Goblin Knot
Chapter Seven: The Dream Spinner.
The spriteling chosen to fetch out the Dream Spinner from the Labyrinth was not envied. Castle-dwellers led a sheltered life, and rarely strayed beyond the City boundaries. So it was the messenger hummed a little funeral dirge to itself as the first higgledy-piggledy houses of the City rounded into view. It didn't dare go against an order from the King, just held a feeble hope that whatever certain death that followed, it would pounce quickly and painlessly.
Provisions needed to be purchased before traipsing through the Labyrinth's bowels. From an enterprising chicken cooperative, the spriteling managed to trade its left shoe for a golden ball of thread. Tied to a sturdy outcrop of rock at the beginning of the maze, the thread could be played out to great distances then followed back while winding to return.
Nobody knew to this day how the Greek mortal Theseus got his grubby mitts on a ball of goblin-made thread. Blame came from all directions when the Minotaur lodged a series of formal complaints to Jareth, citing his job was difficult enough as it was (constantly being harassed by humans with hero-complexes, trying to run him through with swords), and he'd appreciate it if the King's subjects would lay off in providing assistance to said humans, thank-you very much.
The thread was bright and strong, glinting in the murky light of the City. Glances slid from it to the poor doomed servant, then quickly away again. The others very much doubted the thread would be of any real help, trapped in the lonely wilds outside the City gates. But it gave a small comfort and sent the unfortunate one about its task quietly and meekly. That was enough for now. Trying to recall its innate soft footstep, the spriteling slunk past the mechanoid gate-guard and found a secure anchor to hold its lifeline. Fifteen knots and a bow-tie later, it turned and faced the dusty, pitch maw of the Labyrinth.
………
Air rattled in her desiccated lungs. When the first sentient creatures crawled out the earth's dim forgotten caverns, she was there- notched in their heads. To spin a dream is difficult- the strands of ideas are as insubstantial as smoke. Yet she persisted and eventually perfected.
The first dreams were crude and ugly things, much like the beings who dreamt them. No fanciful imagery or double meanings. Only the bones of necessity scraped raw. How can I keep this animal pelt from falling off me? How can I snare more food? What would happen if I poked this sleeping sabre-tooth tiger with a stick? Things that already existed within their world were unraveled and re-spun to create new possibilities.
She did not think much of goblin dreams. Food, wealth and power. There were variations on the themes, but no discernable differences. They had broken off from the other realms, cloistering themselves Underground. In doing so, they starved the Spinner of new and interesting strands she might coax into their dreams. Until now.
Whatever the reason, cracks and holes began to appear Above and Below. Whispers of suggestion seeped down from the fledgling human world. A finite lifespan seemed to provoke an irrational number of dreams amongst mortals. She had never seen so many strands in such lush, iridescent colours before. They wanted solutions and improvements for every invention. They wanted to experience every emotion with violent intensity. Like a soft lump of lead, they wanted to take the things of their dreams and solidly beat them out into real life. In their most secret of hearts, they wanted something entirely of their own making before they died.
Deep Underground, the Spinner found soft wisps of colour that had drifted down from Above, lying unnoticed beneath thorn thickets and rusted portcullises. The goblins could not see them, or else they'd immediately covet and horde. She walked the Labyrinth in several planes of reality, picking up and dusting off the precious few strands as she found them. As much as she would have liked to, she could not keep them for her own. The gifting nature of her being forbid it. Instead she cast about; searching for frayed greyish strands she might mend with colour.
A thin, pathetic little strand, no thicker than darning cotton, trailed through the castle gardens. It shrank when it first spotted her, but was not quick enough to dodge the clutching fingers. Watching the strand wriggling as a worm before the hook, the Spinner took a length of flashing colour and wove the two together seamlessly. Released, the repaired strand slipped away through the gardens, up a castle wall, through a shuttered window… Back to Jareth.
No-one was beyond the Dream Spinner's reach. She added diluted colour to the strand's weave at first, elements that would blend into the grey without raising too much suspicion. Lust and hate tied in nicely with Jareth's wont for theatrics. His brief meeting with the human child, little Sarah Williams, provided interesting material to rip apart and reshape.
Over the many years that followed, she slowly worked in stronger, brighter lengths of colour. A midnight blue sense of absence, the glittering emerald of jealousy. The dark ebony of misery and the gentle orange glow of a keening human heart. The strand steadily grew thicker, driving the Goblin King from what little sleep he already had. When he fell from exhaustion, he woke tired and irritable, fit to raze the City to the ground if he heard the slightest, jarring noise.
Although she had searched every square inch of the Underground, the Spinner had yet to find the most vivid, fragile colour- crimson, blood red. She doubted it could survive the crossing between realms; it was broken up so easily. Maybe, against all odds, it could be cultivated amongst the cold, unfeeling stones of the Labyrinth.
She spied a glimmer of gold through the dead, spiny trees. Not a dream strand- it wasn't visible in other realities. She stood completely still and listened to the spriteling as it negotiated the overgrown path.
Perhaps she would find the blood red strand sooner than expected.
a/n: Chapter Seven! Sorry for the delay, life decided to stomp (Gozilla-like) all over my writing time. Hope you all enjoyed this one. Thank-you again for all of your splendid reviews. I love reading through all your comments and feedback! Please let me know what you think again! :D Cheers.
Edit (28/01/10): Yes, I've finally gotten around to fixing up my it/it's. Forgive the hideousness of it all and I hope everyone's eyeballs weren't too severely scorched. Thanks for pointing it out! :3
Arallion: I can see how 'shirked' may be confusing and have since humanely dispatched it. Thank-you very much for pointing it out! :D