Disclaimer: Labyrinth NOT mine. Not that you thought it was anyway, this being the Labyrinth fan fiction section anyway. But in case your brain is missing in action...
Chapter 6: Michael and the Bog
The righteous road got worse and worse. Michael began to question the wisdom of taking it. Maybe Jareth had been using a warped Labyrinth style reverse psychology. He was just tricky enough. Michael swept another spider web out of the way, and saw Mooreland's trunk reach over him to pick a branch out of the way.
When he got out of this, he was going to take a very, very long shower. Whereas he wasn't terrified of spiders like Mireia, this didn't mean he had any particular affinity for them either. They had far too many legs. They looked sly and alien somehow and moved too fast for comfort. Michael hoped fervently that labyrinth spider bites weren't any worse than normal ones.
The road was getting darker, too, and Michael was fairly sure this was not his imagination. He asked Mooreland.
"Yes. The light is dimming. I'm not used to this. Out on the open sand there is always light."
"You can hold on to my shoulder if you want to," Michael offered. "We won't lose each other, that way." He felt a furry weight settle over his left shoulder.
As they went on, Michael became more and more certain that something bad was going to happen at any moment. The righteous road wasn't supposed to be easy. In fact, it should have been fraught with danger--or at least false alarms. But this road was entirely too quiet. Thorns and spiders were all he'd seen so far, and if that was all Jareth had to throw at them, Michael would need to reconsider the king completely. Or they were going the wrong way? But even if they were, what could they do? Go back and take the path of wickedness? He doubted they'd be allowed to.
Michael took two more steps and stopped abruptly. Did he feel a breeze? It was coming from the ground. He squinted down at the murky thicket floor. There was a slight but definite wind seemingly coming from solid earth.
"Don't trust your senses," muttered Michael to himself.
"What is it?" asked Mooreland quietly.
"I don't know. A wind from the ground. I think it's a hidden hole." He cautiously edged a foot forward and tapped on the ground. It felt solid enough. "Do you think you could hold me around the middle and pull me up if the ground gives?" asked Michael.
"Yes." The trunk slid off of his shoulder and looped around his waist.
"Ok. Here I go." Michael stepped forward, and nothing happened--at first. Just as he was allowing himself a small victory breath, he felt something shift. And then the ground fell through--but not under Michael. A huge piece of mulch crumpled to nothingness right under Mooreland, and Michael was pulled down with him. He yelped and made a grab for the edges. A strangled sound came from Mooreland, who didn't dare let go of him for fear of losing him in the fall.
Then they were in free fall. Michael had never been very good at roller coasters. His stomach was crowding his ribs uncomfortably. He felt as if his whole body was being slowly crunched together and his mind gabbled tensely at him. And then it was over--they landed on fairly spongy moss and turf. Even more luckily, Michael was so shocked from falling that his limbs were quite loose. He sat up slowly, unclenched his teeth, checked vaguely for major broken bones and bruises, and then looked around for Mooreland.
The Sand Elk was standing hock deep in sludgy water. The smell and Mooreland's distraught howl hit him at the same time.
"Oh--oh, Shit!" exclaimed Michael with feeling. "Not the Bog of Eternal Stench!" He got slowly and carefully to his feet, taking care to stay well away from the bog edge. Each movement in the air brought a fresh--or a foul, depending on how you phrased it--lungful and Michael refrained from gagging through sheer will alone. "Words can't begin to describe this!" exclaimed Michael, and immediately regretted it. He shut his mouth and did his best to breath shallowly. It wasn't nearly enough.
The smell was loud--the way a sound is loud. It was like being shut in a room with a painfully piercing, very repetitious song playing and no way to get out. His eyes watered and he found it incredibly hard to think about anything other than the stench. He rubbed his eyes clear and with an effort managed to look out to Mooreland, trumpeting his sorrow in short, despairing blasts.
"Mooreland!" shouted Michael. His only reply was a short wail. "We have to get out of here!" he tried again. He attempted to put his brain back in order. "Look!" he yelled. "You can ask the Goblin King to make the stench go away! I'm sure you can get out of the Labyrinth without having to wish yourself out! Otherwise, why would anyone ever come to ask the king for a wish?" There was a thoughtful silence.
"I suppose," said Mooreland, after a while. "And Perhaps my smell will help keep away enemies while we get to the center, as well." Michael Brightened.
"That's a good idea! I'll bet no one's ever used the smell like that before!"
"I'm coming out. Stand well away," said Mooreland. Michael could hear the sound of thick water being sloshed out of the way. He backed up hurriedly and got behind a tree for good measure. He was fairly certain that any wish he made to the Goblin King would have to be in regards to his sister, and he did not intend to get even a drip of the Bog on him. Michael heard what could only be the sound of a large animal shaking himself off.
