Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Anything else is the product of too much caffeine and an overactive imagination combined with too many viewings of The Labyrinth.

Chapter 3

(Wherein Much is Written and Shockingly Little Progress is Made)

Toby muffled a sneeze in the sleeve of his sweatshirt and cautiously glanced over to where the librarian was keeping a suspicious eye on him. Eight-year-olds didn't generally go into this section of the library; she had neatly presumed he meant mischief.

The section of the library Toby was in was not old, nor had it fallen into disuse. Dust motes did not filter down from high windows and the books were not cracked and worn. It was quite a modern facility and the books were, generally speaking, fairly recent editions. Many college students were sitting at tables interspersed between the shelves lined with rows of books that were filled with information about ancient civilizations.

Toby had a small stack of books that went over every aspect of Celtic mythology he could think about sitting beside him. Every little bit of random trivia he'd ever heard from Sarah, his grandmother, and of course the television (the modern child's encyclopaedia), he'd found in books with the aid of a friendly student. She had seemed quite amused at the small boy's earnestness and had bought his story about '…a school project and he wanted to do really well, because, well because' (he had blushed sweetly) 'he really liked his teacher…'

People were so gullible.
The tow-headed boy was scrawling notes down in a bright notebook and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but when he found it he'd know.

The town clock tower tolled out, and with a start, Toby's eyes flew up from the pages of his book to look at the darkening sky through the large windows. For a moment he was disoriented. Where once the rows of town shops had stood outside the library window, there were rolling green hills dotted with clumps of waving green shrubs and quaint stone cottages.

White things moved along a gentle stream and people followed at a leisurely pace. Sheep! And…shepherds? Since when were there shepherds in his small town? Idyllic as it was, but there were still no sheep.
Toby blinked. No, it was still there. He could feel the hard library seat underneath him and the laminate tabletop beneath his fingertips but what he was seeing…well, he didn't know what he was seeing or why. With a frown he brought his hands up to rub his eyes furiously.

When he drew his palms away, his vision was filled with cars rushing past the stores that lined the other side of the road. His blond head cocked in curiosity as he mentally recalled what he had seen. With a pang, he felt an odd longing for the quieter scene and it's peace.

But Toby was just an eight-year-old boy and such whimsical desires and thoughts; such 'girly' feelings did not hold sway over his mind for long and he soon remembered the chiming of the clock and his search for Sarah, the girl who was forgotten by everyone but him.

Half an hour more, then he had to leave before his mom called his friends house and found out he wasn't actually playing there like he had told her. Oh the many problems of being a young, devious boy with a mission.

The Goblin King remained still on the parapet, arms braced against the stones, after he'd sent Sarah to a chamber. His face was flinty as he gazed at the Labyrinth in deep thought.

He hated his hand being forced like this. The whole dilemma reeked of Tiernan's plans of usurping; the situation had his scheming fingerprints all over it.

Blond hair whirled about his face wildly as his agitation grew and his jaw clenched. Drawing himself up, he turned swiftly and strode back into the castle. He was the Goblin King, and capable of dealing with the trickiest of situations. He more or less controlled the Labyrinth and he could fix this mess and come out on top.

Jareth grinned slyly. There was another thing he'd like to come out on top of. Or rather… Ah, but those particular plans, dreams, things that would and could never happen – well, they could wait. He shook his head ruefully and a sardonic grin threatened to pull at the hard corners of his mouth.

Sarah groaned and rolled over, blindly raising herself up and then punching her pillow into a more comfortable shape. She was never getting that drunk again if this was what waking up was like.

Sarah froze in the middle of a punch. She hadn't been drinking last night. She'd been…

Oh, hell.

Her eyes flew open and she closed them wearily. Please be my room please be my room please be my room. She chanted as she opened her eyes once more. She frowned. Wishful thinking only worked with the right words apparently, and those obviously weren't them.

Sarah flopped back onto the narrow bed she found herself in – the throbbing pain in her head convincing her that she wasn't dreaming. Her gaze wandered around the room, lazily taking in the warm stone walls and sparse furnishing.
For a castle, it sure wasn't decorated as lavishly as she'd always imagined. Though, she supposed, not many people made the Goblin Castle their destination with such a nice labyrinth to get through.

She rolled onto her side and gazed at a curtained window. Curiosity got the best of the woman, and with a lurch she stumbled out of the bed.

"Ooh…" she moaned in agony as she shut her eyes tight, promptly sat down, and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes. "What did he do to me?" she murmured to herself.

