Magic Dance in Middle Earth
Hey all, sorry for the wait. I meant to post this sooner, but real life, in the form of Art History papers and presidential elections, got in the way. You know how it is.
clpm-9– I made you have to go watch the movie again? Wonderful, this story is a success. Yes, the music is very catchy, isn't it?
Rhys – Very twisted, precious. Yes, Thranduil's ready to make Jareth pay… but the goblin king has a few tricks up his sleeves yet.
Navaer Lalaith – As for getting past the language barrier, my solution is… to ignore it. Again, because this story is so "out there" and removed from the "real" worlds of both Middle Earth and the Labyrinth, it doesn't seem such a stretch to say that Westron is the same language as English. Obviously it is not, but we're pretending. –wink- After all, it is only fanfiction.
Pasha TpH - Homemade chocolate chip and macadamia cookies? Wow, you must really like this story! –munches- Sorry for the cliffie; it wasn't very big, and besides, I need them or people might get bored. Here's Chapter 3, hope it makes up for the wait.
Erestor – I love Thranduil, and all those Evil!Thranduil fics out there make me sad. I think he is brave and heroic, a good king, and a good father, and I write him that way.
Ah yes, the blatant Princess Bride homage. I meant to put something about that in the notes for the chapter, but I forgot. (It's not my fault, the goblins stole my brain!) Anyway, kudos to you for spotting it-hands over pocket Oropherion- Hurray for the Lords of the Greenwood
And now on to…
Chapter 3
"Oh no!" Hoggle hollered. "The cleaners!"
"The what?" Thranduil asked, peering down at the approaching object. It looked like a great metal cone set on its side, with a spherical base and a very sharp tip which was pointing down the tunnel as it advanced upon them. Several bits of metal were stuck on its surface and they twisted and spun as if turned by some unseen hand.
"Run!" Hoggle screamed, and without waiting for the elf he turned and began to scamper down the hallway as fast as he was able. Which wasn't very fast.
Thranduil, though, was curious about this strange object. He had never seen such a device before, and he continued to watch the cleaners' approach, ignoring Hoggle's screams of terror. Despite his ignorance of the workings of machines, however, Thranduil was smart enough to see that the metal cone took up the entire passageway, and that it was moving very quickly. Giving it a final curious look he turned and darted down the passage away from the approaching danger. Catching up to Hoggle in a few long strides he scooped the dwarf up and tucked him under his arm, running swiftly down the tunnel.
They had soon outdistanced the cleaners, and Hoggle was just beginning to relax and to clamor to be put down when Thranduil stopped. Before him was the sudden end of the tunnel.
"Aaah! We're going to die!" Hoggle cried, squirming in Thranduil's grip. But the elven king had been to Mordor and had faced Sauron on the slopes of Mount Doom. He certainly wasn't going to panic over a pointy metal cone. After all, Sauron had been all over pointy metal.
He glanced around, spotted a rusted-looking door, and sent it crashing inward with a swift kick. The cleaners weren't even close to them as Thranduil stepped inside to safety and set Hoggle back down on his feet.
"There now," he said.
Hoggle patted himself all over as if assuring himself that he was still all in one piece.
"Phew!" he said. "The cleaners, the Eternal Stench… you sure got his attention. What did you have to hit him for?"
Thranduil drew himself up. "He maligned my honor. Would not you have done the same in my place?"
"Not on your life!" Hoggle exclaimed, horrified.
"Why ever not?"
"Now don't look at me like that," Hoggle said peevishly. "You've got to understand my position. I'm a coward, and Jareth scares me."
"Jareth?" Thranduil inquired.
"Yeah." Hoggle looked around the room. "Ah!" he said. "This is what we need; a ladder. Follow me."
Hoggle grasped the sides of the ladder and began to move slowly upward, Thranduil following.
"You ain't angry at me for saying I was taking you back to the beginning, are you?" Hoggle asked as he climbed. "I'm not, you know. I just said that to throw him off the scent."
"I do not suspect you any more than I already did, Hoggle," Thranduil replied.
"What? What's that supposed to mean?" the dwarf sputtered. "You already suspected me?" In his indignation he nearly slipped and Thranduil put a steadying hand on his ankle.
