Michael and the Goblins

Feeling happy enough to dance madly around--and only stiffling the impulse when he thought about how little time he had left--Michael led the way out of the forest.

"C'mon Mooreland!" he said, speeding up to a jog. Mooreland made a determined noise and Michael could feel the ground begin to rumble a bit. If his time ran out while he was this close...the thought didn't bare thinking. The Junkyard got larger on his right. He ignored it. One of the junk people started to siddle up to him. He nearly bowled her over. "No time," he gasped at her. And since Mooreland and his Smell were coming along right after, the junk woman jumped hurridly--surprisingly nimble under her junk--out of the way.

"What about your nice computer, dearie?" she called from behind them.

"It's safe at home, I'm sure," Michael yelled back. "Really, Jareth, get some new tricks," he added in a mutter. Then he had to stop replying to her shouts about his other possessions because he didn't have the breath. The gates got bigger with each step. Soon he was close enough to see the three drunken Goblins that guarded them. He could only tell they were drunken because they were holding two tankards apiece and were singing at the top of their lungs in between swigs of whatever passed for Goblin alcohol. He couldn't catch very many of the words, but they put him in mind of every Pirate drinking song he'd ever heard--that was, until he caught the words to the chorus:

"Down with Jareth the Goblin King
The bastard made us dance and sing!"

Shouldn't Jareth show up and kick a few of them for that? He began to slow down in his mad rush. Something wasn't right. Drunken Goblins didn't look very wrong...but the words were sending alarm bells off...and the gates were wide open. They didn't appear to even notice Michael, as he halted in front of them not two yards away. They did notice Mooreland, however. Even before the Bog he was hard to miss. They trailed off in mid-chorus.

"Actually," said Michael, for lack of anything better to say, "You're singing--and dancing a bit--right now. I don't think you've got much of a case against your King if that's the worst of it." One of the Goblins scowled at him from safely behind his compatriots.

"Yeah, but we was made to do it then! This time it's of our own free will."

"We've stopped taking his abuse!" piped up another Goblin, who looked the worse for the wear. He was weaving slightly.

"We've got a new king!" said the last with a triumphant swig of his drink.

"And who's he?" asked Michael, wondering if he should be afraid or amused. Goblins in general weren't very frightening when it was broad day light and they weren't trying to steal you.

"Can't tell," said the first Goblin confidentially. "If you have a king's name, you have too much power. But you can go ask him yourself if you really want."

"Ok. Where do I find him?" asked Michael.

"In the Castle beyond the city, of course!" said one Goblin looking at him in disqust. "You should certainly know that if you've gotten all this way through the Labyrinth!" Michael was about to explain that he'd meant where in the castle the king could be found, but the it occured to him that he was standing at the gates of the city talking to three drunk Goblins, while he could be dashing madly up to the castle in search of Mireia. There was no time to lose--no matter who the king was, Michael still had to get Mireia back.

So instead of trying to weadle a better answer out of the Goblins, he simply said, "Right," and walked past them into the Goblin City. Mooreland came lumbering after him, cutting a swath through the Goblins who crowded the streets.

It was a much happier place when there weren't Goblin wars going on, Michael noticed. In fact, it looked like a cross between a European town and a cartoon. If he'd had time, he would have explored--down alleys, into houses and shops. But he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the the Castle that rose over everything. Out of breath, they approached the doors to the castle.

"Good thing they're big," observed Michael.

"I'd have gone in even if they weren't big enough," grunted Mooreland. "If I don't get rid of this stench soon, I'm going to give up breathing."

Michael stepped briskly up the stairs, and taking a deep breath to try and quiet his apprehension, he flung both doors wide. They walked in to the Throne room. It was pandemonium. Goblins were everywhere, hanging from places on the wall, covering the floor like some sort of grotesque carpeting. They were just as drunk as the gate guards, and every one of them seemed to be singing a different song--all about Jareth's demise. But only one of them sat on the throne.

He was slightly bigger than the rest of them, but still about half the size of Michael. He held a spear in one hand and tried to look out imposingly on his rampant subjects. Michael couldn't imagine that Jareth had fallen to him. But Jareth's fate didn't matter, Michael reminded himself. All that mattered was Mireia. So he made his way through the singing, laughing, chittering, gibbering Goblins until he could stand in front of the throne.

"I've come for my sister Mireia," he said. "My kingdom is as great and yours and you have no power of me. Hand her over." He thought that if it had been Jareth, he might have done the words a bit more formally. But this little Goblin didn't command the same sort of fear and respect that Jareth did. If all else failed, Michael could probably just give him a good kick and find Mireia in the rest of the castle somewhere. The Goblin sneered at him.

"Not here," it pronounced with malicious glee.

"Where is she then?" he asked, feeling uneasy and exasperated at once.

"Disappeared. Jareth is gone, too."

"But what about my challenge?" Michael asked, voice raising in frustration. "I challenged the Goblin King's Labyrinth and I beat it, so I win Mireia back! If you're the Goblin King instead of Jareth, fine! But Mireia is still mine."

"And what about me!" Rumbled Mooreland. "I've earned my way here, and now I want my wish." He lumbered forward a few more steps and towered over Michael's shoulder, Glaring down at the little Goblin. It's beady eyes flipped back and forth between them, searching for a way out.

"No challenges now that I'm King," he said finally.

"Where. is. Mireia?" said Michael in a low, angry voice. He found he was quite ready to kick the thing the length of a football field. He was hungry, tired and footsore. He'd traversed an entire Labyrinth, been captured and fallen into two holes. He'd seen through traps and illusions and he'd survived to the castle. That was how it worked. The rules were not going to change now. He wouldn't let them.

"Don't know."

"Arghh!" said Michael. "That's it. I don't care who you think you are, but you're not the Goblin King, or you would know precisely where Mireia is. You don't even have any of those cool Globe things that Jareth uses to work magic. Get off the throne, right now!" Michael reached for the Goblin and yanked him off. He flew across the room, landing in a pile of his fellow Goblins. And on the throne, where the Pretender Goblin had been sitting, was the thirteen hour clock. Michael did a double take and stared at it in shock for a few unproductive seconds.

It was pointing directly to the thirteenth hour. Without stopping to think too hard about it, Michael grabbed it and threw it to the ground with all his might. It twanged but didn't break. Then he calmly turned to Mooreland and said, "Mooreland. Would you mind very much stepping on this clock?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," said Mooreland gravely. He lifted one hoof and set it down on the face of the clock. There was a splintering noise, and then it simply crumbled under the Sand Elk's weight.

The stone walls of the castle rumbled ominously, and then settled back down. It was then that Michael noticed the abject silence coming from the Goblins. He turned to them, to find all of them staring up at him with various expressions of awe. Then one Goblin stood up and shouted, "Health to the Goblin Kings!"

"Oh, hell," said Michael.