he couldn't quite place. Deliberately, Jareth took a slow deep breath, stilling his mind while unfurling the magical tendrils he shared with the Labyrinth, searching her lands for the source of his unease. Surprisingly, despite the alcohol-fueled mayhem that often heralded Lady Sarah Day, there was nothing wrong within his kingdom. Yet, the feeling persisted.
Jareth sat up in his throne, his feet firmly upon the stones of the dais as he looked around. Then it hit him.
The smell.
Usually the smell of the informal throne room was an unpleasant mix of stale sweat, chicken shit, Bog Water and spilt ale, yet today it was, different. Breathing deeply again, Jareth's pale eyes narrowed as he concentrated upon identifying the new scents.
Spices. Some of which he was familiar with and others, he couldn't identify. Standing, he slowly walked around the room sniffing the air curiously. As he drew near the trio of goblins playing cross-bones with a few old chicken 'knuckle' bones, he noticed that one of them smelt strongly of nutmeg. Frowning, Jareth grabbed the goblin by the back of his tattered tunic, shaking him as he lifted him up and looked him in the eye.
"You reek of nutmeg, Louse. Have you been raiding the kitchen stores again?" he barked.
The little goblin, shook his bushy green head, gulping and grabbing at a dingy bit of green string tied around his neck. "No Sire! Not since Louse got caught last time. Cook threatened to stew Louse if he ever went in the kitchen again!"
"What's that around your neck then, hmm?" asked the Goblin King, eyeing the nervous way Louse hung onto the green string. "Hand it here."
"No! Sire…please!" pleaded Louse, hanging on all the harder to the string. "Is mine! I bought it. Fair 'nough I did."
The Goblin King held out his other hand and glared at the trembling goblin. "Now, Louse. Or I'll take it from you anyway and bog you for your impertenance."
Pouting children are horrible enough, but pouting goblins are worse – and Louse was pouting in a way that would make the hardest heart soften, not that it did any good where his king was concerned. Jareth merely growled, shaking the hapless goblin again until Louse untied the string and pulled a green linen pouch from under his dirty jerkin and handed it to the king.
"I can haz it back when you've seen it. Yes?" he asked, his beady grey eyes watching the Goblin King's expression.
"Perhaps," Jareth said coolly and dropped the goblin onto the stone floor. He examined the green pouch, confused as to how it was that the pouch was quite neat and tidy, despite the filthy appearance and clothing of Louse. Tugging at the green string through the top of the pouch, Jareth sniffed gingerly at the opening, surprised to find the smell of nutmeg and cloves intensified, yet the pouch felt slightly heavy. He opened the pouch further and poured the contents out into his hand, only to have Louse wail.
"Noooo! Now it won't work! No fair!"
Ignoring the tantrum the goblin was now throwing, Jareth peered at the contents of his hand. Cloves and shavings from a nutmeg. A green stone and a black stone, woven together with more green threads that felt suspiciously like silk.
"What is this?" he asked, looking down at Louse, who pouted up at him, crossing his skinny arms over his chest.
"Doan matter now, won't work. You opened it. Youse not 'posed to open em or they doan work good no more," he grumbled.
"Open what? What is this, Louse?" demanded the Goblin King sternly, as he poured the contents back into the pouch and dangled it over Louse's head.
Reaching up, Louse snatched the pouch from the Goblin King's hand. "S'magic," he muttered, tying the green string around his neck as his fellow gamblers looked on, becoming more interested in the hint of a potential bogging than their game.
Intrigued, Jareth watched the way the little goblin acted as if the pouch were precious. Being of the high ranking nobility, Jareth was both incredibly powerful, but also well-educated and therefore knowledgeable of both the Fae realm and other realms. Unlike many Fae who would scoff at any suggestion that there were magic outside of their own type of power, Jareth knew there were other beliefs and other types of magic within the realms – types of magic that rivaled Fae power if wielded by one who truly believed and knew how to draw upon the power.
"What is your pouch magic for, Louse," asked the Goblin King, trying not to lose his patience, and finding it more difficult.
