Cries of the Minotaur

by Farthingale

In a melding of the myth of Ancient Greece, the manbeast Minotaur is released into Jareth's Labyrinth by a vengeful old acquaintance. Written in 2000, if I recall correctly.

Stone. Every way it turned, cold, dank stone. Air snorted from its nostrils in frustration; it knew there was no escape. It had tried. It knew well. And… she hadn't been for days. She always came and comforted it when it was lonely. Not for days now. And it was very lonely. When would she come? Never? Never ever again? Perhaps it had frightened her off? Hardly surprising. And such a nightmare it was, indeed, this it knew as well. Long, gleaming horns, fit to disembowel. Not that it would – not her. And moist, red-rimmed eyes that were not in the least human. No. No familiarity there. Hooves even. Great beast feet. Yes, hardly surprising at all…

Jareth sat in the large window that viewed much of the Labyrinth; it was foggy and the whiteness crept in and out of the walkways with a tangibility far too heavy for its substance. He worried in the back of his mind, behind the deep-seated arrogance, because he felt the creature's unrest. Nobody had heard when, late one night, it had emptied its lungs with a soul-torn howl – sound was not allowed to travel beyond its confinement – but Jareth had felt it. The minute emotions had tremored through his boots, up his spine and into his mind, booming their message into the auditorium of his being and causing a temporary panic the likes of which he had not experienced for a long time.

The moon's light slid off of the droplets of rock crystal adorning his deep blue night-cloak and he put a thoughtful hand, gloved in Lapine-esque black velvet, to his face. The creature could not be allowed free, not ever again, but it had not protested so for a very long time. She had been visiting him for many years and all through her patronage there had been no trouble. Now, Jareth knew, the only thing that could have caused the creature's anguish was her departure. But why? When and Where also sprang to mind. He could go himself and scrutinize the situation, venture into the oldest and most shunned region of the Labyrinth – but he was King and he had a duty not to be killed. He had an admirable command of his magics, that was true, but even enchantment does not help one when a pair of solid head-tusks pierce through the darkness and into one's back.

He would have to find her.

Ariadne opened her eyes and bit her tongue to hold back a scream as the emotions assailed her – she silently damned her fate as a natural empath. He was calling for her, desperately now, but one look down at the chains around her wrists proved that she could no more go to him than fly.

Where was she? She sensed no one nearby and decided that she must be alone. But for how long? And how long would it take before somebody noticed her absence? In the name of the Spirits, she hoped it would not be too long.

Jareth tapped his crop on his knee as, one by one, the goblins entered his presence, all with negative tidings.

"Hopskrop?" Tap. Tap. Tap.

The knobby creature bowed. "Nuthing, Sire. The Firies thig she's far away."

"Right." Tap. Tap.

The goblin was rubbing his neck. "They tried id again, your Majesty. They wanded my head off!"

"Another word and it's theirs on a silver platter." Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hurriedly, Hopskrop bowed and left, decidedly mute. "Anybody else?" Jareth demanded, both hopeful and not.

"Sire?"

He turned. Farblin, the she-goblin of the lichen-buds, small and yellow with knotty black hair, stepped forward. She looked revoltingly pleased with herself. "Yes?" Tap. Tap. It had better justify her stupid expression.

"I spoke to the Blue Worms, your Kingship. They offered me 'tea'."

"And?" Patience had never been his strong suit.

"Well," she smirked, "Fuzz said he thought he heard someone go by a few nights ago, sounded like against her will. When he come out, no one there. But he did hear something. I reckon it's her!"

Jareth ran his tongue over his top row of teeth and frowned. Of course, he thought. She would never leave her little project willfully. He noticed that the gobliness was still standing before him as if waiting for something. "Yes, well done, Farblin." Not a move. "What are you waiting for?"

"I did good." It was not a question.

Jareth rolled his eyes and magicked a goblin-fist-sized crystal ball, flung it at her. Farblin caught it with evident glee. "One wish," he told her. "And you know it won't do anything I wouldn't want it to, so use your matty little head."

Farblin chuckled and scurried out, clutching her prize joyfully.

Jareth sighed. Ariadne was in peril, but he had no more than that.

Waiting… always waiting… how very tired it grew of waiting… Perhaps… no longer…

She had been sleeping, the restraints lying at her sides, when she had felt the presence, heavy and greasy, enter the room. She resisted the urge to jolt up and instead opened one brown eye slowly, marginally. The figure she saw fit its aura not a whit. A shapeshifter perhaps?

The personage looked Fey, quite possibly an element nymph of some sort. She was willowy and pale as the moon, but with long, rusty red hair that sang loudly against the pallor of her skin (and the frightening bloodlessness of her ice-blue eyes). Like many nymphs, she stood naked because she had nothing to hide, born without nipples and with an airbrushed appearance below.

"Ariadne," the creature spoke her name with a voice low and like the waters. Creature, yes. What she saw before her was all the more creature and beast than that which was imprisoned forever. "Ariadne," she repeated, and took a step forward. "You can't fox me, I know you're awake."

Ariadne opened both eyes and raised herself up onto her elbows. "What am I here for?"

The nymph pouted mockingly. "Oh come now! You know why. You haven't stopped thinking about why."

Although she did not discount the possibility of the woman (or whatever) being a mind-reader, it seemed to Ariadne more as if her captor was trying for a reaction from a guess. When no response was forthcoming, the other knelt in front of her, locking eyes.

"Well?" she persisted. "Can you figure it out?"

Seeing no reason why she should hide it, Ariadne replied, "The Minotaur?"

The pale nymph straightened up, gave a clap of congratulation and delight. "The Minotaur indeed! And why, do you suppose?"

Ariadne frowned. "I don't know."

"Really? Are you sure?"

She thought a moment, tried to feel out the other's emotion, but without success. "Do you… want to hurt him?"

"Hurt? Far, far from it. Try again…"

Farblin fought through the briar patch and into the concealed moss garden. Lichen… lichen… where was it? Spying it, she pulled off a sprig and rolled it in her hands until it was long and thin. Then she took a stone and clipped it against another, alongside the lichen-roll, until the spark jumped and lit it. Farblin gave it a moment to work on a flame, then blew it out. Soon, she was sitting, smoking, and wondering what to use the wish for. One wish. Just one.

Jareth found the scrying mirror in the back of a cupboard. Blowing away the dust, he had to use both hands to lift the weighty object. He had not used it for many, many months, and dust in the castle was like dust under pews in an old church, eager and persistent.

He was worried about this plan: even if he could locate Ariadne in the mirror, it did not follow that he would know where she was. If he did not personally recognize the background, it would be of little use. And the greater trouble was the Minotaur. If time were no issue, he could fly over his kingdom over a period of days and investigate every nook. Unfortunately, every second that the music was away, the savage beast longed more for that which soothed it. If Ariadne were not recovered within the day and night, Jareth knew that the Minotaur could not be contained and, as had happened when it had first come to his Labyrinth, all those years ago, it would begin to kill again. Not in sport or out of necessity, but by an incurable bloodlust that was fast returning. And he was under no illusions that he would be exempt from the brute's rampage.

