Title: That's What Friends Are For
Author: Yodeladyhoo
Beta: Anij
Summary: The journey
Genre: Fantasy
Pairings: Jareth x Maurasoon ( OC )
Rating: T
disclaimer (dĭs-klā'mər): noun
1. (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something
2. denial of any connection with or knowledge of
syn: disavowal
c.1986, 2007 The Jim Henson Company.
LABYRINTH is a trademark of The Jim Henson Company.
Labyrinth characters c.1986 Labyrinth Enterprises.
All rights reserved, but not by me.
All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are fictional. Any similarities to actual persons, either living or deceased, are purely coincidental. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.
Maurasoon is mine.
Plea for Reason: Yeah! Last chapter before we get to the movie! It's not plagiarism if I give credit. Passages in bold are lifted directly from Labyrinth—a novel based on the Jim Henson film, written by A.C.H. Smith, and published by Henry Hold & Company in New York.
Adult dragons are impossible to train. They are intelligent, highly strung, territorial, vicious, flame emitting creatures that would as quickly kill their mate for a meal as an errant beast. It was a wonder that there were any left in the wild for their tendencies, if it wasn't for the commercial efforts of the giants.
Dragons live in the wastelands of the far north, more north than Moraine, where the rainfall is too scarce to support lush flora. Therefore, the fauna have adapted digestive systems than allow them to go for long expanses of time before eating again. Giants, who also live in the northern regions of Finias, have utilized the great beasts' propensity to rest after eating to afford them the opportunity to steal the dragon's eggs from their nests. These eggs fetch an exorbitant sum of gold and allow the giants to participate in the free trade of the land.
The usual purveyors of these eggs were kings and dukes as they were the only ones who had enough land, money and staff to train a dragon properly through its maturation phases. In the Goblin Kingdom, the mounted unit of the Goblin Guard was in charge of the eggs and the hatchlings. The wee creatures had an appearance that one needed to accustom themselves to in order to be capable to see their latent beauty. Standing upright to an approximate height of four feet on its muscular two hind legs and using its long tail as a counterbalance, it is almost impossible to believe that these are the offspring of the terror of the northern skies of Finias. Their dark orange corneas, bordering on blood orange, bulge from their faces, nearly overwhelming their skulls. Tufts of hair sprout from between their immature horns and down the neck ridge, offering the mounted goblin a means to guide the newly hatched dragon, as its beak is too small to accept a bridle. Although they are fierce creatures that are nearly invincible, the first few hours after emerging from their shell are when they are the most vulnerable in their entire lives as their moist skin is very easy to pierce while it hardens in the drying atmosphere. After hatching and consuming their first meal, training begins immediately.
Dragons have extraordinary long distance hearing, but only in a limited frequency. Each dragon's audio range is individualistic. Males tend to be in the whole note ranges while females are in the flats. As the newly hatched dragons are led to the feeding grounds, goblins would strike different keys of tuning forks and observe the dragons to see which beasts they were attracted to in the different stalls as they were drawn to the scent of the meat and the sound of the tone. Once sorted, training the dragons to respond to fork and voice progressed very quickly. Within two months, the dragon babes are ready to be mounted and placed on patrol within the walls of the Goblin City.
During this first phase of life, the hatchling phase, the dragons are wingless. They are placed on mounted duty until their wing buds sprout, somewhere around their fortieth year of life. At this time, the hatchlings are rounded up and proceed by caravan to the open fields of the King's usual residence, the Summer Pavilion. The next thirty years are a very intensive growth phase in which the dragons could quadruple their weight and increase their body length by six times. While they are under the watchful eye of BeastKeeper Garison, they practice their flying skills in the hilly terrain and are given plenty of opportunities to learn where the landmarks of the Kingdom are with riders guiding them. It would take about three round trip flights for a dragon to memorize the flight path to any given point from that particular starting point. Once memorized, a rider would simply need to mount their beast, strike the properly pitched tuning fork and state the destination within the tone of the tuning fork. The animal would then grasp the rider's legs in its front digits, gather its powerful hindquarters beneath it and with a mighty down stroke of its scaled wings, the behemoth would leap into the air with a screech from its parrot like beak of triumph and warning.
