The Underground Council Comes Back

[RedPiggy]

Author’s Note: This is (hopefully) the TRULY last of my Comeback King saga. There’s The Comeback King (http://forum.muppetcentral.com/showthread.php?t=37600), Comin’ Back (http://forum.muppetcentral.com/showthread.php?t=38238), and Scavenging Pangaea (http://forum.muppetcentral.com/showthread.php?t=37917). The Comeback King revolves around two kings, both with a history of denying their destiny, being forced to return to their glory to protect their universe, aka The Underground, which consists of the Labyrinth settings (including those introduced in Return to Labyrinth (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Return_to_Labyrinth), the Gorg’s garden … all connected by Fraggle Rock, ranging from the years 2008 to 2011. Comin’ Back is the sequel, revolving around a more light-hearted (eventually) look at some characters who didn’t get the spotlight previously. However, some hints to a much larger problem start to occur, as Jareth and other rulers in the Underground decide that humans are starting to find ways into the Underground (by themselves, which is bad … unlike when Jareth does it, which is not so much :D ). The island of LOST makes a cameo, as does a Hensonian interpretation of that show’s Smoke Monster. In Outer Space (the human/Muppet realm), things start to look up for everyone. Scavenging Pangaea is a somewhat darker spinoff/sequel that takes place both around the year 59,000,000BC (after Wesayso bombed Pangaea’s volcanoes and most dinosaurs have died) and the year 2011AD, which parallels what happens in Comin’ Back. The “Dinosaurs” part revolves around the quest to make a new life in Sinclair City, which is featured in an episode somewhere, while the “present day” stuff revolves around Sir David Tushingham (from the clip shows) and Doc (from Fraggle Rock) discover the truth about the dinosaurs’ fate as well as Doc’s connection to the Sinclairs, motivated by a sense of personal stagnation in their careers/lives. Count mentioned Flight of Dragons, but it won’t be like that. I also want to avoid Imaginationland-like plots (though that was a really good saga for South Park). I noticed reviews slacked off when the stories got darker (now I know how Jim Henson felt), so I’ll work really hard to keep this rather light … relative to what’s been happening before, anyway.

Prologue

“Don’t little frog go to school soon?” asked a deep, gruff voice.

Robin the Frog, about two-thirds the height of his more famous uncle, Kermit, looked up from playing video games in the basement of the Muppet Theater. He saw Sweetums, a large brown hairy monster with a fat lower lip, yellow-tinged eyes under thick black eyebrows, and a ratty brown cloak.

An alarming sound came from the television. Robin whipped back around and madly pushed buttons, but it was too late. His character got flame-broiled and died. Robin shook his head and snapped his fingers. “Aw, man,” he exclaimed with a youthful yet assertive voice. “I forgot to save, too. Just my luck!” He turned to Sweetums. He tried to hide the irritation and disappointment in his voice. “Actually, I’ve started taking classes on the internet. That way, when I visit my folks in Florida, I don’t have to miss school.”

Sweetums stared at the television. “Sweetums make frog lose game?”

Robin smiled. “No, I wasn’t doing so hot anyway.” He paused, patting the floor beside him. “You wanna play?”

Sweetums shook his head. “Tiny controllers get crushed by Sweetum’s big hands,” he replied, trying to sound as though it didn’t bother him. “Sweetums has to build set piece for the show next week.” He smirked. “Muppet Theater do play version of Frog Prince.”

Robin’s head leaned back and he sighed, turning back to the television, which mocked him with its “game over” screen. “I wonder whatever happened to that human guy who had to play me,” he wondered thoughtfully. He frowned. “I better not need Uncle Kermit to rescue me again, though. I’m a lot bigger and wiser than I used to be.”

“Not around flame jets on TV screen,” Sweetums teased with a hearty laugh as he turned to head down out of the room.

“Just you wait … I’ve got warts with your name on them!” Robin shot back with a half-smile.

<><><><><><>

Oscar the Grouch, a broad-mouthed creature with ratty green fur, leaned against the back of his trash can just outside of 123 Sesame Street, reading a half-shredded, half-stained copy of Grouch Gazette, humming cheerfully to himself. A lot of interesting things had been happening in Grouchland lately: there was a new swimming pool filled with sludge installed for grouch youth, wealthy grouches were moving to Naples in droves, a big slimy toad by the name of McMooch had started a neighborhood filthification organization, and the Queen of Trash had left her kingdom for some sort of rare meeting.

<><><><><><>

On the far edge of a black tar-and-muck-filled swamp sat a small stone cottage, half-eaten with mold, with a small attic underneath a large stone sculpture of a nose, the nostrils of which streamed watery goo into the nearby bog. Inside sat a broad-faced dwarf with grey bushy brows and thick sideburns, wearing a red-tinged purple robe fastened with a circular golden clasp, a blue and gold tunic, black pants, and thick black boots. The only rooms were a small bathroom/kitchenette in the back and the main room which served as a throne room, complete with an aged stone throne with jeweled edges and a large chunk taken out of the top. Flies swarmed to and fro, irritating the dwarf immensely. He had tried to swat them, fumigate them, set them on fire … but they just kept coming. That’s what you got when you lived in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his gloom. He told the visitor to enter in a very gravelly voice, made even huskier with age.

“A-ha! I knew I would find you here, Hoggle, my good Prince!” enthusiastically shouted Sir Didymus, a brown-grey fox-terrier-like creature with a brightly-colored Royal Guard-like uniform. His riding partner, Ambrosius, a white sheepdog with tinges of grey here and there, followed meekly.

Hoggle snorted in disgust. “Aw, where else did you think I’d be?” Many years ago, a human girl, Sarah Williams, had tried to solve the Labyrinth. In return for rescuing her from a bunch of hyperactive Fireys, she kissed him. King Jareth, in one of his usual humorous moods, made good on his promise to turn him into a prince … by giving him a crown and moving his house to the Bog. Although through the years he’s managed to adapt … there were times he still hated her for it.

Sir Didymus shrugged, maintaining his ever-present smile. “Why, with the Goblin King, of course, as he journeys to lands unknown to address the Council!”

Hoggle jumped up, standing only twice the size of the small canine-like creature, and stomped his feet, wringing his hands. “I have to watch this stupid cesspool for the rest of my life!” He grabbed Sir Didymus by the collar of his uniform. “Don’t you know anything?” he shouted angrily.

Sir Didymus trembled ever so slightly. “Why,” he replied with a less confident voice, “Prince Hoggle … dost thou not remember young Sarah?”

Hoggle threw him to the ground and stomped back to the throne, burying his jaw in his hand. “Why you gotta always bring her up?”

Sir Didymus adjusted his uniform and patted his loyal steed on the back to reassure him. “Her powers of logic were wondrous to behold,” he answered with a tone of wonder in his voice. “It was she who figured out the key to respecting my oath.”

“So what?” grumbled Hoggle. He hated beings who couldn’t just say what needed to get said. Using flowery language or beating around the bush made him feel stupid.