Placing the mirror on the ground, he wished at it and transformed it into a shard of crystal, long and thin. Then his clothes fell away as he assumed his white owl and clasped the shard in his talons. He flew from the castle window and out into the silent, delicate night sky. The fog lay below him, making a scour of the land improbable. But he knew where he was going.

"Balaka Nyetunlets," the nymph told her, pronouncing it 'Bah-lah-kuh Nyee-toon-lets". "But for simplicity's sake, you may call me Nyïet."

Ariadne frowned; she could not fathom her 'host'. Her intentions were no clearer than before. There was a stone bowl of clearest spring water – which Nyïet assured her would be all she needed to survive. "Why do I have to be chained up?" she asked.

"To keep you from leaving."

"What if I tell you I won't?"

"You will, though."

Ariadne sighed. If only she know why she was being held… and just what it had to do with the Minotaur. If she did not go to him, she knew he would eventually break free of his prison in, fury, and take out his anger on anything and anyone that stood before him. She would weep if she let herself dwell on the suffering she would soon cause.

Jareth touched down in the glade which cradled Ariadne's home. It was not too far from the beast (important to the homeowner) and when he made contact with the earth, he was immediately afraid – even through the bird's claws, he could feel the livid sense of betrayal seeping through the ground. His owl head reflexively swiveled back and front, searching nervously.

He stepped back from the mirror-shard and spread his wings. White feathers turned to pale, wispy hair, and gnarled feet to dark, leather boots. He picked up the shard (easier than using the full mirror just yet) and, as he was king and had access to any home in the land, entered through the front door.

Everything appeared in order… the fire was out in the hearth, there was no sign of food left unfinished… and her coat was off its hook, as if she had planned to go out. All this suggested a willful departure – which was most likely what her captor had in mind. But the King of the Labyrinth was not there to play detective. What he needed was an intensely personal item, something to get him onto her frequency. He entered her bedroom and searched the dressing-table, soon uncovering a shell-lined comb with a bonus of recent hair between the teeth. It would do nicely. Jareth laid the shard down on the bed and transformed it back into a mirror. Then he held the comb in one hand and pressed the other onto the mirror's face, concentrating.

"Show me Ariadne," he whispered unnecessarily. And there she was, sitting on a bare floor in dim light. As he had feared, he did not recognize the scenery – or lack thereof. It was good that she was alive, however; had the mirror shown him a twisted body at the bottom of a cliff, all would have been lost. No one else could calm the creature as she could.

Suddenly, another figure entered the picture. "Great Spirits!" He exclaimed. "No, surely not!" The individual bent down, putting its face near Ariadne's. Yes, it was. It was. Damn the luck! As if he did not have enough to worry about! He picked up the mirror and –

Jareth stepped back in shock. The mirror lay smashed on the ground, but he did not notice. His eyes were wide and his hands shook. He could feel it! Fear made his blood run cold and his face bleached to white. Spirits alive, he thought in panic. It's free!

It's free! Nyïet threw back her head and laughed joyfully. "Free!"

Ariadne gaped at the nymph – Yes, he was free! Broken the walls with his impregnable horns, sturdy head and feet. But how could Nyïet know? Any why was she so happy about it? "Why?!" She almost yelled. "Why have you done this?"

When Nyïet turned towards her, Ariadne thought that she saw a strange luminescence radiating through her skin. "It deserved to be free," she explained, grinning broadly.

"But don't you understand? There's going to be such chaos!"

Nyïet closed her eyes, as if the word had given her physical pleasure. "Yes…" It was barely even a whisper.

"Chaos."

Farblin was stumped. The crystal lay, unused, in a little crib of leaves. What did she want? As a goblin – even one with an above-average intelligence – she was not a very deep thinker. Food? She had that. A home? Got it. Lichen? All over. She even had a prize! Which was turning out to be less of a blessing than a curse!

Sitting on an oak branch, high above the ground, she peered through the fog – everything was so quiet, and as a mischievous spirit, that meant dull! If she could not think of a wish, she would go and make some trouble! If someone would just wish away a baby, then the fun could really begin.

She stood up and put the crystal into a pouch at her side, fastened it. She was about to leave, when a mighty tremor shook the ground, causing her to slip, grab hold of the branch with her legs, and end up hanging upside-down. Quake! she thought quickly, and hugged the branch with her arms – it was a long way to drop. Nothing happened for a while and, the blood running to her head, Farblin reasoned that it must have been an avalanche somewhere; it happened with as much stone about as the Labyrinth had. She was hauling herself right-way up, when something caught her eye: in the distance, trees and bushes were moving sideways at an alarming rate, being, it seemed, rudely shoved aside. Shoved aside?!

Oh my, she thought, and pressed herself close to the branch in an attempt at camouflage. What she eventually saw almost stopped her heart. She held her breath, not trusting herself to breathe lest she make a move. Soon, it passed beneath her…

Left to suffer! Never ever come again! Ever! Selfish, thoughtless betrayer! Hate her! Hate everyone!

Jareth sat down on the bedroom floor, his legs folded to one side. He was still trembling and did not think that he would be able to stop anytime soon. It was free. Which way would it go? Where would he need to fly first? Who would be in the most imminent peril? These and other unanswerable questions flung themselves at him cruelly and he put a hand to his forehead, pushing back his hair. What to do? First he would have to ensure his own safety. One factor to his advantage, the Minotaur did not fly. He left the shattered mess on Ariadne's floor – if they all got out of this, then he would apologize and send someone to clean it up – and transmorphed. Preening hurriedly, he left through the open shutters.

Thankfully, the fog was beginning to lift. Of course, that also meant that the beast's view would improve. Jareth scanned the forests which lay in the westerly quadrent of the Labyrinth; he wondered what he ought to be looking for. And he had not stopped thinking about that figure in the mirror…

Nyïet had removed the chains and Ariadne stood, rubbing at her wrist. "Aren't you afraid it'll come for us?" She could not understand anything to the contrary.

Nyïet was positively glowing. "Impossible! We're Betweenground."

"What?" Utter bewilderment.

"Between the Aboveground and the Underground – Betweenground. It can not reach us without magic."

"Then… how did you bring me here?" And how do I get back? she wondered.

"As I said, magic. The last of mine, at the time."

'At the time'? Ariadne grew more worried at this. Seeing that she had not left, Nyïet informed her that she was free to go.

"Where?"

"Do you wish to go Aboveground?"

Ariadne recoiled at the mention. "Spirits, no! Please no!"

The nymph grinned at her discomfort. "Then find your way around here. There might be some life outside is you're lucky." Another sadistic grin.

"Why can't I go back? To the Labyrinth?"

Nyïet frowned, turned away. "Far too dangerous! You may meet up with the Minotaur."

