Magic Dance in Middle Earth

Welcome to Chapter 4! I apologize again for the long wait, I'll try to post fairly quickly from now on.

Asyr- It's always wonderful to get another reader. Thanks for the comments!

Erestor – And thank you! I always try to review when I like a story because I know how nice it is to hear from readers.

I always have trouble with many characterizations of Thranduil; people tend to write him temperamental, greedy, and, as you said, slightly crazy. I don't think he comes off that way in the books at all, and I honestly think that he must have been very cool and collected and smart to rule over Greenwood for all those years. His subjects would never have survived through everything that happened in their land if their ruler hadn't been a very good one. Thranduil had no ring to protect his people; they had only their wits and their strength to rely on. I think their survival alone illustrates Thranduil's character immensely.

As for Legolas, I'm very glad you like him. -pinches Little!Legolas's cheek- He's just precious, isn't he? He's been my favorite character since I first read the books in second grade, something about his youthfulness cheerfulness ("I go to find the sun!") coupled with his ability to kick serious yrch butt. I can hardly blame you for not having him as your favorite elf, thought, considering all the wonderful elves there are out there to choose from. :D

And Jareth, yes, it will be interesting to see how he copes with having a Sindar prince running around his throne room. After all, we saw how much trouble Thranduil had in Chapter One, and he has other children. But Jareth is very resourceful; he'll manage. Maybe.

Yes, the Orli!Legolas fangirls would probably kill me if I let Jareth turn him into a goblin. -wicked gleam in eyes- Oh Leggy….

Yup, no ice cream in Middle Earth. They probably don't have chocolate either. -shakes head- Poor, poor elves (and men and dwarves and hobbits).

Rhys – Yes, kidnapping a five-year-old elf and making his father come rescue him is a bit different than kidnapping a human baby and making a teenage girl come get him, as Jareth is beginning to learn. But as I told Erestor, don't forget that this is the Goblin King we're talking about. He's a pretty formidable character himself. Enjoy the next chapter!

Nightwoman – Yes, well, we shall see. –wink-hands over pocket Legolas-

Pasha ToH – Sneaky little elf, isn't he?

Just a little note about this chapter: The last scene, except for the first two paragraphs, was written by everyone's favorite Jedi Wizard Hobbit, and she had a lot to do with the 'story' scene as well.

And so, without further ado, I give you:

Chapter 4

The shouting of tiny voices reached Thranduil's ears long before he saw the goblins.

"Try this for size, you big yeti!" they screeched. "We got you now, fuzzball!"

Thranduil peered around the corner of the hedge and saw several of Jareth's little imps, dressed in clumsy-looking armor and dancing around the form of a large creature that looked somewhat like a bear and somewhat like an ape and somewhat like something else entirely. The unfortunate creature was suspended upside down by ropes tied around its limbs as the goblins assailed it with long poles on top of which clung small fleshy-pink creatures with piranha-like teeth. The poor beast howled as the sharp teeth nipped at its flesh.

Making a quick decision, Thranduil stepped into the clearing. So intent were the goblins upon their prey that they didn't even notice him, continuing to torment the captive and to speak in sentences that sounded to Thranduil like little more than gibberish.

"Nippy, nippy, nip, nip! Bite him on the teriyaki! Saki to him! Saki to him!"

Thranduil cleared his throat loudly.

"Ahem!"

The little creatures spun around.

"Yiii!" they cried. "Attack!"

They ran at him, their little biting stick-creatures pointed at his stomach, which was as high as they could reach. Thranduil took the stick effortlessly from the first creature and, with a few sweeping blows, knocked them all to the ground.

"Ack! Run away!" the goblins got to their feet as best they could and scattered, tripping and falling and whacking each other with their sticks as they went.

"Oh, my aching sushi!" Thranduil heard one exclaim as they disappeared behind the hedges.

The elven king stepped closer to the captive beast, which roared in anger and fear at his approach.

"Do not fear," Thranduil murmured softly in his own tongue. "You are safe now."

The beast stilled at Thranduil's gentle tone, but did not seem to understand the elvish words.

"There now," he said, switching back to common. "Just be still and I will get you down."

"Luuuuddohhh, dowwnnn," the creature moaned.

"Ludo?" Thranduil questioned. "Is that your name?"

"Luuuddddohhhh," the beast said again.

