Labyrinth FanFic Lounge
Must we? We all know I don't own it.
We know who does…
Long live the Henson.
One day, I was led to read something in one of the forums… and this is the result of what I read. It was…a challenge… and I'm a scribe on a quest!
I went to look and see what could be gleaned… and this is the results… happy reading.
The Fan Fiction Character Lounge was filled with personalities from books, movies, comics and other media. Each had its own area, some bordering on others that had been used for cross overs and some that were just friendly. Some took up more room than others, and some were far more active.
In the area reserved for the inhabitants of the fiction work of the Labyrinth there always seemed to be a great deal of activity. They sometimes boasted that they had the least lag time. Today there seemed to be a lull in the posting and they were getting a well deserved break.
At one table sipping ale sat the persona of Hoggle, and Sir Didymus. Sarah sat watching the two as they played a game of scrabble, Didymus was as usual winning. The handsome figure of the King was making his way to the table, being stopped along the way. Other fiction Characters giving congratulations on their anniversary and their ever on going popularity. He looked somewhat dazed by the time he took his seat beside Sarah, his cloak fluttering and giving off glitter. He passed the tankard of cider he'd gotten her to the girl. "My dear," He said in courtly manner.
"Thanks, I can use this." Her face was in a constant state of flex here. One moment a child of fifteen the next she was older, be it eighteen or twenty or even an old woman. She mostly ignored it.
He settled beside her, an arm lazily lain over the top of her chair. "Don't get too relaxed." He warned.
"Oh come on…"she moaned; "Now what?"
"One of the scribes has…an idea?" He smirked
Hoggle looked up and moaned; "Which Scribe?"
Jareth sipped his tankard of cider. "Paisley," He muttered into the deep cup.
The odd old man from the King's hedge maze sat reading a scroll. "Amusing," he muttered.
Sarah looked over and smiled. "He's reading one that was just posted today." She knew it had to be good, for the odd one was snickering and his hat was reading it as well.
Jareth stretched, "How many is it now?" he asked.
Hoggle looked over at him, "You know bloody well how many!"
"No," he said innocently, "I really don't."
The little knight snickered.
The blue worm crawled across the table and shook his head, "Now that's not nice, baiting the dwarf…"
"I'm not." Declared the blond man with wild hair, "I just wanted to know if anyone is keeping score."
A horde of goblins bumbled though and ran wildly toward the exit. Jareth smiled, "Someone's using them…" He leaned toward Sarah. "Want to find a nice dark corner and cuddle?"
She shoved him off, "You've had more than enough cuddle time in the last few fics!"
He pouted. "Not really."
Giggling Sarah patted his arm, "Never enough for you, eh?"
Hoggle frowned, "How come he always gets the girl?" he complained bitterly.
"I don't." protested Jareth. "In a lot of the stories I either mess up or let her go home, or…." He shrugged. "And why shouldn't I get the girl? Look at me! I'm the romantic hero!"
Sarah looked at him with mirth, "Not always honey." She reminded him gently. "You're the villain in a lot of tales."
He sunk into his chair, and slumped down. "I hate 'Evil Jareth'Stories!"
"No you don't." she said, "You have just as much fun with them as you do with Good Jareth."
Didymus nodded. "She's right you know."
"So how many is it?" he asked again expecting to change the subject and get out of admitting he liked evil as much as good.
Hoggle stretched, "Close to four thousand here."
"Here?" the worm questioned.
"Well this ain't the only place we're on display ye know." Hoggle teased.
Not wanting to venture from the table Jareth called on of the lounges roving waiters over and ordered more refreshments, "Four thousand and no sign of stopping."
Sarah looked at Toby who like herself was in flex on a constant basis. "Twenty one years and thousands of stories later and going strong."
"Fan club and action figures," Pointed out the woman with the pile of junk on her back as she passed by. "Even song sung about us! A thing they call Filk at conventions!"
The cider arrived and Jareth was making sure everyone had a tankard, including the worm. "I raise a glass!" He announced standing up. "To the scribes! Bless them, for they keep us alive."
Sarah stood up, "To the scribes." A moment later she raised her glass again and with tears in her green eyes she said, "To the Henson."
"The Henson," Agreed the King placing an arm over her shoulders in support.
Never was the Henson discussed without someone in the group becoming emotional.
Hoggle also seemed emotional at the mention of the man without who they would have remained a thought but not a reality. "To the Father of the Labyrinth."
Jareth looked at his sadden companions. "Come now, he would not want this somberness… his was a life that brought joy and adventure."
"He should be here, he should see…" Hoggle lamented.
Goblins came rushing back in the lounge, teasing other inhabitants as they came rushing to the welcoming of their King.
Jareth spoke quietly. "But in a way, he is here… because the scribes don't let his dream die." Gloved fingers slid to Sarah's chin. "He's in each of us. We are all part of the Henson, and the way he touched the lives of others."
Sir Didymus nodded.
Goblins were rushing back to the exit, and Jareth smiled. "Re-writes," He mused.
Sarah watched him, "I wonder what it will be today… He loves me, he loves me not… He wants me, he's obsessed with me… cool repartee or passionate speeches."
Hoggle sniffed, "don't matter what it is, he still gets the girl…even when he don't." He pointed an accusing finger at the Goblin King.
A loud bell went off and a loud speaker announced that the cast of characters of the Labyrinth were needed. Jareth offered his arm to Sarah. "Come dear, we are wanted…again."
Others in the lounge watched as the merry band passed by. Some singing, some dancing, some dragging on. As they moved on they were sure of one thing. The scribes would keep them and the memory of The Henson alive.