“Hmph! What was the result of yon fair maiden planting a huge wet one on you?” He saw Hoggle stare at him with deadly viciousness. Didymus cleared his throat. “Ahem, well, as I recall, all he told you was he was going to make you a prince. At what point did King Jareth order you to stay here? Did you not attend the ball at the castle, held for Master Toby? Does not even the King leave his Kingdom to address business?”

“And to flirt,” Hoggle muttered bitterly.

“All beside the point, dear Hoggle,” Didymus lectured.

“Wait a minute!” Hoggle interrupted suddenly, a light going off in his head. He turned to Didymus and stood up. “You’re tellin’ me that since I’m prince I can leave here if I wanna?”

“Well, your position does have its benefits,” Sir Didymus replied.

Hoggle jumped over to the small fox-like being and kissed him and headed for the door. Barely turning his head, he cheerfully announced, laughing, “See ya!”

<><><><><><>

“Ya know, Marjory,” offered a high-pitched street-wise voice, “life’s been kinda dull since Juniah Gorg took off for dat meetin’.”

“Yeah,” replied a slightly deeper though similar voice. “I almost miss da big guy.”

Marjory, an oracle created out of a heap of trash, with deep-set eyes and a narrow mouth, nodded. She patted the two rat-like creatures, one pink and one gray, on the head. Her voice was a bit raspy. “I know boys, I know.”

The pink one smacked his lips. “Hey, Gunge … ya t’ink we’ll get to go on anuddah trip to dat Trash Kingdom? Dey had the best scraps!”

The gray one sighed dreamily. “Maybe, maybe not, Philo … it all depends on good ol’ Marjory here.”

Marjory chuckled. “Actually, boys, it depends on how the story’s written.”

Philo and Gunge looked at each other and then at Marjory. “What da heck does dat mean?” they asked loudly.

Marjory shrugged. “Everyone in life has their own path, their own story,” she answered defensively.

Gunge sighed. “Great ta know. I was startin’ to have existentialist feelin’s of havin’ no independent purpose, bein’ constantly driven by the whims of unknown powahs.”

“Me too,” Philo muttered back.

[The Count]

Wha? How is it I missed this whenoriginally posted? No matter.

Absolutely love your descriptions of everything and I always will.
Last story? Until RTL Volume 3 is released right? *Teasing.
Also... The line Marjerie said...
“Everyone in life has their own path, their own story,” she answered defensively.
Woh! Mind just flashed back to Mimbly from Neverending Story II, the scene where he says something similar to that effect to Bastian, saying that he Nimbly got the part of the traitor.

Please... Post more? <3.

[RedPiggy]

Author’s Note: My descriptions are a bit of a cheat. I pull up pics of characters or panels from the mangas and just write everything I see. :D You’re right, now that I think of it, about the Neverending Story … though it was purely coincidental. It was more or less an attempt at breaking the fourth wall (that Marjory knows this is just a story).

Chapter 1

A small black carriage, drawn by six brown horses, rumbled along a cobblestone path early in the morning. Inside sat a woman with golden blonde hair, loosely curling just below her shoulders, wearing a dark blue robe with pink trim over a pale blue low-cut gown. Beside her, holding the reins, sat a taller man with brown hair, wearing a pale beige tunic, accented with a triple-sun bronze medallion, with loose gold-colored material forming a sleeveless robe. The man hummed a medieval tune cheerfully, while the woman smiled as she took in the surroundings. It was such a cool, bright fall day that morning. The sky was a pure sapphire. The leaves on the forest edge were just beginning to turn, with tinges of red and yellow on the emerald green leaf tips. The air was filled with songbirds’ melodies. Nothing could make them happier.

The man glanced at the woman with a grin. “Melora, milady," he asked in a suave voice, “your hair positively shimmers in the sunlight.”

Melora smiled warmly. “Why, Prince Robin," she teased in a sweet and innocent voice, “should you not keep your eye on the road?"

Robin kissed her on the cheek. “Does my princess fear ogres and goblins, my love?" He patted his long sword attached to his waist with a leather clasp. “I will charge through any obstacle and battle any foe, just to keep one strand of hair on your head from falling into disarray.”

Melora laid her head on his shoulder and sighed dreamily. “Ah, Brave Robin, I feel my heart racing with anticipation!"

Robin nodded. Neither of them had stopped grinning for hours, despite how tired their cheeks were becoming. “Would that I had a battle to win, milady. Only then would I be engaged in action that befits my muscles tensing!" He rested his head on hers for a moment. “This shall prove to be a monumental occasion, my love. This council meeting will bring forth a millennium of good fortune for all involved, of that I am quite certain," he announced confidently.

<><><><><><>

“Jareth … of all the filthy rotten things you could ever request of me!" screamed a young adult woman with black hair tied into two pigtails, dressed in a crisp navy blue dress with gold trim. Her reddened scar over her left eye was nearly hidden by the redness of her face.

“You said you wished you could be more active on this trip, Moulin," Jareth teased with a deep suave voice. He wore nearly all black save for a pale shirt with a frilly collar. He couldn’t help but smile.

“I am not bathing that … that … walking mound of fur!" she shot back, jabbing a finger towards Junior Gorg, a two-story tall brown furry creature with a pale bulbous nose and a slight speech impediment. The sentient cloud that was her ever-present companion flew around in circles anxiously, growing darker as a sign of impending rain.

They had stopped to rest some time ago, since Jareth had not wanted to go to the Council along with the two humans or the Queen of Trash. Every time Jareth met the Queen of Trash, she would hassle him about the junkyard surrounding the Labyrinth. She argued that trash outside his kingdom could be rightfully taken by her for repurposing. He claimed he was in charge of all goblins, including those who lived in that junkyard, and it wasn’t generous to take away their home. Jareth had a frustrating habit of getting along with no one. Hence, before he had become the Goblin King, he had been known to his critics as Sir Hubris, a fae very strong-willed yet self-obsessed. It was his lack of compassion for those under his care that drove him to give his crown to Gorgous the Great, the first Gorg King (and the first being stupid enough to take the crown). Now, here was Junior, a descendant of that very King, who had denied his destiny until his home and his friends were in danger.

“May I say somethin’?" Junior asked timidly, adjusting his fraying purple robe. He had been walking alongside “Sir Hubris” for a couple of days now. The most frustrating thing was how slow they were. Junior could probably have been there by now … if he knew which way to go.

“No!" came the simultaneous retort as the argument continued.

Junior frowned and stomped his booted foot just feet away from the five-to-six-foot faes, sending them sprawling to the ground. He smiled as they gawked at him in surprise. His voice was smug. “Now, I was gonna say dat I can take ca-yuh of myself, you know. I am five hunnahd ye-yuhs old!" He paused, chuckling to himself. “Just dis last month!" he laughed at his own “joke”, his belly shaking up and down.

<><><><><><>

A dark-skinned athletic woman with sea-green shoulder-length hair walked into a large hole in the hull of a ship deep in a jungle. Upon entering, she looked around for all types of items that could be useful in her abode, the Trash Kingdom. She wore a pale green dress and a crown made of discarded knick-knacks. Her foot snapped a dusty leg bone from a long-deceased sailor.