Thranduil went to where the rope Ludo hung from was tied around a thick tree root. He glanced back at the beast, trying to judge just how much the huge creature must weigh. Then he bent to untie the knot, and as the rope came free he grabbed it in both hands and haled downward with all his strength, stopping Ludo's descent a moment before the creature hit the ground. He felt a muscle in his back wrench and he was pulled forward by the weight of the beast and Ludo dropped the last few inches to land with a gentle thump. The creature scrambled awkwardly into a sitting position as Thranduil walked over to him.

"Ai, you are a heavy beast Ludo," he said, stretching.

"Friend…?" Ludo asked, looking at the elf through dark beady eyes set deep under heavy brows.

"Yes, I suppose so," the elf agreed. "I am called Thranduil."

"Thhhrraaanndooolll, frrrrieeeennndd."

"Close enough," the elf king said, and helped Ludo to scramble awkwardly to his feet.

"I suppose it is too much to hope that you know the way through this labyrinth," he commented when Ludo was at last safely (Thranduil hoped. The creature seemed a bit top-heavy.) on his feet once more.

Ludo shook his head, then nodded, then tilted his chin to one side and looked puzzled.

"I thought as much." Before he could say or do anything else, the ground suddenly opened up beneath him and he tumbled downward into a hole.

…..

Legolas sat in Jareth's lap, munching contentedly, and the goblin king smiled down on the golden head indulgently.

"Such a lively little chap," he remarked to no one in particular. "I think I'll call him Toby."

"What?" Legolas looked up from his half-eaten cookie.

"Oh dear," Jareth frowned. "We seem to have stumbled into a plot hole."

"What?"

"Your father. He's fallen into a plot hole. Oh, this is too perfect."

He stood and snapped his fingers, and three goblins came running over to him.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Rope."

The goblins scurried away and returned quickly with several feet of strong rope. Jareth loped one end around the foot of his throne and tied it tightly in several strong knots. The other end he secured around Legolas's ankle.

"Hey!" Legolas exclaimed.

Jareth ignored him, testing the knots to make sure the tether would not come loose.

"I have had enough of chasing you around," Jareth told him. "Now I know you will stay put until I get back."

He ruffled Legolas's hair and disappeared as the little elf began to tug on his bindings.

…..

Thranduil wasn't sure exactly how it happened. One moment he was standing on solid ground, the next it was giving way beneath him and he was tumbling down into a deep hole. He stood quickly, brushing dirt from his hair and looking around. The hole was about seven feet wide and twelve feet deep. Ludo's hairy face peered over the edge.

"Thhhrraaanndooolll, dowwwnnn."

"It would seem so," Thranduil agreed.

He put his hand against the side of the hole. The earth was loose and slippery, and would be tremendously difficult to scale, but he had little choice in the matter. Resolutely he set himself to climb it.

It was slow going, but after a while Thranduil saw that he was beginning to gain height. He was almost to the top and Ludo's reaching hand when the side of the hole suddenly crumbled and fell away, and he slid down to fall on his back upon the ground.

"Ludo," he said as he pulled himself up and brushed the dirt of his seat, "Would you kindly go look for a rope, or a tree branch, or perhaps a vine that you could lower down to help me out of this hole?"

"'Kaaaaayyyy," Ludo said, and lumbered out of view.

With nothing else to do, Thranduil attempted to climb the side of the hole again to similar results as his first attempt.

"That won't work," an amused voice behind him said in the midst of his third try. Startled, Thranduil turned and slid awkwardly down again, thankful that his elven balance allowed stopped him from tumbling on his face at the feet of Jareth, who had materialized in the middle of the hole.

"Have you a better suggestion?" he inquired calmly, surreptitiously brushing the dirt from his hands.

"No."

"Then you may go now," Thranduil said, turning away to look back at the wall of the hole. It seemed to him that Jareth's face smirked back at him in the loose dirt. "You know, I see your face around this maze a great deal. A bit narcissistic, aren't we?"

"You should talk," Jareth drawled. "How many times do you brush your hair each night? Two thousand? Three thousand? Ah, but no doubt you have servants to do it for you."

"At least my subjects are large enough to hold a brush."

"And no doubt they all sing like you do. No wonder your race is immortal, you'd have a difficult time repopulating yourselves otherwise."

Thranduil could think of no reply, so great was his rage.

"Your wife must have a hard time of it."

"My wife could kill you with one hand," Thranduil sneered.

"You should be thankful your wife didn't come down here after your darling son. If she had, I just might have been forced to seduce her."

"I would love to see you try."

"Oh, I don't really think you would. Now, are you curious as to where we are at the moment?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, that is a pity, because you have little choice in the matter at the moment. You cannot get out of a plot hole."

"A what?" Thranduil asked, despite himself.