Once the dragons start to chew rocks, their life of leisure was at an end. They are now entering the period of their life that they have been training for; warfare. A squadron formation of five dragons descending onto a battlefield could strike terror in the fiercest of trolls, who would fight simply because they had nothing better to do, but when they had a cause or an employer, they could be the most deadly of adversaries. Mounted on the back of a dragon, a warrior has almost no chance of injury or failure of their mission. Once dismounted, the dragon would defend its rider in the face of any threat to either itself or of their rider. Dragons at this stage are very loyal creatures and develop a deep attachment to their rider. Unfortunately, a dragon's usefulness is limited for at this point they are nearly matured. Once the rider can no longer control his mount from chewing rocks on command, it is time to release the animal back to the northern mountain habitat of its origins.
Dragon and rider take their final flight to the north with provisions for two days. The animal is forced to fly hungry as to encourage it to forage on its own when they reach their destination. Upon dismount and unharnessing his beast, the rider must drive away his companion. Using a discordant tone tuning fork, the warrior would speak the dragon's name. The distress of hearing its' name in the key of the painful tone drives the dragon in fury away from its rider, hopefully never to be seen by intelligent beings again. The rider now has to make his way down the mountain, carrying approximately fifty pounds of leather harness and saddle while avoiding dragons to await another mounted rider to pick him up. Many times, a rider is found. Most that do return unscathed would never fly again.
None of this affected Maurasoon as she watched the graceful creature circle overhead. Little did she realize that she was an unwitting instrument in Garison's orchestrations for training the beast. Then again, if the BeastKeeper were truly aware of Maurasoon's inexperience with riding, he might have other thoughts about assigning such a green dragon to her.
Once she was assured that her ride was properly outfitted for the journey, she mounted him by climbing up onto his outstretched ankle. Hoisting herself into the saddle, she grabbed onto the thickly braided reins as Lorno shook his leathery neck and pulled on the lead in defiance. "Oh, so you think you're a feisty one now, do you?" Maurasoon said to him as he tugged on her hold. "Very well. If you're in such a hurry," she struck the tuning fork against the brass saddle horn and spoke clearly within the tone, "Goblin City!"
With a small preliminary skip, the dragon leaped into the air, his neck muscles straining in his ascent towards the clouds. Overcoming her initial inertia to becoming airborne, Maurasoon quickly gained control over the beast's head, swung him around to position the afternoon sun over her left shoulder.
Riding a dragon requires very little in the way of steerage. Dragons have an inborn ability to maintain a straight line course once set upon it. Having established the northern trajectory by using the sun as a compass, Maurasoon had little to do except watch the scenery unfold beneath her. The green mountainside that was dotted with tiny yellow and purple flowers gave way to pale gold and deep green farmland. Wondering what farm life could be like, she realized that she probably would know firsthand right now if she had not embarked on her little 'adventure'. It was common practice for impoverished farmers to come to the castle looking for brides for their sons who had little land to offer. In return, girls who had little chance at marriage because they were dowerless were offered a chance at matrimony. Not that they had any voice in the choice of their husband, but they were granted a husband all the same. Of course, Maurasoon did not know this tidbit when she was a mere lass; all she knew was the drudgery of scullery work and the aloofness of Court. Hating both, she opted to run away as far as possible as she could. She ran so far, she managed to cross the mist between the dimensions of two worlds.
There, she found a life for herself that allowed her to remain as wild and as free as a child. She grew, fell in love, and had purpose to her existence full of joy and misgivings. It was the outcome of one night of misgivings that led her back to a life that she originally distained. She made a wish, had it granted, and in retribution, had to return at the request of her childhood friend, now the Goblin King. Granted, she was quickly coming to a loss as to how to explain her longevity on the other side of the Veil, but she truly was afraid to return home. She longed for the familiar sights and landscapes, yet she dreaded the existence that would be awaiting her. Realizing that she was now more of an outcast that when she left, Maurasoon wondered what she would be able to do to eek out a livelihood. Yet, her time in the realm of Man had given her the confidence that she needed to know that she could manage no matter what the obstacles. The only thing that plagued her mind now was if she would be facing those obstacles alone.
