Following the tradition of leaving Selene to look after Thanduril, Dafydd worked on this piece with Kaitlyn and her agent, Constant Constance Sims. Why? Because she was there. The story currently has eleven chapters, but we couldn't take it, and killed it halfway through #5. Yes, we could have gone further, but Upstairs frowns on agents taking flamethrowers to them. ~Terri Ryan, DOGA Archivist
Dafydd wandered down the corridors of HQ almost at random, lost in thought. Why do they always do this to me? he wondered. Do they intend for Selene never to go on a mission again?
He had been just settling down to relax in the DOGA response centre when a message had come for him. Apparently, he had been selected for a one off mission in the Labyrinth fandom, to kill... something.
That had been the entire message, apart from a note telling him where to go and who to meet. And another note telling him Selene wasn't going. No explanations, nothing. Just a simple statement.
Dafydd sighed. This train of thought wasn't getting him anywhere. Stopping in front of a random door, he glanced at the number. Yes, the laws of HQ had once again brought him to where he needed to be. He knocked on the door, and waited.
Constance started, nearly dropping her backpack. Muttering under her breath, she pulled the door open and leaned against the doorjamb, looking warily at the male in front of her. "Um, hi?"
Dafydd looked down at the dark-haired girl in the doorway. "Hi," he said, "would you be, uh..." he glanced down at the bit of paper in his hand, "Constant Sims?"
Constance blinked for a moment. "Ah, no. Constance Sims, possibly. And you are... Daffy-something-someone. Or something." She shook her head slightly.
Dafydd frowned, and looked down again. "In that case, my console has a lot to answer for." He frowned. "Yes, hi, I'm Dafydd Illian. I've been told to come and see you about something to do with Labyrinth. I don't suppose you have any details on that?"
"Er, kinda. Um. And I don't actually know this fandom very well at all. I'm in Lord of the Rings. But... yeah, there's a fic, very bad indeed." She stepped back a bit, and nodded at her console. "You can come see the report, then…"
His frown deepened. "They assigned two LotR agents to this thing? Are they mad?" He paused, then laughed shortly and answered his own question. "No, but they're trying to make sure we are." Shaking his head, he walked into the room and looked at the report on the 'fic. After a moment, his face paled. "Dear merciful Nienna..."
"Yes. Stupid plants." She followed him, and glanced at the report. "Er, that bad, is it? Since I don't really know the canon..."
He shook his head. "I can't say I know it too well, but... well, just look at the grammar section." He pointed.
She looked, and flinched. "Ye Valar. This is going to be traumatic, isn't it?" She shook her head, and grabbed her remote portal activator. "Don't answer that."
"Oh, I wasn't going to." Quickly he dropped his bag to the ground and checked it. "Yes, I think I've got everything..." Then he blinked and checked the report again. "We have to exorcise Sarah... how do we do that?"
Constance blinked. "Er, bleh. That was part of my training... but we need a copy of the movie. A DVD, or something..." She glanced out the door. "Which'd be at the Canon Library." She shrugged, picked up her backpack. "Should we head that way, then?"
Dafydd looked at her. "We have a Canon Library? Why does no one tell me these things? I didn't have to buy all those books myself after all... yes, let's go, then." He gestured for her to lead the way.
"Yes, well, I only found it by accident. Had too much Bleepka, went wandering HQ..." She smiled slightly wryly and slung her backpack over one shoulder. "'Kay, then." She stepped out the door, and hesitated in the corridor. "Stupid grey walls..." She glanced around, and pointed right. "Er... let's try that way."
Dafydd sighed. "You found it once, but now you don't know where it is? Yes, okay, that way will do." He sighed again, and muttered, "I wish the SO would release that map of his for general use."
"Yeah, pretty much." She looked cheerfully unconcerned. "Nothing stays put here anyway..." She started down the hallway, humming quietly, then glanced at him. "So, er... you work LotR as well?"
He wandered along beside her. "Yep, that's right. Well, technically we could work anywhere - there's only two agents in DOGA, so we cover everything - but I'm-" He cut himself off, and re-thought his statement. "I've got a rather intimate knowledge of Ardaverse Canon."
Constance blinked. "I see. Well, fun, then. DOGA being..."