"Yes, but I could ca – "

"Exactly my point. No, I can't have that."

Ariadne had had enough. "Why do you want him rampaging through the Underground? What could you possibly hope to achieve?!"

"The more that beast does what is in its heart to do, the more I shall be able to do the same."

"What?"

"Balaka Nyetunlets, Ariadne. Chaos-nymph. I feed on it."

So now Ariadne understood. And she understood why Nyïet's aura felt so different now, fuller and tingly. She was feeding on the Minotaur's destruction!

The Betweenground was an abortion. The only suggestion of life was a small, dry sound that was hollow like the croak of a frog, but no frog that ever leapt happily into a lily-pond. The soil was mere brown dust, lying intop of rock and yeilding nought. A wind coughed over it and a grey twig rustled briefly.

Ariadne was terrified. She never left Nyïet's doorway.

Farblin had a small idea of what the creature was. Correction: she knew what it was – dangerous! She had heard stories from those who lived in the walls, some of those who feigned to see it all. But they did not really. She had also heard the threat from her grandparents who said they remembered the terror as if it were a week ago. And Farblin was not in the least inclined to share in their memories!

She had not dared to come down from the tree, reasoning (insofar as a goblin may reason) that as long as it remained on the ground and she off it, she would not die. But she could not wait there forever! Then she remembered the crystal. Her prize! But, oh, how she did not wish to waste it! And when the King had said… well, how could she know what he would not want it to do? What if the beast was a friend of is? Best not to wish harm on it then, just to be safe. But, as to herself, she needed to guarantee her own well-being. Pulling out the crystal, she gazed into the swirling mists and wished.

Jareth had seen nothing, but he had not yet traversed the reaches of the forests in their entirety. He was swooping in for a closer look, when a flash of light inbetween the trees below caught his attention. He went in to see what had occurred.

Landing on an elm branch, he was faintly disappointed to see nothing out of the ordinary. Then his neck began to prickle and he turned around, slowly and with his whole body.

Oh no…

"Hello, little owl. Don't you know you shouldn't be out here now? There's trouble afoot!" The chaos nymph grinned. "Or perhaps that's exactly why you're here."

Jareth hooted at her in an attempt at mockery. Then he flapped down to the treacherous ground and reclaimed his bipedal form. "How dare you?" He was furious. It was completely clear that she was responsible for his woes, and it was maddening that she had pulled such a coup in his kingdom!

Nyïet only smiled, showing off teeth that were whiter than ivory and perfectly formed.

"You're afraid, aren't you? Jareth, the great Goblin King, is scared of a little chaos."

"It seems to me," he countered coolly, "that it is you who is afraid – of a little order."

She shrugged. "Dwarf midget – it's all the same. Meanwhile, I don't think you can measure up to me anymore."

"Don't test me, Nyetunlets; I sent you away before. And, on the subject, how is the Betweenground these days?"

"Charming as ever. Although the company leaves something to be desired."

"Which is why you 'borrowed' Ariadne."

Nyïet laughed. "Oh Jareth, you're so amusing! Of course you knew that the Minotaur was the only creature left in your new, modern Labyrinth that was still chaotic enough. That's why you kept it caged-up – no one could be more free than you!"

"You're out of your mind."

"Am I? Or am I into yours?"

Jareth turned away. Chaos nymphs frightened him, yes. They were like solar panels, storing the energy for later use. And you never knew how much they had stored – although, judging by the luminosity of her appearance, the Minotaur was fueling Balaka Nyetunlets well.

"You can't challenge me, nymph. The Labyrinth won't allow it."

"Ah, but the Labyrinth is somewhat otherwise occupied, wouldn't you say?"

He had to admit it was true. But not to her. "Don't believe it."

She smirked. "Face it, Jareth, I have you this time. That beast will continue running wild with no one to stop it – for no one can! – And very soon the entire Labyrinth will become a state of Entropy. And I shall be its queen!"

Chaos did things to a mind, Jareth knew. Unpleasant, confusing things. But she was right – no one could stop it. No one but Ariadne. But now he knew where she was – when would he be able to reclaim her?

But his thoughts were interrupted when a stream of energy hurtled into him, knocking him off his feet. Nyïet was laughing triumphantly and he scowled, picking himself up. "Not wise, Nyetunlets. Not at all." He magicked a crystal and threw it at her. Halfway there it turned into a peach and she caught it with a chuckle.

"Why thank you, Jareth. How kind." Suddenly, it was a hissing snake in her arms. She yelped and let the creature fall, landing as a mound of dirt on the forest floor. "Trickery will get you nowhere," she warned.

Now it was Jareth's turn to grin. "Funny," he replied, "it seems to be working very well for me."

Nyïet felt something touch her leg: rose-vines growing up from the soil and wrapping around her shins faster than she could move away. Thorns too. She narrowed her eyes, grimacing, and blasted away at them with the chaotic energy that poured forth from her hands.

"Trivial attempts, Goblin King," she chastised. But where was he? "Coward," she beamed, and started towards the castle.

Jareth was no coward. Although he knew the saying: Cowards tend to outlive the brave. No, he was not a coward, but he was also not stupid. He knew a matched battle when he saw it, and she would undoubtedly grow stronger with time. What he needed to do, was to fetch Ariadne and quickly – he would have to tackle this problem through the backdoor. Dangerously, though, that meant leaving the Labyrinth.

The next thing Farblin knew, the Minotaur was staring down at her, staring down with those large, milky, bull eyes. She went cross-eyed and was about to pass out when she remembered her wish. She had climbed down from the tree, heard the monster coming, run into the tree, and knocked herself out. And now it was standing over her. Just that and nothing more. It was turning its great head from side to side, giving each eye a proper turn to see. It seemed confused.

What? Who? Not hurt, won't hurt. But why? Angry, yes? Yes! So? Why not? Small creature shows no danger, is afraid. Hurt, yes? No! (The thoughts were heavy and its head hurt.) But why?

The magic appeared to have worked. She had hopefully said: "I wish it won't be able to hurt me!" Then the crystal had flared and then gone dark and hollow, spent. She had flung it away before climbing out of the tree. Well, no matter what happened now, at least she was safe!

The firies leapt in a frenzy around Nyïet as she passed through their jungle. She was chaotic like them, they could tell! But it was on such a grander scale! They were mere showmen, she a master. They felt like minnows staring up at a shark. They flung themselves bodily at her, their orange and pink feather-fluffed bodies colliding like pillowcases.

Nyïet mostly ignored them; although she appreciated and drank in their amateur disorder, she had bigger fish to fry.

Jareth found himself in the Betweenground – via magic he could have put himself anywhere, but he did not know the place and therefore put himself in the middle of nowhere. The silence was the most frightening. That and the stillness. Putting Nyïet here, he realised how she may conceivably have become more unhinged than before.