Her human mate, Gary Elbridge, had passed shortly after Maxine's death. The loss of her beloveds from the early years of her marriage devastated Maurasoon, but as sure as time mellows all wounds, she was now able to think back upon her love with bittersweet fondness instead of soul wrenching grief. Oftentimes, she wondered if she would encounter Gary's essence again in her own lifetime or if he had moved on to the next level by using po-wa. She enjoyed the company of men, but missed the comfort of someone who understood her soul. Gary was able to take so much in his long, loping stride and easy smile that there were times that Maurasoon also felt compelled to tell him her true history. Fear held her tongue, though. There was no harm done and it helped to keep the peace, something Gary expounded in their life as one.
Lorno perked his head up from his flying with her increased tension on the reins. Centering herself on the present instead of the past or the future, Maurasoon relaxed her grip and leaned forward over the neck of the dragon. It was going to be a fair distance until their journey was at an end. No need to give the beast reason to be on alert.
Her return to the Underground was as jolting as her entrance to Above. Upon reciting her summons for the Goblin Prince--nothing happened. Perplexed, she wondered if she had said something wrong. After two days of racking her memory, the glamourized Maurasoon remembered the transportation incantation, recited it, and found herself amidst stone walls in an alley once again. Except this time, the sky was a familiar pale orange hue. In due time, Jareth, the newly crowned King of the Goblins, found her wandering within the stone garden of the Labyrinth. It was his idea to create the persona of the Court Lady of Gorias.
So began the education of Mary of Gorias. For three seasons Maurasoon stayed on at the castle beyond the Goblin City learning courtly mannerisms, Gorian history, Finisian history, and diction. Her most dreaded master was a wizened goblin who had a habit of rambling incessantly about a mote side point then falling asleep mid-sentence. It wasn't so much her teacher that she despised, rather his companion bird/hat. On more than one occasion Maurasoon threatened to scald the feathers off of it and throw it into the soup pot. Once the bird-like creature realized her bluff, the taunts only served to spur it on to more raucous behaviour. If she were by chance to come across her old instructor and his headpiece...
The deepening colour of the sky as the evening lengthened into night brought Maurasoon into the present. Taking in her surroundings, Maurasoon looked down over the dragon's thick neck to spy on a vast, unnatural structure that sprawled out underneath her. It covered the entire landscape and almost crested over the horizon for its immensity. The Labyrinth. As the sky took on shades of violet and azure, the brick walls took on a milky, pearlescent aura in the moonless night, very much like the full moon during an eclipse. Casting her gaze further out, she was able to discern a spire structure rising far to her left. The castle beyond the Goblin City; the seat of power of the Goblin Realm. Although the king and his Court resided at the Summer Pavilion permanently, all formal functions and decrees were compelled to be issued from here. Locking her right leg around the saddle girth, Maurasoon took both reins firmly as she prepared to turn Lorno. She lunged over his left shoulder, pulling firmly and steadily on the reins. The actions very nearly unseated her, if it were not for her precautions with her leg and her grip on the reins. The great beast felt the pull on his bridle and responded accordingly, tucking in his left wing to cause a gently banking to the west in the darkening sky.With any luck, she would arrive there before Jareth took his brandy.
Jareth was waiting outside in the courtyard plaza in front of the main, ornamental doors of the castle, scowling at the lack of activity. He had been here for approximately nineteen hours now and was appalled at the condition of the capital city. Granted, it was no worse than when he had last seen it, but it was no better, either. What were the taxes being used towards, he thought to himself. If Jareth were to have paid closer attention to details during his last visit, he would have noted that there were only three ale houses in the Goblin City. Now, there were fifteen. Quite an industrious task to set up the stills and distilleries to support such a booming business, or so the mayor of the city believed.
