Labyrinth 2 - Game of Games
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iddyiddybangbangTitle: Game of Games
Author: Apache Firecat
Fandoms: Labyrinth
Wordcount: 5,999
Rating: Soft R/M
Warnings: Alternate Universe continuing the author's Labyrinth 2
Relationships: The Referee, also mentions several other characters and several pairings with Jareth (Jareth/Sarah and Jareth/OCs)
Summary: The Referee approaches the eve of his revenge.
He was perched in the tallest tree beyond the castle walls, the sounds of his friends having fun and partying echoing all around him. He liked to have fun, too. There was nothing a simple-minded Goblin liked more, but there were other things, greater matters, on his mind tonight. There were often greater matters on his mind than having fun, unlike all the rest of the Fire Goblins with whom he had long ago been banished from the castle. The Dirt Goblins, as he preferred to think of those who had gotten to remain in the castle, were no better at refraining from having fun or focusing on greater matters than the rest of the clan below him.
Dwelling on such thoughts had always been his curse, though there had been one, the closest thing he had ever known to what he'd heard called a father, who had tried, until his further banishment, to convince him it was indeed a blessing. He scoffed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, as he thought of the old referee. He used long, skinny fingers to pull his tongue back up into his wide mouth. Those were two of the many problems with the line of creatures to which he had been born: their simple minds, so often incapable of greater thoughts beyond pleasure in the very moment, and their big tongues.
A party like the one raging below him in the forest bed and the lower limbs of the trees would have gotten them all punished back in their days at the castle, days that very few of his friends still remembered. The Referee had remembered, but the Referee had been a fool. His position had been easy to step into, and though he'd been despairing when he had done so, grieving for his old friend, he had seen it, at first, as a glorious moment of possibility. He had thought that perhaps he could finally lead his fellow Fire Goblins in another revolution, but their minds were too simple. They could no longer even remember their days at the castle, when they had entertained the King.
He wondered again how it felt, being bored all the time, as he knew Jareth must be. Did that, he questioned, have anything to do with the fact that the imperial King was suddenly missing? The Goblin City was in riots as darker, more powerful forces moved in beyond the Goblin walls. He knew the Fairies and Elves had already been there, but the Fairies were too small these days to do any good, having themselves endured a cursing from the King when their Queen had stood him up at a formal ball centuries ago. It had been, he believed, almost a millennia ago now. Jareth had always had a temper, and those who crossed him always lived to regret it.
Until now. Now, suddenly, for the first time, he was again being presented with an opportunity. If he could somehow corral the minds below him, he could lead an attack on the Goblin City. The subjects who remained behind him were trivial without their beloved King. The only real threats were Sir Didymus and the lumbering beast who, despite the fact that he squashed many other creatures with his beloved rocks, was still allowed within the castle walls because Jareth liked him for a pet. He'd tried to pet him once, the Fiery recalled, and he'd promptly bitten his hand for showing him such disrespect.
Jareth, always quick to wrath, had retaliated by tossing him toward the Bog of Eternal Stench, but unlike his predecessor, this Referee had managed to grab a glistening branch and swing himself to the shore. He had attempted to cross the bridge but had met with the infamous Knight Sir Didymus. How that dog had been absolutely unable to smell the rolling, boiling pit of farts and feces all around them, he would never understand, but the dratted mutt had refused to let him cross!
It had taken him several attempts before he had finally managed to grab Didymus' lance, yank him off of his steed, toss his lance into the Bog, and grab his head with both hands. He had known full and well that the Knight's head would not reattach. No being other than the Fire Goblins' heads were so easy to reattach to their bodies, but that had never been his fault, or even theirs as a species. It was the Knight's fault for being so loyal to a King who had never deserved their fealty and standing in his way, but he had taken pity on him when the Knight had cried out.
Unlike some beasts, he was not uncivilized. He did not take pleasure from inflicting pain in others. Didymus had cried first for his steed to come assist him, but the shaggy mutt had gone back into the little hut under which the Knight took shelter whenever there was a downpour and had laid there like the coward he was, like the coward most creatures in the Labyrinth were, the Referee had to admit. He had shaken so hard that the sticks composing the tiny building had began to fall apart, and still Didymus had cried out for him to come, until his shouts of command had changed to painful screams as the Referee had continued to yank on his head.
He knew why his head would not come off, unlike his silly friends. He understood much more about the Knights' and the other creatures' anatomy than any other Goblin before him, and he understood what a plight it would be for the Knight to lose his head. He had also known then, and never forgotten, that he would have to go through the Knight if he was ever to get to Jareth and reap retribution. The other Fire Goblins might be satisfied with their current lifestyle -- they were too dumb to know the difference, after all, to know that they did not have to spend their entire lives, as Eternal as they were, out here in this damp, soggy mess of a forest --, but he would never be satisfied with anything less than Jareth kissing his feet, not with everything the King had forced him to endure and the very life that he had cost his predecessor.
Life was sacred, and the King must come to understand that. Even the Eternal life of a Fire Goblin was not something that should simply be discarded with no more thought or care cast to it than an used sock. Jareth had much to learn, and the Referee, after everything he had lost over the centuries, was just the way to teach the Goblin King those formidable lessons.
He'd let the Knight go that day, taking only his left eye. He should have done much more, but he hadn't had the heart to do so just yet. Beyond his own failure, however, he had also known that taking the Knight's head would surely entice a war with the King, and he had not been ready. He still wasn't, not quite yet, which was why the one visit he had paid the castle since the King's disappearance had left the Dirt Goblins mostly untouched. He'd certainly made them aware that he knew the King was missing and they were open to attack, but it had been Sir Didymus' very arrival that had made the Referee determine that it was not yet time to take the castle. Actually killing the Knight would mean there was no going back, and until he either knew for certain he could defeat Jareth or that the wretched King was gone once and for all, he wasn't ready to slay the Knight.
On that day before, all those centuries ago on the single bridge above the Bog of Eternal Stench, the Referee had yanked the Knight's eyeball right out of his socket. He'd never heard screams like that before, and a chill swept over him as he remembered them now. A wide, toothy grin flashed over his feathered face at the memory before he sombered once more. He was going to have to do more things like that, and undoubtedly worse, if he was to ever take control of the land. Jareth would always protect his precious Dirt Goblins. He was the only one in the entire kingdom allowed to hurt them, and even if he allowed them back into the city, it would not be enough. It would never be enough until the Dirt Goblins had paid for taking their places as the King's favorites, and even then, the King, too, must still pay for all he had done, all he had cost them.