"... oh, that's right, you wouldn't have heard of us. Department of Geographical Abberations. We burn things." He grinned, slightly embarassed.
"Fire! Pretty! Sounds like a good job." She blinked. "... so, you burn things, I just kill things, we both work LotR... and they are sending us on this mission, why?" She sighed. "Dumb weeds."
"Well, I'd assume the Labyrinth crew are all busy - there's only a few of them - so they just picked names out of a hat." He blinked. "No, wait, I remember. The 'fic says that the Labyrinth is in Albion. And makes Cymru out to be a different place to Wales." He sighed, then looked back at her. "By the way, if you ever get kicked out of Mary-Sues, we're always in need of a few more pyros."
"Oh, ouch." Then she grinned. "And I'll remember that, then."
She paused and looked at the wall. "Right, here we are." She kicked the blank wall, and muttered. "They've upped security since I last came through. I can't imagine why."
She looked at the wall contemplatively, then slid her backpack off her shoulder, and prepared to swing it at the wall. Instantly, the panel slid open. She grinned triumphantly, and stepped into the dark room.
"That was not necessary," said a disapproving voice out of the darkness.
"Oh, quiet," she said absently. "Labyrinth DVD. Exorcism." Something dropped at her feet. She shook her head, bent to pick it up. "Thanks, then."
Dafydd stared at her. "Er, Constance? What exactly runs this place?"
She paused in the act of shoving the DVD into her backpack. "I'm not quite sure. I think... it's better to just not ask."
There was a long-suffering sigh, from the same direction as the disembodied voice earlier. Constance glanced at Dafydd, and smiled slightly. "Yeah."
Dafydd frowned, then peered into the darkness, trying to see for himself. After a minute he turned away, defeated. Elven sight is all very well, he thought, but even we can't see through that sort of darkness. Sighing, he stepped back into the corridor.
She followed him, and the panel slid hastily closed behind her. "They don't like me there. I'm not quite sure why." She smiled brightly. "But yeah, now we should be set."
Dafydd nodded. "Set, right..." As he followed her back through the myriad grey corridors to her response centre, he muttered, "Great. Another psycho partner. Where do they get these people from?"
She pretended not to hear him as she wandered down the halls, looking for her door. She paused suddenly, backed up several feet, and smiled. "'Kay, here we are..." She pushed her door open and stepped inside.
He followed her through and shut the door. "Here we are indeed. I assume you've got a remote activator and such?"
She nodded, and picked up the activator. "Er... stupid machine." She bit her lip, fiddled with it for a moment, then grinned. "Right, there it goes." She nodded at the portal.
Dafydd eyed the portal, and gulped. "Yeah. A portal. That's a good thing, is it?"
She looked at it and shrugged, as she put the activator into her backpack. “No, actually. Not considering where it leads. Oh well, I suppose." She glanced around, took a deep breath, and stepped through.
Taking one last look around the response centre, Dafydd followed...
... into a pitch black nothingness, through which echoed the Disclaimer: I own nothing except what I own. The rest belong Jim Henson and co. This is my 1st fan fic so please bear with me. Any mistakes are mine.
"No, we will not bear with you," he muttered. "Not when you claim that either yourself or Jim Henson owns Wales.”
Constance blinked. "That'd be odd, to say the least." She glared up at the sky. "And the mistakes are many."
"Aye, far too many," replied Dafydd, then blinked as a frozen Sarah, holding a cup filled with a large circular hole in the ground, ran past, flat on her back. "Tears of Nienna," he groaned, "this description is <I>bad</i>.”
Constance stared. "What the freak was that?" She hastily glanced at the Words, and winced. "Oh dear Eru... commas are important."
"And so are tenses," the other added. The wording had made it appear as though everything was happening at the same time, so Sarah, Jareth and Hoggle whirled around like ice skaters in a kaleidoscope.
"Yes..." Constance watched in horrified fascination, then she blinked in alarm, as there momentarily appeared to be multiple Jareths. "Dear Eru, this is why we have apostrophes." She shook her head and sighed. "One of that... guy is quite enough."
Dafydd tilted his head. "Not a Jareth fan, then?"
She stared at him. "You must be kidding me. Have you seen the tights?" She shuddered.
"... good point." He turned back to watch as Jareth ordered Sarah to be exhausted, then the agent keeled over as a location shift took them into the second chapter. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he muttered, "I hate that."
