I Wish, a labyrinth fanfic

Title: I Wish

Author: Yodeladyhoo

Beta: Anij

Summary: What, you think only teenaged, human females go through angst ? Read on.

Genre: Fantasy

Pairings: none

Rating: T

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, 2006 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 essay is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are fictional. Any similarities to actual persons, either living or deceased, are purely coincidental. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short essay was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.

Plea for Reason: Inspired by a portrait of the Goblin King by the artist known as G672 on DeviantArt, go check it out and her gallery. Pretty awesome stuff there. http://g672. . If this link doesn't work, please go to my profile page to get the direct link. Thank you.

The winds wanted to be accompanied, so he appeared on the rise overlooking the Labyrinth.

Using steps that paced out the sandy ridge as it exposed itself around him, Jareth strode across the arid soil, the brush barren of foliage or life; his heels sinking ever so slightly until they struck the hard, dry earth beneath. With arms that swung freely in cadence with his step underneath his cape, he did not walk alone. The wind did not caress or soothe him, it never promised to and it lived up to that unspoken agreement.

The winds gave his hair a life of its own. In turn, Jareth's hair gave the wind form. Desiring life, the wind stirred the dirt into a devil; a creation of swirling sands funneling up with tendrils of arms sensuously twisting around a forming torso. The sands continued their upward spiral to form a stem-like neck with a budding bloom of a domed feature with elongated petals of hair unfurling and dropping around smooth shoulders when the winds gentled. The sirocco stepped out of the vortex of sand and wind in front of him and looked at Jareth with eyes that glowed like amber.

Why? Why here, why now?

Pondering upon one of life's greatest philosophical questions, his face drew in upon itself in a scowl. He could feel the lines in his forehead furrowing and the flesh rise into his eyes as the skin was drawn ever tauter across his cheekbones. Time was catching up to him now. Perplexity led to frustration, frustration led to anger, anger led to action. He held his left hand aloft, summoning the light to him. In obedience to the thought, energy coalesced around his fingers. The formless became a sphere. The sphere took up volume; what was balanced on his fingertips was now a bubble. The bubble took on mass, it was now a crystal. A globe that encapsulated dreams, dreams that the dreamer could not face on their own. If there be dreamers here.

Relaxation overcame his features with the knowledge of power as he proffered the gift to the other with an outstretched arm. Seeing without looking, they locked eyes. Both knew the crystal was dark; both knew why.

In a pique of capriciousness, the sand dispersed; the form dissolving into the vortex and spreading out over the ridge before birthing new maelstroms. With a smirk, Jareth tossed the orb into the air with a flick of the wrist, never looking back. He knew that the magick would claim its own.

Jareth pressed on, the high backed curled collar of his cloak dispersing the force of the wind pressure behind him, the earlier question left unanswered as he wrestled with his thoughts. His placement here was essential to the workings of this universe, an integral part of what surrounded him. Yet, he was only available to be summoned, never having to deal with the workings of the whole. He was king, yet only a cog. Inborn arrogance refusing to allow admittance to insignificance, he spun into the wind, his heels creating small gusts of sand behind him. The winds were merciless as they buffeted Jareth full on, building in intensity as he clenched his fingers into fists, arms at his sides. When the pressure of frustration was too much to bear, he opened his clenched teeth and spoke; his tone, kept at a controlled level, was dangerously close to murderous.

"I am!"

The winds tired of him and beat around him in an effort to repulse him, whipping both his hair and cape into a frenzy. Eyes barely squinting through the dust clouds, his lips parted, as if to speak.

"I wish..."

Jareth wanted solitude, so he retreated to that place where monsters and fantasies reside until they are bidden.

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

Author's Note: Post Script 10/3/2007: Wow ! 100 hits in two days ! I'm seriously impressed by you people. Thank you for such an honour. I would thank each and every one of you personally, but if you don't leave a review where I can respond to...