A wind whistled, cutting through the bouncing music reverberating from down below. For just a moment, the Referee thought it was another girl's scream, but no more girls would be coming as long as the King was missing. He wondered if Jareth had finally found a way out of the Labyrinth, as he had always wanted to do before. The old rumor was that he could escape the Labyrinth when he so chose, but only in the form of an owl. If he changed to anything else, especially to his natural, man form, he was immediately sucked back underground. That rumor had been circulating since the Referee's own days in the castle, hundreds of years ago.
Had he finally figured it out? he wondered. Had he found a way to stay above ground and take his man form? He certainly hadn't found a girl willing to marry him, love him, and put up with not only his juvenile antics but with the Dirt Goblins as well. No girl would love him in a mess like that. Now the Fire Goblins knew style. They knew how to woo, court, and certainly how to dance, but the Dirt Goblins had never known any of that and never would. For all the Fire Goblins' simplicity, the Dirt Goblins' minds seemed even simpler. They were surely no wittier than the muck and mud from whence their very first ancestors had crawled.
The Referee wondered if perhaps the King had gone to see that Sarah girl and something had happened to where he could not return to their kingdom down below. Jareth did have a habit of very easily making enemies, his ego being the easiest and most frequent route to doing so. There were endless scores of girls in the other Kingdoms who he had upset for one reason or another, or who had upset him -- or rather, disgraced him, as the Referee knew Jareth would undoubtedly coin it. He was glad the Fire Goblins were not made for love, only to mate, party, and otherwise entertain. He should have been entertaining the King -- if he had, he certainly would never have gone missing.
But Jareth had wasted his chances, his last being when he had petted him on his head as though he was no more than a common pet. Of all the things the Fire Goblins were... He heard two, beneath his tree, get into a squabble over whose nose they had found and had to admit they truly were some of the dumbest creatures he had ever encountered. But he was not. Even if Jareth had continued to refuse dominion to his friends, he should have recognized the intellect the Referee possessed. He should have seen what good he could do him, not just through entertaining him but through very many other means.
For example, if Jareth had truly wanted that Sarah girl, he could have simply left her to him, rather than sending the Dwarf to come fetch her. He had not known she was in his territory until it had been almost too late, but he had seen the Dwarf throw the rope to her as he had been chasing behind her, blowing his whistle for her to stop. What most of the Kingdom did not know -- well, one of the biggest secrets they did not know, he admitted, was that that stinking Dwarf never did anything without Jareth's command. He did not shoot Fairies. He did not open the gates. He literally did nothing, other than breathe, sleep, and eat, without first receiving his orders from the Goblin King.
That was, after all, how he had come to be one of the few Dwarves in the Kingdom. The others had all been trapped in mines for decades, time having become meaningless to them in their endless quest for gold, but Jareth had let Hoggle out. Hoggle had quickly pledged his fealty to the Goblin King when he had remembered how good sunshine felt on his old, leathery skin, or so he had admitted late one night to the Referee after having had too much Elven-shine. He had not been able to procure any further information from the Dwarf, who had dozed deeply off after uttering that admission, so he still did not know exactly what Jareth had ordered Hoggle to do or the bargain they had made -- but he did know, clearly, that it had been something that Hoggle had won his freedom by agreeing to do something Jareth had been unable to do himself, that the Knight also could not do for whatever reason, and that the Dirt Goblins were simply too lazy and stupid to be able to do.
He should have asked him. There were so many times in their history together when Jareth should have, and could have, treated him better. He could have saved himself, the Referee thought, sipping his Elven-shine from his cup, which was really just a large nut shell turned upside down with its bottom carved off. He could have saved his kingdom. He could have even saved those dumb, miserable Dirt Goblins. But his mentality seemed far inferior than the Referee's and far more possessed in his own ego than anything else.
The Referee slipped his tongue out of his cup and licked his fuzzy lips. The Elven-shine was getting low. He needed to venture out soon and procure more. The Elves were always interested in any news he had to bring them of Jareth and the happenings in the Goblin City, though they played the barter of information off as bartering only the musical instruments and new songs the Fire Goblins crafted under his tutelage. With the news he had just learned today, he was bound to earn enough to keep them in Elven-shine for months, if not a full year, to come.
Jareth was gone! The city lay wide open for the Elves to wake siege! He wanted to be there when it happened, when they came crashing and swooping through the walls and took Jareth's throne. The old man would be devastated and enraged to find someone had usurped him, and while the Elves were taken over, he could be destroying the Dirt Goblins. Did he want to kill them? he mulled over the possibilities, fingering the sharp blade hidden in his bright, orange fur.
The answer came to him immediately: Yes. Perhaps a few moons back, he would not have dared to kill them all, but when Jareth returned and he had no Dirt Goblins on whom to call, all he would have left is the Knight, the Dwarf, the beast with his rocks, and that tiny Worm. He'd heard an old, folklore tale once that said that that worm had been a great Wyrm who had never grown, but he didn't believe that hogwash for a moment. He'd met the thing once, and he really was just a tiny, fuzzy, and purple worm, despite having managed to find himself a wife, a scarf, and a penchant for tea.
He'd make short work of the worm, he thought, again sipping from his cup of Elven-shine. The stupid beast could probably be felled with his own rocks. Hoggle's limbs were just like any others that were not blessed with the free, wild anatomy of his people: They would come apart, but never go back together, at least not right, again. The Knight was the greatest threat amongst those four, but he could be dealt with. He'd almost had his head before. Perhaps he should have kept the dog's eye to remind him of how weak he was against him, but he'd taken pity on the mutt at the last moment, tossing Didymus' eyeball back over his shoulder toward him as he'd walked away, back toward the castle and toward the forest beyond where he knew his people, dumb and witless as they were, awaited his return and needed him.
He was a King in his own right, the Referee thought, and without Jareth there, he could easily occupy the throne -- if it weren't for the Elves. They were now the real threat, he recognized. It would take him time, but he could figure out a way around them. Elves were considered Immortal, but the lifespan of a Fiery put them to shame. He'd already lived through two monarchies, and he knew the next one was going to be a matriarchy. Of course he knew there were Light Elves somewhere in one of the many Kingdoms adjoining the Goblin Kingdom, but he neither knew nor cared where. It was the Dark Elves with whom he had always bartered, of whom the previous Referee had warned him to be careful, and who had been wanting Jareth's blood and kingdom since he had first been foolish enough to turn their Princess down. That woman was a real --
A new riot of shouts broke out below him, their change in urgency demanding his attention. He swung down amongst his friends and blew his whistle sharply. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "FIRE GOBLINS DON'T RUN!" he barked, but none of them stopped running. Finally he reached out, grabbed an arm, and yanked it off of the Goblin to which it belonged.
