Um, yeah, so I've written yet another Labyrinth fanfic... What can I say? David Bowie is one heck of a muse.
This is a bit more of a light-hearted affair in comparison to my other current M-rated story, An After Dark Fairy Tale.
I don't own anything related to Labyrinth or David Bowie, I'm just an enthusiastic fan.
Victrix ludorum = Latin for 'the winner of the games'.
Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this fanfic, and please do leave a review - Mrs P.
The Trial of a Goblin King
Chapter 1
Jareth writhed around on the grimy cold stone floor in agony. The manacles around his wrists and ankles were slowly draining him of his powers. His skin had an unhealthy grey pallor and was translucent enough to make his network of blue veins visible. The shirt and pants he wore were dirty and tattered. His hands and feet were bare, stripped of his usually ever present gloves and boots. Voices and screams echoed in the darkness, and there was the sound of approaching footsteps. A steady pitter-patter of small feet moving ever closer held his attention, giving him something other than pain to focus on.
"I've brought the rat his food rations, and there's a nice bag of cook's best offal for the both of you," Hoggle handed a bloody sack to the two guards.
Grimble and Gromble were brothers and Redcaps, which are nasty dwarf-like creatures with glowing eyes, sharp teeth and a penchant for raw meat. They were tasked with guarding the prisoners in the castle beyond the Goblin City. The dark dank dungeons housed various ne'er do wells, including the probably soon-to-be ex-king.
"Mine," said Gromble as he snatched the bloody sack from his brother.
A skirmish of back and forth broke out as the little dwarf scurried away to deliver his tray of stale bread, mouldy cheese, and stagnant water.
"Ah, Higgle, what a sad state of affairs it is when I find myself happy to see you," Jareth rasped through clenched teeth.
His cold iron restraints made it an enormous effort to sit upright.
"It ain't as if I wants to be here, I was perfectly content to be a coward, and then ten years ago, I met Sarah," the little dwarf let out a sigh.
The ailing Goblin King stiffened at the mention of his former nemesis.
"That green eyed monster with her rebelliousness, turning my world upside down," he snarled.
His anger had the effect of making his waning magic flare. White speckled owl feathers sprouted randomly out of his pale skin and then quickly disappeared again.
"The High Council wants to know who you've got to speak in your defence. Since we can't finds the one who might be able to get you out of this mess, you needs some character witnesses. Maybe someone who ran the Labyrinth, and won," Hoggle posited.
Jareth slumped back against the dank slimy dungeon wall, his fluctuating powers further drained.
"She wouldn't come back, not to help me," his voice was little more than a whisper.
The little dwarf set down his tray and made sure Grimble and Gromble were still busy fighting.
"Well, pardon me for saying so, your Majesty, but you ain't exactly got many other options, and time is short," he crowed.
"And so are you," the Goblin King jibed, his wit not yet lost.
Hoggle ignored the insult, because despite everything, he was the bigger man.
"I don't promise nothing, it's been a few years since I last saw Sarah, but if I can convince her to come back and help you, I will. She's the only mortal who remembers her time here, being as she's the only one who ever beat you."
Jareth grimaced, partly with pain, but mostly with resentment at the prospect of being indebted to his mortal enemy.
"I'm touched, Hoggett, truly I am, that you would be prepared to go to such lengths for me. Oh, I know I'm technically still your king, but I would have thought you'd be on the side of the revolting masses," he sneered.
"Believes me, if Lord Grimbald wasn't an even bigger rat than you, I would be," Hoggle threw his hands up in exasperation.
He noticed the Redcaps had quietened down signalling it was time for him to leave.
"I gots to go now, so wish me luck," the dwarf set off on his mission.
Jareth reached for the tankard of water with shaky hands. His mouth was dry, and he took a few sips trying not to spill any of the precious liquid.
"Good luck, Hoggle, and if I ever get out of here, you'll need it."
"Destiny Longchamps?"
Sarah kept on walking, wishing she'd at least put her sunglasses on. The hefty middle-aged woman pursuing her was persistent.
"I watch Holland Avenue all the time, it's my favourite daytime soap, and you're my favourite character. I can't wait to see the wedding; Dax Evergood is such a hunk," she swooned.
"Will you sign a few things for me, please?"
The enthusiastic fan thrust a copy of TV Guide under her nose.
"I'm sorry, I don't have a pen," Sarah forced a smile as she glanced at the image of herself on the front cover.
"I've got one," the woman refused to be shaken off.
She reluctantly paused, and scribbled her autograph as a small group of onlookers began to gather around.
The fans continued to chatter on oblivious to Sarah's desire to hail a taxi and be gone. Her car was in the shop and the warm sunny day gave her the impulse to walk the short distance to work. Sometimes, her status as a minor celebrity made such mundane things impossible, and this was such a day. She finally managed to break free of her adoring public and headed towards the television studios.
Sarah once dreamed of being the object of such attention, but not anymore. Acting wasn't all she hoped it would be, or rather the part she'd been playing for the last six years wasn't. When she won the role of Destiny Longchamps in the long running soap opera, Holland Avenue, she saw it as the start of her glittering Hollywood career, now it felt like the end. There were only so many ways her character could cheat death, and fall in and out of love. It was acting by numbers, and her attempts to find more challenging roles were floundering. Sarah was often told she looked right for a part, but that she didn't have the necessary range for it. The one time she got to do some Shakespeare on stage, it was a disaster. She kept forgetting her lines and her acting was hammier than a pig farm.