She half expected an answer, but only silence greeted her ears. Suddenly a rapid pounding noise began: loud and persistent.

Sarah yelped and in a complex move that was more clumsiness and shock than any sort of grace, managed to whirl around only to find herself thumping to the floor. The stone floor. "Ouch…" she muttered and looked towards the door where she assumed the noise was coming from.

Sarah cocked her head curiously as she realized that it sounded less like someone knocking and more like a heavy, heavy, pounding rain. Her dark head swivelled to the tall window covered with tall, ornate shutters; the only extravagant ornamentation in the small room. Pulling herself to her feet she stumbled towards the heavy shutters and fought to pull one open.

She gasped slightly in surprise and stepped out onto the small balcony that jutted out into the air. Rain was falling from the sky in torrents and a misty vapour was curling up from the ground as the water hit it.

The labyrinth was barely discernable behind the wall of steady fall of raindrops and blanketed by fog and mist, but the scene was awe-inspiring nonetheless. As Sarah continued to gaze around her, she belatedly realized that she was now drenched. With a sudden shudder she darted back into the comparative warmth and safety of the room.

Her thin pyjamas had not been made for withstanding downpour such as this and the fabric clung to her tightly. Sarah shivered involuntarily and closed her eyes. She had a headache, was stiff from who knew what, and now she was freezing and wet. And to top it off she had no change of clothes.

When she opened her eyes she saw the Goblin King standing in the open doorway of the room. His face was serious but she noticed that his eyes were narrowed in amusement.

"A bit wet are we?" He arched a brow at her.

Sarah glanced down and a blush suffused her face. "I didn't know it rained here." She muttered belligerently as she attempted to cover herself while an uncomfortable silence fell over the two.

Sarah's glance fell on the narrow bed and with a swift move she pulled off the thick blanket and wrapped herself in its warmth. She stood tall and raised her chin slightly. She was fighting to maintain her composure, her dignity, and fighting the tears that she could feel threatening.

Jareth cleared his throat. "Well," he began awkwardly, acutely aware of her discomfort and embarrassment. "Are you hungry?"

Sarah's stomach roiled and she frowned in consternation. "No." She stated sullenly

"Sarah…" his tone was warning.

"Honestly, I don't think I could stomach any food right now." She quickly protested, "Really. I'm not just saying that to be stubborn." Her voice was soft.

Jareth looked at her in concern as she refused to meet his gaze. She did look ill. Perhaps he should not have put so much 'oomph' into that crystal. He walked closer to the now shivering woman.

Sarah took a shuddering breath as he drew nearer. She did not want to be here. At all. Ever. The enormity of the situation that she found herself in hit her and with the combination of a pervasive chill and pounding headache, she couldn't hold back tears any longer. Hell, she'd been kidnapped! She was allowed to have a hysterical break down. Ah, but not in front of the Goblin King, Sarah! Her mind chided her.

Jareth closed his eyes wearily as he saw her own eyes start to glisten wetly. He did not need an emotional, hysterical woman on his hands right now. He needed the mortal to be collected about this, he needed her help, not her tears. But, he reminded himself firmly, this is your fault. You can't blame her for being…distressed. He sighed. He didn't want to play nice today. There wasn't enough time to deal with a useless crying woman.

"Sarah," he intoned softly, but she avoided his gaze stubbornly and silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Grimacing, he changed his approach. She had a temper; he'd goad her until she forgot her self-pity.

"Such a child." He said with a sneer and was rewarded with her eyes flying to his- a spark of anger burning in them. "Something out of the ordinary happens and you break down like a little baby. I had thought you'd grown up. I see that I was wrong."

Sarah glared at him, a quelling look in her flashing eyes. "Enough, Goblin King." She spat out his title, "I see your point. You can stop baiting me now; I promise not to break down."

He grinned suddenly (on him, it was never an actual friendly expression) and the sneering, disdainful mask fell away. "Good. Then follow me; we have much to discuss." He turned and exited and after wiping away a tear, Sarah hurried after him- her blanket flapping about her bare feet as she rushed to keep up with his rapidly retreating figure.

Toby hid under his covers, his flashlight illuminating his makeshift tent with warm golden light. A large book was propped on his legs as he laboriously muddled his way through the large words. He was only eight after all and the expected vocabulary for eight-year olds was necessarily basic.