The focal point of the plaza was a square stone fountain with base relief carvings on its squat, tiered levels. Stone staircases emptied into the plaza from elevated walkways connecting some of the second storied buildings. Water gurgled from the some of the carvings into the basin of the fountain as he leaned gracefully against it, but its melody was lost on his ears as he tipped his head back to view the vaulted sky. He could almost make out the intangible threads of the magickal atmosphere that were starting to coil their nearly invisible, silvery filaments in the royal blue night sky lending a sense of depth to the two dimensional expanse. Soon now, very soon, the summons would be made and all this anxiety would be over.
The palace guard had warned him of a dragon approaching, and this was the most likely place for it to land. The finial tipped turrets were fine roosting sites for griffins, gargoyles and the occasional owl, but dragons needed space to land all four limbs and a weary tail. Judging from its arriving flight pattern, this dragon couldn't be a wild specimen hunting a bit too far south. He pushed himself away from the fountain with practiced ease that belied his current impatient temperament as the beast circled in to slow its speed.
Goblins rushed in to unburden the dragon after the King assisted the lady off of her mount. "The night air suits you, my dear. You should ride in the evening more often," he said as a means of greeting Maurasoon. Leading her away from the plaza and up the steps, he guided her around the side of the castle, underneath the buttresses that held up the impossibly spiraling towers to a garden.
"What, and deny you and Devlin the pleasure of my company at dinner?" She jokingly teased as she skirted the stone bench that Jareth was leading her to and strolled to the flowering hedges. The lavender, pink, and white open faced blooms looked enticing, yet she could see the gleam of the razor-edge on the petals that would slice through an unwary finger.
"I suppose I am denying him your company tonight as well."
She waved her hand dismissively as she recalled the unpleasantness of the past evening. "He's too busy planning the banquet to be of good company."
"I fear that I won't be of much company either." he said with his hands clasped behind his back. Maurasoon tilted her head, her eyes filled with questions she would not dare to ask.
"Be that as it may, I am here. I suppose you don't need to be of good company since it is I who would need to be of good company to you."
"And if I choose to have no company at all?"
"Then I had a lovely flight that you assure me suits me very well."
If the expression is 'misery loves company', then Maurasoon was refusing to pay a social call. Jareth was quickly losing his temper at being unable to bait her. "Must you always find a way to have a positive effect on every situation? It is very annoying."
Sensing that her companion was not in the best of spirits, Maurasoon proceeded with caution as she neared him. "Old habits die hard, my Liege. Please pardon me for falling into the role I held while I was a younger woman."
"I suppose that's the reason why I summoned you here," he countered irritably as she halted alongside of him. He allowed his pent up frustration from the past day and a half to channel out through his temper towards her.
She looked up at him, revelations adorning her face. "You want me to attempt to evaluate you?"
Jareth straddled the once empty bench and folded his arms across his chest, his expression daring her to succeed in her endeavor. The night only deepened, along with the silence between the two.
Taking a deep breath, Maurasoon took a stab in the dark. "You're restless. In truth, you probably don't know what it is that you need to seek, yet you know you need it. I only hope that once you find it, you recognize it for what it is that you need."
"And do you have any suggestion on what it is that I need?"
Someone with your temperament to give it back to you as often as you dish it out, was the first thing that came to Maurasoon's mind. Thankfully, she knew better to let it get past her brain.
The words left Jareth's mouth as if they were thrown by his voice like daggers. "What? No insightful comments as to whether I need time to ponder or time to talk? Come, come, Maura! I treasure your bits of witticisms." At this, Jareth rose from the bench and stalked around her, his ill humour radiating from him almost visibly.
The air within her mouth was still with her silence at her inability to answer him. Her eyes followed his movements around her under shielding lids. Things had gone from bad to worse and it wasn't looking to get any better very soon along this path. "My sincerest pardons for rousing your ire, my Lord. I meant no offense in my old habits." Trying to find a way to end this confrontation, she started to grasp at straws. "You said that the night air suits me. Perhaps it could work its magic on you."
"What, and deny you the pleasure of my company?" Jareth retorted with malicious humour dancing in his eyes.