"A plot hole," Jareth said again. "It's when the writers can't… oh never mind. The point is that you cannot get out of it. You can climb all you want; it will all be in vain."

"You will forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Thranduil said dryly.

"The wall will just keep crumbling away," Jareth continued, shaking his head. "You will just have to sit here until the plot hole decides to resolve itself." He shook his head. "Sounds dreadfully boring. I don't think I will stay around, but if you ask me nicely perhaps I'll send someone interesting to keep you company."

"Go kiss an orc," was the Sindarian reply.

"That one was definitely not about my mother."

"It seems to me," Thranduil said, "that the successful navigation of this maze is more dependant upon luck than skill. If I were lord here, I can assure you it would not be such."

"Yes, I'm sure," Jareth replied, and disappeared.

…..

Jareth returned to find Legolas exactly where he had left him, seated in the goblin king's throne with a pout on his lips and his little arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh come, you brought it upon yourself you know," Jareth told him.

Legolas stuck out his tongue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The goblins might come and bite it off."

Legolas swiftly returned his tongue to the inside of his mouth and closed his lips tightly. He was forced to open them a moment later in a huge yawn.

Jareth remembered that it was well past the prince's bed time, and even Legolas's energy had to be exhausted eventually. He retrieved one of the pillows from Legolas's chair and placed it beside Legolas on the throne.

"I think it is time for you to go to sleep, Legolas," he said.

Legolas shook his head vehemently.

"Oh come, you'll feel so much better after a good rest."

"Don't wanna sleep."

Jareth sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

"Shall I tell you a story?" he asked.

Legolas looked up at him.

"'Kay."

So Jareth sat down in the chair and set Legolas in his lap and searched his mind for an appropriate story. Finally he settled on one that had been his favorite, long ago when he was a child.

"This is the story of the three little pigs and the big bad wolf," he began.

"Pigs?" asked Legolas, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

"Yes. You know, little fat pink animals. Four short legs, flat snout, curly tail. Makes a noise like 'oink.'"

"Oink?"

"Yes, oink." Apparently animal noises didn't translate well. Jareth glanced furtively around the room, assuring himself that there was no one else around, and then snorted demonstratively.

"Oh," Legolas said at once. "I know." He laid his head on Jareth's chest as the story continued.

"Once upon a time there were three little pigs who were brothers, and they decided they would each build a house to live in."

"What were their names?" Legolas asked.

"What? Oh, ah… they didn't have any."

"Yes they did," Legolas countered. "Everybody has a name."

"Ah, well… their names were Jasper, Augustus, and… ah…"

"Carnim."

"What?"

"Carnim," Legolas repeated. "Pig color."

Jareth rolled his eyes. A story about three pigs named Jasper, Augustus, and Pink. What had he gotten himself into?

"The problem was that it isn't easy for pigs to build anything, because they don't have hands. So Jasper decided he would make his house out of straw because it would not be as much work and then he would have more time to play in the mud."

Legolas giggled.

"Augustus decided he would build his house out of sticks, which were almost as easy as straw, but would keep out the rain better."

Another giggle, but this one sleepier.

"But, ah… Carnim, who was the smartest of the three, decided to build his house out of bricks. It would take a long time, but the house would be sturdy and strong and safe. His brothers soon finished their houses and laughed at him because he had to work so hard, but Carnim ignored them and finally he had a good strong house.

"It just so happened that one dark night soon after Carnim finished his house a big bad wolf came to the place where the pigs lived."

"What was his name?"

"Brutus."

"That's a silly name."

"It's Roman, Shakespeare… oh, never mind. The big bad wolf, who shall remain nameless, was very hungry, so he went to Jasper's house and knocked on the door and said;" here Jareth pitched his voice low, "'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' And Jasper answered;" here Jareth pitched his voice high and squeaky 'not by the hair on my chiny-chin-chin.'

"And the wolf," he continued in a normal voice "who was very hungry indeed, huffed and puffed and blew the straw house down and ate Jasper in one bite."

Legolas had gone very still in Jareth's arms, and the goblin king hoped that the little elf was asleep.

"When he finished the big bad wolf was still rather hungry, so he went to Augustus's straw house and knocked upon its door, saying; 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' 'Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.'

"So the big bad wolf huffed and puffed and blew the stick house down and ate Augustus as he tried to run away.

"Now the big bad wolf was beginning to feel full, but he was also feeling greedy so he went to Carnim's house and knocked on the door. 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' 'Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.'

