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, Comin’ Back, and Scavenging Pangaea. 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, 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 ). 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. 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 ). 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.

 

[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.”