Exasperated and exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Maurasoon repressed a sigh. "Sire, it has been a long ride and I am tired. Please allow me to retire to my rooms."
"As you will." He turned and strode away from her.
"Shake a tail feather!"
Jareth pivoted, his face on the verge of fury which was impending to erupt into a vile threat were it not for the sight of Maurasoon, the panels of her overskirt spread wide as she curtsied deeply.
"Your Majesty."
Realizing that he had almost taken her bait, Jareth found his upper lip turn ever so imperceptibly into a small smirk of a smile. "Maura, I do believe that I shall never grow tired of your ability to cause me aggravation."
Maurasoon felt the surrounding air rush forward to fill the space that Jareth's mass left vacant as he shifted into his more compact avian form. Only then did she dare to rise and look to the skies before heading into the castle. From somewhere deep in the recesses of her long memory, she recalled the words of an old college mate, dead these many years, or was it centuries? (She never could keep track of time, one of the drawbacks of living in two realms for so long.) Men...you can't live with them and you can't bury them in a shallow grave without ruining your manicure.
Entering the castle proper, she walked through the labyrinthine halls and stairwells to what were once her suite of rooms. All she really wanted right now was a long, very warm soak in a bath laced with sweet salts and a soft bed for her tender muscles to rest upon. After all, tomorrow was going to be another day.
Jareth took to the air with a stride and a down stroke. With having too much to occupy his thoughts, he made a conscious effort to think of nothing at all. Allowing the thermals emanating from the ground to lift him higher into the night sky, his avian sight beheld the Labyrinth; ever complex, never solvable. It was many things to different persons. For him, it was the symbol of his strength and complexity; which led him to thinking of his last conversation.
How dare she assume to tell him what he needed?! In truth, she didn't tell him what he needed; only that he had a need. What in the universe could a king, let alone the Goblin King, need? He had never known want, every desire had always been met. Yet, she was right about the obvious; he was restless, more so than with the impending summons. Perhaps there was something missing from his life; he shall have to investigate this further after this ordeal was taken care of.
Perhaps he was a bit too harsh on Maurasoon earlier. He did, after all, summon her here for her companionship. If she acted as she always had, how can he blame her for his ire? You can not ask a snake to shed his personality like he does his skin. He will have to make it up to her, somehow, perhaps a trinket or such.
He had no sense of guilt. To admit guilt would be to admit uncertainty, something a monarch must never allow to be perceived least he would appear indecisive. In much the same manner, he would never let Maurasoon have the benefit of the knowledge that she might be correct. It was one thing to seek her advice but quite another to let her have the satisfaction of knowing that her advice was being taken. It might swell her ego, or so Jareth thought. What good would any advice be from her then, he mused as he banked into the current. This was one of the many reasons why he cherished Maurasoon; she spoke her mind with forethought and a clear conscious. She was not a woman who would speak without thinking or to further her own cause.
Jareth never noticed when the thermals were no longer lifting him and when the vortex was pulling him into the World of Man.
Nobody saw the owl, white in the moonlight, black against the stars, nobody heard him as he glided over on silent wings of velvet. The owl saw and heard everything.
He settled atop a stone needle monolith that rose to the clouds that caressed the ground, his claws unable to hook onto anything as he resettled his wings, the feathers ruffling in the gusts of wind, and he stared at the girl in the glade below. The wind moaned, rocking the branches in the surrounding trees, scudding low clouds across the evening sky. It lifted the hair of the girl. The owl was watching her, with his round, dark eyes.
The girl moved slowly from the trees toward the middle of the glade. A pond that mirrored the dull metallic sky lay placid behind her. She was concentrating. Each deliberate step took her nearer to her purpose. Her hands were open, and held slightly in front of her. The wind sighed again in the trees. It blew her dress tightly against her slender figure, and rustled her hair around her wide-eyed face. Her lips were parted.
"Give me the child."
Author's Note: I've done it for you. Now, please return the favor. Review. Thank you.
NOTE: PO-WA: Tibetan method of meditation to allow the transference of consciousness at the time of death