Here it is! Sorry if the writing seems a bit hurried. I'm not feeling well right now.


"I tol' yeh 'e's up to no good," her acerbic companion declared. "Scratch t'at. He ain't good at all. Not a tizzy."

Hoggle, garden shears in hand, snipped at the shrub a little too vindictively, making Sarah edge back surreptitiously, away from the metal's reach, unsure of the handler's current temperament. She was in her friend's little garden patch – helping him prune his plants.

"I-I think it's my fault, Hoggle"

He snorted derisively in response.

Days had passed since the misunderstanding in the library. She didn't have the chance to talk to the Goblin King after that. Rosalie told her that he was busy with his 'kingly duties,' but Sarah had a sinking feeling that he was avoiding her.

The little girl sighed, and stared glumly at the weed in her hand. It was a withered thing; amidst the beautiful flowers, it stood out horribly – a pest stunting the growth of the healthy plants. But it was only trying to survive.

"Nonsense," he grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Yer' just a kid. No one can blame ye' fer' being a tad curious. He should've told ye in the firs' place."

Sarah watched as he dropped the shears in the rusty wheelbarrow where his other tools were placed. Picking up his much beloved spray gun, he wielded it with the expertise of a past master, driving away the tiny, pesky fairies flying their way to take shelter on his precious flowers. She once made the mistake of touching their colorful wings – despite Hoggle's warnings – and ended up with a nasty bite on her finger. Her hand still throbbed whenever she thought of their sharp teeth.

"Ye shouldn't be too' bother'd 'bout it," he continued, humping smugly as yet another fairy got splashed with the mysterious liquid in his spray. "Jareth's nothin' but a fine-dressed dandy who wouldn't know the truth if it hit 'im wit' the force of one of 'em Tunnel Cleaners. Vicious things, they are."

She tilted her head consideringly, taking in his too-tight grip, his averted eyes, and the fine tension between his shoulder blades.

"You don't like Jareth," she surmised.

The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"Gee, was I that obvious?" he muttered sarcastically.

"Why don't you like him?"

"Don' wanna talk 'bout it."

"Friends don't keep secrets from each other. 'Sides, tellin' about it might make you feel better, I think."

Hoggle lowered the spray gun, an unusual lighthearted feeling churning in his chest. Friend. She actually considered him as her friend, he thought disbelievingly. What madness!

Still, his free hand drifted involuntarily to the plastic bracelet hidden under his grimy sleeves.

Maybe he didn't mind it so much.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't like it," she added hastily. "Friends don't make friends uncomfortable. I'll just…stop bothering you and pull these weeds."

Hoggle guiltily noticed her somber expression. He wasn't being much of a friend to her, was he?

But he had the power to change that.

"But friends need trust to be good friends, don' they?"

The little girl shot him a happy, surprised glance. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, oddly pleased that he was the one who had caused it.

"I might've learn'd a thing or two 'bout friendship," he said reluctantly. "From sum'one I thought was me friend once."

"Really? How come you're no longer friends with your friend now?"

Hoggle shot her an exasperated glare.

"Yer' suppos'd to ask me who it was, not how, and then I'll pour out the whol' sob story," he complained. "Ain't that the way it goes in them fairy-tales?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sheepishly, she paused, and asked in a dramatic tone, "Really? Who? It was Jareth, wasn't it?"

"Aye, lass," he agreed succinctly. He suddenly became silent, and Sarah got the feeling that he was lost in his memories.

What were they like? She thought. Did they plant in Hoggle's garden, or play with the teddy bear Lancelot? Did they ever get lost in the labyrinth, and get caught in the oubliettes? How come they never do those things now?

She mourned silently for what might have been such a wonderful friendship.

"But something happened," Sarah prompted. A statement rather than a question.

Hoggle turned his solemn eyes on her.

"Aye, lass. Sum'thin' happen'd." He dug his hands in his pockets and kicked a pebble at his feet angrily. "His Highheadedness started ignorin' me."

"Why?"

"Damned if I know," he gave a small, apologetic shrug. "Ye have te' ask 'im that. Suppos'd he was ashamed o' me, the li'l country bumpkin," Hoggle spat bitterly. "He was the prince. I was a nobody who he prol'y took his damn pity on."

Sarah frowned. That didn't sound like the Goblin King at all. She knew that the fact that Hoggle was a mere peasant would not have bothered him. Jareth was friends with her, wasn't he? And not only was she not of nobility, she was not an Undergrounder as well. Worst, she was human. And the little girl was aware that there were some Fae people who had racial prejudices on her kind.