"So the big bad wolf huffed and he puffed but he couldn't blow the sturdy little brick house down, and all that huffing and puffing on a full stomach gave him a cramp and he died. The end."

Jareth waited a moment to see if Legolas was indeed asleep, and was surprised when the elf sat up. The sea gray eyes were swimming and his lower lip was trembling in an alarming fashion.

"He ate them?"

Oh no Jareth thought. Out loud he said;

"You're missing the point. The moral of the story is; if you are stupid you get eaten."

Legolas's chin was quivering as well now. Tears leaked from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, dripping off the end of his chin.

Panicking, Jareth spluttered;

"Alright, I lied. They decided to talk it out and settle their differences, and the pigs made the big bad wolf some fried chicken and they all went to live happily every after in a castle in the sky."

"Really?" Legolas asked, scrubbing at his wet face with his sleeve.

"No. He ate them."

Legolas started to sob. Unable to cope, Jareth snapped his fingers and three goblins appeared a moment later.

"Please take it," he said, handing the bawling elf to his minions. "I am going to visit Thranduil."

…..

Thranduil sank wearily to the ground, dirt smeared across his face and on his hands. It was as Jareth said; try as he might he could not climb out of the plot hole. Ludo had not returned from his quest for rope, and Thranduil wondered if perhaps the beast had gotten lost in the Labyrinth.

He dropped his head into his hands wearily. He was never one to become downtrodden when circumstances were dire, but unless some incredible solution presented itself right in front of his nose, he could think of nothing else to try. He pressed his fingers into his face, hoping the action would clear his head and allow him to think easier.

A cry broke through the air from above. Thranduil lifted his head sharply and tilted it to hear better. He didn't need to – the sound of that cry was in no way alien to him. His resolve hardened again when he thought of where his son was at that moment, whose hands he was in. If he returns to me again, Thranduil thought, I will make the goblin king know what price a man must pay for making the son of an elven king cry.

Thranduil stood up again with new determination permeating his being. He had just moved to the dirt wall to resume his attempts at escape, when he heard voices nearby. But they were not above him, as they should have been. Instead, they seemed to be coming through the dirt ramparts that kept him imprisoned.

"When the sun goes down, And the bats are back to bed, The brothers come 'round. I get out of my dirty bed. I shake my pretty little head. Tap my pretty little feet. Feeling brighter than sunlight, Louder than thunder, Bouncing like a yo-yo, wooh!"

The disembodied voices appeared in the plot hole alongside Thranduil as if they'd materialized out of thin air. They were odd looking creatures whose feathers and skin took on a shade of orange-red. Beaks protruded from their faces, strangely complimenting their long limbs and vacant, wild eyes.

"Who are you?" Thranduil asked warily.

He received no response. The singing, however, continued.

"Don't got no problems.
Ain't got no suitcase.
Ain't got no clothes to worry about.
Ain't got no real estate or jewelry or gold mines to hang me up."

Thranduil was confused. Some of words and phrases mentioned in the song were familiar to him, such as 'jewelry' and 'gold mines', but he was at a loss when it came to expressions like 'suitcase' and 'real estate'. He held up a hand to indicate that he wanted their attention, then leapt back in shock when a fire flared up unexpectedly at his toes. One of the creatures proceeded to remove his hand from his body and throw it into the fire. Thranduil watched open-mouthed.

"I just throw in my hand With the chilliest bunch in the land."

Thranduil calmed down when the creature's hand appeared again, in its proper place. He assumed that it was probably just a trick of the eye such as he had once seen a 'magician' in Lake Town do, although a much more convincing one.

"They don't look much,
They sure chilly chilly,
They positively glow glow, huh!"

The elven king again tried to get their attention. "I beg your pardon, but do any of you know how I might be able to get out of this… ah, plot hole?"

Again he received no response, unless the creatures had intended to respond by starting to dance madly and remove other various limbs from their bodies. Thranduil shook his head. It wasn't some foolish trick, they were actually removing their limbs and tossing them back and forth. Their heads bobbed up and down in time to the music – literally.

One of them grabbed hold of the elf lord and tugged him around in an attempt to get him to dance with them. Thranduil wrenched himself from its grasp. "Answer me!" he demanded.

"Hey man," one piped in. "Just go with it. Listen to the music, it's all you got's ta know!"

"Chilly down with the fire gang. Think small with the fire gang."

Thranduil tried to listen, but the music didn't make any sense. "Chilly down?"

"Bad hep with the fire gang. When your thing gets wild"

"What thing?"

"Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.
Act tall with the fire gang."

"I am tall!"