“You’re different than the rest," a deep gravelly male voice commented dryly. The Queen of Trash’s head jerked up to see, deep in the shadows in the stern, a brown-robed figure with a hint of green coming from the worn fabric. “Most of the humans I’ve seen like to wear browns and grays.”

The Queen smiled. “I am Queen of the Trash Kingdom. I come for the Council.” She nodded towards him. “And you?"

The other being grunted in surprise. His voice became somewhat younger. “The ‘Trash Kingdom’ … and you look like that?" He shook his head, careful not to reveal his face. “I don’t mean to be offensive … but you’re not what I imagined.”

The Queen laughed, kicking away another pile of bones gently. “It appears we have some time to kill. Let’s get to know one another then, shall we?"

The robed male figure shrugged. “Are we early?"

The Queen shook her head and shrugged playfully. “Jareth and the others could simply have teleported here. The island isn’t that difficult to find.” Suddenly, she frowned in confusion. “How did you get here?"

The robed male figure cleared his throat and backed away a few steps. “Uh … actually, I, uh … have great advisors," he stuttered nervously. “Yeah. I, uh … you know, there’s a human village nearby with some great TV dinners. Maybe we could go pick up a couple.”

The Queen no longer smiled. “Are you that quick to risk letting the humans know of our arrival?"

The male figure sighed. “Look, Miss Queen, ma’am … ever since I’ve been here it’s been nothing but skeletons and jungle and humans with guns and some sonic fence thing and strange hallucinations. I don’t think this place is too attached to reality to begin with.”

[The Count]

Mmm... It may be a bit of a cheat, but at least it gives those like me some idea of what these characters are like. And I love your narrative for it. It's quite clever to show how the various bands of players are arriving at the council's meeting place. The interplay between Jareth and Moulin always makes me laugh a little. Wonder what'll happen next as we learn of the mysterious brown-robed male. Post more when you can please.

[RedPiggy]

Well, to be perfectly honest, when I first started writing fanfics, "description" was not my cup of tea. However, it has helped knowing that certain readers have different visual capacities. I now have a better grasp of why description is important. Many characters and settings are very visually intriguing, so I try to show that as much as I can.

I don't know how long this will be. I'm going slow because, sigh, ... I ... I don't know more than the general gist of the problem. We've seen the brown-robed male before, without a robe (no, wait, that didn't sound right :P). At any rate, he'll be the last to get his story fully fleshed out (in THIS story), because HIS presence vastly affects what happens to everyone else. Also, though he's currently in the Black Rock of the LOST island, I've pretty much decided we're no longer having the meeting there. There are still a couple of loose ends I've left in a couple of other stories that I might just exploit. (That, and I don't want to get too much into what happened to Cantus right now.)

I also don't know if the characters I put in the prologue will appear ... maybe they might just be bookends, I dunno.

It's SO hard writing for Moulin, since she doesn't talk a lot in the manga. They seem to present her as the typical goth silent loner type. I see Jareth as having fallen in love with Sarah because (and this is more an issue in the manga than the movie) he wanted a queen, though not Mizumi, because apparently there's something he doesn't like about her (her attitude, I would guess). Sarah choosing to stay in "outer space", though, means Jareth needs someone to play off of. Mizumi is ... missing. Moulin, though not "into" Jareth, is the next best thing. Like Sarah, Moulin is probably over-angsty relative to her actual life problems. While I don't see Jareth trying to woo Moulin, he does like to tease her like he did Sarah ... all to bring out a humble strength that he does not share. Poor Jareth. His "hubris" keeps getting him into relationship trouble. However, I don't know what happens in vol 3 (or 4) in the manga, but (since I got tired of waiting), the basic gist is that Jareth IS learning to be mature. He could bother and nag Sarah all the time for choosing not to be with him, but now he realizes that if he truly loves her, he'll let her live her life ... if she decides to be with him, all the better. I don't want to write WHY he becomes mature, but it's my best guess as to the future of manga Jareth.

And for anyone too impatient to discover along with the rest of the characters what the REAL issue is, there's a clue in the Comeback King, when Wembley is typing.

[The Count]

Well... I applaud you for the wonderous richness you've created in tieing everything together so far. And I like your presentation of the water kingdom ruling family. You might see a small shot of it in a little something I wrote for Beth, redBoobergurl, in Music of the Night. Not as well done as you've created here... But it was something I wanted to get done for her for help with another project.

Just keep writing... It'll come.
BTW: This might've been inspired by your stories, but I had a weird dream a while back (where I have perfect sight, weird huh?) where apparently a Dinosaurs scene was playing out... The weird thing was that Big Bird showed up towards the end as a new son to the Sinclaires. My dreams don't often make sense at times... Other times, I'd rully like to remember the dialogue from them or the total lists that play out in my mind when fully asleep.

Take care, hugs to you.

[RedPiggy]

Your dream reminds me of a funny Frank and Ernest comic strip, where a genealogy guy tells Big Bird that he's descended from Barney ... LOL.

Considering birds are related to dinosaurs, that might actually work. :)

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 2

Jareth sat on the cool grass in front of the palanquin, a multi-legged enchanted vehicle, staring at a small crystal ball. He turned it this way and that, staring at it intently. Thunderous footsteps alerted him to the Gorg’s presence.

“What can I do for you, Gorg King?” he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Junior sat down, shrugging, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I wanna ask you a question, Suh Hubwis,” he noted with a curious sadness. He waited for a couple of beats and finally sighed, asking, “What was King Gorgous like? I got a pict-yuh of him at home. I got a whole book of legends about you, but even Da Book of Gorgs can’t help me understand what he was like!” He stared at the small king, who was only half as tall as what the legend says he was. Jareth continued to stare at the crystal ball. Junior sniffed and wiped his nose with a finger. “Uh, what ya lookin’ at?”

Jareth sighed, not taking his eyes off. “The crystals show me anything I wish to see,” he replied in a low-key voice.

“Come again? No offense, but yo-uh way down there. I got twoubles hearin’ ya,” pointing at his ears with both hands, his facial expression wide-eyed.

Jareth looked up at the behemoth. “I said the crystals show me anything I wish to see!” he bellowed forcefully. “I’ve been concerned about humans making their way into the Underground, where you and I and many creatures hid to avoid ending our lives at the hands of humanity,” he continued bitterly.

Junior stared at “Sir Hubris” for a few moments. Finally, he shrugged, noting casually, “I noticed you guys all have dis pwoblem with human bein’s. Surely dey can’t be all dat bad. Fwom what I gathuh, you guys have your fa-yuh share of wars and stuff. So, weally, you don’t have a lot of woom to talk, do ya?”

Jareth frowned. “Ask your father,” he retorted. “He fled from human wars.”

Junior smirked smugly, his eyes half-closed. “And if I wecall, you wandahed da univ-uhs twying to flee fwom your own citizens.” Junior leaned back, crossing his arms defiantly. “If anyone’s a coward ….”

“So, you wanted to know about King Gorgous, if I recall?”

Junior nodded with a grin.

Jareth sighed, twisting the clear crystal ball until it disappeared. He looked around and saw that Moulin was still napping in the cab of the palanquin.