Constance nodded quickly. "It's evil." She glanced at the Words and winced. "The moon is shining like a beacon of hope. Ohhhh dear." She looked steadily at the ground, shielding her eyes. "... that sounds like it'd be painful, okay?"
Dafydd nodded. “Hope shouldn’t be visible. There is a good reason for this. It burns.” Then he blinked. “I guess we’re lucky it’s only ordinary moonlight that’s filling the ground.” He stared at the pale silver soil, which was glowing faintly.
Constance stared at it for a moment, then closed her eyes. "That? Is just wrong." She sighed, then blinked. "'Only they're myth and legend?' Is that denying the existence of the Tuatha de Danann, or..." She shook her head. "I'm confused." She glanced up at the approach of a new character. "Oh, how fun."
Dafydd winced. "And apparently he was in a vacuum before now -- the air has only just touched his skin." The agent blinked as Jareth suddenly turned purple and started gasping for air. "Hmm, fun." Noticing the newcomer, he added, "This is the one we get to kill, right?"
Constance nodded distractedly. "Yeah, that's him. Who's doing the killing, then?"
Dafydd considered. "Well, you have to exorcise Jareth and Sarah, so I guess I wi-- ai!" The agent curled up in a ball as Jareth's eyes exploded out of their sockets and flew up to land on a moon made from a precious metal.
Constance stared, her mouth hanging open. "Well, that's... interesting. Dear Nienna, this writing is dangerous." She patted Dafydd's arm hesitantly. "Um... Bleeprin?"
Still curled up, Dafydd nodded, and took the proffered tablets. After a moment, when Jareth's eyeballs had returned to their proper place, he stood up again, shakily. Seeing Constance's look, he said, "Sorry, I just have a real problem with eyeballs."
Constance nodded, looking vaguely confused. "I see. And don't blame you, in this case..." She glanced at the Words. "Oh, fun, Sarah ‘bested’ Jareth and won his heart. How sweet."
"Sickeningly so," Dafydd agreed. Then something occurred to him, and he pulled out his notepad. "Need a charge list," he said, by way of explanation, and started writing, leaving Constance to watch the 'fic.
Constance watched him scribbling for a moment, then turned her attention back to the fic. Then she blinked, as the blood drained from the new character's face, ‘almost as if someone had taken a knife to his throat and slashed it from ear to ear’. "Whoa, that's...graphic," she said mildly. She shrugged and glanced back at Dafydd. "So -- how long until we do the exorcisms?"
Dafydd glanced up. "Well, he looks nicely dead..." Belatedly, he responded to the question. "Well, I really need a Geographical Aberration, so we either wait for Jareth to declare himself King of Albion, thereby implying that Albion is in the Underground, or we wait an extra half chapter after that for an explicit statement of Albion being in the Underground, coupled with use of Cymru and Eire as mystical realms." He shrugged. "The latter might be easiest to make stick.”
"Um, ouch. Yeah, the last does sound best... right, then." Constance looked at Jareth and Owain, who were babbling about ancient magic, and sighed. "This'll be fun."
Dafydd nodded resignedly. "At least it's only three more chapters." Then he blinked at a small furry thing that appeared on the floor. "That would be Owain's asked, would it?"
Constance stared at it. "Probably, yes. Interesting." She looked at Jareth and Owain, still babbling away. "...only three more chapters."
"Only three. Three. One plus two. Just three ones..." Dafydd blinked. "Dear Eru, it's driven me mad already. Focus, Dafydd, focus..." Over by the characters, Jareth took a deep breath. "You need it, after that asphyxiation thing earlier... Oh, and we’ve got a nice piece of Generic Folklore in the form of a Barguest. Fantastic."
Constance let out a long breath. "Um... fun. Poor murdered canon." She glanced at the Words. "...that thing sounds like it was nasty. Good thing a Mysterious Person killed it, because I wouldn't have wanted to get near it." She blinked. "Right, what is The Elemental Court, and why is Jareth calling it?"
"More importantly, when did Jareth acquire a telephone system?" Dafydd wondered. "But what the Elemental Court is, is our audience when we finally get to kill this mess."
Constance laughed shortly. "Yes, that too...and I like this court." She paused. "...want it sooner." She glanced up, startled, as people started screaming.