"Ariadne!" he called, and immediately flinched, regretted it. The sound of his own voice was loud and so completely foreign in this barren landscape; it felt as though it had hurried off to find a wall to echo against. But there was no echo. He tried again, softer, merely speaking. "Ariadne? It is King Jareth. I've come to take you home."

Nothing. Where he was, it was not where she was. So where was she? The trouble was finding his direction in this place. After a moment's thought, he created a handful of crystals, bonded with their particles, then let them fly, all in separate direction. He wished them speed.

Ariadne sat on the doorstep, her mind slowly becoming as void as the landscape. Previously, she had entertained thoughts such as "How will I get home? Which way?" These soon turned to "I'm going to die here!" And then eventually "When am I going to die? The waiting is too much!"

Her eyes glazed over, she wrung her hands slowly, constantly. She almost did not see the floating sphere as it glided into view. She stared at it for a moment, blankly, until realization dawned and her spirits came hurtling back, almost jarringly.

A crystal! she thought. One of the King's crystals!

Standing, she grasped it in her trembling hands, removing any impression that it may have been merely an errant bubble.

"Your Highness!" She spoke eagerly to it. "This way, please hurry!"

Jareth heard the voice in his head and identified the crystal that had signaled him. West. He walked briskly, then began to run, faster and faster until the air rushing past his ears gave the illusion of actual wind. With every step he prayed that it would not be too late for his kingdom – King of the Goblins was his title, but – Spirits knew – King of the Labyrinth was his duty!

Having been ignored long enough to assume lack of interest, Farblin had fled. She would normally have run home and curled up with some nice, comforting lichen, but this was far from normal. She headed for the fortress of the Labyrinth, the King's castle.

Where is it going? It was so very curious. Must find out! Stupid tree! Get out of my way! I must follow the small one! I must find out why I cannot hurt it and get it to stop!

Jareth found her, huddled in the doorway of a nondescript stone tower.

"Ariadne, come. We haven't time to waste."

Against all etiquette, Ariadne rushed up and hugged him gratefully.

"Oh thank you, Sire! Thank you from the depths of my soul!"

Jareth smiled uncomfortably, put his hands gently on her shoulders. "That's quite alright, dear. Come come, we need to get you home to the Labyrinth."

She nodded her absolute agreement and stood still as he magicked them back…

… straight into his throneroom. The place was a fright, over-run with more goblins, fairies, gnomes and sprites than he had ever seen there. But he knew their reason. Hopskrop clung to his boot.

"Your Majesty! Dere's a monster loose in da Labyrind! A killig t'ing!"

Jareth lifted his foot, shaking its passenger free. "I know! Just keep out of my way, all of you!"

Nyïet was passing through the junkyard, her very presence causing tins to rattle as she passed. The old junk-women cowered beneathe their loads, hoping she would not notice them. And she did not, for they were not even remotely chaotic, not in the ways she desired. The Minotaur was closer than before, much closer. She did not want to meet with it, but she would keep close by.

When she reached the gates to the Goblin City, there was no one there to guard them.

Farblin recognized that the beast was following her and began to run. She went around the city and took the back entrance, through the royal gardens. The King would not be pleased, but it could not be helped. She dared to turn around for a moment and saw the bullhead tear through a hedge. Oh no! she thought. Then it was in the roses. No! Jareth was going to kill her!

Ouch! Thorns! Blasted plants, how dare they? I must follow the small one! I can't lose sight!

"He'll kill me like he is now."

Jareth frowned. "Why?"

"He feels betrayed that I didn't come, he must hate me now!"

"You don't mean there's nothing you can do?" He fast saw himself running out of options.

"No, I didn't say that. You must just make sure he doesn't kill me before I can calm him down."

Jareth pondered this: how to keep a Minotaur at bay? They had no phobias or aversions, they were just… (the word stung) chaotic. And using regular magic… he could not be sure of anything.

Nyïet laughed when small things with big, worried eyes scurried away, under rocks or into little houses. Where she stepped, foot-sized singe marks appeared on the ground. She felt giddy from the power within her. She could not wait to release it on Jareth! Perhaps she would exile him to the Betweenground!

Leaping up the stairs on wings of fear, Farblin entered the castle through the kitchen and slammed the door behind her, bolted it. Before long, she heard the Minotaur's body crash into it and saw the door shake in its firm hinges. She squeaked and ran, heading for the throneroom.

"How many have died?" Jareth asked the hoard of little folk.

"Uh…" responded a middle-aged bogey, "we don't know. A few got trapped when the trees started falling. Then others were caught unawares."

The King narrowed his eyes. "Hmm," was all he said. Then: "Ariadne, I want you to – "

Suddenly, Farblin burst into the room, taking in the new boarders and then launching herself at Jareth. "Your Kingship! It's after me!"

"Farblin!" He slapped her away. "What do you mean?"

"The monster, Sire! It's outside the back door!"

Jareth wheeled on Ariadne. "Now or never." She nodded and they set off down the passageways.

Nyïet approached the palace doors and knocked softly, ironically. There was a fuzzy burn where her hand had touched. When no one answered, she shrugged, stepped back, and blew the doors apart.

In the kitchen, the door was almost broken through. Jareth stood to the side and began weaving magic, slowly creating an enchanted net around the doorframe.

"Ariadne," he commanded. "Come on!"

She obeyed and knelt down about three feet away from the door. Soon… she thought. Relax and think clearly… don't let his rage overwhelm you… Already she could sense it through what remained of the barrier.

At last, the fearsome horns broke the wood in two and ripped it out, apart from its hinges, and thrust it away. The Minotaur stood, sweat glistening over the heavily muscled torso of its human half. It's chest heaved and its eyes swiveled from Ariadne to the door and back. It snorted at her.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry!" She put out a hand, reached towards it, but an aggressive sweep of its head made her pull back. "Please," she begged, "forgive me! I did not mean to desert you, I had no choice!" She tried to channel the emotions towards the beast, tried desperately to make it understand.

She was shivering under the hate that was rolling over her and Jareth, standing out of sight, frowned with concern. She had better hurry.

"Chaos!" And another goblin was blown into the wall. "Let the revels begin!"

An entropy tornado was forming in the centre of the throne room, sweeping over and occasionally picking up figures as it grew in strength.

Nyïet held her hands up. "I am your new queen, creatures! Welcome me!"

Some of the more intelligent of those present stumbled over and began bowing down and groveling in an adoring fashion, while the others looked on, dumbfounded. Farblin hid behind Jareth's dais. "Ohhhhh droppings…" she murmured.

No! No forgiveness! I hate you! You betrayed me! You left! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!!

Ariadne fell back at the force of the Minotaur's fury. She lay on the ground, clutching at her head. Jareth moved to help her, letting himself into the hulk's view. As he took Ariadne's hand, he saw it crash into the magical net in an attempt to reach them. It received a shock and shook its head, trying again.

Ariadne grasped Jareth's arm. "I don't know if I can do it, Sire, he's so… so distressed!"

