Back within the confines of my kingdom, I swiftly returned to the throne room to see to the babe—no doubt the goblins had already poked, prodded, dragged and leered the child into a crying fit. As pitiful as I find human spawn to be—naked, mewling, helpless and completely devoid of the dignity humanity so often clings to in ragged shreds—despite my inclination to disdain the impotent creature, I find myself drawn to it instead. How strange; perhaps...? But no, now is not the time to contemplate my virility. I must see to the babe.

I sighed heavily; the beasts were mercilessly mischievous and had no concept of how fragile an infant's psyche was. The years of wickedness have distorted their minds; they no longer recall being human. I imagined the boy frantic with misery and beset by a hundred gargoyle faces attempting to make him laugh but only succeeding in making him bawl at an increasingly ear-splitting pitch. I wasn't wrong.

My entrance did little to impede their games, but a few well-placed kicks with my boots cleared a swath of open floor around the screaming child. The sight of familiar human-like features elicited a flurry of urgent yelps from the boy and he clung to my leg—foreign as it was—as though I were his mother in disguise.

A goblin scuttled across the floor, his hands cupped tightly together—cradling something in the cavern between them. He reached the boy's side and flung the contents of his grubby paws at the boy's head. With a loud croak and a disgusting squish, a medium sized mud brown frog landed on the babe's head.

Shocked, the boy paused mid-wail, his blue eyes wide as he slowly reached his pudgy fingers to his hair. The frog immediately hopped out of reach and onto the floor—escaping a dozen sinewy fingers clutching at it by squeezing between a crack under the dais. The creature would ultimately be found and probably stewed, or disemboweled by a curious goblin, but for now it was safe. The little boy burst into a fresh wave of searing cries as the goblins erupted into pandemonium—half were laughing at the boy while the others lamented the loss of the wayward amphibian by beating his neighbor with whatever implement he could find.

The boy was practically climbing my leg, so I picked him up and—stepping over the crush of creatures prying at the gap in the stones—returned to my throne, babe in hand. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and stuffed it into his mouth, no doubt his way of thanking me for rescuing him from the demonic faces and their cruel games. Bored, I allowed my thoughts to drift elsewhere.

Something had to be done about the girl; I rejected the option of allowing her wandering the mists outside the Labyrinth. For one thing, it would be terribly dull to defeat her so easily. For another, the fairies might discover her and take pity on her, demanding that I return her brother out of respect for privacy. (Since the mists had receded, my neighbors have found human intrusion into our lands most unsatisfactory and I have had to limit my amusements at their expense a great deal. Fairies could be such a nuisance.) But on the other hand, the girl must not succeed in her quest (not that I'm worried on that count, but one must take precautions). What to do? I needed someone I could trust to lead her astray, but unobtrusively so. She must trust him, but he would be loyal to me. And I knew just the man for the job—or rather, dwarf.

"Higwit?" For some reason, I knew that wasn't his name, but I didn't care. Names mean so little in the light of eternity; why learn his name when his span in my service would be so short compared to my lifetime? He never seemed to mind anyway.

At once, a short, bulbous fellow appeared as if from nowhere. In fact, he came from a trapdoor, though he knew very well that the front door of the throne room was a more direct route from his home. However, I think he enjoyed the effect his sudden appearance had on the goblins since I caught a distinctly self-important gleam in his eyes as he watched my minions scatter in all directions, falling over and under each other in frantic disarray—ants in a rainstorm.

He mumbled something under his breath, fingering his prized jewel pouch at his waist before grunting, "Er, what can I do fer ya, Jareth, er, yer highness, sir?"

"I have a problem I'd like for you to deal with, Hedgewart, a girl."

The dwarf flushed slightly, "A, er, what? I mean, beggin' yer pardon, highness, sir?"

"Come, come, you heard me quite clearly. You're not deaf, a girl. She's wandering around outside the Labyrinth and I would like for you to let her in."

"L-l-let her in?" He stuttered.

"Yes, let her in—after letting her stew about it, of course," I gave the dwarf a vile grin; he shuddered. "Get her to trust you, make friends with her if you must, but always remember that she is not to get beyond the Endless Tunnel. If she does, take her back to the beginning. You must, ostensibly, be her guide but in truth, you shall be my instrument of foiling her success. Do you understand?"

The little man wrung his grimy hands and swallowed hard. I could see the cogs in his brain whirling, trying to discover what was in it for him—greedy little bugger.

"If you do as I say, I'll give you the prized emerald ring you've been admiring in my collection." His face paled, small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and his eyes darted shiftily to his feet.

"The, er, what?" He mumbled.

"Come, come, Higglesly, I've seen you eyeing it. Don't be ashamed. You can have it if you succeed." His eyes brightened lustily and the color returned to his cheeks. "But if you fail," he turned pale again. "I'll throw you headlong into the Bog of Eternal Stench."