"I barely know you," the elf king pointed out. "And since I made your acquaintance you have told me both that I am strange and that you do not like me."
"Huh! Some friend you are," the dwarf grumbled. He stepped up onto the next rung, which promptly snapped beneath his weight, and his complaints were cut off by a cry. Thranduil put his hands beneath the dwarf's feet and boosted him onto the next rung.
"I wasn't aware that friendship had anything to do with it," he said, waiting patiently for the dwarf to keep climbing. "I was under the impression I was paying for your services."
"Yes, well…" Hoggle's voice trailed off. "Ah!" he exclaimed a moment later. There was the sound of stone scraping against stone and bright light shone down upon them. Hoggle climbed out of the hole and Thranduil followed.
...
Jareth sat crosswise on his throne, one arm of the wooden chair behind his back and the other under his knees. He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighed. How long could it possibly take the chase down and recapture one little elf? He was just considering getting up and seeing to the task himself when the shouts of a clear little voice reached his ears.
A moment later the struggling form of Legolas was born into the room. Two or three goblins hung tightly to each of the little prince's limbs and carried him, wiggling, over to Jareth. They dumped him on the floor and scurried away, but not before Legolas could give one of them a sharp kick in the rear
He looked up at the goblin king, his little face scrunched in fury and his eyes blazing. His small fists were clenched in defiance as he shouted at the man.
Unable to make out the quick flow of Elvish words, Jareth sat up a bit and put his hand to his ear.
"What was that?"
Legolas frowned, trying to put his thoughts into his second language.
"Ada will come and kill you," he said.
"Oh, I doubt that," Jareth said smugly, putting his feet on the floor and leaning toward the little prince. "Your father is very far away, and he doesn't even know how to find you."
"My ada knows… knows…" Legolas stopped, searching for the right word, "all the things!"
"Does he now?" Jareth leaned back again, a crystal appearing in his fingers. He spun it lazily, watching Legolas's reaction. The little elf was intrigued. "You know, Legolas," he said idly, flipping the crystal over the tips of his finger, across the back of his hand, over his fingers again, and back to his palm. "You would be much happier if you stayed here with me. You would never have to take a bath, do chores, or have lessons." He blew on the crystal and it turned from clear to a cloudy blue. "You could eat ice cream any time you wanted."
The little elf frowned. "What's that?"
Jareth sighed. What kind of place was this Middle Earth, anyway? It didn't even have ice cream!
"You wouldn't have to go to bed when you weren't tired. Wouldn't you like that?"
Legolas was considering, his nose scrunched up endearingly on one side. Jareth was actually beginning to like the little fellow. He would make an adorable goblin.
"I'm not a bad man," he said. "I'll even give you a present." He leaned down and held out the crystal. "Go on, take it."
Legolas reached out a hand and took the sphere. He looked at it for a moment, then raised his arm and threw it at Jareth with a strength that belied his tiny form. It struck the gobin king in the shoulder.
"Why you little..." he snarled, rising from his seat and reaching out to grab the child.
Legolas shrieked with laughter and darted nimbly out of his reach.
...
Thranduil and Hoggle climbed out into the sun and found themselves in a maze of hedges. Thranduil climbed out of what seemed to be a very large pot set upon a small table. Perplexed, he peered at the bottom of the pot, and then at the ground, and then at the space in between, which consisted of about half a foot of nothing but air. He frowned and waved a hand underneath the base of the pot. Yes, it was definitely air. How strange…
"Well, here we are," Hoggle announced unnecessarily.
"Mmm." Thranduil made a non-committal noise as he rocked back on his heels and studied the pot. It must be a trick of some sort, there was no possible way…
"You're on your own from now on," Hoggle said.
"Yes, thank you Halfling."
"Ohhhh, it's HOGGLE!" the dwarf moaned.
"My apologies." Thranduil lay down on his back and was about to stick his head underneath the pot when a voice with a strange accent said;
"Hey! What are you doing, eh?"
He looked up at what at first glance appeared to be a giant bird wearing a large ragged cloak and at second glance proved to be a small old man wearing a large ragged cloak and a hat with a long-necked bird head on it. It was the hat that had spoken.