"Good times, bad food."

"This does not help me!"

"When your thing gets wild
Chilly down, chilly down."

Thranduil opened his mouth to interject again, but before he could utter a sound one of the creatures began to speak very swiftly to the music.

"Drive you crazy, really lazy, eye rollin', funky strollin',
Ball playin', hip swayin', trouble makin', booty shakin',
Tripping, passing, jumping bouncing,
Drivin', stylin', creeping, pouncing,
Shoutin', screamin' double dealin',
Rockin', rollin', and a reelin'.
With the mackin' sex appealin'.
Can you dig our groovy feelin'?"

Thranduil's mind was spinning from the rapidity of the words. In combination with the irreverence of their rhymes (certainly not the sort of matters that one would be permitted to sing about in his kingdom), it was giving him a headache and making him very irritable.

"Tell me something useful you mindless animals!"

"So when things get too tough,
And your chin is dragging on the ground,
And even down looks up,"

Thranduil's pointed ears perked up. It sounded like they were on the brink of telling him something helpful.

"Bad luck."

Or not.

"We can show you a good time,
And we don't charge nut'in'.
Just strut your nasty stuff,"

The elven king didn't even want to contemplate what the meaning of that was.

"Wiggle in the middle, yeah,
Get the town talkin', fire gang.
Chilly down with the fire gang.
T'ink small with the fire gang.
Bad hep with the fire gang.
When your thing gets wild,
Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.
Think small with the fire gang.
Good times, bad food.
When your thing gets wild,
Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.
Think small with the fire gang.
Bad hep with the fire gang."

The creature's dancing had gotten more frantic as the song had built up, and now limbs were littering the inside of the plot hole, chasing after their bodies. Once they had gotten themselves back together, they all seemed to make the decision to gang up on Thranduil. They clambered up his arms and legs, and one of them grabbed hold of his head.

"Get off of me this instant!" the elf demanded.

"Hey! His head don't come off!"

"No it doesn't," Thranduil affirmed, grasping the annoying creature, lifting it off his shoulders and throwing it to the ground. "And if you do not desist from this foolishness at once and leave me in peace I shall cast a spell to permanently affix all of your heads to your hairy little bodies!"

The creatures abruptly let go and scampered to the other side of the plot hole to hide behind a newly materialized figure. "Now, that wasn't very nice," came the silky, familiar voice. "Can you really do that?"

The elven king stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

Jareth shrugged and the beginnings of that mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You seemed to be getting a bit frazzled. I do hope you're all right. I really can't understand why these harmless little fireys would bother you."

"Well, perhaps you can persuade them to talk sense," Thranduil spat. He suddenly remembered what he heard coming from the Goblin King's castle. Anger flared up in him quicker than usual due to the strange episode he had just witnessed. "You have been making my son cry!" He stepped toward the goblin king menacingly.

Jareth's eyes darted quickly around the plot hole and he took a small precautionary step back. He would have been worried about further injury to his face but he saw a very easy way out of this confrontation. "I did nothing of the sort. He started crying on his own. After all, he does miss you. He's wondering why you haven't saved him yet. That's why he started crying."

Thranduil paused, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Jareth took the opportunity to continue their previous line of conversation. "What precisely were the fireys saying that confused you so?"

The elven king's head snapped up again, the corners of his eyes creased with annoyance. "Nothing made any sense. Talking about 'chilly-ing down' and comments such as 'when your thing gets wild'."

Jareth grinned. "Oh, I know why you didn't understand that statement." He watched Thranduil stare intently at him as he raised two fingers in the air and made a snipping motion. The elf's eyes widened in fury, but this time he made no comment regarding the insult.

"Perhaps then, you'd also care to explain to me what 'real estate' is."

The Goblin King looked positively gleeful that he seemed to be winning this round, and he shook his head, waving a dismissing hand in the air. "No, then I would have to explain too many concepts to you, such as mortgages and property-"

"Property?" Thranduil cut in, his voice growing louder with each word. "Property? Clearly you have no concept of the word property either, or you would not steal other people's children!"

But Jareth was not phased by the elven king's outburst this time.

"Then you contest that your son is your property? I find that to be rather unfair. Your son is his own person, he does not belong to you. You are merely responsible for him, which seems to be too difficult a task for you since you've not been doing your job very well." He raised a hand and snapped his gloved fingers, causing the fireys to leave in a hurry. "I think I'll just leave to let you think about that," the Goblin King said amusedly. Soon his figure was replaced by that of an owl, which flew out of the plot hole leaving Thranduil alone once more.

….