"Done?" asked Michael from safely behind the tree trunk.
"Yes," said Mooreland, sounding gloomy. "You can come out. What I wouldn't give for a nice mound of clean sand to roll in right now."
"Soon," said Michael as comfortingly as he could, while he picked his way around puddles of Bog water. His shoes would most likely have to be thrown out once he got home. The though of home brought the urgency of his quest slamming back down on to him. "Very soon," amended Michael. "Who knows how much time I've got left. Mireia can't become a goblin! Life won't be worth the hassle without her. Come on."
Michael led the way again, jumping over parts of bog, finding a way through patches of not-very-secure swamp grass. Mooreland, inspite of being covered in the stuff, was very determined not to have to step in it again, and was picking his own way even more carefully than Michael. Apparently, once Bogged, twice shy.
They trudged on. Michael kept their direction straight to the best of his ability, but he wasn't at all sure they weren't wandering in circles. He had very little say in that kind of thing in the Labyrinth. He was rather hoping for a bridge--even a rickety dog-guarded one--but he wasn't having any luck in that department, either, and the smell was giving him a headache.
"This all sounded a lot more fun in a book," he said to no one in particular.
"How did they get out of the Bog in your book, then," said Mooreland.
"There was a bridge with an annoying little terrier guarding it. That fell in, but Ludo called the rocks up and they formed a little rock bridge instead."
"Do you mean like that?" Mooreland gestured with his trunk. Sure enough, not ten feet from them, there was a small path to the edge of the Bog and a bridge made of stones to cross it.
"YES!" said Michael, half in answer and half in triumph. Michael hopped blithely--if carefully--across, each step making a rude noise. Mooreland stepped across after him, not nearly as blithely and with a great deal more delicacy, but never-the-less with a sort of relief.
Gradually the Bog turned into forest. It was a misty rather dark forest, too, but to his infinite relief, he saw no Fierys. They had always frightened him in the book, much more so than the Goblins or their King, or even the Bog ever had. He hopped over a log and felt something squishy underneath his foot. On closer examination, it appeared to be a peach. He nearly laughed aloud.
"I'm not going to be gotten that easily, Jareth," he muttered.
"Did you say something?" asked Mooreland.
"Just taunting the Goblin King."
"Ah. That's probably not overly wise, but as he's responsible for the Bog, go right ahead." Michael pulled out his Oreos--which had miraculously stayed in his pocket but were mostly crumbs now--and ate the rest defiantly. He offered Mooreland a few, but Mooreland didn't seem to care for them.
They wandered on. There was no chance of getting separated now--Michael could tell exactly where Mooreland was by smell alone. It was on this walk that Michael realized for the first time how incredibly tired he was. During his other encounters he hadn't had time to think about it--what, with surviving an all--but now that all they needed to do was stroll--quickly--through a forest, he realized that his feet were not happy. It reminded him of the time he and Mireia had spent the day at Disney World, determined to ride every single last ride. There had been too much to do. Resting wasn't an option. He very much wanted to sit down now, but knew he couldn't afford to.
The forest began to lighten. Michael walked faster. They must be getting to it's outer edges by now. Soon they'd see the plain of junk with the city and the castle towers rising above it and...
Michael halted abruptly. The trees had thinned out. The edge of the forest was a few feet away. And yet, there was no Goblin City in front of him. What he saw instead made him want to scream. The forest led right out into the endless corridors--at the beginning of the Labyrinth.
This couldn't be happening. Couldn't. The forest didn't lead to the beginning.
"It's not fai--" he started, and then abruptly snapped his mouth shut. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't say it.
"Are you Al right?" asked Mooreland, coming up to stand beside him.
"Not really," said Michael, and sat down on a convenient root.
Then something occurred to him. Don't trust your senses. "Wait..." He stood back up, ignoring the complaints of his feet, and began walking towards the corridors.
He watched his leg swing out of the forest undergrowth and over the paving stones. But before it hit the floor, the air seemed to ripple a little. Suddenly, Michael could see that he was putting his foot down on dirt, not stone. Two steps more and he looked up. The towers of Jareth's castle rose up before him.
RubyMoon: thanks for the great review! I'm glad you like this story, and I'm even more glad that you went to so much effort to review it. My computer used to be slow, too. But then we prevailed on my dad to get DSL and he did because he was sick of the slow connection too...and then I moved out anyway, and my roommates and I all NEED fast internet, so inspite of the fact that we're all incredibly poor, we have cable. There might be no food in the house, but damn it, we can surf the internet at light speed.
Also, insanity is a really endearing quality. I mean, if I wasn't insane, would I be in love with a Goblin King?
Hopefully the next part of this story with Mireia will be coming soon. I've got ideas...*evil chuckle*