Something had happened to force him to end his friendship with Hoggle, that much she was sure. But what?

"I think you haven't learned your lesson completely, Hoggle," she said quietly.

He was perplexed. "What lesson?"

"The one you told me earlier. About friendship. Maybe you two didn't trust each other enough. Maybe you'd still be friends if you did."


"Here, little Sarah. Let me get it for you."

"No, I'm a lot thinner. Let me get it for her."

"You won't be able to climb that tree. You'd be blown by the wind! I'll do it."

"No, I'll do it."

"I'll do it."

"If you would just-"

"Let me-"

Sarah watched in confusion as the two boys argued over who would be the one to climb up the tree and get the last apple. Toby, in his valiant, chivalrous manner, told her that no force on earth would stop him from retrieving the prize and lay it at her feet; while Alistair, in a decidedly quieter tone, promised that he would get it first to present it to her.

She wondered if she should tell them that she didn't like apples that much.

The four of them were resting under the shade of a tree in a meadow just beyond the Castle Garden. It was late afternoon – the sun's rays glowing deep orange as it cast its last tendrils for the day on the earth's surface.

Beside her, a girl with hair as bright as the setting sun laughed at the boys' antics.

"You have to give it to both of them," she praised. "They sure are persistent. I think Toby's feeling threatened now that Alistair is here. The rivalry between them is so cute!"

Persistent? Threatened? At What?

Sophia saw her puzzled expression.

"Isn't it obvious? They're crushing on you."

Sarah frowned.

"They shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Won't it hurt?" Sarah winced, as Toby fell from a branch, dragging Alistair with him. Luckily, the branch was low and the soft grass was there to cushion their fall. "Sophia, whatever 'crushing' is, you should make them stop."

Her friend gave her such a look that made her think that she had said something inane – like suggesting that clouds were actually big pieces of cotton candy, for instance.

Quite unexpectedly, Sophia burst into a fit of giggles again.

"What? What'd I say?"

"You-you don't know, do you?" she asked in between snickers. "Is the world coming to an end? Could it be that Silly Sophia knows something that the Great Little Sarah does not? Oh, this is too precious!"

"In my opinion," the smaller girl replied in defense. "Silly Sophia doesn't make any sense to Little Sarah at the moment."

Sophia reached forward and mussed up the other girl's hair, much to her protest.

"I'll tell you when you're older," she said mock-condescendingly, suppressing a chuckle.

Sarah had lost count on how many times adults had told her that particular phrase. And every one of them was as frustrating as the last one. She plopped back on the tree trunk, miffed.

"You know what? I don't want to know."

"Ah, Little Sarah. Whether you like it or not, you will know one day."

After those ominous-sounding words, both girls lapsed into a companionable silence, amusing themselves with the sight of the boys rolling on the grass, now engaged in a wrestling match.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophia observed her friend closely. She hadn't known the beautiful little girl for quite long, but she had noticed that her peculiar eyes tend to change colors to suit her mood. For the past few days, those eyes had been the same perpetual blue that seems to speak of silent griefs and hidden sorrows.

"What's the matter Sarah?" she asked, serious for once. "You look…what was the word you told me? Melancholic."

She heaved a sigh, which further strengthened Sophia's worry that something was bothering her friend.

The redhead remembered her first days here in the Goblin City, after being wished away by her grandfather, the only living relative she had. She had been stubborn, and threw tantrums that had tested even Rosalie's saint-like patience. Sophia had refused to be cajoled out of her misery at being torn away from the world she was familiar with, and told herself that nothing in the Underground could make her happy again.

Until that fateful day in the garden when she had met Sarah.

She still cringed at remembering how she had gotten Sarah into trouble. Sophia had been delighted at the prospect of a new friend, especially a human one, that she overlooked how foolish it was to journey the Labyrinth alone. How thankful she was that her new friend got out unscathed! The redhead couldn't forgive herself if something happened to her.

Needless to say, the princess had been nothing but nice and thoughtful to her, and now, Sophia could return the favor.

"You don't miss much, do you, Silly Sophia?" she asked teasingly. Growing more somber, she continued, "Would you be mad if someone's been keeping secrets from you?"

Jolted out of her musings, it took a while before she could answer.

"I don't expect everyone I meet to blurt out their secrets to me, of course," she replied. "Is that it?"

"That's not what I meant," Sarah corrected herself. "What if a loved one of yours was keeping secrets from you? For your own sake?"