Jareth gave her an understanding look, but brushed away the hair from her face, made her look into his eyes.

"I need you to try, you're its last hope. If you can't stop him… I'll have to destroy him somehow… which I'm not keen to do."

She nodded. "I know. Alright… I'll try again."

The Minotaur was lowing, troubled by the pain in its head.

Where is my small one? Where is it?

Ariadne spoke to it, called it 'brother' and said that she cared for it. She asked that she be given another chance. The creature just stared.

Jareth was beginning to smell futility in the air.

Farblin ran under cover of anarchy, escaped the demented room. She did not know why, but somehow she found the idea of the Minotaur less frightening! She entered the kitchen, where the beast was trapped outside by some magic of the King's. He and the lady were inside, trying to achieve something Farblin could not fathom.

"Kingship!" she called. "There's a crazy nymph in the throneroom!"

"Oh Shadows…" Jareth rubbed his temples. How had she gotten in? "Farblin, come over here and help Ariadne – somehow. I shall see what can be done."

Farblin agreed (feeling oddly patriotic) and Jareth took off, pausing a moment to glance at the fact that the Minotaur was beginning to crash at the walls.

Ariadne welcomed the gobliness at her side, although she had no delusions of her being any help. She started talking again…

What? Little One! Small One who I cannot harm! You have returned. Explain now! Explain why you can't die by me!

Farblin leapt back as the Minotaur moaned at her. It was a pitiful sound, though. "Brother," Ariadne continued, "stop killing…"

I cannot kill the Small One.

"…Stop the hating…"

I cannot hate the Small One!

"…Stop…" Ariadne broke off as she sensed the change in the beast's emotions. "You have stopped, haven't you?"

The Minotaur rolled his head from side to side, gazing at Farblin, and Farblin gazed back in bewilderment.

"Balaka Nyetunlets!" Jareth roared. "Cease this, this instant!"

Nyïet turned from the madness around her and smiled arrogantly.

"Oh Jareth, I thought you'd never come back. But do lower your voice when you're in the presence of a queen." She sniggered happily.

Jareth glared at her. "You're no more a queen than they are birds!" He gestured briefly to the goblins lying along the wall.

Snidely, "You'd be surprised what can fly, given the chance." She guffawed loudly at her own wit.

He marched forward and grabbed her wrists, flinching but not letting go when they began to burn his hands. Nyïet grinned, seeing his brief grimace.

"Too hot to handle, eh Jareth?"

"Get out." An acid whisper.

"I don't think that's very likely."

He narrowed his eyes, his mouth a hard, thin line, then tried a different tactic. He released her arms and stepped back. "Alright then…" He waved a hand at the tornado, killed it with apparent ease.

"Excuse me!" she asserted. "That was tremendously rude of you!" She raised an arm to restart the phenomenon, but suddenly found her hands pushed together, bound with silver and red rope. "Jareth," she simmered, "stop being a sore loser! You've been king long enough. You can't really beat me, you know."

"Really?" A look of mock concern. "Well well…"

"Farblin… I think he's interested in you…" The disbelief in Ariadne's voice was enough to snap Farblin out of her stupor.

"Well, sure, can't blame him. Interesting, me." But her voice belied the nervousness she felt. What did the creature want her for? She had done her utmost to avoid it at every opportunity! She had even wished that… Oh Bog… the wish! The bloody wish had stopped it from killing her and now it was interested in her!

"Minotaur…" Ariadne was saying. "You care about Farblin, don't you?"

Care? 'Farblin'? Don't know, don't understand. Small One is special, cannot harm, cannot hate. Not care… just can't hate. And why?

"Explain something to me…" Jareth leaned against the wall. The ropes were keeping Nyïet from using her chaos flares, but only until she figured out a way to remove them. "You're drawing on the Minotaur's energy, but all the time?"

Nyïet sat on the ground – angry to be in such a lowly position – and put her legs limberly alongside her arms, tried to budge the knot with her feet.

"Oh please, Jareth…" she glared at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm not the idiot you take me for."

Jareth shrugged, in a way that declared 'you said it, not I'.

"If I depended on that thing to sustain me like the breathing of air," she continued, "then every moment that it was in doubt, my energies would wane; every time you found a way to contain it, I would be powerless…" she shook her head mock-dolefully, then sniggered. "You really think you've got me all figured out, don't you? You think you've got the upper hand and you'll soon be back on your throne, promoting your precious regularity and watching inane little goblins run into the walls."

Jareth could not help but grin at that: it was true, they did do that on occasion! Nyïet was making commendable progress with the knots, so he playfully raised a hand and caused them to tighten again, drawing a gasp of horror and then a vicious look from the nymph.

"Anyway, I store the energy I take, if you must know. I keep it where I need it, for when I need it – oh, but don't worry, I'm not going to need a recharge any time soon." She stared at the ropes, spoke without turning to look at him. "It's all a matter of time, Jareth. And when your time is up and mine has come, then not even time will matter anymore."

Jareth frowned. But inside he was pleased; her words meant that she would not be aware of it should they succeed in calming the beast – because only then would the flow of chaos from its being be stilled. But if she was truthful in her statement of fulfillment, then he would need to wear her out, draw from her the pent-up power that was her bargaining tool…

The Minotaur was sitting beyond the door, almost motionless, looking in. Farblin was wringing her hands nervously.

"It won't stop staring at me!" she complained to Ariadne. "What do I do?"

The woman looked thoughtful. "I think you may have replaced me in his affections…"

Farblin's head snapped up. "What do you mean, I have to stay with it?!"

"I'm not sure what it means… let's wait for the King and see what he decides."

"Yeah… right…" Farblin turned her back on the beast. "I wish he'd hurry up."

Jareth laughed as Nyïet fell, picked herself up, and fell again. "Dignity eluding you?" he teased.

Nyïet ignored him and tried again, holding her bound arms up to the goblin spear that she held against the wall with one raised foot. She began slicing at the rope.

"Do you remember your dreams, Nyetunlets? I do."

Before she could respond, and as the ropes broke through, the world mutated around her. She stood on pale yellow pave stones, and she saw that, a few feet ahead of her, shallow water was lapping, small invertabrate creatures clambering about in it. Nyïet took a step back; she did not like getting wet.

When she looked up, she flinched in shock at the sight that confronted her: beside her stood a great column of water (seemingly behind glass), inside of which water creatures, much larger than she, milled about, threatening in their placid bulk. She could draw no chaos from them, they were akin to dull, finned cows.

"Jareth…" The smallest amount of consternation crept into the native sneer of her voice.

"Behind you, Nyetunlets." And so he was, standing quite unfazed. "Welcome to the dream I had a few nights ago – fascinating, isn't it? I know I felt it somewhat oppressive at the time."

Had Nyïet been a cat, her ears would have flattened along her head.