Dafydd blinked, and looked up himself. “Aren’t we outside? Isn’t all that’s above us, you know, the sky? Oh, blast, end of chapter.” Quickly, before the story could move them, he pulled out the Remote Activator and flicked open a portal to the next chapter.
They arrived some way in, just as a strange creature with a mouth in its chest and a hole in its nose – along with shallow checks across its face – said ‘I am who I am. King Jareth.’ Dafydd blinked.
“That is Jareth?”
Constance stared, stepped back involuntarily. "Even the tights are preferable to that, I think."
"I will leave in piece, as soon I have what I come for," it said.
She tilted her head to one side. "I won't even try to figure that one out. Oh, it wants Sarah. Such shock?"
“Shock indeed,” responded Dafydd, then winced. “King Jareth wants Sarah. Do you know how bad that sounds?”
She smacked her forehead. "Thank you for that mental picture. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." She glanced at the Words and winced. "Especially as it doesn't look like it's too inaccurate. Protective!Jareth. How sweet."
“Muahaha,” said Dafydd, but his heart really wasn’t in it. Having to watch the creature was making him feel ill, and he concluded once again that Morgoth had created badfic for the sole purpose of annoying him. However, he didn’t get any further than this, as a very odd woman suddenly appeared. “Constance,” he muttered, “is it me, or does that woman have far too may weapons to be able to use?”
Constance glanced over the woman. "No, it's not just you." She eyed the sword, dagger, and spears wistfully. "Shiny. Can I steal them?" She paused briefly. "Yes, I'll shut up now. And...Eru. Her eyes hold death in their depths. I really don't want to think about that."
Dafydd considered. "Well, she turns into a crow, but nothing is said of her clothes. So I suspect if we want them to, the weapons will just stay there. But I'm having the spear she uses on the monster." Seeing her look, he added, "I collect 'Sue weapons," by way of explanation.
Constance grinned. "Excellent. And that sounds like a fun hobby..."
She watched with vague disinterest as the woman walked up to King Jareth Version 2.
“Yes, fun it is. Except,” Dafydd sighed, “they won’t let me use them on missions. Oh, redundancy,” he added, pulling out the charge list again.
"Aw, evil." She glanced up, watched as the woman killed the creature.
"I am known by many, and I'm known by few," the woman said, and Constance winced.
"And that is supposed to mean...what?"
The lady changed into a crow, and flew out the window. Constance smiled faintly; the clothes--and weapons--had indeed stayed behind.
“I am Ringwinner and Luckbearer; and I am Barrel-rider,” added Dafydd. Then, while Jareth exploded and showered the room with blood and body parts, Dafydd walked over to the forgotten body of King Jareth and pulled the spear out.
Constance blinked and smiled slightly, then wandered over to the heap of clothing and picked up the sword, dagger and other spear. She spent a moment debating how to carry them, then sighed and put the dagger in her backpack, and stood there holding the spear and sword awkwardly. She glanced around the room. "Exploded Jareth, not pretty."
“No, not pretty at all. Especially since...” Dafydd’s voice tailed off, and he paled. “It’s the sappy Jareth/Sarah scene next... I really do not want to see this...” He looked over at Constance. “Can we please skip a chapter?”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. "That sounds like an extremely good idea, yes...I don't even like Jareth/Sarah."
“Luckily, there’s only one charge we need from it – making the Underground be in Albion, or possibly vice versa.” He wrote it down, and then opened up a portal to Chapter Five, the Elemental Court, and the end of their mission.
"Silly author..." Constance sighed, and stepped through the portal. She blinked. "Stonehenge. Fun." She looked around at the many creatures gathered outside the circle, and then at the "four rulers of the underground" standing inside of it. "Four of them? There were four rulers of the underground? Right, then..."
“Mm, no, not Stonehenge,” corrected Dafydd absently. “Just a circle that is compared to Stonehenge thrice. But I’m intrigued by the way this court has only been called once before, yet everyone seems to know what to do. Do you think they had a dress rehearsal?”
She glanced at the Words, shrugged. "Fine, never been to Stonehenge. It was an understandable mistake... really... and yes, probably." She laughed a bit, and sat down on the ground to watch.