Soon Toby's eyes were falling shut as the thin print on the page in front of him blurred and shifted. Every time this had happened so far, he'd managed to start himself awake quickly, but the fifth time it happened he found he couldn't open his eyes again. His chin sagged down and he slumped over, barely remembering to turn the flashlight off. A small pucker between his eyebrows marred his childish face as he drifted off into a suspiciously quick and deep sleep.

The dream started normally enough for a dream; that is to say, sufficiently odd to not evoke suspicion in Toby.

However once the turtles had disappeared into the shockingly yellow brook, Toby had looked up into the disturbingly cheerful scenery to see the cloaked figure of a man just standing there. In his dream.

His black cloak was drawn tightly around him, a large hood obscured his face with cloth and shadow, and he seemed to be an empty spot in the dream. Everywhere else there was a dreamland but where the stranger stood, there was nothing.

"I'd forgotten how cheerful your dreams are." His voice was barely a whisper, and it grated like sandpaper in Toby's mind.

Toby paused and frowned slightly. He thought he knew who this was. "You're the Lord of Dreams, aren't you?"

The stranger shifted closer without moving a step physically. It was unnerving to say the least. "Very astute for such a young child." The curiosity in his sandpaper voice was barely recognizable underneath the slight tone of disdain colouring his words.

Toby scowled. Condescension from anyone sucked, no matter how intimidating they were. "Why are you here?" He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're looking for something, and I can help you."

Toby looked sceptical. "How…" he struggled to find the right word to express his immediate distrust.

"Convenient?" came the gravely voice.

"Yeah…" Toby looked at the Dream Lord narrowly. "Too convenient."

"It never rains but it pours." he intoned wryly and Toby did not understand. "Time to wake up Toby. Perhaps tomorrow night I'll tell you what I know about Sarah."

Toby, of course, woke up irritated with the strange turn his dreams had taken, but excited too. At least something was happening, even if it was probably a trap.

"Haven't you already explained everything to me? Well, mostly everything?" Sarah asked as Jareth gestured for her to sit on a comfortably plush wing-backed chair.

Jareth laughed as he flopped into a matching armchair, swinging his legs over one arm in a relaxed position.

They were in a small sitting room within the private wing of the castle, where Sarah's quarters were and presumably all other guest rooms. Most of the rooms in the wing were decorated sparsely, though this one was surprisingly comfortable with golden yellow and bronze draperies framing two tall windows. There was a sufficiently thick rug woven with the same colour theme displayed over the sandy coloured flagstones, which Sarah gratefully curled cold feet into as she basked in the warmth of a fire.

"But we never went over how you'd pay me back for saving your life." Jareth shot an oblique gaze at her, judging her response.

Sarah's nostrils flared in anger, but she gazed steadily at the ground. Fairness…he knew nothing of it. Softly she spoke, restraining her temper very well. "I could have saved my own life." She muttered defiantly.

"Sarah, if we don't find a way to bring another mortal to the Underground, you'll be used for the Teind no matter how much I argue the High Court."

Sarah felt a twist of guilt in her stomach and her grey green eyes shot to the Goblin King's. She'd have to get someone else back here? Wasn't that…betrayal of her own people or something? Unethical? Immoral?

Jareth watched the girl silently as she obviously struggled with her thoughts. Emotions were flitting across her face and he could read them so easily. He supposed she didn't feel that she was able to let another person be brought back to be killed in her place. Ah, consciences. He'd heard that most mortals had problems with them.

Sprawling easily in his chair, and yet still managing to look frighteningly regal and threatening, he allowed his gaze to wander over Sarah's blanket covered form.

One slim leg was peeking out from underneath the woven coverlet and her head of glossy dark hair sitting above the light coloured material. Her gaze was lowered and he could see her sooty lashes stark against her pale cheeks. She was beautiful. And so different from everyone else in the Underground. She pulsed with a life he craved.

Old feelings of longing sprang up within him as he suddenly realized she was sitting in his castle as if she belonged. Ensconced in his chairs, in a room with him, warming before one of his fires, and entirely comfortable within a magical realm that would send most mortals insane on their first trip, never mind their second.

With a pang he understood that if she left again he'd never get over it. She'd only been here a day or so, most of which she'd spent comatose, and already he couldn't imagine the echoing castle without her.

"Stop staring at me."

Impudently, "Was I?"

She flushed prettily. "I can't do it."

"Can't do what, dear Sarah?" he was doing his best to throw her off balance, she was so…endearing when she wasn't yelling or irate.

She gulped and clear eyes full of anguish flew to meet his. "I can't let someone else die in my place."

Jareth sighed. "Do you intend to die yourself then? Offer yourself for the Teind?"