"This isn't real." She sounded less than assured. "We're still in your castle!" A fist-sized sea louse crawled onto her foot and she shrieked, flinging it off and back into the waters with a ploomp. Then she raised a hand and sent explosive energies at the insignificant water-things, causing a noisy steam to arise.

"Oh, now was that really necessary?" Jareth's voice was chastising and she wheeled on him, hands raised.

"This is pathetic, you rube! Illusions? That's the best you can do?" She moved her focus to the imposing mass of water beside her.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Jareth cautioned. "It's likely you'd be fairly deluged."

A hulking form had swum over to stare at her, hovering at face-level, its large, lugubrious eyes blinking at the nymph and its wide mouth opening slightly as if in contemplation. Nyïet stared arrogantly back, terrified deep inside. She thought she felt another louse on her foot and she leapt aside, blasted the ground. A strand of her own hair was entrusted to oblivion.

Jareth chuckled. "A little on edge, are we?"

The nymph scowled and sent an unanticipated sheet of energy at him, knocking him down for the second time. He coughed, then forced himself to snigger.

"Blast me once, shame on you; blast me twice, shame on me."

"And thrice I'll bring you to your knee!"

But this one he dodged, grinning: the longer this went on the better. "Really, my dear, you must learn to stay your temper, it will be the end of you!" He concentrated and she felt her feet leaving the ground. She aimed further barrages, but to no avail: she had been lifted above and over the high waters and was suspended above the leviathans within.

"Put me down!" she demanded.

"But Nyetunlets, it's only an illusion, remember?" He smirked his delight.

"Release me!" she screamed.

"Very well."

Too late she recognized her error. "No! Wai – " She splashed into the water, dropping two metres down and then hastily thrashing upward, treading water on the surface. Blurred shapes were beginning to close in on her in curiosity and she defended herself, sending magic ripping through the waters, causing one dark form to break off just in time for another to come into view.

Bombarding and kicking to keep herself afloat, Nyïet was tiring fast.

Far below, Jareth watched with great interest. This was a real place, and one that he had indeed been inspired by in dreams. It was in the Labyrinth, a few miles behind his castle, deep within a subterranean cavern. He loved the great, serene beasts he had put there; Nyïet, conversely, could derive no peace of mind from them.

Transporting them there, he had hoped that Nyïet would assume it an illusion so that she would not be prompted to try to escape. Now she was, incredibly, calling to him for help.

"Jareth!" She spluttered and ducked under-water, emerging a moment later with a gasp. "Get me out of here!" His giant denizens of the deep were unremitting in their fascination, and the nymph's volleys only made them falter for a moment. They would never harm her, he knew, but the fact that they did not fear the chaos nymph confused and horrified her.

"And then?" he called up to her. "What will you do then?" This brought a furious shriek from above and Jareth laughed cruelly. "Alright, then."

He grew weary of this game, anyway. There were more ways than one to get results. With a wave of his hand, the scene flashed and vanished, and Balaka Nyetunlets lay soaked and panting on the throne room's solid stone floor. The goblins and other folk, Jareth noted, had wisely relocated themselves elsewhere.

Nyïet coughed up water, her head hanging limp as she lifted herself onto her hands, straightened her elbows. Jareth waited in silence for her to regain some poise and speak – which he was certain she would like to do. She stood slowly and pushed the tangled strands of hair from her face and neck; the savage glow that had earlier surrounded her body had evanesced, and she was again the near translucent figure he recalled from her original banishment. Glaring at him, she lifted an arm covered in gooseflesh and a hand that trembled. All that came forth was a wan spark, and then no more. She scowled at her palm.

"Jareth…" she hissed. "I shall have your head for this…" She closed her eyes and brought her chin up.

Moment of truth, he thought. If they haven't succeeded, I may be in too much trouble…

…Small One… Small One… Small One… Small One…

Nyïet's eyes snapped open, her expression plainly aghast. She frowned and tried again.

Nothing. The Minotaur… where was the chaos? The wild anger? The uncontrolled, primal fury? She screamed out her frustration, filling the room with it

Jareth stood and looked happy.

The Minotaur lay down, its throat flat on the ground facing the door, not tearing its gaze for a moment from the object of its fascination.

Farblin tried to avoid it by staring at the floor or picking at her fingernails, but soon she rolled her eyes back and whined in irritation. "What?" She glared at it through Jareth's protective barrier. "What do you want? I'm just a goblin!" She spoke slowly, as if to a creature leagues less intelligent than herself (which is quite something for a creature whose race in general finds peeling potatoes to be ponderous mental exercise). "Gob-lin. I'm no good to you. You mon-ster. Me gob-lin." (Incidentally, goblins do not use semi-colons, for the simple reason that they do not know what semi-colons are. They have an idea, however, that it relates to digestion.)

The Minotaur seemed faintly aware of the attempt at communication, but it did not seem concerned with it. This was, in fact, because the Minotaur was experiencing a level of contemplation – free of anger – which it had not done for longer than it could recall. It had ceased to question the fact that it could not harm or even want to harm the small being – thoughts of violence had left its mind completely. It was dwelling, instead, on what had driven it to break from its bonds as it had, to run as it had, to hate as it had, to – yes – be afraid, as it indeed had. In short, the Minotaur was pondering its existence.

Jareth had put her in a box; an invisible enclosure made of magic that, before, would not have held the nymph for a moment. He could see that her eyes wanted to hurl mountains at him, but in her weakened state she settled for cursing him, his birth and his ancestors – with admirable vigour and conviction.

"Be quiet," he warned her. "I'm trying to decide what to do with you."

"Li' Minotaur hitash nee raegu truvn etgj!" she hissed. "Rovil tribatineel etahnakol rigt!"

"Yes, yes, of course…" Jareth replied with an air of boredom. Could he send her back to the Betweenground? That was most certainly what he wanted to do, but what, then, would keep her from repeating the coup? And what to do with the damnable Minotaur? Calm it was for the duration, but all it would take would be a similar incident… He decided to inspect the situation in the kitchen, now that his concerns regarding the nymph were considerably less pressing.

"Don't go anywhere," he told Nyïet.

"Harkitnara!"

Jareth grinned, sniggering at her indignation, then left the room.

Farblin leapt back at the King's spontaneous arrival.

"Kingship!" She pointed at the near-sleep man-bull. "It hasn't stopped looking at me, she says it loves me or something!"

Jareth chuckled appreciatively. "Dear me, no, Farblin – how would your children look?" He passed the gobliness and spoke to Ariadne. "You received no response yourself, I take it?"

"He was too angry with me for forgiveness, I'm afraid. But for some reason he seems very taken with your goblin – I have no idea why."

Neither had he. But then a strange thought approached him, cleared its throat prudently and aired its opinion. "Surely not," Jareth whispered.

"Your Majesty?"

"Nothing. Farblin – "

The she-goblin heard a tone in his voice that made her worry. "Sire-King?" she said carefully, groveling vocally.

"What did you do with the wish-crystal I gave you?"