"Oh, an elf," said the old man.
"Greetings," Thranduil said, standing quickly. "My name is Thranduil, and I am attempting to reach the castle at the center of this labyrinth. Could you perchance tell me which way to proceed?"
"Well, you won't find any castles under that pot!" the bird-hat exclaimed.
"Oh hush…" the old man mumbled to his cap. He began to shuffle slowly over toward a stone chair a few feet away. Thranduil gallantly offered him an arm.
"Oh, ah. Thank you," the old man said as Thranduil helped him into the high chair. "You're a very nice young man."
He settled himself into the chair, wiggling until he was comfortable. Thranduil waited patiently.
"You…want to get…to…the…castle?" the old man said at last.
"How's that for brainpower, huh?" the hat chuckled.
"Be quiet!" the old man snapped. Thranduil smiled. This old man reminded him somewhat of Mithrandir.
"Aw, nuts," the hat whined.
"So, my young friend," the old man said, returning his gaze to Thranduil. "The way forward is sometimes the way back."
The bird attempted to roll its eyes and ended up rolling its entire head.
"Ay, would you listen to this crap?"
"Will you please be quiet?" the old man said irritably, gazing up through his shaggy brows at the brim of his hat since he couldn't actually see the bird, as it was positioned directly over the top of his head.
"All right," the hat said sulkily.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
"Alright."
"Alright." There was a pause. "Sorry."
The old man closed his eyes briefly.
"Finished?" he asked.
The bird thought.
"Yes," it declared.
The old man waited a moment longer, as if expecting the hat to continue. When it did not he looked again at Thranduil.
"Quite often," he said slowly. "It seems like we're not getting anywhere, when, in fact…"
"We are!" the hat finished helpfully.
The old man started.
"We are," he snarled, glaring upward again.
Thranduil smiled. Now this was helpful. It was the kind of advice an elf might give, something alike to what Thranduil himself might have said in a similar situation.
"My thanks to you, my lord," he said gratefully.
"Lord? Pah!" the bird exclaimed. The old man said nothing, a gentle snore issuing from beneath his dipping hat. Also very Mithrandir-like; the old wizard had often drifted off to sleep in the midst of tales and songs in Thranduil's hall. The elf-king's smile grew wider.
"I, uh, I think that's your lot," the bird said. From somewhere beneath the robes a bony hand holding a small wooden box with a slot in its lid emerged. "Please to leave a contribution in the little box."
Thranduil slipped a vine-shaped ring from his index finger, and Hoggle, who had been watching the exchange from a short way away, stepped closer, his eyes on the silver as Thranduil dropped it into the box.
"Gracias senior," the hat sing-songed.
"You didn't have to give him that," Hoggle told Thranduil as the two of them turned away. "He didn't tell you nothing.'"
"Indeed he did," Thranduil countered.
"What did he tell you?"
Thranduil smiled, his eyes gleaming. "Exactly what I needed to hear. Farewell, Hoggle."
The dwarf blinked. "What?" he asked. "You're not going to ask me to come with you?"
Thranduil arched an eyebrow.
"The bargain was for you to show me out of the oubliette," he said. "You have done so. Your obligation to me has been fulfilled."
The dwarf looked almost hurt.
"You are more than welcome to accompany me if you like," the elven king added. "Your knowledge of the labyrinth has been most helpful."
"What? It has?" Hoggle was obviously not used to being complimented.
"Indeed. Had it not been for you, I would have been forced to climb out of the oubliette the same way I came into it, which would have been no easy feat. You have saved me a great deal of time, and for that I am grateful."
"Oh." The dwarf considered this for a while. "You're welcome."
They walked in silence for a time, and Thranduil was just beginning to think that Hoggle would stay with him after all when suddenly a loud roar met their ears.
Hoggle jumped about a foot in the air.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, turning. "Good bye!"
Thranduil caught him by the collar.
"Now wait," he said. "You have not yet seen the source of that noise. How do you know it is a threat?"
"I know, I know!" Hoggle shouted, squirming. "I'm not helping you anymore! Let me go!"
