A peek at Jareth's life before The Labyrinth and what led him to become the ruler of the goblin kingdom.

Genre: Fantasy adventure fan fiction

Rated: PG-13 for violence



Chains and blood.  Everywhere, there were chains and blood.  A boy

screaming in pain.  The smell of rotted flesh.  And the laugh of a monster.


Jareth sat sprawled on a cold stone floor, his arms clasped in chains

above his head.  He was impervious to the screaming and laughing, the smell of

blood, the pain he suffered.  This had been the way for so long, that it felt as

natural as breathing.  Jareth stared forward blankly as goblins surrounded him.  A

large, horrible-smelling goblin, his neck draped with a necklace of fresh-cut fingers,

approached him and grabbed his head, surveying the meat on his neck.

“Hmmm, hmmm, a little scrawny this one.  The Marshal will not be

pleased.”

Another shouted from behind.  “But...my dogs will love him! If you don’t

want it, let me have him...ahahahah!”

“Shut up!” growled the goblin with a finger necklace, unhooking the

human prisoner’s arms from the wall.  “Do you have any idea who this is? We will

best to kill him!”

Jareth’s eyes shot open.  Without thinking, he sprung into action, pulling

the chains on his hands around the goblin’s neck.  The goblin choked and gagged

while other goblins laughed ferociously.  They waited until the goblin in the

Jareth’s arms was dead, then sprung on him and beat him until he had no

strength left to fight.

“Heeeheehee, where is your Daddy now?”

Jareth stared forward blankly, his body dripping blood.  He could feel no

pain.  He wished he could feel pain.

Then he saw something.  He stared amidst the darkness in the corridor

behind the goblins.  There was a dark shape there.  A hunching, cloaked person.  

The figure’s face turned towards him, and a streak of white hair fell from dark spot

where the figure’s face should be.  

Suddenly, all the world seemed real again.  A rush of pain came to

Jareth’s senses, the sound of the prison rung in the his ears.  He screamed and

cried, wishing for the end.  His screams were lost in the goblin’s laughs and jeers.

A war horn sounded and the goblins hurriedly clipped Jareth’s chains to

a post before hurrying off to see the excitement.  The laughter died away, but the

blood pounding in Jareth’s ears was louder than anything in the prison.  Tears

mixed with blood and streamed from his face.  Jareth shut his eyes, waiting for

death to come and end this torture.

Then a hand touched his chin.  It was not a goblin.  The hand was soft

and firm.  The cloaked figure stood before Jareth, the hood removed to reveal a

beautiful old woman.

“Tsk, tsk, poor boy. So young.  Too young.  Just like He was...”  She held

his face for a moment.  It was only for a second, but the touch was so beautiful

that Jareth wanted to believe it was forever.  “What is your name, Boy?  No,

nevermind...It is better that you don’t have a name any longer.  But how on earth

did you end up here?”  Jareth was silent.  “Where did you come from, Young

Man?”  There was no answer.  “Well, I suppose it’s best that it stays that way.”

The lady took her hand away and turned to leave.

“Help me...”  Jareth whispered.  The lady turned.  Oh, how beautiful

white hair looked in a black dungeon, Jareth thought.  

“I’m afraid there is no help for it.  Even if you did escape, you could

never be whole again.  The Marshal’s plague has caught under your skin.”

Jareth grabbed onto her cloak.  “Please...I don’t want to die.”

“You have a fighting spirit.  How wonderful.  How dangerous.  Take my

advice.  Your life is over.  Just close your eyes, breathe deep, and let your heart

slowly stop.  In the other world there is no pain.  If you continue in this world, you

will be consumed by the curse forever lingering here and become that which you

most fear and hate.  You are a cursed man.  But in the other world there is peace.”

“I will escape and fight until I become ruler of the entire Labyrinth!  I

won’t die here in chains like they expect.”

The old woman watched Jareth carefully.  “What a strong beautiful heart

you have.  Just like my son...But there is something else in your eyes.  You have

death in your heart.”

“Please help me,” Jareth whispered.  

The woman watched him for a long time in silence.  There was the

sound of goblins nearby.  “I will help you.  I want you to live.  But you must realize

that there is a difficult road ahead of you.  The pain you have suffered is nothing

compared to what lies ahead of you.  There is a monster in you that will taunt and

tease and chew on your heart until you have nothing left of yourself.  You are a

cursed man.”

“I am not a monster!  Please...”  They both fell silent.  A goblin had

heard them and was approaching.

“Yes...I believe you,” the old woman said.  “I will take care of you.”  She

drew close to Jareth and ran her fingernails over his chains.  They burned and fell

away.  She removed her cloak and draped it around Jareth.  “Now stand up, and

walk with me.  They will not see us.  But do not speak to them and do not look

them in the eyes or the spell will be broken.”  Jareth struggled to stand up and

walk, but he found himself leaning 80% of his weight on the old woman.

“What is your name?”  she asked.

Jareth stopped, startled.  He couldn’t remember.  “I...I don’t...”

“It’s alright.  My name is Armande, but everyone else calls me Nammy so

you might as well do the same.”

“J...Jareth.”

“Very good.  Jareth, pleased to make your acquaintance.”  

Everything looked different now.  Jareth had a name again.  Goblins

passed by them without seeing or hearing them.  It was as if he was dreaming.  

And yet, the air seemed real again.  The smells, the sights, the old woman’s hands

reminded him that he was alive.  Then they passed through the dungeon and rose

into the sunlight.  Jareth sucked in his breath, unused to the heat and light.  

Nammy chuckled and adjusted Jareth so that he could lean on her more

comfortably.  They passed through the goblin city unnoticed.  Then a beautiful

smell came to Jareth’s nostrils.  He stopped, startled.  “What is this?  I remember

this...”

“What?  Oh, you mean the trees.  Yes, goblins have no conception of

clean water.  Therefore, nothing grows in the goblin city.”  They stepped into a

massive maze of old trees and vines.  Jareth let all his breath out.

“Thank you...Nammy.”