"I… I…" Oh Bog… She looked at the ceiling. "I – uh – sort of, kind of wished that it… that the bull monster wouldn't be able to hurt me, your Highnessness." She steeled herself for being kicked across the room. When nothing happened, she unscrewed her eyelids and looked: Jareth was staring at her, his pale face blank, his eyes, as usual, betraying none of what he felt. Then, quite suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed.

"Indeed! And now the beast is so confused it has retreated into its shell!" He seemed to find her plight enormously entertaining.

Ariadne was beginning to look less shocked and was slowly forming the genesis of a smile. "And the nymph, your Highness? Nyïet?"

Jareth noted but did not comment on the fact that Ariadne had used Nyetunlet's familiar name. "I have her secured. I am embarrassed to admit, however, that I know not what to do with her." And so he was embarrassed. But he risked his pride on the chance that she could offer any ideas.

"You could not, I suppose, send her back to the…the…"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I thought about that. She could very well find a way to sap energy anew, and what if it should arise that I am unaware of it? She needs to be kept under lock and key – if only it were so easy."

"Why not?" It was Farblin.

Jareth looked down his nose at her. "I beg your pardon?"

Farblin looked perplexed, then settled it with herself. "Why can't you just… lock her up?"

"And where would you suggest I do so?" Jareth sucked on his teeth – advice from a goblin indeed.

Farblin looked blank.

"That's what I thought," he confirmed. No… he could not lock her away, and yet neither could he set her free – oh certainly not! No masochist was he! Indeed, he could do nothing, but was there the possibility of someone who could? Perhaps…

"Ariadne…" A pause. "Farblin, you too. Keep an eye on the Minotaur, alert me immediately of any change in the situation."

"Your Highness."

"Kingship!"

Jareth left once again, made his way to the tallest tower in the castle and leaned half out of the window. The crystal ball that he caused in-hand was small and lilac in colour; it held onto a misty, berry-hued coating that was like fog over a marsh. He mumbled some words, then flung the crystal away, out into the air. A moment before it should logically have begun to fall vertically, the mists pulsed and the sphere vanished. An oddly pigmented dove flapped about, utterly without any of the aimless stupidity normally seen in its kind. It made a single pass by the window where Jareth stood (close enough for him to view the lavender glow in its eyes), then flew off at a surprising speed, downwards towards the forestland.

"Let's hope," he said to himself, "that this makes life a little less difficult."

Linrin watched the calm waters flow past her, the dawn's gentle sunlight shimmering off it and making her deep leaf-green skin glisten. Her hair, imbued with all the browns of nature, pooled around her, catching up the small things that floated by. Hearing the sound of flapping, she looked up, squinting into the sun as the dove landed on a tree branch that hung over the stream. The bird cocked its head, lilac eyes watching her, and then Jareth's voice came, disembodied and hanging around the silent avis.

"Lindeli Resuntil?"

Linrin frowned and slowly stood, the waters falling like silk from her person. "Yes, your Highness," she replied. "What do you want with this mere dryad?"

There was no vocal response, but the bird blinked its eyes and took flight, hovering above Linrin, then dropping as the crystal into the water. The dryad scooped up the glowing object, still confused as to its purpose, but realizing that it must be of some importance if the king himself was summoning her. Linrin had heard of the chaos that had very recently run rampant in the Labyrinth; she had hidden within a tree when her fear was strongest. She wondered whether that related to why she was of interest (yet this was odd, as she possessed no powers to a tenth of King Jareth's!). Before she could continue this train of thought, Linrin was engulfed in the orb's glow and snatched away.

"Lindeli Resuntil, welcome to my castle."

"Linrin, your Highness," she responded automatically.

"Yes." The crystal had brought the dryad to the tower where Jareth had been waiting. Now she stood expectantly while he pondered his next move. "Linrin," he told her frankly, "I have a chaos nymph imprisoned in my throne room."

The dryad's dark eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "I am of no relation to – "

"Yes, I know," he cut her short. "I was hoping, however, that you could be of aid under the circumstances."

Linrin swept her hair in a nymph bow. "I am a citizen under your orders, Sire."

"Thank you. Please follow me…"

Nyïet pressed her forehead against the barrier, her hands in line with her shoulders. She had ceased grinding her teeth when her jaw had begun to ache. He can't keep me here forever, she thought. And when he frees me, I'll kill him… I'll chew his neck off… I'll scratch out his eyes… I… he can't keep me here forever! She slid down the wall and let out a frustrated groan, lifted her hands to inspect the palms – not a glimmer. Completely impotent.

"I'll kill him," she seethed.

"Unlikely."

She spun around and saw that Jareth had returned, at his side… a dryad. She did not know what he was up to, and it made her furious. She began swearing at him once again, in her native tongue.

"Shut up," he told her. "You are genuinely wasting your breath."

Nyïet thought about this; she had not been aware that the invisible box was air-tight. She shut up.

"What can I do with her?" Linrin asked quietly.

"Chaos nymphs," Jareth explained, "are not a natural occurrence. There are dryads, such as yourself, oreads, naiads, nereids… there is no name for a nymph which resides in chaos."

"We have a few."

"I'm sure. My point being, they are not a normal occurrence; they are a result of untidy magic. And since she did not begin life as such, she will have been born of another cast. My hope is that we can force her to revert thereto."

"And why do you need me?"

"To… set an example." Secretly, Jareth was angry with himself – had he only taken this path of action when he had first encountered trouble with Nyetunlets, instead of sending her to the dimensional wasteland, his current harassment would not exist! But, of course, he had been a good deal younger then, and what glory was there in rehabilitation? But banishment! How proud he had been! She was the villain and he the knight-errant, and the only solution was to send her away as in the classical times. Because who ever heard of a villain who was not absolutely evil?

He sighed mentally. How foolhardy he had been! To be honest with himself, there were those who would regard him as a villain sans morality. Those who lacked understanding, who were unaware of the circumstances. Someone like the boy he had grown out of.

"You will need to enter the box," he told the dryad.

Linrin looked immediately fearful. "She'll tear me to pieces."

"Perhaps." Jareth saw her stricken expression and laughed. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

She looked dubious, but nodded.

"Nyetunlets," Jareth called, and Nyïet's head snapped up. He led Linrin up to the box and required her to put her hands on it. "This is Lindeli Resuntil. Linrin – Balaka Nyetunlets."

The nymph hissed in response; she was feeling awfully tired, her cheekbones more apparent than they had been and her eyes shadowed.

"Be civil," Jareth warned her. "Lindeli is here to help you."

Something sparked within Nyïet and a layer of steel clamped down on her resolve, stubbornly resisting before she knew why.

"Go," Jareth told Linrin, keeping his eye on the subject's behaviour.

The dryad stepped forward and found herself through the barrier, inside with Nyetunlets. She stood still, not afraid with the King nearby, but unsure.

"Now," he said. "What are you, Nyetunlets?"

There was no answer but a malevolent glare.