"Hey, man, that's my arm!"
"Yeah, and I'm the Referee! Now what in the Bog is going on?"
"The Elves are coming here!" The other Fiery pointed with his still-attached arm to something behind the Referee, yanked his loosened arm out of the Referee's hand, and scrammed.
The Referee's bushy eyebrows bunched in concern. No wonder the simpletons were afraid! The Elves had never visited them here! They always had to go to them, carrying their latest batches of musical instruments and singing their new songs for miles before they chose to appear before them. He realized quite suddenly that even if he had wanted to find the Dark Elves themselves, without first sending word via bird of their desired order and making a lot of noise crashing through the forest, he never would have found them first.
But he kept his cool as he whirled and struck a pose, arms out wide and hands upside down, palms facing up, to greet his unexpected guests. "Verbena!" he exclaimed. He was so shocked to see her and the procession following her that his tongue fell out of his mouth of its own accord. He quickly wrapped it back up and slapped it down into his mouth.
The Princess of the Dark Elves smirked at him. "Now that's a greeting," she acknowledged, granting him her approval, which, he knew, she never gave lightly, not since Jareth had made one of the greatest mistakes in his reign as King and declined her invitation to wed. Such an offer had never been given to another man for, he was quite certain, the Princess knew that no other possessed as great an ego as she.
"Of course," he blustered. "A great honor for a great beauty -- " From the piercing look she gave him and the way her Knights drew tightly together behind her, he quickly amended, "The greatest beauty!"
"I would say you're a flatterer, but we both know you're a smart one, Referee."
It was only when she spoke his name this night that he was reminded that he did not have a name. That thought had often bothered him before. He had, for centuries, considered it for many hours almost every day and night, but not tonight. Tonight, he had been far too distracted by the fact that the King was missing and all that could mean, for him, his people, and for all the kingdoms around them and the Goblin Kingdom.
He did not have a name. None of the Goblins had names save one. He'd almost forgotten about her when he'd been counting the beings that would try to fight to save the Dirt Goblins, now that they were finally left unprotected. The one who shined Jareth's boots to perfection, meaning he could see his handsome face in their well-oiled leather, was named Trely. Everybody else had a name in all the other species. There was not another single living being in all the kingdoms without a name, even if it was as simplistic as Worm. Even the rock-calling beast had a name, Ludo. The Goblins were truly the only ones left without names.
Jareth had never even cared about them that much, a fact that had forever endlessly riled the Referee. A fact that Verbena clearly knew bothered him as she winked at him now and smacked her royal lips knowingly. "Have you heard the news, Referee?"
He wanted to demand she stop calling him that. Yes, it was the closest thing he had ever had to a name, but it still wasn't a name! It was a position only, a position which he had gotten as the smartest of the Fire Goblins when the last Referee had been exiled, a position none of the others had even possessed enough intellect to want. He could behead her easily, if her magic didn't stop him from reaching her neck. Of course, if her magic didn't, she had brought plenty of guards along with her this night to make certain he, or any one else who dared to try to stop her, would be stopped.
No, he had to play this wisely. He had to play it smart, and for the first time in the Referee's long and miserable life, it seemed that playing dumb was the smartest way to go. "What news?" he asked. "Me and my dudes have been playing ball all night!"
Verbena cast an imperious smile over him. "Sure you have." She paused just a moment before asking, "Wouldn't you love to play ball with Jareth's head?"
There was nothing that he would love more, but he dared not admit that -- not yet, at least --, so he acted like one of his foolish brethren. He pulled his own, fat nose off of his face and tossed it to the ground. He dared not detach either ear or eye this night; he needed to hear and see everything that was happening, and everything that was about to happen with the King gone. He yanked his left arm off with his right hand and began to bat at his nose.
Verbena smirked. She had always seen through this Fiery. She didn't know why he was the only one blessed with an actual brain, but he was. She also knew he wanted Jareth to pay almost as badly as she did. "You Fieries have a sight we lack, as well as other abilities."
"We do?" He flapped his large ears, carefully searching the parameters of her speech, and struck his nose again with his arm.
"Of course you do. Stop playing dumb, Referee," she snapped. "It does not become you."
He snapped to attention, swiftly snatching back his nose and reattaching both it and his arm. "What are you proposing?" he asked, clearly understanding that he could not hide his intellect from the Princess. He never should have bothered to try to hide his mind any way; after all, it was his best feature. Why had she come here to them -- no, he realized, to him? She had not attempted to talk to any of the other Fieries; she would not. They had simply ran because they had known a visit from the Dark Elves could not mean anything good. Or could it? He leaned forward on his long, skinny feet, his big ears flapping up to full attention.
"I want you to assist us tonight," she stated, "you and all of your men. When we get closer to the castle, I want your people to take the lead."
He frowned and hoped she didn't notice the way his tail curled between his legs. "Why?" They couldn't kill him, he remembered, drawing on every ounce of his self-confidence. The best they could do with a Fire Goblin body was to detach all their parts and scatter them throughout the Kingdoms. Even then, the moment those parts were brought back together, they would be restored in full, mind and soul as well as body. In the meantime, all their limbs would still be functioning. Their heads would still be aware of everything their limbs were doing and even able to call them together. Their eyes would still see everything; their ears still hear everything, as he was trying so hard to do now.
"Whatever weaponry or traps Jareth may have left in his stead, you will be able to survive. No matter how great the spell, you cannot keep a good Fiery down. Is that not correct?" She looked, over her long, dark nose, down at him. The expression in her brown, almost-black eyes dared him to deny the truth of her words. "Come. Do you not also want revenge on Jareth, vengeance for your brethren?"
His ears flapped, giving away the truth before he could even speak. He could hear some of his bolder and more curious friends starting to come skulking out of their hideaways. They were whispering frantically amongst themselves. The idiots seemed scared that the King was gone, but then of course, they did not understand things the way he did. They did not know their history the way he did.
"I know it was not your people who almost burned the castle down that night. Yours were the ones who stopped it."
"How do you know?" he asked, tilting his head completely sideways and carefully surveying her through slitted eyes. He had never heard such acknowledgement, and even amongst his men, only a few still remembered that fact. Even then, such thoughts were as fleeting as the wind amongst their tiny, feathered brains.
"A woman knows," she said with a smile, and for just a moment, he wondered. He wondered how that legendary fire that had gotten them exiled had gotten started. It had been the previous Referee who had stopped the blaze, but they had still been exiled, Jareth stating that they were too dangerous to keep at home any longer. The King had come to play with them quite often in those first lonely nights, but that had been so long ago... The parties with his royal presence had stopped shortly after Sarah had come, he remembered. That had been when Jareth had fallen into the Great Depression, as those who actually were silly enough to swear fealty to him had called that passage of time, but they had been scarce long before that particular girl's arrival.