Around what the humans call ten-thousand years BC, at an age when glaciers receded, scouring and flooding the land with water, caves and tunnels were located by various human tribes obsessed with them, from the Azilian who painted pebbles to the Magdalenians, who painted cave walls in order to attract a connection to what became known as the Underground. Back then humans were still relatively harmless, barely scraping together a living. There were larger mammals much more dangerous to them, such as mammoths and saber-toothed cats … and large humanoid hairy creatures. I had been King of the Universe for only about a century or so, but I despised it. My court was filled with creatures of every sort and they all nagged me to attend to their every need.

I loathed being their superior yet given all the work.

Despite my responsibilities, I began to take long trips. Whenever I returned, my court only wailed longer and louder. They could never be pleased. So, I decided I would give my crown to the most deserving … or the most stupid, as the case may be. I truly felt that only the most brain-dead lummox would ever desire to serve those needy whiny buffoons.

Anyway, six approached at my behest to contest the crown. A capcaun, which was a sort of dog-headed ogre, offered to spend eternity bringing me children to be my heirs.

A small clurichaun, a broad-faced humanoid only about a couple of feet tall, offered a flask of unending wine that he had found … from my own cellar (can you imagine the GALL?)!

Some giant, someone bigger than even you, from an eastern island chain … Dai … botchi-something … it doesn’t matter. At any rate, this creature offered to teach me how to mold the land to my liking.

One of my favorites, an avian being with the upper half resembling a young woman, offered to fly me to a magical dimension and provide a sacred song. Kinnara, if I recall….

“Yo-yuh dwooling,” Junior commented dryly, clearing his throat. Jareth blushed and nodded.

There was this vampire. I forgot what he wanted.

Finally, a sphinx showed up, offering me all the best riddles in the universe.

Well, I wasn’t impressed. I was the freaking KING OF THE UNIVERSE! I already HAD everything!

After many months I had nearly decided to let the world burn. I was fed up. They were so needy and whiny and I just couldn’t stand being around them anymore. One night, a young Gorg stumbled into my small garden, wanting to eat the vegetables that grew there. At the time, there had been many large humanoids running around the planet, and Gorgs were related to them distantly. At any rate, he forsook offers of gold, offers of power, and offers of fame. He had simple needs. He denied my offer of the crown.

That was the last straw. I decided I would take my own life than have to face yet another day as King of the Universe. When I told him as much, he offered to take the crown.

“I will take the crown,” he said. “For every being deserves to have a full tummy and a smile on their face. It is sad you cannot find such things. You need the opportunity to find them.”

“And that, young Gorg,” Jareth told him with a sigh, “was the sign of someone truly great. He knew that I needed things. My station in life did not immunize me from the trials of life. He did not minimize my feelings. And so, this accidental seventh contestant made my path clear. I gave him the crown and offered to take it back from him when I had discovered what I needed.”

Junior sat with a slack jaw and wide eyes. In the far edge of his peripheral vision, he noticed Moulin with a single open eye. However, he didn’t acknowledge her eavesdropping. “And what is it you need?”

Jareth smiled briefly.

[The Count]

Aye... What is it any of us need? Well, we need more story for one. Rully liked the backstory of how Jareth gave Gorgus the crown. Did Gorgus mind the dents? Jareth did get it on sale, cost him all seven of his pence.

*Waiting to be hit by inspiration for my haunter #24. Bye. :batty:

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 3

Moulin sat cross-legged in the cab of the palanquin as Jareth started to climb up the steps. She smirked. “So, where is this island?” She chuckled. “Come now, Goblin King … where are these evil humans going to start their invasion?”

Jareth frowned.

She had heard him.

Moulin smiled and leaned back, sighing. “Goblin King, Goblin King,” she teased dramatically, “take thy whining far away from me! For the sun rises and sets and forever do I fret, that mere humans will dare to blast open my bedroom door … and my nights of adventure shall be no more!”

Jareth crossed his arms in indignation, gritting his teeth. “Are you quite finished, then?”

Moulin laughed. “Never before and never again do I hope to see, a Goblin King afraid of humanity!”

Jareth glared at her, his teeth threatening to crack. He pointed angrily at her, though his voice stayed steady. “They chased us to the Underground --.”

“You fled, as I recall.”

“Their weapons present a danger to us all,” he retorted, though he shuddered at the unintentional rhyme.

Moulin had had enough. She stood up and stomped her foot on the floor of the palanquin. She grinned sarcastically, turning her palms up as though juggling invisible objects, mocking him, “Why nuclear weapons versus magic: hm, whatever could prove to be more powerful, the destruction of cities or the transformation of their entire little world?” She pointed and sneered at Junior. “The Gorg King had a point, you know: there is nothing those silly creatures can do that we can’t do better.”

Jareth smirked, leaning back slightly. “So, you ache to go to war, then?”

Junior gawked at the two as they talked. War? Junior hadn’t even packed another set of clothes for his trip! He didn’t bring even a shield! He thought his father had been absorbed with bravado and baseless self-promotion. He had no idea it was rampant throughout the universe. How did the universe ever live so long, if all its inhabitants were chomping at the bit to hack into everyone else?

And what was a “nuclear” weapon?

Junior stroked his chin for a few moments. Maybe, just maybe, it was a “new clear” weapon … maybe a weapon designed to turn creatures invisible had just been invented! He shuddered. The last time he and his family had run out of radish cream, they had started to turn invisible. It was … shocking … to say the least. Junior felt his pulse race.

“I don’t want to be invisible!” he cried, sobbing.

Moulin and Jareth turned to stare up at him. Moulin shook her head. “What are you talking about?” All Junior could do through his sobs was repeat the same statement over and over. Moulin nodded at her cloud companion, who flew up to Junior’s face and zapped him with lightning and sprayed his face with torrents of water. Junior stopped blubbering and gawked cross-eyed at the close cloud, which smirked at him before flying back to its mistress. “Snap out of it, you’ll smell like a wet dog!” Moulin barked. “Then we’ll have nothing more to do with you. I am not travelling downwind of a creature in need of hygiene classes!”

Junior sniffled, wiping his face with his robe.

“You’ll be travelling nowhere,” announced a strange female voice. Everyone turned to see the Queen of Trash standing haughtily next to a robed figure roughly two feet taller than she. The Queen of Trash crossed her arms and glared at Jareth. “You summoned us and then went back on your word, Goblin King,” she proclaimed loudly with an accusatory tone. “You had no intention of having a meeting at that island.”

Eyes turned to Jareth, who showed no signs of backing down or sheepishness. “No,” he replied curtly.

Jareth felt himself kicked off the palanquin. He smacked the ground face-first, getting dirt and grass in his teeth. He turned to see Moulin standing over him, her fists clenched, her face tightly drawn into a scowl. “You weren’t going to the island at all?” she shrieked. “Name your intentions, Goblin King! What was all this … some bonding experience?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jareth retorted angrily, spitting out some dirt. He gingerly retreated from Moulin and stood to face the Queen of Trash. “I summoned everyone to a Council meeting … but I gave everyone different directions,” he informed the new companions matter-of-factly. “The location is not nearly as important as the information.” He stared at her expectantly.

