Chapter 37

(Late Summer, 2011AD)

Jareth sat on the cool grass in front of the palanquin, a multi-legged enchanted vehicle, staring at a small crystal ball. He turned it this way and that, staring at it intently. Thunderous footsteps alerted him to the Gorg's presence.

"What can I do for you, Gorg King?" he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Junior sat down, shrugging, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I wanna ask you a question, Suh Hubwis," he noted with a curious sadness. He waited for a couple of beats and finally sighed, asking, "What was King Gorgous like? I got a pict-yuh of him at home. I got a whole book of legends about you, but even Da Book of Gorgs can't help me understand what he was like!" He stared at the small king, who was only half as tall as what the legend says he was. Jareth continued to stare at the crystal ball. Junior sniffed and wiped his nose with a finger. "Uh, what ya lookin' at?"

Jareth sighed, not taking his eyes off. "The crystals show me anything I wish to see," he replied in a low-key voice.

"Come again? No offense, but yo-uh way down there. I got twoubles hearin' ya," pointing at his ears (which were very small and buried in his shaggy fur) with both hands, his facial expression wide-eyed.

Jareth looked up at the behemoth. "I said the crystals show me anything I wish to see!" he bellowed forcefully. "I've been concerned about humans making their way into the Underground, where you and I and many creatures hid to avoid ending our lives at the hands of humanity," he continued bitterly.

Junior stared at "Sir Hubris" for a few moments. Finally, he shrugged, noting casually, "I noticed you guys all have dis pwoblem with human bein's. Surely dey can't be all dat bad. Fwom what I gathuh, you guys have your fa-yuh share of wars and stuff. So, weally, you don't have a lot of woom to talk, do ya?"

Jareth frowned. "Ask your father," he retorted. "He fled from human wars."

Junior smirked smugly, his eyes half-closed. "And if I wecall, you wandahed da univ-uhs twying to flee fwom your own citizens." Junior leaned back, crossing his arms defiantly. "If anyone's a coward …."

"So, you wanted to know about King Gorgous, if I recall?"

Junior nodded with a grin. If he had mastered anything in his five hundred years of life, it was how to pester someone until you got your way.

Jareth sighed, twisting the clear crystal ball until it disappeared. He looked around and saw that Moulin was still napping in the cab of the palanquin. He didn't want her to hear this story. It was … rather sappy for his reputation.

And it was barely true.

However, he had spent a lot of time rehearsing it. Not that he ever expected to return to the Gorgs for any reason at all. The goblins in his kingdom were just a small-scale representation of all the hassles he had had to deal with as King of the Universe. He never wanted to go back to that. He had known, of course, that Junior had thrown away the crown decades ago. Once thrown away, the Queen of Trash had come to the Labyrinth to mock him, for she was fully aware of anything ever thrown away, especially things that had held significance at some point in time. Had one of the Gorgs actually possessed the crown, he was honor-bound to regain his former position. However, the Queen of Trash had a suggestion that came to dwell in his thoughts more than anything else, even Sarah. He looked up at the two-story walking rug and sighed.

Around what the humans call ten-thousand years BC, at an age when glaciers receded, scouring and flooding the land with water, caves and tunnels were located by various human tribes obsessed with them, from the Azilian who painted pebbles to the Magdalenians, who painted cave walls in order to attract a connection to what became known as the Underground. Back then humans were still relatively harmless, barely scraping together a living. There were larger mammals much more dangerous to them, such as mammoths and saber-toothed cats … and large humanoid hairy creatures. I had been King of the Universe for only about a century or so, but I despised it. My court was filled with creatures of every sort and they all nagged me to attend to their every need.

I loathed being their superior yet given all the work.

Despite my responsibilities, I began to take long trips. Whenever I returned, my court only wailed longer and louder. They could never be pleased. So, I decided I would give my crown to the most deserving … or the most stupid, as the case may be. I truly felt that only the most brain-dead lummox would ever desire to serve those needy, whiny buffoons.

Anyway, six approached at my behest to contest the crown. A capcaun, which was a sort of dog-headed ogre, offered to spend eternity bringing me children to be my heirs.