Jareth didn't love Sarah. He didn't know what the other creatures said. He knew better. He knew the King was not able to give love, no more than the sneering, self-absorbed Elf before him. Jareth was not capable of loving anyone but Jareth. That was why he had gone from being played with as a young Fiery to feeling so alone out here in this miserable, haunted forest. And he did feel alone! Even when surrounded by all his friends and brothers, he still felt alone for, with the previous Referee gone, he had no one in all this vast, wild forest with whom to hold a decent conversation.
"What's your plan?" he asked, hoping she had a smart one. She smiled, and he knew she did -- or at least one she thought intelligent. He had tried going to the castle when he had first heard that Jareth appeared to be gone, but they had been ill prepared. They needed a good plan, and to make certain Jareth was truly gone, before they returned. The mere fact that the Dark Elves had come here, however, definitely cried out that the King was gone.
"We go over the wall," she said. "You know the spot."
He bounced his head in agreement. "The spot where the Dwarf always saves the girl, if she gets this far."
"Yes."
"Have your men throw you up there."
"We can't bounce that high!" he squeaked. "If we could, I would've been up there centuries ago!"
Her smile arched and grew, and he thought that even a smiling serpent felt more warmth. "You can with the help of my men." She held her hand out and actually stepped to the side for, he was quite certain, the first time in her very, very long life. He'd heard rumors that she had even almost killed her own parents in her quest for power.
Her first several rows of Knights stepped to the side. He was just beginning to wonder exactly how many she had brought with her when a great, black thing appeared in their midst. He frowned, and his head rolled several times completely around on his feathered shoulders as he wondered at just what in all the Kingdoms he was looking.
"You bounce on that," she told him. He looked back at his "men" as she had called them, the rest of the Fire Goblin species. Only one was missing. He would have known rather or not to follow the Dark Princess, but that Referee was long gone. Besides, part of what had led to his exile had been his fervent belief that he could reason with Jareth. He had left him in charge for he had always been the only other Fiery with an actual, calculating brain. It was his duty, his responsibility, his very right to make sure that both the former Referee was avenged and that the future of his clan was built and shaped in promising ways, starting with freeing them all of the King's tyranny.
Slowly, the Referee turned his eyes back to the Princess and the big, black thing. She was right: This was their chance. If he was ever going to claim his place in the castle, this was the time to move. If he was ever going to take back his species' rightful places and exile the Dirt Goblins to this miserable forest, this, when Jareth was at last gone, was the time to act. He couldn't claim the throne, not yet. Verbena had that in mind, clearly. But the Dark Elves could be useful. They could get them into the castle, and from there --
From there, he could exile the Dirt Goblins. He could move closer to Verbena, behead her top guard when she wasn't looking... He eyed the big brute, who was clearly far more focused on muscle than on mind. It shouldn't take much to outwit him. Besides, from what he'd heard, if he attempted to court Verbena, she would, of course, be disgusted, until he offered her, quite literally, a head on a platter. That would bring her attention to him.
And once he had Verbena on his side over her own people? Then he could move again. Then he could take her head while she slept. He laughed suddenly, and the sound echoed throughout the still forest. His laughter became a cackle. He pulled out one of his eyes and threw it onto the big, black thing whose middle somewhat resembled the bed on which Jareth slumbered. It bounced instantly, all the way up over the top of the Goblin Wall.
The same top where he had so often watched a girl go with the Dwarf she thought was her friend but who had always truly been Jareth's top spy. The same angle of the walls which he had spent centuries trying to bounce over. The same stones that were literally all that stood between the Dirt Goblins, himself, and finally attaining the place from whence his clan never should have been cast. He let out a long, sharp wail, so piercing that every Elf present save for Verbena and those few holding the big, bouncy thing grimaced and clamped their gauntleted hands over their ears.
"AFTER ME, BOYS!" he commanded as he bounced onto the black, bedlike substance and bounced again, sailing over the top of the wall that had kept them out for so many centuries. "LET'S PLAY THE GAME OF ALL GAMES!" He bounced where he landed and then bounced onto his feet. He instantly realized that they were not alone.
The Fire Goblins remained untouched, and his friends actually showed that they did possess some small shred of intellect, after all, as each one, upon arrival, scurried to try to hide behind him. He stood tall before them all, watching the progression before them and what was about to happen. He didn't know how she arrived there -- he could scarcely see the Elves bouncing, after all, but perhaps he was wrong --, but the moment Verbena's hands appeared on top of the wall, the same woman he had first seen upon standing within the city walls moved to meet her.
"Hello, Verbena."
The Referee almost swallowed his own tongue as the Dark Elf Princess cursed in a language so ancient hearing the words made even himself feel suddenly young again. The leader of the Light Elves remained calm, however, and even had the audacity to smile. "Here, let me help you up."
"What are you doing here?" Verbena snarled as she jumped over the edge. The leap was very undignified, but in the moment, almost lost to her anger, she did not care.
The Referee looked swiftly around him, hoping he had not just brought his clan to a bloodbath. Bloodbaths could be fun, he imagined, but not with this crew of simpletons! And not between these two powerful women, of whom he'd heard tale that even Jareth was afraid!
"I imagine the same thing you are," Lady Mya replied calmly, her smile wavering only a tiny bit. "At least I hope the same reason. Haven't you heard?"
He noted how for every Dark Elf who suddenly appeared within the City's walls, a Light Elf moved completely opposite them. It was like a giant version of that board game with the little, black and white pieces the former Referee had once played with the King. He gulped and swallowed hard but refused to swallow his own tongue. He was not going to get his vengeance today. But it would come soon, he assured himself, realizing that he could hear someone's knees knocking. "QUIET DOWN, YOU LOT!" he barked, and then he realized that it was his own knees shaking.
"Jareth is missing!" Lady Mya continued, and even from his distance, he could tell the Light Princess, the complete opposite of the Dark, had been crying over the King. "We must find him!"
"Of course we must," Verbena replied instantly, returning Mya's smile. Something deep within the Referee trembled at the sight of her smiling face, however. Those two women could destroy an entire kingdom between them, he knew, if not multiple. No wonder Jareth had never wanted to settle down, beyond being in love with himself! He gulped and finally did swallow his own tongue. The game to end all games was just beginning, and suddenly, he realized, his priorities were shifting from gaining vengeance to making damn certain that he, if no other Fire Goblin, survived the coming war. The Fieries' knocking knees echoed throughout the Goblin City as the Elven Princesses, for the first time in their long lives, agreed.
