Author's Note: 'mellon nín' means 'my friend' in Tolkenian elvish. As for the elvish names, they will be translated in a later chapter. Enjoy, my sweets!

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"What do I do now?" Toby demanded.

Brethiliaur grinned and held out a wand fashioned from supple wood. It was thin and light, honey-coloured and imperfectly carved. But, like everything else in this strange elvish world, it seemed perfectly magnificent.

"Now," the elf instructed, "Feel the wood."

Toby ran a hand over the wood, feeling more than a little foolish. It was all very well for his new protectors to help him train his magic, but this was just silly. He'd been picking things up and feeling them the whole morning. If he didn't know better, he'd say Brethiliaur was having fun at his expense. Sighing, he gave up and handed it back.

"Look, maybe it would go easier if you told me what I was supposed to do," he tried again, "What's supposed to happen?"

"When it happens," Brethiliaur replied stoically, "You will know."

Damn elves and their damned philosophizing! Toby was fed up and tired. And he had a headache from being out in the sun too long.

Hs tutor for the day seemed to realize that too, because the wand was placed with the others in the woven basket and a hand held out to help him to his feet. "Come. It is time for a rest."

"I'm fine, you know. You guys can stop worrying about breaking me in half."

"Breaking in half? No, we do not worry for that. You are strong."

Toby snorted. He was five foot eight and weighed about the same as these ethereal elves that appeared to be made from thin air. And what was worse, he didn't have the elvish strength to counteract it! The arm that pulled him to his feet could effortlessly chop wood or carry heavy burdens through the mountains. He had seen Brethiliaur wield a broadsword with the same ease that he might expect Archer to display. Strong? Toby was beginning to doubt he was anything but some simpering maiden capable of fainting for all the good he was.

But he held his tongue. The elves were good people and kind to a fault. He didn't want to burden them with his stupidity now. Not while they put aside their lives to help him.

"Hoggle?" Brethiliaur called, "There was no need to do that."

The dwarf looked up from the garden he was tending and got up quickly, gruffly 'hmmph'-ing to himself as he dusted his hands off on his trousers. "Aw, it was nothing. I thought Gwenél would like some flowers, is all. All these weeds- choking the poor flowers they was."

Toby hid a smile as Brethiliaur nodded gravely and bowed. "Thank you, mellon nín. I believe Gwenél will be overjoyed at your kindness."

Hoggle 'hmmph'-ed again and strode off, bandy legs toddling along as fast as they could go. It was obvious that he was not comfortable around their hosts. Gwenél alone could bring him to some semblance of ease and he was fast becoming fiercely loyal to the elf. It was rather funny, in Toby's mind.

"You guys don't really believe in neat gardens, do you?" Toby asked dryly, continuing on with Brethiliaur when the latter began to walk once more.

Green eyes turned to him, calm and wise beyond the age that showed in the fine lines of the long face. "No," Brethiliaur agreed, "We do not. But we admire the beauty of a well-tended garden. Besides, the gift was prettily thought out, was it not?"

"I guess, actually. So where are you taking me?"

"I take you nowhere. You choose to accompany me, mellon nín."

Toby looked startled, turning enquiring blue eyes to his companion only to find wry humour directed in a mischievous glance his way. He grinned ruefully and reached up to retie his hair. As always, it never seemed to stay confined in its ribbon. And currently the black ribbon he affected was dangling almost right off the pony-tail from the morning. "Okay, then, my wise friend- where am I accompanying you to?"

"The bathing pool. It is about time you had a bath, do you not think?"

Toby seriously considered thumping the smug elf on the head. But thought better of it. He really did need a place to stay and insulting one's host was never a good idea when in that situation. So he contented himself with a muttered expletive in the goblin tongue that made his educated listener laugh.

The sweet sound quivered over the glade, moving almost like a living creature through the trees until it brought Maegorod out to find the source. "Surely the lessons were not so bad that laughter is your response?" he asked.