The Queen of Trash sighed. “You’ve been watching too much television,” she replied, putting her hand on her hip, rolling her eyes.

“And there’s this movie about this fight between a misunderstood demon and a fairy prince bent on destroying humans,” offered the young male voice behind the thick brown robe, a pair of red and white sneakers peeking through the thick fabric near the ground.

Everyone stared at him. The robed figure shrugged. “It’s just déjà vu, that’s all I’m implying,” he noted submissively, rubbing his clasped hands together, careful to keep his hands hidden.

The Queen of Trash glanced at him with a look of curious bemusement. “Since when do you watch movies?”

The robed figure turned to her. “Don’t you?”

The queen sighed and shook her head. “I rule the Trash Kingdom … I get everything people and grouches alike throw away. So, yes, I have access to modern electronics.”

“Um,” Junior began with a forceful yet submissive voice. “I don’t wanna fight no one, if it’s all da same to you,” he said, shrugging, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“You would risk the fate of your kingdom because you don’t want to take up your sword?” Jareth sneered.

Junior shook his head. “I took my cwown back to save my Fwaggle friends,” he replied proudly. “Someone was comin’ to hurt them all.” He pointed at Jareth. “What you want is completely different. You want us to join you to go to Outer Space and thump them all where dey live. You’re actin’ like dey all are our enemies!” He crossed his arms in defiance, not noticing his speech clearing. “I refuse to fight! Madame Trash Heap would have told me if humans were a danger to my kingdom. If they were all so bad, they woulda taken themselves out by now! Humans have been around a long time … and they’re … all … still … here! That can only mean that the desire to live is stronger than the desire to die. I will defend my kingdom … but I refuse to fight creatures who have not tried to hurt me.”

“That was a powerful speech,” the robed figure replied in awe, sliding his hood back … over his green snout, his spiky Mohawk made of long scales, and three small ridges on each side of his head. His eyes were youthful, like Junior’s … a sense of wide-eyed wonder filled them with a certain brightness. He had several small scars forming bite marks on his neck and a couple of his scales were missing here and there. He placed a scaly green hand on his chest. “That’s exactly how I felt growing up, Mr. Gorg, sir,” he continued, craning his neck. “I had the misfortune to take part in war … and I had to learn the hard way that they always start over something that could have been handled better had everyone just stopped to think.”

Junior nodded thoughtfully. “Swords look better on my Pa’s mantle.”

Moulin gawked at the reptilian robed creature. “I read that your kind disappeared millennia ago.”

He glanced at her and shrugged. “Well, it was a long story.”

“You seem to have aged little,” Moulin probed. “What are you called?”

He flashed a grin and held out his hand. “Robert. Robert Mark Sinclair. I am Chief Elder of the Pangaeans that inhabit Sinclair City.”

[The Count]

Yaey! <3! Four points are gathered, all that remains is the fifth element... But I suspect that other carriage will reach the meeting soon enough. This was just so... Squeeeeeeeee!
*Bounces off to tend to his own carriage driver. Oh, post more please!

[RedPiggy]

LOL ... writing for Robin and Melora will be harder ... they have NO angst at all :D

...

And I don't want to give them any. I want them to be the polar opposites of Jareth/Moulin.

[The Count]

Sounds good. You'll think of something. But if Robbie made it this long... *Curiously wonders if Moulin will remain her realm's ruler, kept in the shadow of overcast clouds so to speak. *Faint soap opera music.

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 4

“Okay! I think we’ve taken a close enough look!” yelled Robert Sinclair as he squirmed in the big furry hand of Junior Gorg. He couldn’t help having flashbacks to that time when he went with his father to a swamp to “learn about the food chain” … and promptly got eaten by a monstrous swamp monster. Had it not been for some quick thinking, making the swamp monster sick with lovey-dovey talk, he would have died a horribly slow death.

Junior chuckled. “You gotta be the biggest lizard I ever saw!” He gently set Robert back down, patting the young adult dinosaur on the head.

Robbie twitched his tail. “I’m not the biggest dinosaur, you know.” It had been several years since he had allowed himself to be humiliated like that.

Junior shrugged. “Most lizards ‘round our castle aren’t even half your size,” he noted with amusement. “Can I keep you around our house?”

“Uh … no,” Robbie replied, as though he had been asked to have his tail chopped off.

Junior shrugged and started to walk away. They had all been travelling toward a distant mountain chain in the southwest of the Underground (though directions were rather relative, considering how easily space and time could be altered). They would try to catch up to Prince Robin and Princess Melora in a couple of days.

Robbie cupped his hand in front of his snout and whispered to the Queen of Trash, who walked alongside him, “Is that guy always like that?”

The Queen of Trash shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of experience with Gorgs,” she replied bitterly. She didn’t like having to walk, particularly since it was all Jareth’s idea … though Jareth had decided to fly off as an owl … to avoid Moulin. Yet again, they could have teleported to those two human royals … but Jareth insisted on doing things the long (and irritatingly inefficient) way. “Gorgs keep to themselves, mostly.” She glanced at the dinosaur. “Just how old are you? You seem rather young for a ruler.”

“I turned twenty-three last month,” Robbie replied. He stared at the ground as they walked. “I’ve been Chief Elder for,” he continued, changing to a more subdued tone, “a … awhile.”

“Do you have any family?” the Queen of Trash asked in a bored-yet-polite tone.

Robbie hesitated for several minutes. “A sister,” he mumbled.

The Queen of Trash glanced at Robbie thoughtfully, noticing his sad expression. “I apologize for prodding,” she said with increased sincerity. “I suppose your kind suffered many losses, am I correct?”

Robbie nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at her at last. “What that Jareth guy said, about humans being cruel and all … he doesn’t realize that they never caused us any problems. We caused our own destruction.” He shrugged. “I wonder why he has such a big thing about them.”

She smiled and patted her reptilian companion on the shoulder. “Jareth likes to hole himself up when he doesn’t get his way. When he started as the Goblin King, a powerful fae desired him. She only desired him for his strong will and powerful magic. Jareth has a tendency to consider himself deserving of much more than partnership. He built a large living labyrinth to keep everyone out.” She shook her head. “Jareth hides when he feels intimidated. They didn’t call him ‘Sir Hubris’ for nothing, you know. He puffs himself up to make him appear more important than he is.”

Robbie gave a half-smile, half-frown. “Sounds like Mr. Richfield,” he replied. “Mr. Richfield caused the death of the whole planet, for just several hundred million bucks.” Robbie grinned and elbowed her. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be that ex-girlfriend, would you?” he snickered.

The Queen of Trash rolled her eyes.

The small elderly dwarf shuffled toward the dark-skinned athletic female at dawn by the large gate that led to the newly created labyrinth. He slung a large black pesticide instrument over his shoulder and adjusted his red leather cap. “So, who are you?” he asked gruffly.

“Please inform the King that I wish to speak to him,” she replied.

The dwarf reared his head back and smiled. “Not until you answer my question,” he retorted.