“Oh, absolutely understandable,” agreed Dafydd, then blinked as a laser shot across the sky. “Hmm... interesting.” Then he read ahead in the words, and grinned evilly. “I have a plan. Wait here, but be ready to kill when I say so.” With that, he rushed off around the circle.
Constance blinked, and nodded dazedly. She glanced down at the sword and spear, and set the spear down on the ground next to her. Then she waited.
Four voices spoke, one by one, giving their titles, calling upon an element, and making an utterly pointless statement. The last one was apparently called Laeg.
"I Laeg, Ruler of Éire. Call to the Water, without whom all life would die. Danu, protect us, your children, guide us and bless us in our hour. So mote it be."
Then Dafydd stepped into the circle. “And I, Maglor, ruler by default of all Endor, call you all a bunch of UnCanon wimps who couldn’t rule your way out of a paper bag. I mean, sure, you’re good with the petty stuff, but what would you do if the Dark Lord sent out a dragon? Run and hide, I bet. But I digress. Could Owain... hmm, you don’t seem to have a last name, so could Owain who has been tagging along after Jareth please step forward?”
So powerful was his voice that no one spoke, no one objected. The person known as Owain stepped forward into the light. Dafydd smiled evilly. “Excellent. Owain, as the most obvious UnCanon around, I’m going to dump the whole charge list on you. So, in the name of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, I charge you with having delusions of owning the United Kingdom and all associated mythology, continually painful descriptions, abuse of the common comma, screwballed tenses, temporal twisting, creating multiple Sarahs and Jareths, causing Jareth to give pointless orders to Sarah, driving Jareth and Sarah OOC, messing with the laws of physics, creating flying eyeballs, creating a sickeningly-sweet Jareth/Sarah subplot, having stupidly graphic description, creating Owain's asked, folklore abuse abysmal spelling, punctuation and grammar, creating a freaky monster called King Jareth, redundancy, causing Jareth to explode, making Albion be in the Underground, making Cymru and Eire into mystical realms, rather than just names for Wales and Ireland, and really really annoying PPC agents. Do you have any last words? Well, frankly, I don’t care. Constance!”
Eyes wide, Constance scrambled to her feet and ran into the circle. She hesitated for just a moment, then hacked Owain's head off. She dropped her sword and started fumbling in her backpack for the Labyrinth DVD. "Jareth and Sarah..." she mumbled, and glanced up.
Jareth was standing nearby, gaping. Constance winced at the OOC'ness, then hit him upside the head with the DVD case. "Out, foul Suvian spirit! Depart! The power of... er... wait, the power of who?"
Dafydd frowned. “Jim Henson and George Lucas, I believe. Well, Lucas was the producer... I think... probably better just to stick with Henson.”
Constance nodded quickly and resumed beating Jareth with the case. "Out! The power of Henson compels thee! No, really, leave. Now! Get thee out! And such!" She blinked as a ghostly figure stepped out of Jareth. She shook her head rapidly. "Well, that was odd..." She sighed, picked up her sword, and slashed it through the figure.
“I wouldn’t know,” commented Dafydd. Then he dashed out of the circle, returning a moment later with Sarah in tow. “I don’t think she’s recovered from seeing you beating lover-boy there, so it should be easy.”
Constance nodded, shoved her sword into Dafydd's hands, and started whacking Sarah upside the head with her DVD. "And yeah, evil-spirit-thing, out of Sarah too. Get thee out, power of Henson compels thee, etc... leave! Go! Out, foul spirit! And other similar phrases!"
She sighed as another semi-transparent figure stepped away from Sarah's body, grabbed her sword back from Dafydd, and killed it as well.
Dafydd nodded. “Very good.” Then he looked out at the assembled denizens of the Underworld, who were looking as though they were just coming out of a trance. “Thank you, good people, for your time. I’m afraid we must be going now.” He leaned down and grabbed Jareth by the arm, then opened a portal to the Labyrinth with his other hand. “Constance, get Sarah,” he ordered, and dragged the dazed Goblin King through.
Constance smiled slightly, and grabbed Sarah's wrist. She hesitated outside the portal, then sighed and dragged Sarah through as well. She kept a tight grip on Sarah's wrist, and shrugged at Dafydd. "Need to portal her home now, yes?"