The dwarf turned nearly translucent with fright. I knew he hated, and feared me, but he served me nonetheless because he was a coward and I held the power over what he feared most in the world: the Bog of Eternal Stench.

I can safely, and proudly, say that Bog was not one of my ideas. A particularly nasty goblin with the mind of a two-year-old human boy came up with the bright idea to have a plot of land entirely devoted to the most disgusting smells in the world. He thought it good fun and I humored him because I needed a punishment that the peace-loving fae could not object to. Stench is universally considered both benign and horrific—the perfect damnation that I could assign with impunity. Few enjoy smelling fetid and rank, and dwarves least of all. Thus I threatened the little man before me with the worst possible fate he could imagine. It worked.

"Oh, I'll do it, Jareth, yer highness, sir," he said hastily, springing to attention. "I'll make sure the girl don't get further than the Tunnel, never you mind. I'll be the perfect guide, er, non-guide, sir."

"Very good, Hogsmith you may go. I believe the lady is in need of your 'assistance' now. Here, take this with you. It will give you something to do to keep her from getting suspicious."

He eyed the can I tossed him warily, but accepted it without protest and scurried out of the room to fulfill his obligation. Before he reached the door, I cleared my throat; he paused mid-step, his left foot hovering ominously above the unseen toad at his feet.

"Oh, Haggerdy, don't forget: she's human," my lips curled involuntarily into a sneer; a nearby goblin yelped, scuttling behind a wine cask. "No matter what she says or how honeyed her lips, she's a vile, manipulative whore only interested in using you to get her way. Trust me, I know."

The little dwarf shivered, no doubt frightened at the thought of such a heartless foe. After he left, I chuckled to myself as I summoned a crystal to watch the unfolding drama.


My first sight was of the creature I'd so recently dismissed, the dwarf was shamelessly pissing in my reflecting pool—I'd have to punish him for that later. A few days in an oubliette ought to teach him proper respect for his master's things. The girl arrived, abashed at what she had nearly avoided seeing—an encroaching goblin snickered gleefully at her embarrassment and even I couldn't hold back a smirk. Setting the now quiet child on the floor, I turned my full attention to the girl, not caring whence her brother wandered. I could always find him.

Entranced, I watched her struggle to find an opening in the solid walls of the Labyrinth. On her own, she would never have been able to figure it out, of that I was certain. At the back of my mind, a faint voice whispered, are you so certain? What if she is smarter than you give her credit for? What if she wins? I shook my head, silencing the voice. "No," I whispered. "She will never win. She can't. She's just a girl, a human girl." Refocusing on the orb instead of the niggling doubt, I was interrupted by the serpentine face of my Chief of the Guards, one goblin Oglith by name. Or was it Orgluck? Orogund? Grondhammer? No definitely not that. Grondhammar was the goblin unfortunate enough to try wrestling a troll. The remains had been foul and no amount of magic could erase the thin sheen of slime coating the southwest wall of the goblin town square. Oxspit—that was his name. Sometimes, I hate goblins.

"Yes?" I barked impatiently, annoyed that he had interrupted my meditations.

"Sorry to interrupt your highness," he hissed slowly, "but there's a beast loose in the gardens."

"Yeah, yeah," a slight, squeaky goblin added, jumping up and down excitedly. "One of those rock-calling thingies."

A chorus of "Yeah, yeah, a rock-caller!" erupted from the troop of guards at the Oxspit's heels.

"Well, get rid of it! Why are you standing around here instead of capturing the beast? Hmmm?"

"I though it best to inform you, sire," Oxspit murmured. "And I wanted your permission to, eh, punish the beast, if it suits you."

"Fine, do whatever you want. Only please don't make a mess of my gardens. I'd rather not repeat the episode with the swampkat."

"Thank you, sire," Oxspit bowed low and rising, led his excited band of squabbling goblins out of the throne room. A few others tagged along, probably to watch. Despite the loathing his name aroused, Oxspit was a very useful goblin to have around. Less mischievous than the others, he lent a crass sort of dignity to his fellow goblins that made me almost like him. He, at least, recognized that too much mischief breeds chaos, and that true devilry requires structure and order, lest it become insipid.

But now, back to the girl…after I find the baby. He seems to have disappeared and a few of the stupider goblins are looking hungry.


I hope you are all enjoying the story so far. I apologize for the sporadic nature of the posting, but alas, being in a doctoral program inhibits my ability to indulge in enjoyable writing. I would write more if I had time, so bear with me, write reviews to keep me motivated (and from tearing my eyes out from my schoolwork) and enjoy the ride! Thanks for reading, you guys are the best!

Oh, and remember, I will personally thank all of you who write a review and/or favorite this story when I finally finish. :D