A small clurichaun, a broad-faced humanoid only about a couple of feet tall, offered a flask of unending wine that he had found … from my own cellar (can you imagine the GALL?)!

Some giant, someone bigger than even you, from an eastern island chain … Dai … botchi-something … it doesn't matter. At any rate, this creature offered to teach me how to mold the land to my liking.

One of my favorites, an avian being with the upper half resembling a young woman, offered to fly me to a magical dimension and provide a sacred song. Kinnara, if I recall….

"Yo-yuh dwooling," Junior commented dryly, clearing his throat. Jareth blushed and nodded.

There was this vampire. I forgot what he wanted.

Finally, a sphinx showed up, offering me all the best riddles in the universe.

Well, I wasn't impressed. I was the KING OF THE UNIVERSE! I already HAD everything!

After many months I had nearly decided to let the world burn. I was fed up. They were so needy and shrill and I just couldn't stand being around them anymore. One night, a young Gorg stumbled into my small garden, wanting to eat the vegetables that grew there. At the time, there had been many large humanoids running around the planet, and Gorgs were related to them distantly. At any rate, he forsook offers of gold, offers of power, and offers of fame. He had simple needs. He denied my offer of the crown.

That was the last straw. I decided I would take my own life than have to face yet another day as King of the Universe. When I told him as much, he offered to take the crown.

"I will take the crown," he said. "For every being deserves to have a full tummy and a smile on their face. It is sad you cannot find such things. You need the opportunity to find them."

"And that, young Gorg," Jareth told him with a sigh, "was the sign of someone truly great. He knew that I needed things. My station in life did not immunize me from the trials of life. He did not minimize my feelings. And so, this accidental seventh contestant made my path clear. I gave him the crown and offered to take it back from him when I had discovered what I needed."

Junior sat with a slack jaw and wide eyes. In the far edge of his peripheral vision, he noticed Moulin with a single open eye. However, he didn't acknowledge her eavesdropping. "And what is it you need?"

Jareth smiled briefly.

Moulin sat cross-legged in the cab of the palanquin as Jareth started to climb up the steps. She smirked. "So, where is this island?" She chuckled. "Come now, Goblin King … where are these evil humans going to start their invasion?"

Jareth frowned.

She had heard him.

Moulin smiled and leaned back, sighing. "Goblin King, Goblin King," she teased dramatically, "take thy whining far away from me! For the sun rises and sets and forever do I fret, that mere humans will dare to blast open my bedroom door … and my nights of adventure shall be no more!"

Jareth crossed his arms in indignation, gritting his teeth. "Are you quite finished, then?"

Moulin laughed. "Never before and never again do I hope to see, a Goblin King afraid of humanity!"

Jareth glared at her, his teeth threatening to crack. He pointed angrily at her, though his voice stayed steady. "They chased us to the Underground --."

"You fled, as I recall."

"Their weapons present a danger to us all," he retorted, though he shuddered at the unintentional rhyme.

Moulin had had enough. She stood up and stomped her foot on the floor of the palanquin. She grinned sarcastically, turning her palms up as though juggling invisible objects, mocking him, "Why nuclear weapons versus magic: hm, whatever could prove to be more powerful, the destruction of cities or the transformation of their entire little world?" She pointed and sneered at Junior. "The Gorg King had a point, you know: there is nothing those silly creatures can do that we can't do better."

Jareth smirked, leaning back slightly. "So, you ache to go to war, then?"

Junior gawked at the two as they talked. War? Junior hadn't even packed another set of clothes for his trip! He didn't bring even a shield! He thought his father had been absorbed with bravado and baseless self-promotion. He had no idea it was rampant throughout the universe. How did the universe ever live so long, if all its inhabitants were chomping at the bit to hack into everyone else?

And what was a "nuclear" weapon?

Junior stroked his chin for a few moments. Maybe, just maybe, it was a "new clear" weapon … maybe a weapon designed to turn creatures invisible had just been invented! He shuddered. The last time he and his family had run out of radish cream, they had started to turn invisible. It was … shocking … to say the least. Junior felt his pulse race.

"I don't want to be invisible!" he cried, sobbing.