She sighed. “I am Eshe. I bring life. I offer my assistance to the Goblin King.”

He patted his chest. “Well, I am Hoggle … and I say no one gets in the Labyrinth but me,” he chuckled.

Eshe smiled. “Does the King know you hinder his rule?” she asked, bending down to bring her face closer to his.

Hoggle shrugged. “And you could tell him that yourself … IF … I lets you in. However,” he continued proudly, “I’m not in the charitable mood this morning.”

Eshe stroked Hoggle’s broad chin, making him whimper nervously. “Hoggle … I’m certain moods can change,” she offered seductively. She dangled a small red velvet pouch in front of him. It made a noise like chinking coins. She emptied the pouch into one of his large outstretched hands, showing him bright sparkling jewels. He stared at the pile in complete awe. In fact, the large brick walls of the labyrinth could have fallen on him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Eshe stroked his graying hair. “Open the door to the Labyrinth, Hoggle.”

“So, basically,” Robbie interrupted, “you conned him in order to see the king.”

“Typical,” Moulin interjected from the palanquin. “You and Jareth truly deserved each other, Trash Queen.” She glanced icily at the glaring queen. “At least my mother was honest in her intentions. She admitted no ethical problems with tricking other beings.”

“What makes you think I thought so little of that tiny dwarf?” the Queen of Trash protested.

Robbie turned his head back and forth between the two quarreling females. Had he been with his fellow dinosaurs, blood would be shed in about five minutes, the way these two females were snarling at each other.

Moulin sneered. “You played him like a fiddle. For all your whining about being compassionate and seeing things in an optimistic point of view, you are just as callous and selfish as we are.” She huffed angrily. “You’re no different than his current fling,” she griped. “I recall that his human flirt had the same solution … toying with males to get her way.”

“Don’t project your own ethical sensibilities onto me, little girl,” the Trash Queen snarled.

Moulin smirked. “Oh? And how did you help that little red thing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aJjTRjV4-k) again? Forced him to wear out his tongue giving you raspberries? What was that all about? Were you out of water and needed all that spit?” She laughed. “I could have sent you some water if you were that desperate.”

<><><><><><>

Hoggle glanced around at the near-white ballroom, decorated with multi-colored curtains and sparkles and golden chandeliers. The ballroom was located deep within the castle. He had only been there a couple of times, the latest being that ball held for Sarah’s brother.

The thought of Sarah made him growl quietly to himself.

All his life, Hoggle had been the butt of goblin jokes. He was disrespected every chance they got.

And no one besides Toby ever got his name right on the first try.

He looked at a small female figurine from a music box he found in a pile of rubble. He caressed it in his large fat fingers. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and started to sing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZOyQzGAC2w) sadly:

There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;
There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;
And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.

There's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.

There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;
And there's a fine, fine line between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime,
But there's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of your time.

And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore.
I don't think that you even know what you're looking for.
For my own sanity, I've got to close the door
And walk away...
Oh...

There's a fine, fine line between together and not
And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got.
You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime...

There's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.

[The Count]

Hmmm... Esh? That's the Trash Queen's name? Intereschting. And the flashback with her and Hoggle, it sort of reminded me of the Dabbo girls stroking Ferengi earlobes to get information or their way. Nice song... It captures the emotion perfectly. And Robbie helps give this some perspective. Please, post more.

[RedPiggy]

Well, I made up her name because I got tired of calling her "Trash Queen" all the time.
Edit: The name "Eshe" means "life" on an Egyptian name web site I found.

Regarding your previous post about Moulin ... I think she likes being queen...

I loved Avenue Q to death. I am SO Kate Monster (who sang that song)... lol ... I wanted to put that song somewhere ... which is why it took me this long to write this chapter because I needed a reason to use it.

[The Count]

Oh... I don't doubt Moulin likes being queen of Moraine. But would her mother approve... Or let her rule unopposed? Just a thought, since Robbie has lived into the time of present-day... If this is spoilerish territory, I apologize and will back off. Just curiously ominous.
*Hugs to Kelly.

[RedPiggy]

The question of how Sinclair City ended up in the modern era will be saved for later.

I think I'm finally starting to come up with a theme for this one:
Comeback King: responsibility
Comin' Back: acceptance
Scavenging Pangaea: family
Underground Council: ... to be seen ... mwahahaha...

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 5

Robin the Frog sat on the edge of a very large nest, sighing. It was a shoddily enclosed space, with old broken doors forming a kind of fence for privacy. His uncle, Kermit, had to help with a small neighborhood play. Robin sighed again. Ever since Miss Piggy decided to date some creep named Nicky Holiday, Kermit had involved himself more often at Sesame Street and the swamp down in Florida. He buried himself in work to keep from thinking about her.

Robin broke off a large twig and chewed on it wistfully. Gonzo had Camilla. Floyd had Janice. Those two old guys had wives. Heck, even Skeeter finally found someone to her liking … and he was more than a match for her, from what he’d heard.

Robin never had anyone. There had been the odd guest star who treated him well … but it wasn’t the same. They took pity on him as the small kid.

Then Kermit had to bring up The Frog Prince (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU6kh7SfDbA) again. It was like his uncle was spitefully bringing up a sore point that Robin had had ever since he’d been younger. Sure, he wasn’t as old as Kermit (how could he?), but though “Muppets”, as they had become known, aged more slowly than “normal” animals, Robin still didn’t see himself as a child anymore. He’d probably get along with ten-to-fourteen-year-old humans.

Despite being an older child, Robin resented that play more than anything. It was a good starting-off point for him, but the message irritated him to no end.

Why can’t a frog have a beautiful princess at the end?

Surely humans weren’t still so prejudiced to believe that frogs gave people warts. Robin had wanted his character to be loved, regardless of his looks. But, no … Kermit insisted that humans would only watch a play that left the lovers human at the end. It was only after much prodding seven years later that Ms. Warren could turn into a “beast” to turn a tale on its head.

Robin slyly smirked. Though uncredited, he finally got his wish with a certain screwy fairy tale by Dreamworks. That was the message he wanted to spread … that a message of tolerance was being tossed aside by “curing” the enchanted of their problems. It didn’t work that way in real life! In real life, those who were different stayed different. At least, that’s what he told that Myers guy.

“I’m awfully sorry, did I interrupt you?” Robin heard a very young male voice ask timidly. He looked up (way up) to see a tall yellow bird with the expression of a curious and eager child.

“No, no,” Robin replied happily, shrugging. “This is your nest, Big Bird. I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. Did you get to see Snuffy today?”

Big Bird laughed and closed the door behind him. He turned back to Robin. “Yeah, I managed to find him in Central Park. He was going for a walk with Alice,” he announced cheerfully. “I walked with them for awhile and then we all got ice cream!” He paused, lowering his head suddenly in shame. “Gosh, I should have brought you some….”

Robin shook his head. “Oh no, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“But you rarely come over to Sesame Street,” Big Bird protested. “I have to be a good host.” His face brightened back up. “Your uncle is one my most favorite friends. It seems like we’ve known each other forever,” he exclaimed, his eyes getting wide, like he had just found a really lucky penny on a sidewalk.