Thranduil did, watching the dwarf scamper away on unsteady legs. He shook his head as the sound of the roar filled the air again. He had lived too long to be so easily frightened, and anyway, it seemed to his intuitive elven ears that the cries were more exclamations of pain than ones of aggression. He turned and jogged toward the source of the sound.
...
The problem was that the elfling simply had too much energy. Jareth desperately needed to find a positive outlet for that energy before someone (namely Jareth) got hurt (again).
"Come down from there, you undisciplined spiteful brat!" he exclaimed. Legolas had climbed up the curved metal banners decorating the wall behind Jareth's throne and refused to come down. At first Jareth had thought just to leave him there, but having the little elf sitting somewhere above his head made him anxious.
"Come down at once or I'll throw you into an oubliette."
Legolas made a rude Sindarian comment to the effect of Jareth's being ugly and his mother dressing him funny.
"That one was definitely about my mother," Jareth muttered. "Look, come down and… ah… we'll play a game."
"What kinda game?" Legolas asked suspiciously.
Jareth cast about for a game to play and his eyes lighted upon a discarded chess board lying in a corner.
"Chess?" he suggested.
"What's that?"
"I'm not telling," Jareth said craftily. "You will have to come down and see for yourself." When Legolas still did not move he added, a bit desperately, "I'll give you a cookie if you win."
That got Legolas's attention, and the little elf wasted no time in turning and beginning to climb back down the metal plates. Coming down proved a bit more difficult than going up, however, and when his bare foot slipped it was only Jareth's arms that saved him from a nasty fall.
"Hi," he said, completely oblivious of the danger he had been in.
"Hello yourself."
"We gonna play now?"
"Yes."
Jareth had some goblins bring in a table and two chairs, and then sent them back out again to get some pillows for Legolas to sit on so that the elfling could actually reach the table. Jareth set the black and white checkered board between them.
"The first thing we need," he told Legolas, "are the pieces. Each side must have a king."
He placed his hand, palm down, upon his side of the board, and when he lifted it up again there stood an ebony figure of Jareth himself, dressed regally in a long sweeping cape and his usual tight shirt and breeches. He held his riding crop in one hand and a crystal in the other. Every detail was perfect, down to the creases in his clothes and the slight smile upon his face.
Then he reached across and did the same on Legolas's side of the board, creating an ivory figurine of Thranduil, dressed in his mithril corselet and breeches and armbands and carrying a sword. Legolas's mouth was an "O" of delight.
"Next we each need a queen," Jareth continued. On his own side he created the figure of a slim, slight girl with long hair, dressed in a shirt with wide sleeves, a vest, and pants.
"She should have a dress," Legolas said.
"I think she looks beautiful just the way she is," Jareth replied quietly. "What about your queen?"
"Make my nana!" Legolas requested, adding as an afterthought, "please."
So Jareth listened carefully to the description of Legolas's mother and after a few tries created a figure that suited the little elf.
Things continued on these amiable lines until the board was filled. On Jareth's side his king and queen were flanked by a pair of dragons, a pair of wolves, and two crooked-looking castles, which Legolas teased him about. His pawns were a row of goblins.
On Legolas's side stood the elfling's brother and sister as bishops, two horses as knights, and two straight and stalwart oaks as his rooks. His pawns were a row of short elves, and Jareth made one to resemble the little prince.
Jareth carefully explained the rules, although Legolas seemed more interested in examining the pieces than listening to the goblin king's instructions, and they began to play.
Jareth didn't pay much attention to the game itself, more interested in the great deliberation Legolas put into every move. The little elf bit his lip in concentration, considering for as long as several minutes before moving his piece, and often glancing up at Jareth through puzzling eyes when the goblin king made an unexpected move.
"I win," Legolas announced after a time.
"What?" Jareth had slouched in his chair and let his mind wander as they played, and he sat up at Legolas's sudden statement.
"Oh…" Legolas frowned in thought. "I mean check… check, ah… check…"
"Check mate?"
"Uh huh."
Jareth stared at the board, and sure enough, there was the little model of himself trapped between a rearing stallion and Legolas's sister. He blinked in surprise.
"You didn't tell me you'd played this game before."
"Didn't ask," Legolas retorted. "Cookie?"