Moulin and Jareth turned to stare up at him. Moulin shook her head. "What are you talking about?" All Junior could do through his sobs was repeat the same statement over and over. Moulin nodded at her cloud companion, who flew up to Junior's face and zapped him with lightning and sprayed his face with torrents of water. Junior stopped blubbering and gawked cross-eyed at the close cloud, which smirked at him before flying back to its mistress. "Snap out of it, you'll smell like a wet dog!" Moulin barked. "Then we'll have nothing more to do with you. I am not travelling downwind of a creature in need of hygiene classes!"

Junior sniffled, wiping his face with his robe.

"You'll be travelling nowhere," announced a strange female voice. Everyone turned to see the Queen of Trash standing haughtily next to a robed figure roughly two feet taller than she. The Queen of Trash crossed her arms and glared at Jareth. "You summoned us and then went back on your word, Goblin King," she proclaimed loudly with an accusatory tone. "You had no intention of having a meeting at that island."

Eyes turned to Jareth, who showed no signs of backing down or sheepishness. "No," he replied curtly.

Jareth felt himself kicked off the palanquin. He smacked the ground face-first, getting dirt and grass in his teeth. He turned to see Moulin standing over him, her fists clenched, her face tightly drawn into a scowl. "You weren't going to the island at all?" she shrieked. "Name your intentions, Goblin King! What was all this … some bonding experience?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Jareth retorted angrily, spitting out some dirt. He gingerly retreated from Moulin and stood to face the Queen of Trash. "I summoned everyone to a Council meeting … but I gave everyone different directions," he informed the new companions matter-of-factly. "The location is not nearly as important as the information." He stared at her expectantly.

The Queen of Trash sighed. "You've been watching too much television," she replied, putting her hand on her hip, rolling her eyes.

"And there's this movie about this fight between a misunderstood demon and a fairy prince bent on destroying humans," offered the young male voice behind the thick brown robe, a pair of red and white sneakers peeking through the thick fabric near the ground.

Everyone stared at him. The robed figure shrugged. "It's just déjà vu, that's all I'm implying," he noted submissively, rubbing his clasped hands together, careful to keep his hands hidden.

The Queen of Trash glanced at him with a look of curious bemusement. "Since when do you watch movies?"

The robed figure turned to her. "Don't you?"

The queen sighed and shook her head. "I rule the Trash Kingdom … I get everything people and grouches alike throw away. So, yes, I have access to modern electronics."

"Um," Junior began with a forceful yet submissive voice. "I don't wanna fight no one, if it's all da same to you," he said, shrugging, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"You would risk the fate of your kingdom because you don't want to take up your sword?" Jareth sneered.

Junior shook his head. "I took my cwown back to save my Fwaggle friends," he replied proudly. "Someone was comin' to hurt them all." He pointed at Jareth. "What you want is completely different. You want us to join you to go to Outer Space and thump them all where dey live. You're actin' like dey all are our enemies!" He crossed his arms in defiance, not noticing his speech clearing. "I refuse to fight! Madame Trash Heap would have told me if humans were a danger to my kingdom. If they were all so bad, they woulda taken themselves out by now! Humans have been around a long time … and they're … all … still … here! That can only mean that the desire to live is stronger than the desire to die. I will defend my kingdom … but I refuse to fight creatures who have not tried to hurt me."

"That was a powerful speech," the robed figure replied in awe, sliding his hood back … over his green snout, his spiky Mohawk made of long scales, and three small ridges on each side of his head. His eyes were youthful, like Junior's … a sense of wide-eyed wonder filled them with a certain brightness. He had several small scars forming bite marks on his neck and a couple of his scales were missing here and there. He placed a scaly green hand on his chest. "That's exactly how I felt growing up, Mr. Gorg, sir," he continued, craning his neck. "I had the misfortune to take part in war … and I had to learn the hard way that they always start over something that could have been handled better had everyone just stopped to think."

Junior nodded thoughtfully. "Swords look better on my Pa's mantle."

Moulin gawked at the reptilian robed creature. "I read that your kind disappeared millennia ago."

He glanced at her and shrugged. "Well, it was a long story."

"You seem to have aged little," Moulin probed. "What are you called?"

He flashed a grin and held out his hand. "Robert. Robert Mark Sinclair. I am Chief Elder of the Pangaeans that inhabit Sinclair City."