"You are not a chaos nymph," Jareth persisted. "You are something else… something possessed by a spirit of turmoil, deluded by ill-fate. You are to remember what you are."

"I am Balaka Nyetunlets! Chaos nymph!" She lashed out at Linrin in her fury, but found herself unable to inflict injury; Jareth had erected an additional forcefield, around the dryad's very body.

"You are not," he insisted.

"Be quiet!"

"You never were."

"Confound you, Goblin King! Always chasing me, always the hero! What did you know about ruling a realm? What right had you to decide who was real and who wasn't, what the ruling classes had to be made of? You didn't know a thing and they were right to try conquering you! And I was lucky to be chosen, fortunate to be amongst those freed from the insane stillness! You were never alive and you will die already dead!"

Jareth's face was tight. "Do it, Resuntil."

Linrin hesitated, then reached forwards to grip Nyïet's shoulders (she cringed as she felt the cold, fish-like skin beneath her hands).

"You do recall, Nyetunlets," said Jareth. "I do not know, but you do. Lindeli holds the memories of all dryads – it is possible that they are your memories as well. Listen to them." He folded his arms; he had not felt optimistic, but now he was beginning to.

Nyïet stared at Linrin, aghast, but gave up to the voices that were singing in her head, the lives passing through the dryad and into her, songs of the past and future. Trees… forests and woodland… running streams… She growled and pulled away, but Linrin, at last aware of her role, snatched her back tenaciously.

"You will listen," she commanded intensely.

The voices again. They called and sang, laughed and danced in her mind, tripping over the scattered, pulsing fronds of self and falling about the heavy coating of doubt and fear, and the ice-green desires to rule in chaos that were only substantial in their element. The mists swirled with the thoughts, her mind a jigsaw puzzle.

"Come and be the tree!" One voice beckoned. "And I will catch your leaves in the autumn."

"We've never seen a tree that wept more than Willow," chanted another bewilderingly.

"Why not let it alone?" laughed a third.

But they did not. And the growth that twisted through the caverns, dipped and ripped into the mind-flesh, began to untangle, it roots withering like earthworms writhing on rock. They recoiled and removed, and the wounds gaped open but clean, open for inspection.

A happy laugh from the first voice. "Look! Look! The monster hasn't seen! It's waiting by the poplar tree, for fun, for fun!" The vines jerked and fell, hissing as they slowly ceased to move and lay dead in flat piles.

When Linrin opened her eyes, the other had fallen to the ground in a faint.

Nyïet slept for hours. When she awoke, she had a moment of panic in not knowing who or where she was. But the sensation passed and she relaxed, resting her acorn-hued head against the willow wood. She was home.

It would pay attention to no one. No one but Farblin. Tentatively at first, Jareth had approached the Minotaur, despite Ariadne's assurance that it had not moved in over an hour (had it been so long?). He passed a hand in front of its face and, when no response was forthcoming, stepped back.

"It's incredible."

He had removed the magical barrier and stood outside the castle in the warm pre-noon sun.

"Farblin," he said. "Can you make it listen to you?"

"Uh… dunno Kingship," she replied uncertainly. "I never tried before, just told it stuff… uh… not orders, y'know?"

"Hmm. Minotaur?" Not a twitch. "Get its attention, Farblin."

"Um… okay…" she edged over to the beast. "Bull-thing?" The eyes locked on her in recognition, clear and waiting. "Now sireness?"

"Tell it to… stand up."

She did so. The Minotaur tilted its head at her, grunted.

"Stand, thing!" she persisted, then demonstrated several times. Eventually, as if humouring her, the beast obeyed.

"Yow!" Farblin exclaimed. "I'm in charge!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Jareth cautioned. He watched the standing Minotaur; it made no further movements and still watched Farblin unblinkingly. How he wondered what went through its head! "To the Betweenground," he told Ariadne.

"Isn't that cruel, Sire?" she queried. "Having been there myself, I…"

"You would have it re-imprisoned? The option is available."

"But the Betweenground is well-nigh prison itself!"

"Only this time it won't be. Farblin—"

The gobliness turned just in time to focus on the projectile swooping towards her and catch it. Another crystal. She groaned in foreseen agony.

"Not a word," the Goblin King commanded. Then, "There are two – one you are to give to the Minotaur."

"Two?" Not that she had caught. She looked in her hand; low and behold, it had spawned! She curbed her surprise in irritation.

"Well? Go on, then."

Obeying grudgingly, she held out one of the spheres to the creature, somewhere about the height of its kneecaps. At first she was sure it would be ignored, but then the Minotaur's eyes lit up with interest and it bent to clutch the crystal – only then did Farblin see what Jareth had done. Within the crystal was a projected image of herself (and the opposite within her own). It was some sort of communications aid!

"It shall not be lonely," Jareth told Ariadne. "But for some reason, I don't foresee the opportunity. It appears to have… withdrawn, somehow…"

"It won't last," she replied. "He's just trying to understand what has been happening."

"Really? Well when it does, please let me know."

He gestured for them to move away from the beast and raised a pulsing sphere up out of the sand. "To Sanctuary with you." He tossed it at the ground before the Minotaur, creating a dusty explosion that did not expand to include them. And then it was gone. "Farblin, you are to communicate with it whenever it wishes – lose that crystal and I will send you to converse in person."

Farblin saluted, wide-eyed. "Yes Highkingship!"

Ariadne was sitting on a bench, hands folded in her lap and looking pensive.

"It's all over," he assured her.

"I know. I feel… empty somehow, not having him around anymore."

"It no longer requires you."

"Yes… then I suppose I should go home now."

"Yes." And then he remembered the remains of his scrying mirror, scattered across her bedroom floor. "Far—" No. He reconsidered. Even a goblin deserved a rest after such a trial. He spied another subject within the shadows of the kitchen. "Yintelfrak," he called. There was a sound of annoyance and much grumbling before the goblin came into view. "Accompany Ariadne to her home and tidy the mess when she finds it." He pulled a brief, apologetic face at her.

Yintelfrak knew enough not to question or query even the most obscure of orders, so he bowed and muttered an affirmative,

"To it, then," Jareth said, and soon he was alone.

No more did he hear of the Minotaur – nor of Balaka Nyetunlets, for that matter. Was it possible that she no longer existed, as such? That the reversion to atavis (or whatever) had meant a change in name? He had learned much from the experience, unpleasant as it had been – and his lessons seemed prone to difficulty. The Labyrinth was slowly recovering, walls re-growing in the same manner as the forests (a troop of Firies had been found somewhere beyond the bog and had to be corralled and returned to their habitat). Things were oddly quiet once again—

Jareth chuckled at himself: 'Oddly' indeed! What? Did he want more trouble? No… he didn't… did he? In some perverse way, perhaps? He supposed an amusement was an amusement, however perilous. He admitted to himself the possibility that he welcomed the change in his routine. But now it was over. Everything was over.

For now.

The End