The End
Author: Apache Firecat
Fandoms: Labyrinth
Wordcount: 5,999
Rating: Soft R/M
Warnings: Alternate Universe continuing the author's Labyrinth 2
Relationships: The Referee, also mentions several other characters and several pairings with Jareth (Jareth/Sarah and Jareth/OCs)
Summary: The Referee approaches the eve of his revenge.
He was perched in the tallest tree beyond the castle walls, the sounds of his friends having fun and partying echoing all around him. He liked to have fun, too. There was nothing a simple-minded Goblin liked more, but there were other things, greater matters, on his mind tonight. There were often greater matters on his mind than having fun, unlike all the rest of the Fire Goblins with whom he had long ago been banished from the castle. The Dirt Goblins, as he preferred to think of those who had gotten to remain in the castle, were no better at refraining from having fun or focusing on greater matters than the rest of the clan below him.
Dwelling on such thoughts had always been his curse, though there had been one, the closest thing he had ever known to what he'd heard called a father, who had tried, until his further banishment, to convince him it was indeed a blessing. He scoffed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, as he thought of the old referee. He used long, skinny fingers to pull his tongue back up into his wide mouth. Those were two of the many problems with the line of creatures to which he had been born: their simple minds, so often incapable of greater thoughts beyond pleasure in the very moment, and their big tongues.
A party like the one raging below him in the forest bed and the lower limbs of the trees would have gotten them all punished back in their days at the castle, days that very few of his friends still remembered. The Referee had remembered, but the Referee had been a fool. His position had been easy to step into, and though he'd been despairing when he had done so, grieving for his old friend, he had seen it, at first, as a glorious moment of possibility. He had thought that perhaps he could finally lead his fellow Fire Goblins in another revolution, but their minds were too simple. They could no longer even remember their days at the castle, when they had entertained the King.
He wondered again how it felt, being bored all the time, as he knew Jareth must be. Did that, he questioned, have anything to do with the fact that the imperial King was suddenly missing? The Goblin City was in riots as darker, more powerful forces moved in beyond the Goblin walls. He knew the Fairies and Elves had already been there, but the Fairies were too small these days to do any good, having themselves endured a cursing from the King when their Queen had stood him up at a formal ball centuries ago. It had been, he believed, almost a millennia ago now. Jareth had always had a temper, and those who crossed him always lived to regret it.
Until now. Now, suddenly, for the first time, he was again being presented with an opportunity. If he could somehow corral the minds below him, he could lead an attack on the Goblin City. The subjects who remained behind him were trivial without their beloved King. The only real threats were Sir Didymus and the lumbering beast who, despite the fact that he squashed many other creatures with his beloved rocks, was still allowed within the castle walls because Jareth liked him for a pet. He'd tried to pet him once, the Fiery recalled, and he'd promptly bitten his hand for showing him such disrespect.
Jareth, always quick to wrath, had retaliated by tossing him toward the Bog of Eternal Stench, but unlike his predecessor, this Referee had managed to grab a glistening branch and swing himself to the shore. He had attempted to cross the bridge but had met with the infamous Knight Sir Didymus. How that dog had been absolutely unable to smell the rolling, boiling pit of farts and feces all around them, he would never understand, but the dratted mutt had refused to let him cross!
It had taken him several attempts before he had finally managed to grab Didymus' lance, yank him off of his steed, toss his lance into the Bog, and grab his head with both hands. He had known full and well that the Knight's head would not reattach. No being other than the Fire Goblins' heads were so easy to reattach to their bodies, but that had never been his fault, or even theirs as a species. It was the Knight's fault for being so loyal to a King who had never deserved their fealty and standing in his way, but he had taken pity on him when the Knight had cried out.
Unlike some beasts, he was not uncivilized. He did not take pleasure from inflicting pain in others. Didymus had cried first for his steed to come assist him, but the shaggy mutt had gone back into the little hut under which the Knight took shelter whenever there was a downpour and had laid there like the coward he was, like the coward most creatures in the Labyrinth were, the Referee had to admit. He had shaken so hard that the sticks composing the tiny building had began to fall apart, and still Didymus had cried out for him to come, until his shouts of command had changed to painful screams as the Referee had continued to yank on his head.
He knew why his head would not come off, unlike his silly friends. He understood much more about the Knights' and the other creatures' anatomy than any other Goblin before him, and he understood what a plight it would be for the Knight to lose his head. He had also known then, and never forgotten, that he would have to go through the Knight if he was ever to get to Jareth and reap retribution. The other Fire Goblins might be satisfied with their current lifestyle -- they were too dumb to know the difference, after all, to know that they did not have to spend their entire lives, as Eternal as they were, out here in this damp, soggy mess of a forest --, but he would never be satisfied with anything less than Jareth kissing his feet, not with everything the King had forced him to endure and the very life that he had cost his predecessor.
Life was sacred, and the King must come to understand that. Even the Eternal life of a Fire Goblin was not something that should simply be discarded with no more thought or care cast to it than an used sock. Jareth had much to learn, and the Referee, after everything he had lost over the centuries, was just the way to teach the Goblin King those formidable lessons.
He'd let the Knight go that day, taking only his left eye. He should have done much more, but he hadn't had the heart to do so just yet. Beyond his own failure, however, he had also known that taking the Knight's head would surely entice a war with the King, and he had not been ready. He still wasn't, not quite yet, which was why the one visit he had paid the castle since the King's disappearance had left the Dirt Goblins mostly untouched. He'd certainly made them aware that he knew the King was missing and they were open to attack, but it had been Sir Didymus' very arrival that had made the Referee determine that it was not yet time to take the castle. Actually killing the Knight would mean there was no going back, and until he either knew for certain he could defeat Jareth or that the wretched King was gone once and for all, he wasn't ready to slay the Knight.
On that day before, all those centuries ago on the single bridge above the Bog of Eternal Stench, the Referee had yanked the Knight's eyeball right out of his socket. He'd never heard screams like that before, and a chill swept over him as he remembered them now. A wide, toothy grin flashed over his feathered face at the memory before he sombered once more. He was going to have to do more things like that, and undoubtedly worse, if he was to ever take control of the land. Jareth would always protect his precious Dirt Goblins. He was the only one in the entire kingdom allowed to hurt them, and even if he allowed them back into the city, it would not be enough. It would never be enough until the Dirt Goblins had paid for taking their places as the King's favorites, and even then, the King, too, must still pay for all he had done, all he had cost them.