"What's the matter, babe? You look like you lost a dollar and found a dime," Her fiancé and co-star, Dirk Evans, was waiting for her outside her dressing room at the television studios.
Sarah stiffened slightly as he moved in to kiss her. He wasn't her type at all with his square-jaw, hazel-eyes and expertly coiffed short brown hair. She definitely wasn't to his tastes. Her resolve to break off the engagement kept floundering, but only because so much had already been invested in their relationship. Their television and real-life weddings were scheduled to happen the next day. She just didn't think she was cynical enough to go through with it, although she feared it was too late to back out. The whole thing was a publicity stunt, cooked up by their agent to help their careers. Dirk wanted to break into movies, but knew his sexual orientation would hinder him, should it become common knowledge. The studio loved the publicity their relationship generated for the show, with their onscreen characters already being romantically involved. Magazine covers and tabloid spreads were just the start. Sarah felt the whole thing had spiralled out of her control.
"Just nerves, I guess," she dismissed his concerns as they headed into makeup.
Episodes were usually taped weeks in advance, but Destiny and Dax's wedding was going to be broadcast live. The scripts were often prone to last minute changes, and the addition of new pages was a regular occurrence. Although, everything for the wedding scenes had been written for weeks and they'd even performed rare rehearsals. There seemed to be something happening behind the scenes, and the writers were milling around more than usual. Sarah got out of makeup and was loitering about while they got the next shot set up. She could hear what sounded like an animated discussion in hushed voices going on behind a fake scenery wall. Edging closer to listen in, she could make out Dirk and the director talking with one of the writers.
"She's not gonna like it," her fiancé argued.
"Think of the ratings," Jim, the writer, counted.
"I'll have a ton of editing to do, but we can make this work," Harry, the director, sounded gleeful.
"As long as I'm not the one who has to tell her she's being killed off on her wedding day," Dirk obviously couldn't care less.
Sarah felt tears stinging at her eyes, she hated them all. It was a stupid show and she'd grown to despise it, but she wanted to be the one to walk away. This was the final insult, after all those awful wooden scenes they made her play with dialogue riper than Camembert. There was no way she could go through with marrying Dirk now. She would play out the fake wedding, death scene and all. But he would be the one in for a surprise ending, when she jilted him at the altar.
Hoggle decided he would travel faster alone, without the lumbering presence of Ludo or the well-intentioned, but blustering Sir Didymus. He informed them of his plan, in case anything went awry, and after much arguing, he set out for the secret room. Lord Grimbald was forbidden from occupying the castle until he was officially proclaimed as the next Goblin King, should his claim prove successful. It didn't stop him snooping, but Hoggle was confident he hadn't uncovered the secret room. That particular chamber held a collection of Jareth's rare curiosities, including his magic mirror. It could locate anyone anywhere in the mortal realm, and be used as a means of transportation. The Goblin King rarely used it; his own powers gave him alternative means of achieving the same results. It was a valuable item all the same, and Jareth liked to have things others coveted.
The little dwarf found the hidden door, helped by the fact he knew where to look.
"What is the magic word?" a disembodied voice demanded when he tried to enter the secret room.
The invisible barrier could not be penetrated without it, and the dwarf hopped around in dismay.
"Why didn't that stupid rat tells me about this?" he grumbled.
Hoggle tested out various words in hopes of finding the right one.
"Bog," nothing.
"Stench," still nothing.
"Goblin, gnome, chicken, peach, pants, bulge, oubliette, owl, oh, I don't know," he yelled out in frustration.
"How is this supposed to help get me to Sarah?"
"What's said is said," Jareth's voice echoed out as the invisible shield was lifted.
Realising it was all part of the magic, and that the Goblin King was still locked up in the dungeons, Hoggle rushed to find the mirror. He should have guessed her name would be the word needed to break the spell. There was something the right shape for what he was looking for underneath a dusty red velvet drape. He grabbed the corner, sending a cloud of white specks into the already musty air. The mirror was dull from lack of use and he grabbed his handkerchief to give it a quick polish.
"This better work," the dwarf muttered as he shined up the surface.
"Find Sarah Williams, Victrix ludorum of the Labyrinth," Hoggle demanded.
His reflection began to swirl and spin faster until another image began to form.
A beautiful young woman was wiping streaky mascara trails from beneath her eyes.
"I didn't get to see the ice sculpture, Dax," she sobbed.
"Those have to be the dumbest lamest last words anyone has ever uttered in the history of soap operas, and that's up against some pretty stiff competition."
"Sarah?"
It took her a moment to realise the mirror was talking to her.
"Hoggle?" she gasped.
"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" he teased.
She was wearing a hideous meringue of a wedding dress, all unnecessary frills and cheap lace.
"Oh, Hoggle, is it really you?" Sarah smiled through her tears.
"Least you remembers who I am, I did wonder if you'd forgotten all about me," the little dwarf said, piling on the guilt, and then feeling bad because she was already upset.
She blushed crimson and started blubbering again.
"I could never forget you, or Ludo, or Sir Didymus, and even J- the Goblin King," she plucked a fresh tissue from her Kleenex box to blow her nose.
"Oh, Hoggle, I've got myself into the most awful mess," she wailed.
"Well, that makes two of us, or should I say five of us, including the three you've just mentioned," the dwarf realised he was going off on a tangent and dragged himself back to the point of his call.
"Anyway, the long and err, mostly short of it, is that we need your help," he explained, poorly.
Sarah dabbed at her eyes, her career was in tatters and she was about to jilt her fake fiancé. Things could scarcely get much worse, and yet she had a feeling they were about too.