The little goblin mumbled, ducking his head so that Jareth couldn't hear him.
"Dodge my questions again and I'll lock you in the leaky oubliette under the bog for a month," snarled Jareth, all pretence of patience failing. "Answer me and be quick about it!"
"'Tis for luck…" Louse began, only to get pounced upon by his mates as they began to yell.
"Youse cheatin!" bawled one, pounding Louse's bushy green head with a fist, while another grabbed his ankle and bit down hard. "No fair usin magicks!"
Rolling his eyes, Jareth left the three to their fight as he continued sniffing his way around the throne room. With all of the competing scents, he was soon overwhelmed. Finally he stood on the dais and roared above the general chaos of the room, "QUIET!" Goblins everywhere froze and watched him with wide, frightened eyes. "If you have any 'magic' bring it here, immediately!" he bellowed, then sat on his throne. One by one the goblins wandered toward him, until nearly every goblin in the throne room was crowded around him, holding up little pouches of various colors. Some were green, others blue, black, purple, orange, red and even a few grey pouches, that Jareth assumed had once been white. "What are these for?" he asked as he collected each small pouch and peered inside them. A red one held a semi-opaque pink tinted crystal, rose petals and lavender – claimed by the owner to be for love magic. A blue one held a bit of green and purple flecked crystal along with some pungent smelling herb he couldn't quite place – whose owner admitted it was protection magic. In a white one he found what smelled like mint, along with a bit of a semi-clear golden stone and a tiny stump of a light blue candle – the owner of this one was more cagey about the reason for the magic and only admitted after being threatened with a permanent residence in the bog, finally confessing that it was to cure a sick chicken.
Jareth frowned as he looked at the colorful pouches, herbs, stones, bits of colored wax and ribbons from the 'magics' he had confiscated. He recognized this type of magic – Hedge Witchery, a form of mortal magics that periodically showed up in the Underground when witches were being persecuted in the Above. There was a strong surge of Hedge Witchery in the late 1400's through the mid-1800's of the mortal timeline, but since then, it had died out, all but forgotten. Pursing his lips he looked through the pouches, then laid them on the floor in front of throne, watching as their owners reclaimed them, eyeing each other suspiciously – particularly those who claimed to have 'luck' or 'prosperity' magic.
As far as magic went, hedge witchery was not something Jareth was well-versed in, nor was he adverse to it being practiced within his kingdom. What did concern him however, was the fact that hedge witchery was a mortal practice. It was quite possible that one of the humans who took sanctuary here following a failed Labyrinth challenge was starting practice such skills, and while Jareth had no issue with a hedge witch working within his kingdom, other kings might not be so tolerant of non-Underground magic. If this was the case, he would need to speak to the witch in question and warn her to stay clear of the other kingdoms. Of course the more disturbing explanation for the 'magic' pouches was that there was an undocumented mortal crossing the veils or possibly hiding within his own kingdom – and that was a crime he could not overlook.
Grabbing Louse who was now nursing a bruised nose after being caught 'cheating' at his game, Jareth shook the dirty goblin and glared at him. "Where did you get your lucky charm?"
"Iz from Jerra's wagon. She'z comes to town for market days," Louse squeaked, then grunted as Jareth dropped him back on the ground.
The Goblin King nodded thoughtfully, rising from his throne. "Go home you lot! I've got things to look into and don't need you cretins lurking about stinking up the place with your magic charms," he yelled, while the goblins cheered. "Go on! Get out of my sight! The last goblin in here gets bogged!"
At that every goblin in the room attempted to disapparate, so that the throne room sounded like a popcorn popper, including a few who attempted to run in two directions at once before seeming to shudder violently and disappear.
Once alone in his throne room, Jareth bent down and picked up a forgotten red pouch filled with red rose petals, lavender and the pale pink stone.
"Love…is a myth," he sighed, tucking the pouch into the top of his boot, before dropping a shimmering crystal to the floor and vanishing with a faint chiming sound.
Author's Note: Please review :) Next chapter we get into some UST and adult type thoughts ;)