A wind whistled, cutting through the bouncing music reverberating from down below. For just a moment, the Referee thought it was another girl's scream, but no more girls would be coming as long as the King was missing. He wondered if Jareth had finally found a way out of the Labyrinth, as he had always wanted to do before. The old rumor was that he could escape the Labyrinth when he so chose, but only in the form of an owl. If he changed to anything else, especially to his natural, man form, he was immediately sucked back underground. That rumor had been circulating since the Referee's own days in the castle, hundreds of years ago.
Had he finally figured it out? he wondered. Had he found a way to stay above ground and take his man form? He certainly hadn't found a girl willing to marry him, love him, and put up with not only his juvenile antics but with the Dirt Goblins as well. No girl would love him in a mess like that. Now the Fire Goblins knew style. They knew how to woo, court, and certainly how to dance, but the Dirt Goblins had never known any of that and never would. For all the Fire Goblins' simplicity, the Dirt Goblins' minds seemed even simpler. They were surely no wittier than the muck and mud from whence their very first ancestors had crawled.
The Referee wondered if perhaps the King had gone to see that Sarah girl and something had happened to where he could not return to their kingdom down below. Jareth did have a habit of very easily making enemies, his ego being the easiest and most frequent route to doing so. There were endless scores of girls in the other Kingdoms who he had upset for one reason or another, or who had upset him -- or rather, disgraced him, as the Referee knew Jareth would undoubtedly coin it. He was glad the Fire Goblins were not made for love, only to mate, party, and otherwise entertain. He should have been entertaining the King -- if he had, he certainly would never have gone missing.
But Jareth had wasted his chances, his last being when he had petted him on his head as though he was no more than a common pet. Of all the things the Fire Goblins were... He heard two, beneath his tree, get into a squabble over whose nose they had found and had to admit they truly were some of the dumbest creatures he had ever encountered. But he was not. Even if Jareth had continued to refuse dominion to his friends, he should have recognized the intellect the Referee possessed. He should have seen what good he could do him, not just through entertaining him but through very many other means.
For example, if Jareth had truly wanted that Sarah girl, he could have simply left her to him, rather than sending the Dwarf to come fetch her. He had not known she was in his territory until it had been almost too late, but he had seen the Dwarf throw the rope to her as he had been chasing behind her, blowing his whistle for her to stop. What most of the Kingdom did not know -- well, one of the biggest secrets they did not know, he admitted, was that that stinking Dwarf never did anything without Jareth's command. He did not shoot Fairies. He did not open the gates. He literally did nothing, other than breathe, sleep, and eat, without first receiving his orders from the Goblin King.
That was, after all, how he had come to be one of the few Dwarves in the Kingdom. The others had all been trapped in mines for decades, time having become meaningless to them in their endless quest for gold, but Jareth had let Hoggle out. Hoggle had quickly pledged his fealty to the Goblin King when he had remembered how good sunshine felt on his old, leathery skin, or so he had admitted late one night to the Referee after having had too much Elven-shine. He had not been able to procure any further information from the Dwarf, who had dozed deeply off after uttering that admission, so he still did not know exactly what Jareth had ordered Hoggle to do or the bargain they had made -- but he did know, clearly, that it had been something that Hoggle had won his freedom by agreeing to do something Jareth had been unable to do himself, that the Knight also could not do for whatever reason, and that the Dirt Goblins were simply too lazy and stupid to be able to do.
He should have asked him. There were so many times in their history together when Jareth should have, and could have, treated him better. He could have saved himself, the Referee thought, sipping his Elven-shine from his cup, which was really just a large nut shell turned upside down with its bottom carved off. He could have saved his kingdom. He could have even saved those dumb, miserable Dirt Goblins. But his mentality seemed far inferior than the Referee's and far more possessed in his own ego than anything else.
The Referee slipped his tongue out of his cup and licked his fuzzy lips. The Elven-shine was getting low. He needed to venture out soon and procure more. The Elves were always interested in any news he had to bring them of Jareth and the happenings in the Goblin City, though they played the barter of information off as bartering only the musical instruments and new songs the Fire Goblins crafted under his tutelage. With the news he had just learned today, he was bound to earn enough to keep them in Elven-shine for months, if not a full year, to come.
Jareth was gone! The city lay wide open for the Elves to wake siege! He wanted to be there when it happened, when they came crashing and swooping through the walls and took Jareth's throne. The old man would be devastated and enraged to find someone had usurped him, and while the Elves were taken over, he could be destroying the Dirt Goblins. Did he want to kill them? he mulled over the possibilities, fingering the sharp blade hidden in his bright, orange fur.
The answer came to him immediately: Yes. Perhaps a few moons back, he would not have dared to kill them all, but when Jareth returned and he had no Dirt Goblins on whom to call, all he would have left is the Knight, the Dwarf, the beast with his rocks, and that tiny Worm. He'd heard an old, folklore tale once that said that that worm had been a great Wyrm who had never grown, but he didn't believe that hogwash for a moment. He'd met the thing once, and he really was just a tiny, fuzzy, and purple worm, despite having managed to find himself a wife, a scarf, and a penchant for tea.
He'd make short work of the worm, he thought, again sipping from his cup of Elven-shine. The stupid beast could probably be felled with his own rocks. Hoggle's limbs were just like any others that were not blessed with the free, wild anatomy of his people: They would come apart, but never go back together, at least not right, again. The Knight was the greatest threat amongst those four, but he could be dealt with. He'd almost had his head before. Perhaps he should have kept the dog's eye to remind him of how weak he was against him, but he'd taken pity on the mutt at the last moment, tossing Didymus' eyeball back over his shoulder toward him as he'd walked away, back toward the castle and toward the forest beyond where he knew his people, dumb and witless as they were, awaited his return and needed him.
He was a King in his own right, the Referee thought, and without Jareth there, he could easily occupy the throne -- if it weren't for the Elves. They were now the real threat, he recognized. It would take him time, but he could figure out a way around them. Elves were considered Immortal, but the lifespan of a Fiery put them to shame. He'd already lived through two monarchies, and he knew the next one was going to be a matriarchy. Of course he knew there were Light Elves somewhere in one of the many Kingdoms adjoining the Goblin Kingdom, but he neither knew nor cared where. It was the Dark Elves with whom he had always bartered, of whom the previous Referee had warned him to be careful, and who had been wanting Jareth's blood and kingdom since he had first been foolish enough to turn their Princess down. That woman was a real --
A new riot of shouts broke out below him, their change in urgency demanding his attention. He swung down amongst his friends and blew his whistle sharply. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "FIRE GOBLINS DON'T RUN!" he barked, but none of them stopped running. Finally he reached out, grabbed an arm, and yanked it off of the Goblin to which it belonged.
"Hey, man, that's my arm!"