"What's that?" Dafydd glanced back at her, his body still held in the regal manner he had adopted on entering the circle. "Oh, yes, yes." He pushed Jareth to the floor, and said, "Stay with what you know, Goblin King. Trying to meddle in politics can get you killed. I should know." Then he opened another portal, and stepped through without looking back.
Constance blinked, shook her head slightly, and pulled Sarah through that portal. "Right, no place like home, Sarah dear." She glanced around. "Now we need to get back to HQ... please..."
“Yes, of course, HQ,” replied Dafydd. Whacking the Remote Activator against a wall, he muttered, “Work, or I drop you into Angband.” Obediently, a portal flickered open, and he gestured for Constance to go through.
She laughed a bit and stepped through, then glanced down at the sword she still clutched in one hand. "Screwit, left the spear there... bleh, ah well."
"And you forgot your dagger, as well," put in Dafydd, then frowned. "What did I... oh. Oh." He walked swiftly over to the wall and started slamming his head against it, muttering, "Be Dafydd, not Maglor, be Dafydd, not Maglor..." over and over.
"I think I may have put that in my backpack..." She started to reach around to the backpack, then stopped and stared at Dafydd. "Yes. Maglor. You are going to explain the Maglor thing."
Dafydd winced. “Er, can you keep a secret?”
Constance raised an eyebrow, and nodded slowly.
“Good...” Dafydd paused, seemingly at a loss. “Right then. Hi, my name’s Maglor, second son of Fëanor, at your service. Yes, that Maglor, and yes, that Fëanor. And you’re wondering how I got here, yes?”
Constance blinked rapidly, and looked at him slightly warily. "Yes, yes I am. Do tell."
He looked around for a moment, then pulled out a copy of the Silmarillion from his backpack. Opening it, he pointed to the line ‘...he came never back among the people of the Elves’. “I never died. I just wandered the shores of Endor for... I don’t know how many years. Eventually, I chose a section near what was once the Shire, and set up my own country there. It became known as Wales.
“I assumed the name Dafydd Illian because... well, I don’t know why. But eventually I tracked down the bloodline I hated the most – the descendants of Beren, Luthien, Earendil and Elwing, who stole the Silmaril and kept it from us. At the time I discovered them, there was only one left – a girl named Suzeanna Mariana.”
He paused for breath, and then went on. “I confronted her, and she...” He bit his lip, and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “She smashed my harp, and sent me flying into a plothole. Then a pair of PPC agents came, told me I was just a character in a story, and sent me here to be recruited. I assume they killed Suzeanna, so I never can, and now I’m just killing any ‘Sues I can find.” He blinked back the tears. “And all I want is my harp back.”
Finishing the tale, he looked back at Constance, who had remained silent throughout the story. “Yeah, you can laugh now.”
She shook her head quickly, and glanced around awkwardly. "No, no... oh, gah." She stepped towards him and patted his arm tentatively. "Er... evil girl." She glanced down and pulled her hand from his arm, shrugged.
He nodded. “She was evil, and now she’s dead. And now I get to float around HQ, being shoved from partner to partner, and wait for a chance to get a new harp and forget about her. But, irritatingly,” and here a hint of a wry smile tugged at his mouth, “very few ‘Sues seem to use such instruments. And even fewer also have a Geographical Aberration.”
"Dead, dead is good. And... yeah, that's inconvenient." She smiled faintly. "If I ever get sent after a 'Sue who uses a harp..." She shrugged again and fell silent, looking around the room uncomfortably.
Dafydd smiled faintly. “Thank you. I... thank you. But, uh... don’t mention any of this? To anyone?”
She shook her head quickly. "Oh, I won't."
He nodded. “Thanks. I don’t want it getting out just yet.” He looked vaguely around the room for a few moments, then said, “I should probably be going.”
"Yeah, probably..." She glanced towards the door and shrugged.
“Right, then.” He wandered over to the door, then wandered back and picked up the spear he had stolen. “Can’t forget this...” He walked back to the door and opened it. “Well... bye, then. I’ll... probably see you around somewhere. Maybe. Or not.”
She nodded and waved. "Yeah. Maybe... 'bye, then. Er... nice working with you... yeah, 'bye."
“Yeah... same. And... good work out there.” He paused, and blinked. “But I can’t stand around in doorways all the time, so... bye.” And with that, he turned and walked off down the grey corridor.