Challeng #36
Thursday, 27 September 2018 14:05![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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labyficMake-Over
Words: 940
There were certainly some perks to ruling a kingdom of elves, Jareth thought as he stood outside the craven halls of Thranduil’s palace. It was more of a fort to tell the truth, but a very elegant stronghold all the same. If the castle beyond the Goblin City had a cozy little bridge and a set of doors like this, he’d never have to worry about irksome mortals strolling into his throne room demanding babies. Maybe there’d be less chickens flocking about his halls as well.
The guards knew a Fairy King when they saw one, even if he was from another dimension. There were no questions as Jareth strode past them, his polished boots clicking against the stone as he entered into the awaiting mouth of the Sindarin Elf’s labyrinthine halls.
Carved passages and bridges wound their way throughout the high ceilinged cave, dusky light filtering down from above to illuminate them. Everything well ordered, everything clean. Jareth felt slightly uneasy as he made his way to the center. Was this what his victim’s felt like as they sought after him? It didn’t matter, he was going to be a Fae King like none other, and to do that, he needed to get a look at the ruler of the Woodland Realm.
Jareth felt the gaze of the Elven King as he approached the throne. Although, Thranduil’s eyes were perfectly formed, no haphazard pupils to distinguish them, his icy glance was perturbing and the Goblin King was still young. He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end while the king looked him over.
Jareth couldn’t help but notice how Thranduil slouched in his throne, staff in hand, every inch of him radiated confidence. There could be no threat to his power or his place. Jareth wanted to feel that. The will of the Elven King was not to be questioned.
“Little King of the Underground,” Thranduil’s lips curved just slightly at the corners. “Welcome, to my realm.” His expression, the smooth condescension of his voice, Jareth wanted that too.
Thranduil stood and deigned to join him at the foot of the stone throne. His movements were graceful but unconcerned, he traveled through space like a river. The world made room for him.
“What is it you seek from me?” Thranduil asked canting his head, the rings on his fingers catching the soft light of the cave where they rested on his staff. His eyes were wide open, ancient eyes that were filled with too much ice. Jareth didn’t want that. Perhaps fairies were more playful creatures than elven kind. Their was something sharp and sorrowful about the elf—as if beneath the still surface a wounded animal waited to bite the next hand that came within reach.
“I come not for favors, but knowledge, Elven King. I am young as you know, and have much to learn about being a ruler,” Jareth said crossing his right hand over his left wrist as he regarded Thranduil.
The elf was not buttoned up and proper as the others Jareth had seen. Elves could look so damned innocent. But this king’s collar was open, his attire threatening rather than reassuring.
“You come for advice, little king?” A coy expression flitted over Thranduil’s face. “Who told you that I would be forthcoming with my hard won truths? What makes you think that I would give you anything?”
“Just standing in your presence has been a learning experience,” Jareth replied testing the taste of that condescension. “But, I will waste no more of your precious time. Obviously, there is much for you to do here in these silent halls.”
The Goblin King had one very important advantage over elven kind, he could come and go as he pleased.
Jareth turned to the mirror in his chamber. The carven halls having faded away. He studied himself. He was a good looking fellow. Tall and lithe but maybe he lacked presence. When he saw himself in the mirror, long blond perfectly ordered hair , handsome, fine clothes in royal reds and golds, well he could be any old king really. Thranduil set himself apart from other elves with the sharp edges of his robes, the prickly aspect of his crown, and a voice that could freeze the fires of hell. Everything about the Elven King screamed, I am better than you, stay away or lose an eye. What did Jareth want to say to the world?
In quick, efficient steps, he moved to the window and looked out over his kingdom. It was a bit of a dump, yes. But, there was something charming about the absurdity, the imagination of his realm. It was a place where nothing was what it seemed. Anything and everything was unexpected. The Labyrinth was in a constant state of decay and recreation. He smiled to himself before turning back to the mirror.
Was he Prince Charming? Or a Rock Star? A knight in shining armor or a highway man? Could he be an absurd mixture of it all? Of course he could. Maybe he’d wear gloves instead of rings. A cloak instead of robes. A riding crop rather than a staff. Oh it could work. And, the smirk, the voice, well that was easy enough. But, his outfits, his voice, wouldn’t warn his victims off, oh no. Instead, they’d say, Come touch me if you dare. I can make your dreams comes true.
Just wait until the next unknowing mortal called upon him. They wouldn’t stand a chance. The Goblin King gave himself a sharp toothed grin as he caught sight of his new reflection in the mirror.