"Yeah, and I'm the Referee! Now what in the Bog is going on?"
"The Elves are coming here!" The other Fiery pointed with his still-attached arm to something behind the Referee, yanked his loosened arm out of the Referee's hand, and scrammed.
The Referee's bushy eyebrows bunched in concern. No wonder the simpletons were afraid! The Elves had never visited them here! They always had to go to them, carrying their latest batches of musical instruments and singing their new songs for miles before they chose to appear before them. He realized quite suddenly that even if he had wanted to find the Dark Elves themselves, without first sending word via bird of their desired order and making a lot of noise crashing through the forest, he never would have found them first.
But he kept his cool as he whirled and struck a pose, arms out wide and hands upside down, palms facing up, to greet his unexpected guests. "Verbena!" he exclaimed. He was so shocked to see her and the procession following her that his tongue fell out of his mouth of its own accord. He quickly wrapped it back up and slapped it down into his mouth.
The Princess of the Dark Elves smirked at him. "Now that's a greeting," she acknowledged, granting him her approval, which, he knew, she never gave lightly, not since Jareth had made one of the greatest mistakes in his reign as King and declined her invitation to wed. Such an offer had never been given to another man for, he was quite certain, the Princess knew that no other possessed as great an ego as she.
"Of course," he blustered. "A great honor for a great beauty -- " From the piercing look she gave him and the way her Knights drew tightly together behind her, he quickly amended, "The greatest beauty!"
"I would say you're a flatterer, but we both know you're a smart one, Referee."
It was only when she spoke his name this night that he was reminded that he did not have a name. That thought had often bothered him before. He had, for centuries, considered it for many hours almost every day and night, but not tonight. Tonight, he had been far too distracted by the fact that the King was missing and all that could mean, for him, his people, and for all the kingdoms around them and the Goblin Kingdom.
He did not have a name. None of the Goblins had names save one. He'd almost forgotten about her when he'd been counting the beings that would try to fight to save the Dirt Goblins, now that they were finally left unprotected. The one who shined Jareth's boots to perfection, meaning he could see his handsome face in their well-oiled leather, was named Trely. Everybody else had a name in all the other species. There was not another single living being in all the kingdoms without a name, even if it was as simplistic as Worm. Even the rock-calling beast had a name, Ludo. The Goblins were truly the only ones left without names.
Jareth had never even cared about them that much, a fact that had forever endlessly riled the Referee. A fact that Verbena clearly knew bothered him as she winked at him now and smacked her royal lips knowingly. "Have you heard the news, Referee?"
He wanted to demand she stop calling him that. Yes, it was the closest thing he had ever had to a name, but it still wasn't a name! It was a position only, a position which he had gotten as the smartest of the Fire Goblins when the last Referee had been exiled, a position none of the others had even possessed enough intellect to want. He could behead her easily, if her magic didn't stop him from reaching her neck. Of course, if her magic didn't, she had brought plenty of guards along with her this night to make certain he, or any one else who dared to try to stop her, would be stopped.
No, he had to play this wisely. He had to play it smart, and for the first time in the Referee's long and miserable life, it seemed that playing dumb was the smartest way to go. "What news?" he asked. "Me and my dudes have been playing ball all night!"
Verbena cast an imperious smile over him. "Sure you have." She paused just a moment before asking, "Wouldn't you love to play ball with Jareth's head?"
There was nothing that he would love more, but he dared not admit that -- not yet, at least --, so he acted like one of his foolish brethren. He pulled his own, fat nose off of his face and tossed it to the ground. He dared not detach either ear or eye this night; he needed to hear and see everything that was happening, and everything that was about to happen with the King gone. He yanked his left arm off with his right hand and began to bat at his nose.
Verbena smirked. She had always seen through this Fiery. She didn't know why he was the only one blessed with an actual brain, but he was. She also knew he wanted Jareth to pay almost as badly as she did. "You Fieries have a sight we lack, as well as other abilities."
"We do?" He flapped his large ears, carefully searching the parameters of her speech, and struck his nose again with his arm.
"Of course you do. Stop playing dumb, Referee," she snapped. "It does not become you."
He snapped to attention, swiftly snatching back his nose and reattaching both it and his arm. "What are you proposing?" he asked, clearly understanding that he could not hide his intellect from the Princess. He never should have bothered to try to hide his mind any way; after all, it was his best feature. Why had she come here to them -- no, he realized, to him? She had not attempted to talk to any of the other Fieries; she would not. They had simply ran because they had known a visit from the Dark Elves could not mean anything good. Or could it? He leaned forward on his long, skinny feet, his big ears flapping up to full attention.
"I want you to assist us tonight," she stated, "you and all of your men. When we get closer to the castle, I want your people to take the lead."
He frowned and hoped she didn't notice the way his tail curled between his legs. "Why?" They couldn't kill him, he remembered, drawing on every ounce of his self-confidence. The best they could do with a Fire Goblin body was to detach all their parts and scatter them throughout the Kingdoms. Even then, the moment those parts were brought back together, they would be restored in full, mind and soul as well as body. In the meantime, all their limbs would still be functioning. Their heads would still be aware of everything their limbs were doing and even able to call them together. Their eyes would still see everything; their ears still hear everything, as he was trying so hard to do now.
"Whatever weaponry or traps Jareth may have left in his stead, you will be able to survive. No matter how great the spell, you cannot keep a good Fiery down. Is that not correct?" She looked, over her long, dark nose, down at him. The expression in her brown, almost-black eyes dared him to deny the truth of her words. "Come. Do you not also want revenge on Jareth, vengeance for your brethren?"
His ears flapped, giving away the truth before he could even speak. He could hear some of his bolder and more curious friends starting to come skulking out of their hideaways. They were whispering frantically amongst themselves. The idiots seemed scared that the King was gone, but then of course, they did not understand things the way he did. They did not know their history the way he did.
"I know it was not your people who almost burned the castle down that night. Yours were the ones who stopped it."
"How do you know?" he asked, tilting his head completely sideways and carefully surveying her through slitted eyes. He had never heard such acknowledgement, and even amongst his men, only a few still remembered that fact. Even then, such thoughts were as fleeting as the wind amongst their tiny, feathered brains.
"A woman knows," she said with a smile, and for just a moment, he wondered. He wondered how that legendary fire that had gotten them exiled had gotten started. It had been the previous Referee who had stopped the blaze, but they had still been exiled, Jareth stating that they were too dangerous to keep at home any longer. The King had come to play with them quite often in those first lonely nights, but that had been so long ago... The parties with his royal presence had stopped shortly after Sarah had come, he remembered. That had been when Jareth had fallen into the Great Depression, as those who actually were silly enough to swear fealty to him had called that passage of time, but they had been scarce long before that particular girl's arrival.