"No." She frowned a little.

"Someone must die. If not you, then what mortal is there?"

Sarah scowled. "Why can't you just not pay it? Sounds like a stupid tradition anyways. Kill someone every seven years to ensure peace and prosperity. Why can't you just do a rain-dance type thingy instead, or better yet, use magic!"

Jareth stood fluidly, unapproachable and forbidding as he looked at her sternly. "I'm not certain that you understand the concept of this Teind."

"Then explain it to me." Her eyes flashed at him.

"The Teind is to Hell. It is necessary. It has been paid since the beginning and should be ever stop paying it, well, the results would not be pretty."

"If you've been paying forever, how do you know that it even does anything? Have you ever tried fighting it?"

Jareth spun to her. "Do not presume to speak of things that you don't- can't understand."

She stood angrily, facing him bravely. "Then keep explaining it so I can understand. Don't get mad at me for asking questions."

Jareth watched her silently, his face stony.

Sarah quailed. She did remember him being, if cruel, at least a little bit more approachable. "I'm sorry. It's just…I don't understand anything that's happening anymore and why I'm important in this mess."

Jareth flicked his gaze to the wall to avoid looking at her pleading face. He swallowed thickly and prepared to eat crow. "I am sorry that I cannot be more forthcoming." His tone became slightly imperious. "There are some things that you cannot know. Some things you are going to have to accept without questioning. Do you have a problem with that?" His unearthly face was curious and demanding as he questioned her.

Sarah ground her teeth. "Guess it doesn't matter if I do, does it?" She remarked snidely.

Jareth grinned slyly. "Glad to see that you've come to your senses."

Sarah covertly rolled her eyes at his mercurial mood swings. "Fine. Let's play this your way. What are the options if I don't want to be sacrificed, but I don't want anyone else from my world to pay the Teind either?"

"There are none. It is you or someone else; and if it's someone else, that depends entirely on our ability to think of a way to get another mortal to the Underground. Which is why I brought you early. So we can think of a way to get another mortal here."

Sarah's eyes sparked and she spun to gaze into the fire contemplatively. Her blanket slipped down, revealing one slim shoulder to Jareth.

He shut his eyes quickly to avoid the temptation of pouncing on the girl.

"There're honestly no other options?" Her voice pleaded with him to tell her otherwise.

Jareth winced. He had told her only mortals could pay the Teind because well, he'd rather not see his race slowly, slowly decimated over the years as Iron took over the aboveground. Or his world utterly destroyed if it wasn't paid at all. "It must be a mortal, if that's what you mean." He said quietly.

"It was." She continued gazing into the fire.

Jareth looked out the window, gazing into the Labyrinth hidden by the misty rain. An idea struck. "Perhaps you'd care to understand just what it is that so worth saving about this place. And some time to think about what you'll do."

Sarah nodded quickly, and involuntarily shivered before the warmth of the fire. "That's a good idea."

Jareth paused at her shudder. She must have been freezing. All she had on were those thin (delightfully thin, he added mentally) pyjamas and a blanket. And she'd been soaking not half-an-hour ago. "Evening is falling. I'll have a servant draw you a bath and procure some clothing for you." He summoned a crystal with a deft twist of his hand and balancing it on his fingertips, blew on it. It lifted and spun in the light for a moment before popping into thin air.

"There should be a bath waiting for you in your chambers."

Sarah sensed the dismissal and was slightly irked at being so summarily sent away without receiving any further explanations. However, the thought of a hot soak and clean clothes that were not summer pyjamas was much too appealing for her to remain angry at his superior manner for too long.

Once Sarah had left the room, (she'd said she could find her way back to her room easily) Jareth's eyes grew hard. He began pacing quickly in the small chamber. Finally, after several minutes of hard, angry thought, he snapped a crystal into a gloved hand. "Get me the dwarf." He whispered harshly into it.

Amendment: Now the beta-ed version posted!! Done by the lovely, brilliant Ellie101. Who is an amazing writer! I strongly suggest you go read her stuff too if you're searching for good Laby FanFiction. ::nods::

AN: Chapter four is shaping up to be long and convoluted. And very fun to write. grins Meanwhile chapter five looks to be even more fun.

Review s'il vous plait!!! Tell me what you think! I know I brought yet another OC into it, but um…well, it couldn't be helped. shrugs And he has a minimal part. Sort of. Hey! Wait a minute!!! I'm not telling you anything more!!!!

Thanks to all reviewers!! You've made me very happy and you've been very encouraging.