Sophia's mind wandered to a little red-haired girl playing with an elderly man with jovial eyes. She remembered the girl who loved her grandpapa's custard creams so much that she used to sneak into the pantry to snatch a few pieces before dinner. Her grandpapa found out, of course, but he only gave the girl a big hug and made her more treats, laughing at his granddaughter's mischief. They were so happy together, until…

Until a secret broke them apart.

"Everyone has a right to keep secrets, I think," she replied carefully. "But if involved me in some way or another, I believe I need to know, right? So it might not hurt to ask."

Sarah smiled, and the spell of solemnity dissolved into their earlier lighthearted banter.

"Well, well, well. It seems that Silly Sophia isn't so silly as she seems to be."

Sophia grinned back.

"Had the Great Little Sarah sunk so low as to ask Silly Sophia for advice?"

"I'm afraid so." Glancing to where the boys were still roughshoding, she continued, "But Little Sarah has to acknowl'dge that there is verity in Silly Sophia's words."

"Verity? What kind of six-year old uses such a highfalutin' word?"

The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"Kidding aside, thanks for the advice, Sophia."

She would do anything for the princess! But such an outright declaration of devotion might disconcert her friend a bit.

Holding her silence, she only said, "No prob, Sarah. No prob."


Sarah had just opened her bedroom door to get ready for bed when a very familiar silhouette spread its shadowy wings and prepared to take off in flight.

"Oh, Mr. Owl!" she called out, tripping over her own feet as she dashed to the windowsill in a hurry. "Oh, please, please don't leave me!"

Her friend stopped and swiveled its head to where she was. His big, bulbous eyes were luminous in the dark, glowing with a thousand emotions she could not put a name to.

"I will have a (1)hole in my heart if you leave me," she whispered quietly. "Will you have a hole in your heart too if I leave, Mr. Owl?"

He tilted his head, the majestic wings unfurled on his back blending it with the colors of the night. For a fraught moment she thought that he would ignore her plea and leave.

Then he lowered his wings and turned fully to face her.

Sarah let out a breath of relief.

"I've been a very bad girl, Mr. Owl," she confessed softly. "I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped. I know I shouldn't have listened to Mari-flower when she told me to…"

She didn't see how his eyes flash in realization as she shared everything that had happed starting with the conversation with Marigold, the Throne Room, talking to the Goblin King, and the advice of Hoggle and Sophia.

"…It's all my fault," she said sadly. "If I hadn't done that and ask Jareth directly, none of this would've happened. But there's no use 'crying over spilt milk,' is there?"

"I think Jareth's mad at me," she peeked at her immobile friend from under her lashes uncertainly. "Are you mad at me too, Mr. Owl?"

The animal gave a low, mournful hoot as if to say, "No. Why would I be?"

Little Sarah smiled, glad to have told her friend. Already she could feel the unease inside her fade away, making her feel better.

"You're right, Mr. Owl," she said, her resolve strengthening. "I should go talk to him and say sorry. I wish it were that easy, though. I haven't seen him around. Do you think he's avoiding me?"

He head-butted her arm gently, apparently informing her that such an idea was ludicrous.

"You're very wise, Mr. Owl," she told him admiringly. "How had I manage before without you?"

He hooted faintly again, and this time she thought that it was of amused sarcasm.

Sarah raised her hand, and caressed the soft feathers of his left wing.

She was glad that he at least, hadn't lost his trust in her.


He was standing silently, from atop one of the castle's many towers, observing the dawn waltzing in slowly but gracefully across his wide lands. His domain.

Faint, hurried footsteps roused him out of his reverie, and he turned to see who it was.

Hopeful blue eyes gazed up at him beseechingly, and without warning, she flung her arms around his midriff tightly. Quiet, sincere words reached him, but even muted by his velveteen cloak, he heard them clearly.

"I'm sorry."

Both needed no more words, because the silence was enough to assure them that no matter what happens, all would be right again.


I hadn't realized that Mr. Owl had not made an appearance in the past chapters. He would be quite disgruntled if I didn't include him.

(1) The 'hole in my heart' quote is not mine. It actually belongs to my 3 year old sister, Zyra (Pic in profile). She once said to my mother, "Zyra will have hole in her heart if mama's not there to kiss boo-boo away." After much 'aww!' and 'how cute!' my little sister finally got the Dora the Explorer plush toy she wanted. It amuses and scares me how manipulative she could be. Zyra inspired much of Little Sarah's characterization. As far as I know, 'Zyra' is a variant of the name 'Sarah.' Coincidence, huh?

And Monday is her very first day at school. I'm excited. And nervous. Not for her, but for her future classmates and teachers. They haven't seen the likes of 'Hurricane Zyra' yet.