The cobbled streets of the market were overflowing. Goblins and trolls of all shapes were bartering, trading, collecting, stealing, and fighting. A goblin sat next to a wall jingling an old cup even though no one had given the creature any coin since it had first appeared. Only one paid the creature any attention at all. A puny-looking goblin, with sharp eyes, sat not too far away watching the figure. The figure walked up to the figure and tossed something into the cup.
"Ah! What have we here." A shriveled hand reached out and allowed the cup to empty into it. A necklace and crystal fell into it. The creature looked up at the small goblin.
"It's time to go home, young prince." The creature dropped his hand but didn't move otherwise.
"How did you find me this time? I swept away the glitter."
"Not all the way here, you didn't."
The small figure let out a groan of frustration. "How am I supposed to sneak anywhere with a blasted glitter trail."
"Royalty doesn't sneak, your majesty."
"That's because royalty is boring."
"Shall I'll tell his majesty that?"
"No!" The creature gasped. "Alright, fine. I'll go back."
"With me, I hope."
"Yes, of course, Milksop. Catch." The creature tossed a crystal orb at the small goblin.
The goblin blinked furiously and appeared to try and balance himself. The creature was casting off a cloak, revealing a lanky boyish figure with a mischievous grin.
"You've gotten quite good at that young prince," Milksop admitted. "And your glamour too. It took me quite a while to figure out if it was truly you."
"I used the cloak and a glamour. It makes it harder to penetrate the glamour." He said proudly. "What gave me away?"
"There's glitter on your cloak." Milksop reached up and brushed off the Prince's shoulder. Sure enough, gold glitter fell to the floor. The Prince pouted visibly. "Now, your father is waiting for you. I suggest not making him wait any longer." The boy gave no indication of hearing but headed off in the proper direction, glitter following in his wake.
The boy gave a look at the guards at the hall doors. They scrambled to open the doors for him. Milksop shook his head.
Inside the hall, Jack Frost was idly walking around the room while a troll recounted some kind of business. He waved the troll off when Jarreth approached.
"Late as usual," Frost commented. "I don't suppose you are late because you were practicing frost? No? Then perhaps you were studying the Seelie Court? No? Ah, I know. You were overseeing the training of the new staff? Because surely you would never stoop to something like childish games. A King, after all, is above that." Jarreth managed to hold his father's gaze and look bored. He had learned long ago, that making a fuss did nothing. It seemed that nothing irritated the Frost prince quite like being emulated. Other than the boy's lack of frost control.
Frost began to pace, a sure sign of irritation, trailing a dusting of fractals in his wake. Jarreth, too paced, idly, leaving matching swirls of glitter.
"So you wasted my time, being late. Your time, hiding about like a child, and you wasted the kingdom's time, by not leading your people."
"Of course. Though I hardly think the kingdom missed me. I rather think I was chosen because of my games."
"Don't be a non-sensical boy. Goblins and trolls need firm leadership."
"That's why you were chosen, right dad?" Jarreth arched an eyebrow. Milksop took a step back further into the shadows. It should have been the highest form of flattery that the son of the goblins' and trolls' beloved adopted leader was to be, king. The father and son rift, however, had instead made it awkward. The boy clearly wished nothing of the crown, and the father wished for nothing else. It had become a weapon between the two. The father would never forgive his son for being royal when he himself was not. He would never forgive his son for not carrying his legacy. While the boy was clearly powerful, Frost could not see it. He seemed to only be able to see where the boy lacked.
The boy, however, was much more torn. He would never forgive his father for separating him from his sister. And yet, still, he looked to his father to teach him. In fact, all the boy did was learn and watch. But soon, the boy would surpass his father, and then what trouble would he get into?
By the end of the evening, the hall was covered in glitter and ice. The two had fought long and hard. Sometimes, they were loud. Sometimes, they were austere. But they were always at each other's throats. Frost, it seemed, had made his authority known, and for now, the title of father trumped king. "For now," both Milksop and Jarreth thought, "but for how much longer." Milksop brought a missive from Frost to Jarreth. Jarreth put it away without reading it, but Milksop lingered.
"Show me what you've learned today, You Lord." He prompted Jarreth. It was an old ritual of theirs.
Jarreth looked reluctant, but with another prompting, he acquiesced. Laboriously, he produced a crystal. Then he shifted it. The image was hazy at first but sharpened after a few moments. A lovely young girl, with white blonde hair and warm green eyes, appeared, sitting in front of the fire. She appeared to be tending to it.
"My sister," Jack said softly. Milksop understood suddenly that the boy had not just conjured an image, but a reality. He sat back impressed.
"That's quite some trick you've got there. How long have you been working on this one?"
"Ages. Forever, I think."
"Well," Milksop said uncomfortably. "You've certainly outdone yourself." The boy nodded, appearing bored again, but his eye stayed fixed on the orb.
"She's the one father should have kept," he said quietly.
"Why do you think that?" Milksop said before he could stop himself.
"She has ice. She has ice, and she can shift. Father would love her."
Milksop was at a loss for words. It was very probable the boy was right, but that knowledge would do no one good. Instead, Milksop praised the boy for his skill, and bid him good night.
Hello friends!
Here begins the transition into the Labyrinth world of Jim Henson. I have added no further fairytales in this chapter. Milksop's character is possibly too soft for a goblin, but there is a fair amount of lore that suggests that while generally prickly and mischievous, when they are endeared to someone, they are quite loyal. This is seen in lore of leaving gifts of milk or trinkets for goblins (especially in rural areas) in exchange for small tasks or even just to deter pranks.
Mythology on goblins is vastly varied. The overarching themes I noticed in my research were goblins as nefarious and evil (think demon) creatures who would always intend harm, and goblins as mischievous and tricky, but generally without explicit malicious intent unless provoked. It should be noted that even in this milder description of goblins their jokes are often extreme (sometimes even fatal) to humans, but it is generally not the explicit intention to do so. Goblins belong to the Unseelie court.
What I found on Goblin Kings was largely modern works. What I did find that had similar themes were stories of the a hunt ("The Wild Hunt" if you would like a search term). The Wild Hunt is a tradition that exists in some form in most of the Western region of Europe. Some common themes of this legend include an extended time of year that occurs regularly (annually typically) in which a mythical being (Odin, the King of the Hund, Master of Yule, Fairy King, etc.) leading a band of creatures (spirits, goblins, underlie creatures, demons) across an area. A lot of these tales had hints of afterlife/underworld mythology attached to them: some hunted souls to eat, some hunted maidens, others hunted those guilty of crime/injustice.
For the purposes of this story, I have used older German versions of the leader of the hunt to model what I think the Goblin King would be. It tells of a man who refused to ascend to heaven when he died. Either he was punished or elected to hunt instead, but ends up as the leader of the hunt. The King of the Hunt is eternally bound to either the hunt or the souls that have joined him in the not-dead, but not-alive state. I thought this most appropriate as Jarreth seems somewhat tied to his realm unless he is hunting for potential children to bring to his realm.