Prologue
There is a grand tale behind the mortal who would come to be called Cheshire Sphinx and her first trip through the Labyrinth. There is an equally magic tale behind how she learned to control the powers given to her by the Goblin King and how she made her peace with him. There is a story behind how that same mortal was granted the title of Cheshire Sphinx and the form that accompanied it by the High Court of Seelie and Unseelie alike.
This is not that tale.
No, this is the story of Sarah Williams, the Cheshire Sphinx, and her travels before she was officially granted her title.
The Journey-man's Tavern
The tavern was cheerily shadowed in a way you would only find within the Goblin Kingdom. Torches flared softly ever four feet or so along the walls, magicked to keep the fire from catching any drunken sod from catching flame. The hearth gave off a flickering glow that warmly illuminated the center of the tavern, a circular platform of stone acting as both a seating area for patrons not wishing to squabble over barstools or tables and a makeshift stage for the bards that stopped by to sing for gold and food.
Tonight, the bard was a mortal woman, travelling with a small earth dragon and a scholarly bat. The dragon had curled itself protectively around the bard's bags, resting at her feet; the bat perched on the headstock of the six-string acoustic guitar the bard cradled. A bowl, the same size and shape as two cupped hands, rested on the bench beside the bard, half-full with copper and silver coins, one single gold coin from the tavern's owner hidden beneath the small pile.
The Goblin bartender watched the bard finish off the cup of soup and listened as the bard began a new song, one the bartender had not heard in his many years of working at the tavern. He briefly wondered who wrote the ballad, then decided to just enjoy the bard's song.
"Allow me, the Muse, to sing to you
Of a land of twists and turns
A land just under yonder hill
A land of icy burns
Allow me, the Muse, to sing to you
Of the land of phantom dreams
A land of oceans, mountains, plains,
A land where nothing's as it seems
Allow me, the Muse to sing to you
Of the Goblins that therein dwell
Of the Goblins that find shelter
In any other being's hell
Allow me, the Muse, to sing to you
Of their King, elusive, fair,
A King of paradoxes, of riddles,
A King of Earth and Air
Allow me, the Muse, to sing to you
Of the changes the King wrought
Bringing chaos to peace
Bringing the beauty the Goblins sought
Allow me, the Muse, to sing to you
Of the land where a Sphinx did tarry
A land of puzzles and tricky Kings
Where the Goblins still make merry…"
The ballad continued for another few lines, but the bartender had turned his attention to the cloaked figure that pulled out a barstool to sit upon and watch the bard sing.
"Anything to drink, sir?" He watched the cloaked man warily, unsure if the man were a late-night traveler or a troublemaker.
"A glass of ale and another cup of soup for the bard when she's finished her tale," the cloaked man finally decided. The bartender nodded and hurried to comply. Once he'd filled the man's order and told the waiter to send more soup to the bard when she'd completed her current story, the bartender forgot about the cloaked man; indeed, none of the other bar patrons acknowledged him or even seemed to notice him. The man just sat in his corner, sipping his drink and listening to the bard.
"You always did weave a good tale, Sarah Williams," he murmured as he toasted her with his glass. She had not heard him, he knew as he listened to her continue the story.
"The Goblin King, dressed in a cloak woven from the darkness between the stars, walked a wandering path through the wild Labyrinth, making peace with the feral spirit that controlled the land and adding his own traps to the Labyrinth's corridors. Here, he willed a forest to grow and be inhabited by creatures of living fire; there, he raised a cliff of rocky outposts for creatures like him of earth and air; outside the Labyrinth he created a harsh desert to dissuade invaders; within the Labyrinth he raised the City and the Castle to shelter the Goblins…"
"And you always did love that tale. I can't imagine why, but you even wrote that song for it," Jareth mused. He watched Sarah for a few moments more, but his duties as King required that he soon leave his coins and return to the Castle.
Oro: Yes, it's short. It's also the story I'll be working on after I finish TBO (I will post a new chapter of that tonight, don't worry). This is just so you readers can get familiar with the concept and show you where the characters stand (at the moment).
I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. I do own the idea of a Cheshire Sphinx (which should be self-explanitory, but send me a PM if you wnat details) and the poem. Yes, I know, it's not as polished as it could be, but I came up with it in ten minutes and I haven't wrote poetry in ages.
Farewell until Thy Bog Overfloweth!