Robin cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe he was going to ask him this: “Big Bird,” he asked hesitantly, trying to come up with an effective way to ask it, “do you have any special friends?”

Big Bird nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes!” he exclaimed. He started to count on his fingers, “I’m friends with Susan and Gordon and Telly and Kermit and Bert and Ernie and … even Oscar … and --.”

“—No,” Robin interrupted, trying to wave him down. “I mean, do you … have you ever had a girlfriend?”

Big Bird’s eyes widened and his beak went slack. “I’m six years old!” You might as well have told him that his feathers were plaid.

Robin bit his lower lip. “Since the eighties!” he protested. “You’re older than I am!”

Big Bird shrugged and shook his head. “And why can’t I be six?” he asked expectantly. “I like me for who I am, Robin. Snuffy likes me. Maria likes me. Abby likes me.” He sat down on the edge of his nest and put a hand behind Robin’s back. His tone quieted. “Robin, have you been lonely lately? Is that why you’re acting this way?” He patted Robin gently on the back. “I know what it’s like to be lonely, sometimes. Sometimes my friends have to go away or stay home and I can’t see them and it makes me very sad.” Big Bird shrugged. “Besides, I’m not the Count, you know. I don’t have to count every … single … year just because they happen. Bob has told me sometimes that you’re as old as you feel. I feel six. It’s my favorite number so far.” He inhaled deeply with a burst of inspiration. “Did you know that six is half of a dozen?” he asked Robin excitedly.

Robin cracked a small smile. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” He hesitated. He felt like a heel for criticizing one of his uncle’s best friends. He leaned against Big Bird. “Thanks,” he said finally, “Big Bird. You always … know the right thing to say.”

<><><><><><>

They call me Prince Robin, the Brave!
And history one day will rave!
I'm valiant, and daring, and noble of bearing,
courageous and gallant ... a mountain of talent!
No wonder folks curtsy and wave!
I'm Robin, Prince Robin, the brave!

Prince Robin, who had once been enchanted and turned into a frog by the wicked witch Taminella, sang happily as he and his wife Princess Melora sat lazily by a bubbling brook on the edge of a forest surrounded by large, rocky mountains. Princess Melora sighed dreamily as she laid her head on his shoulders.

“Oh, Prince Robin, it is so lush and green here,” Melora remarked cheerfully. She waved her arms. “Look all around, my great Prince … we could build a splendid castle right over there. I’m sure Daddy would lend us workers for building.” She licked her lips and adjusted her dress as she tried to bend over to cup her hands into the brook to drink. She had to wipe her long blonde hair away. Just as she brought the water to her lips, a pebble hit her in the head. She dropped the water and Robin, his face full of shock, jumped up briskly and unsheathed his sword. He glanced this way and that … and saw a tall blue-purple reptilian with numerous small spikes on his triangular head and large horn-like spikes breaking out of a rough-looking black leather jacket, wearing a bright red bandanna on his head and a pair of chain-accessorized black leather boots.

The creature smirked. “I wouldn’t drink the water,” he hissed. He patted his stomach with his left hand. “Bad for digestion.”

“Name yourself, knave!” ordered the young Prince boldly. “I will not allow anyone to attack the fair Princess!”

The creature chuckled and nodded sarcastically. “Of course, of course … I understand.” His face brightened. “Still, after all, I didn’t know if you cave rats could understand speech.”

Melora patted down her gown as she stood and rubbed the back of her head briefly.

“I asked your name,” continued Prince Robin more forcefully, pointing his sword at this new foe.

The creature put up both hands in a placating gesture. “Keep your boots on, Tiny,” he said. “I’m known as Spike.” He shrugged. “A little derivative, to be sure … but, all these natural accessories are more than a match for your little knife.”

“Be ever so certain … I have slain many dragons in my lifetime!”

Spike grinned. “Anybody can beat one o’ dose t’ings,” he replied arrogantly. “Just get ‘em to hiccup when they’re blowin’ fire an’ BAM … dey get heartburn somethin’ awful and down dey go.”

Melora grabbed hold of Robin’s sword arm and gently pulled it down. She looked at the reptilian. “Sir Spike, am I to understand that you attempted to save us from a cruel fate?”

Robin looked at Melora in surprise.

Spike nodded.

Melora approached Spike cautiously, speaking in a calming voice. She didn’t want to engage in battle. This creature seemed every bit just as brave and certain as her husband … and the creature certainly looked stronger. “We would like to thank you, kind sir,” she continued. “We are strangers in this land and have come to assist in any way we can.”

Spike stared at the human female with some amusement. She wasn’t like that other one. This one was as naïve as Scooter used to be. He smirked half-politely. He needed assistance. However, he didn’t know who he could trust. Everything had taken such a downturn over the last seven years or so. Finally, he managed to speak. “You got anyone else comin’ wit’ ya?”

Melora nodded slowly and smiled. “Yes … from my understanding, there are six of us total.” She placed her hand gently on his jacket and continued to smile warmly, not noticing the jerky twitches from his tail. “Do not concern yourself. We have heard of the trials ahead. We welcome any opportunity to assist those in need.”
Spike grit his teeth, trying to keep from reacting to this … cave rat … touching his jacket. Get ahold of yourself, he thought silently. You need to at least sucker these guys into putting themselves in the line of fire first. As sickeningly sweet and nice as they are … shouldn’t be too hard….

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 6

A middle-aged Caucasian woman with dark brown hair sat sleeping in a theater seat with her feet propped up. She had a gentle smile on her face, as she had been dreaming of the play she had written roughly three years back. She had even managed to get a Tony Award for her story of a distressed king who had to accept responsibility in the face of nearly hopeless obstacles.

She felt a lone finger stroking her hair. She slowly opened her eyes to see Jareth, in his now customary disguise of a black pin-striped suit and slicked-back blond hair tied up into a ponytail and dark sunglasses to hide his eye markings.

“Hello, Sarah,” he told her suavely, with a hint of a smile. He gazed down at some popcorn in his hand. “Do you want some?”

Sarah grunted with amusement and sat up, yawning. She looked at the popcorn and then at him. “I’ve already had a nice nap, thanks,” she replied in a teasing tone. When she had first traveled through his labyrinth, Hoggle had given her a peach from Jareth, one which left her in a strange dream-like state where he tempted her with fairy-tale frivolity and romance. She had the contrasting images of his smile while she fell for him and his grimace when she broke free burned into her memory. Though she had forgiven them both, she wanted Jareth to realize he could not play the same trick twice.

Jareth frowned momentarily, but recovered with a grin. “Sarah … if this popcorn has any potential to harm you … I would suggest taking that up with your own suppliers.”

Sarah sighed and popped a few in her mouth. She let them remain there for several moments (to taste them fully) before swallowing. The kernels seemed fresh, warm and salty and buttery. He must have made some in the lobby while she slept in the seating area of the theater.

Jareth frowned again. “You still didn’t trust me?”

Sarah smiled. “Only a fool would assume you were harmless.”

