Disclaimer-Right. I don't own this. This is just what comes from a challenge from "King Jareth" himself to explore the origins of the labyrinth. Well, her'es what came of my own musings,and I must say it's not bad for someone who's forte is more along the lines of crossovers and comedy. Look, ma! I wrote something serious for once!! And Selah says I wouldn't know serious if it bit me on the arse...

Dreams. They're skittish things. They truly are. And they are like a double-edged sword. The granting of dreams can bring a person great joy, or they can go the other way, and bring the person great sadness. Sometimes granted to the least deserving, sometimes to the most, dreams are never simple. The visions at night are filled with symbolism. The ones we realize and allow ourselves to dwell upon during the day are created by wishes.

There was a time, long ago, when dreams simply floated around, with nowhere to rest, to recharge. Over time, they began to grow weak, to die. This was something that could not be allowed, especially as mortals began to lose their beliefs in otherworldly beings that they had once shared the land with. And as these other beings, these Little Folk, as the mortals called them, disappeared into their own world, the Underground, so did dreams.

And while there were always those who continued dreaming, and went on to do great things because of it, the number kept declining. And so dreams themselves needed a safe havan, a havan that was to be found within the Underground.

There were mortals who came there, occasionally, in search of their dreams. It was one such mortal who carelessly dropped a peach pit in the Goblin Kingdom. A tree grew there, producing the most succulent fruits in either world. But as time passed and mortals entered the time known as the Dark Ages, more and more dreams died out.

Some of these dreams, with barely any life left, crowded around the now old and gnarled peach tree so close to the Goblin City.The land of the Underground, sensing that these dreams needed protection, began changing. For a mile in each direction, a large labyrinth grew, each different, but each changeable. And the labyrinth itself was granted sentience by the land, so that it might change itself in order to better guard the precious treasure within. The treasure known as dreams.

Eventually, as the mortals in the Aboveground let themselves sink further into despair, with every drop of blood spilled in war, with every tear spilled in sadness, with every vile deed performed by mankind, a drop of foul liquid appeared near the junkyard that was full of the items that represented the dying dreams. This liquid smelled so horrible, and lasted so long, that when it grew to a proper size, it became known as the Bog of Eternal Stench, and the labyrinth generated a way of keeping this Bog's size in check.

The entity that was the labyrinth conitinued to grow and change, always protecting the dreams, always able to read the minds and hearts of those who entered inside. After all, now, only the most deserving could be allowed inside. It was the labyrinth who chose who got through and who didn't. It was the labyrinth who chose its protector, it's guardian. And, over time, it became the labyrinth that chose the fate itself of those who entered into its walls, even temporarily, and so it remains to this day.