Late Night on the Northwest Tower

By London

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything that was in 'Labyrinth', though I do claim to have formed the idea for the Knights of The Labyrinth – which anyone can use for any sort of story or whatever. Great ideas should be shared!

The night was chilly as it usually was in the fall in the Labyrinth. The three night shift guards, who stood watching over the Labyrinth from the very top of the incredibly tall Northwest tower, slowly paced back and forth. The top of the Northwest tower was circular with an open domed pavilion that was made entirely of copper. The guards had two short benches inside that faced a short table. They also had access to the bell that was located high up in the domed pavilion; it was to be rung if anything foul was spotted.

The tallest guard, Grick, tried adjusting his armor to escape from the chilly air. The shortest guard, Neerud, always wore his spare blanket like a cape in this weather. The third guard, the smelliest of the three, seemed unfazed by the weather.

"Ay, what's wrong wit' you two?" The smelly guard, Plunk, asked. Grick shifted his chest plate.

"We's are a cold, Plunk" Neerud said. Neerud looked over the railing, down at the Labyrinth, spying nothing out of the ordinary. "Why's d'you thinks we's out here? Ain't nothin' goin' on."

"Stupid. We're out here every night" Grick said. Grick pulled a small bag from the larger bag he always kept on his back. "I'm going to eat."

"Ay, what's it t'night, Grick? Yuk roots? Grit cake with frog eggs?" Plunk asked. His nose was up in the air as he talked.

"I's a goin' t'eat too" Neerud said moving to retrieve his bag of food. Grick moved inside of the pavilion and sat at the table. Neerud and Plunk joined him only when they had retrieved their food.

Grick pulled out goblin canapés, which consisted of wood sandwiches, live bird soup in a sealed bowl, and string (a delicacy made from worms), and a small bottle of owl wine. Grick smiled, showing off his very crooked and yellow teeth.

"Goblin canapés!" Grick said happily. "My favorite!"

"Y'ave goblin canapés?" Neerud asked. He pulled out his food, which was a bottle of owl wine and grit cake with frog eggs. "Well, at least I's a have me owl wine and grit cake. I'd rather a have Weech's something brown in brown gravy."

"At least you have something" Grick said. Grick and Neerud watched as their smelly friend pulled out two karbobs and a plate of Klutton eggs that were scrambled with pepper and something orange.

"I's a trade you me frog eggs for a karbob" Neerud said hoping to gain one of the white roots.

"Ay, it's my karbob" Plunk said. "Goes gets your own."

The two stared at each other. Plunk tried not to get side tracked by the green moles that ran up and down Neerud's face, while Neerud tried not to get excited by the escaped purple hair Plunk had that blew in the wind. They finally turned away, both in defeat of each other.

"Youse guys watch the latest Lunchball game?" Neerud asked. The others nodded enthusiastically.

"Who won?" Grick asked in-between bites of his wood sandwich.

"Ay, I think its were the team on t'left, team on t'right if youse weres a on t'west side o'the stadium" Plunk said.

"I's a heard its only took 'em two minutes to eat the lunchball" Neerud said. "Good game."

The three ugly goblins munched away on their food and sipped their disgusting owl wine, which indeed had been made from owls. Grick made a face and looked at the other two.

"Did you guys see those ridiculous knights parading about today? Sir Didymus…what does he know?" Grick said with certain distaste.

"Didymus…is a he that fox-dog?" Neerud asked with frog eggs spilling down his chin. Grick nodded, not even remotely repulsed by his friend's eating habits. "I's a don't like those a knights too much. Always thinkin' there a better at knightin' then us goblins. Jus' cause they won a few wars fer t'Labyrinth."

"Ay" Plunk said. "Youse never seen no knight o'the Labyrinth up here. No sir. Ay. Tis cause we're toos goods fer t'likes o'them."

"Can't agree with you more, Plunk" Grick said. He slurped up his string as an idea came to him. "We should tell His Majesty that those knights are up to something."

"Ay. We's would get them in alls kinds o'trouble" Plunk said.

"We should a make them sound like cannibal fishies" Neerud exclaimed. "Make them a all gross."

The three brooded over what exactly to say until their shift was nearly up. In the far distance the sun was casting purples and pinks into the dark sky. In the Northwest tower, the three goblins had agreed that a game of dead hens, a quirky dice game that required the players to roll fifty times a turn, would stimulate their minds.

Plunk shook the five dice and rolled a seventeen. "Aha! Seventeen! Ay's a winnin'!"

"Hows do you know?" Neerud asked. "Ain't none o'us keepin' score."

"Ay, cripes" Plunk said. Grick picked up the dice and started the first of several dice rolls. By his thirty-second roll, Plunk spoke up again. "Ay, what's were we's a talkin' bout earlier?"

"I's a don't 'member" Neerud said. "Is'a youse done yet, Grick? I's a want a turn b'fore t'shifts up."

From below the three goblins, from the Goblin City, a bell started to toll. The three goblins groaned and left the dice on the table.

"Shifts up" Grick said. The goblins collected their things and swiftly moved to leave the tower.

"Ay. Tis a hard life we live boys" Plunk said before the three left the tower.