Words: 940
There were certainly some perks to ruling a kingdom of elves, Jareth thought as he stood outside the craven halls of Thranduil’s palace. It was more of a fort to tell the truth, but a very elegant stronghold all the same. If the castle beyond the Goblin City had a cozy little bridge and a set of doors like this, he’d never have to worry about irksome mortals strolling into his throne room demanding babies. Maybe there’d be less chickens flocking about his halls as well.
The guards knew a Fairy King when they saw one, even if he was from another dimension. There were no questions as Jareth strode past them, his polished boots clicking against the stone as he entered into the awaiting mouth of the Sindarin Elf’s labyrinthine halls.
Carved passages and bridges wound their way throughout the high ceilinged cave, dusky light filtering down from above to illuminate them. Everything well ordered, everything clean. Jareth felt slightly uneasy as he made his way to the center. Was this what his victim’s felt like as they sought after him? It didn’t matter, he was going to be a Fae King like none other, and to do that, he needed to get a look at the ruler of the Woodland Realm.
Jareth felt the gaze of the Elven King as he approached the throne. Although, Thranduil’s eyes were perfectly formed, no haphazard pupils to distinguish them, his icy glance was perturbing and the Goblin King was still young. He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end while the king looked him over.
Jareth couldn’t help but notice how Thranduil slouched in his throne, staff in hand, every inch of him radiated confidence. There could be no threat to his power or his place. Jareth wanted to feel that. The will of the Elven King was not to be questioned.
“Little King of the Underground,” Thranduil’s lips curved just slightly at the corners. “Welcome, to my realm.” His expression, the smooth condescension of his voice, Jareth wanted that too.
Thranduil stood and deigned to join him at the foot of the stone throne. His movements were graceful but unconcerned, he traveled through space like a river. The world made room for him.
“What is it you seek from me?” Thranduil asked canting his head, the rings on his fingers catching the soft light of the cave where they rested on his staff. His eyes were wide open, ancient eyes that were filled with too much ice. Jareth didn’t want that. Perhaps fairies were more playful creatures than elven kind. Their was something sharp and sorrowful about the elf—as if beneath the still surface a wounded animal waited to bite the next hand that came within reach.
“I come not for favors, but knowledge, Elven King. I am young as you know, and have much to learn about being a ruler,” Jareth said crossing his right hand over his left wrist as he regarded Thranduil.
The elf was not buttoned up and proper as the others Jareth had seen. Elves could look so damned innocent. But this king’s collar was open, his attire threatening rather than reassuring.
“You come for advice, little king?” A coy expression flitted over Thranduil’s face. “Who told you that I would be forthcoming with my hard won truths? What makes you think that I would give you anything?”
“Just standing in your presence has been a learning experience,” Jareth replied testing the taste of that condescension. “But, I will waste no more of your precious time. Obviously, there is much for you to do here in these silent halls.”
The Goblin King had one very important advantage over elven kind, he could come and go as he pleased.
Jareth turned to the mirror in his chamber. The carven halls having faded away. He studied himself. He was a good looking fellow. Tall and lithe but maybe he lacked presence. When he saw himself in the mirror, long blond perfectly ordered hair , handsome, fine clothes in royal reds and golds, well he could be any old king really. Thranduil set himself apart from other elves with the sharp edges of his robes, the prickly aspect of his crown, and a voice that could freeze the fires of hell. Everything about the Elven King screamed, I am better than you, stay away or lose an eye. What did Jareth want to say to the world?
In quick, efficient steps, he moved to the window and looked out over his kingdom. It was a bit of a dump, yes. But, there was something charming about the absurdity, the imagination of his realm. It was a place where nothing was what it seemed. Anything and everything was unexpected. The Labyrinth was in a constant state of decay and recreation. He smiled to himself before turning back to the mirror.
Was he Prince Charming? Or a Rock Star? A knight in shining armor or a highway man? Could he be an absurd mixture of it all? Of course he could. Maybe he’d wear gloves instead of rings. A cloak instead of robes. A riding crop rather than a staff. Oh it could work. And, the smirk, the voice, well that was easy enough. But, his outfits, his voice, wouldn’t warn his victims off, oh no. Instead, they’d say, Come touch me if you dare. I can make your dreams comes true.
Just wait until the next unknowing mortal called upon him. They wouldn’t stand a chance. The Goblin King gave himself a sharp toothed grin as he caught sight of his new reflection in the mirror.
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2018-09-27 21:26 (UTC)no subject
2018-09-29 02:08 (UTC)