Jareth pulled away. “Sarah,” he retorted bitterly, “I grow so tired of these games. You see me as something, and when I try to comply with your every wish … you act as though it’s all my fault.” He glared at her, pleadingly. “What is it that you want from me?”

Sarah rolled her eyes and stood. “Jareth,” she answered in a lecturing tone, “stop taking everything as an insult.” She pointed at him accusatorily. “You act a certain way and then want to blame me for your own shortcomings.” She shook her head. “This isn’t about my wishes. I’m trying to accept who and what you are. If you don’t like what you are, don’t come blaming me. That may have worked when I was a teenager but I’m older and wiser.” Her voice started to rise. “I know you guys don’t age as fast as we mere mortals do, but you’d think after several thousand years, you’d be able to act like a grown man.”

The silence stretched on for minutes. Jareth could barely keep his eyes on her. They had been through this argument several times over the last decade or so. Finally, he spoke in a beaten tone. “I have done as you requested. I have left you to live your life here, though why I can’t understand --.”

“Can you turn your back on your kingdom?” Sarah asked expectantly.

Jareth quickly stood and said forcefully, “In a heartbeat, Sarah – I would risk the destruction of the entire Underground itself to be in your arms for all eternity.”

Sarah stood wide-eyed, shaking her head slightly. “All those creatures depend on you, Jareth. You can’t just --.”

“Yes, I can … that’s the whole point,” he said, cutting her short. “I admit I have my responsibilities --.”

“So, there we go, ‘progress’,” she sniped sarcastically, crossing her arms.

He sighed. “However, if it means never seeing you --.”

Sarah put her hand up to shut him up. “Jareth, stop. Whenever I think of you, you show up. You’ve probably been spying on me with those crystal balls of yours when you’re not here. It’s not like we don’t interact. Stop acting like a petulant child. You told me you wanted us to be equals … but every chance you get, you gripe and moan and complain when I don’t cater to your every whim.”

“I cater to yours,” Jareth sulked, avoiding Sarah’s eyes.

Sarah looked away. “You said you loved that my will was as strong as yours ….”

Jareth snorted. His tone remained acidic. “Mizumi’s will matched mine.”

Sarah huffed. “Then why didn’t you go with her?”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “Sarah, I have been willing to put aside my feelings to give you everything your heart desires.” He looked at her painfully. “I have been accused of excessive hubris before your race created the first cities. ‘I move the stars for no one.’ For all the flak I get about my selfishness, I find it frustrating that no one cares about my needs at all! Everyone puts their own needs ahead of mine – even you!” His voice rose as he got angrier. “How am I the selfish one, Sarah? Is it because I dare ask you to take a few years off to live in my castle … to roam the countryside of the Underground? Heaven forbid Sarah Williams skips a paycheck! I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t ‘arrange’ for her rent to be paid during her absence!”

“I want to stand on my … own … two … feet!” Sarah barked back.

“And why can’t you stand on your own two feet by … my … side?” he snapped at her. His mouth closed and his eyes widened as a flash of inspiration hit him, square in the gut. “This is about your mother!” he exclaimed breathlessly.

Sarah gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. “Don’t you dare bring up my mother, Jareth!”

Jareth nodded as though all the mysteries of the universe were now suddenly crystal clear. “Yes, it is … this is about your fears of ending up like her – chasing every flitting dream and dumping her life on someone else’s doorstep!”

“Shut … up,” Sarah growled. Tears started welling up in her eyes and her voice started to waiver. “You have no right --.”

“To suggest the obvious?” he asked haughtily. “You fear loving me because you fear being seen as some star-struck groupie who starved herself to death on the promise of love and glory,” he announced confidently. He stared at the young woman who had started to cry. He pointed toward himself. “I have grown since meeting you and young Toby,” he told her in a calmer, sadder tone. “My heart opened and yearned for you. Despite all the setbacks you’ve caused me … I learned from them. I thought that if I consented to ‘wait’ for you, you would make the same sacrifices I wanted to make for you.” He paused for a few moments. “I may be selfish. I may want you to fulfill my dreams … but don’t pretend that I am so selfish I would rather keep my kingdom than love you. I would throw it all away. Am I not selfless?”

Sarah glanced past him slightly and gasped. Jareth turned quickly and spotted a large male with a scarred white bald head with his lips sewn shut, standing next to a large lion-like creature comprised completely of water.

The male bowed and spoke despite his ever-closed mouth. “King Jareth of the Goblin Kingdom,” he said, “I come to inform you that my mistress has nearly arrived by palanquin to the edge of the valley, along with the lizard and Gorg and Trash Queen.” He stood erect and smirked. “They are, as yet, currently unaware of the reasons behind your numerous absences.” He paused, shooting a quick glance at Sarah. “However, it is quite clear the real reason you declared war on humanity. Should it come to light that you would force the entire world to fall down for the sake of a mere girl ….”

“Perhaps it will come to pass that Queen Moulin will need a new bodyguard, Esker,” Jareth growled with clenched teeth, “one that takes the first hint about keeping one’s mouth shut. I seem to recall you have difficulty accepting that requirement from me.”

“What do you mean, ‘declared war on humanity’?” Sarah asked the newcomer.

Esker smirked again. He had kept his suspicions about Jareth’s whereabouts to himself. He wanted Moulin to go along on that journey. She would have returned home in a huff had she known he was meeting his human girlfriend. Despite his dislike of Moulin, at least she understood the necessity to act like a queen, despite her wistful pangs of long-distance love. Also, humans had presented a real (albeit small) risk to the Underground. However, the dimension known as the Underground was filled with beings with more power in their little fingers than humans could ever hope to achieve in their wildest dreams. So, he had gone along with Jareth’s version of events, until they got closer to the valley that had mysteriously appeared two years ago. Soon, they would face the one being who had ever appreciated him fully. Moulin, graceful and intelligent as she was, did not permit him the same … benefits … that Mizumi had. That was a judgment error he was all too willing to correct. He looked at Jareth and shrugged. “There are cards in play of which my mistress is completely unaware, King Jareth.” He pointed at Sarah. “You risk losing everything just so some tiny mortal human girl will kiss you,” he sneered triumphantly.

“Stop … insulting … Sarah,” Jareth warned him in a deadly tone.

“Hey!” barked Sarah loudly. “What is this about declaring war on humanity?” She could feel her heart race a mile a minute. Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head. It felt as though her lungs were on fire. So much had happened during the last decade or so, especially in New York. Would Jareth really snap like that? She certainly hadn’t wished it!

Esker glanced quickly at Sarah. “Isn’t it obvious? You would not join him for the sake of your duties here. If those duties were to disapp--.” Esker’s voice cracked as his eyes widened, his face tensing in pain. Small crystals started to jut out from all over his body, until soon there was nothing left but a spiky pillar of pure white crystal. The water-lion, meanwhile, faded from view, whimpering, its tail between its legs.

Jareth smirked. It would have sent below-zero shivers down anyone’s spine. He turned his head slightly, stepping forward towards the pillar. He spoke to her in a condescending tone, “Sarah, I must be leaving. Perhaps you could use that as a prop in your play.”