Jareth didn't love Sarah. He didn't know what the other creatures said. He knew better. He knew the King was not able to give love, no more than the sneering, self-absorbed Elf before him. Jareth was not capable of loving anyone but Jareth. That was why he had gone from being played with as a young Fiery to feeling so alone out here in this miserable, haunted forest. And he did feel alone! Even when surrounded by all his friends and brothers, he still felt alone for, with the previous Referee gone, he had no one in all this vast, wild forest with whom to hold a decent conversation.
"What's your plan?" he asked, hoping she had a smart one. She smiled, and he knew she did -- or at least one she thought intelligent. He had tried going to the castle when he had first heard that Jareth appeared to be gone, but they had been ill prepared. They needed a good plan, and to make certain Jareth was truly gone, before they returned. The mere fact that the Dark Elves had come here, however, definitely cried out that the King was gone.
"We go over the wall," she said. "You know the spot."
He bounced his head in agreement. "The spot where the Dwarf always saves the girl, if she gets this far."
"Yes."
"Have your men throw you up there."
"We can't bounce that high!" he squeaked. "If we could, I would've been up there centuries ago!"
Her smile arched and grew, and he thought that even a smiling serpent felt more warmth. "You can with the help of my men." She held her hand out and actually stepped to the side for, he was quite certain, the first time in her very, very long life. He'd heard rumors that she had even almost killed her own parents in her quest for power.
Her first several rows of Knights stepped to the side. He was just beginning to wonder exactly how many she had brought with her when a great, black thing appeared in their midst. He frowned, and his head rolled several times completely around on his feathered shoulders as he wondered at just what in all the Kingdoms he was looking.
"You bounce on that," she told him. He looked back at his "men" as she had called them, the rest of the Fire Goblin species. Only one was missing. He would have known rather or not to follow the Dark Princess, but that Referee was long gone. Besides, part of what had led to his exile had been his fervent belief that he could reason with Jareth. He had left him in charge for he had always been the only other Fiery with an actual, calculating brain. It was his duty, his responsibility, his very right to make sure that both the former Referee was avenged and that the future of his clan was built and shaped in promising ways, starting with freeing them all of the King's tyranny.
Slowly, the Referee turned his eyes back to the Princess and the big, black thing. She was right: This was their chance. If he was ever going to claim his place in the castle, this was the time to move. If he was ever going to take back his species' rightful places and exile the Dirt Goblins to this miserable forest, this, when Jareth was at last gone, was the time to act. He couldn't claim the throne, not yet. Verbena had that in mind, clearly. But the Dark Elves could be useful. They could get them into the castle, and from there --
From there, he could exile the Dirt Goblins. He could move closer to Verbena, behead her top guard when she wasn't looking... He eyed the big brute, who was clearly far more focused on muscle than on mind. It shouldn't take much to outwit him. Besides, from what he'd heard, if he attempted to court Verbena, she would, of course, be disgusted, until he offered her, quite literally, a head on a platter. That would bring her attention to him.
And once he had Verbena on his side over her own people? Then he could move again. Then he could take her head while she slept. He laughed suddenly, and the sound echoed throughout the still forest. His laughter became a cackle. He pulled out one of his eyes and threw it onto the big, black thing whose middle somewhat resembled the bed on which Jareth slumbered. It bounced instantly, all the way up over the top of the Goblin Wall.
The same top where he had so often watched a girl go with the Dwarf she thought was her friend but who had always truly been Jareth's top spy. The same angle of the walls which he had spent centuries trying to bounce over. The same stones that were literally all that stood between the Dirt Goblins, himself, and finally attaining the place from whence his clan never should have been cast. He let out a long, sharp wail, so piercing that every Elf present save for Verbena and those few holding the big, bouncy thing grimaced and clamped their gauntleted hands over their ears.
"AFTER ME, BOYS!" he commanded as he bounced onto the black, bedlike substance and bounced again, sailing over the top of the wall that had kept them out for so many centuries. "LET'S PLAY THE GAME OF ALL GAMES!" He bounced where he landed and then bounced onto his feet. He instantly realized that they were not alone.
The Fire Goblins remained untouched, and his friends actually showed that they did possess some small shred of intellect, after all, as each one, upon arrival, scurried to try to hide behind him. He stood tall before them all, watching the progression before them and what was about to happen. He didn't know how she arrived there -- he could scarcely see the Elves bouncing, after all, but perhaps he was wrong --, but the moment Verbena's hands appeared on top of the wall, the same woman he had first seen upon standing within the city walls moved to meet her.
"Hello, Verbena."
The Referee almost swallowed his own tongue as the Dark Elf Princess cursed in a language so ancient hearing the words made even himself feel suddenly young again. The leader of the Light Elves remained calm, however, and even had the audacity to smile. "Here, let me help you up."
"What are you doing here?" Verbena snarled as she jumped over the edge. The leap was very undignified, but in the moment, almost lost to her anger, she did not care.
The Referee looked swiftly around him, hoping he had not just brought his clan to a bloodbath. Bloodbaths could be fun, he imagined, but not with this crew of simpletons! And not between these two powerful women, of whom he'd heard tale that even Jareth was afraid!
"I imagine the same thing you are," Lady Mya replied calmly, her smile wavering only a tiny bit. "At least I hope the same reason. Haven't you heard?"
He noted how for every Dark Elf who suddenly appeared within the City's walls, a Light Elf moved completely opposite them. It was like a giant version of that board game with the little, black and white pieces the former Referee had once played with the King. He gulped and swallowed hard but refused to swallow his own tongue. He was not going to get his vengeance today. But it would come soon, he assured himself, realizing that he could hear someone's knees knocking. "QUIET DOWN, YOU LOT!" he barked, and then he realized that it was his own knees shaking.
"Jareth is missing!" Lady Mya continued, and even from his distance, he could tell the Light Princess, the complete opposite of the Dark, had been crying over the King. "We must find him!"
"Of course we must," Verbena replied instantly, returning Mya's smile. Something deep within the Referee trembled at the sight of her smiling face, however. Those two women could destroy an entire kingdom between them, he knew, if not multiple. No wonder Jareth had never wanted to settle down, beyond being in love with himself! He gulped and finally did swallow his own tongue. The game to end all games was just beginning, and suddenly, he realized, his priorities were shifting from gaining vengeance to making damn certain that he, if no other Fire Goblin, survived the coming war. The Fieries' knocking knees echoed throughout the Goblin City as the Elven Princesses, for the first time in their long lives, agreed.
The End