Toby huffed as two pairs of wild-humoured eyes turned to him. It was gentle teasing; he knew that. And he wasn't insulted. But he really wasn't in the best of moods lately. No one had yet been able to find out anything about the situation involving the war. He hadn't even told the three elves that he had the Medallion with him. Their lives would all be forfeit for that heirloom alone. And Jareth... well, Jareth was still lost. Even the presence in his dreams was no longer there. Toby found himself even more worried now than when he had been traveling. He hadn't had the time then to fear. Now he did, and the possibilities were driving him mad. Arradine was absolutely defenseless and for the most part, so was he. If he couldn't feel anything in the stupid wands, what hope did he have?

"Toby? Toby, is something amiss?"

He tore his eyes away from the bush and blinked at Maegorod. The elf was obviously worried about him, slender brows pulled together in a light frown over piercing hazel eyes. Brethiliaur was equally affected, arms crossed as his eyes examined the mortal was head to toe with professional concern. "I'm just tired," he excused.

The two nodded understandingly and pointed him forward. "Beyond there."

He found himself bending his head to walk below a low branch that could have knocked Ludo unconscious and then straightened, only to be struck dumb with awe. The place they were in was far too familiar. Surely it could not be... it was certainly not that very same lake!

"We use this to bathe in. The water is warm enough throughout the year and it is private. The spring at the side of the catacombs supplies us the water for our domesticity generally. Come; undress and swim with us."

Toby took a step back. Undress? With both of them? The reservation in his face must have translated itself to both elves for they stopped and looked at each other before turning back to him.

"Or perhaps it would be wiser to give you some time alone," Maegorod murmured. He picked up his tunic from where he had left it and pulled it back on, settling it with deft hands as Brethiliaur pushed his loosened hair behind his ears. "We will return for you in a few hours to take you back to the house. It is safe here; there is nothing to fear."

"Wait, I didn't... I was only startled. You don't have to go." Toby felt really bad for chasing them away. Clearly they had meant well. But the lake! And that day... "There used to be a lake a short distance from the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. I used to go there. It looked very like this one."

"Did it?" Brethiliaur pricked up his pointed ears and moved closer. "Tell me, Toby, does this lake hold a special memory for you?"

The mortal looked surprised, but shrugged. "It was the scene for a lot of drama. Why?"

"Were these memories good?"

"Some of them were..." Yes, his mind sighed, like the day you told your husband you were pregnant. You were so scared and so lost. And he just told you it was wonderful! And then the time you just sat there the day after the wedding, silent and still, learning to grow comfortable around each other.

"...some of them weren't". Like the time the Voice came to you. You scratched Jareth so badly that evening. The scars were on his shoulder for ages.

Maegorod answered that for him, a small touch to his elbow encouraging him towards the clear water. "Perhaps the lake will act as a focal point to draw your restraints away. The feel of the water and the feel of the memories- you will lose this habit of not taking control. Which in your case seems to be an irrational fear of responsibility."

"Are you telling me I'm scared of being in control?" Toby demanded, baulking just a little as his toes drew closer to the edge of the water. "That's ridiculous!"

"Unfortunately, it is not," Brethiliaur said firmly, "It is perfectly natural for one male in a bond of your kind to give up control to another."

"I am not giving up control!"

The two elves shared a look of exasperation. "Perhaps no one has explained to you the bond yet?"

"I know..."

"About the basic translation, yes. Has your bond mate not also informed you of the boundaries of the relationship you have?"

Toby was getting very confused. In the space of three days, he was finding out that there were more things to learn than he could possibly remember! A new-found respect for the Goblin King's ability to pick any book out of his library pertaining to information he sought had begun to develop. Surely it took years of careful reading to know what every book in that library was? "I don't know what you mean," he snapped evasively.

The elves left him at the edge of the lake as they stripped casually. Toby averted his eyes hurriedly. And then gave a shocked yelp when they began to help him get his own clothes off.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, pulling away and holding his undone shirt closed. Not only was it a shock, but something was telling him that this was wrong on another level. He was married. He was... no, he belonged to another man. He belonged to Jareth. Jareth was safe. Jareth didn't do this to him. He didn't play games unless Toby wanted. He never touched him unless Toby wanted. Toby didn't want this but neither of them stopped hedging around him, circling closer like foxes on a hunt.

Brethiliaur smiled sweetly, eyes watchful as he approached him with a hand out, as if approaching a horse or dog unfamiliar with his scent. "Surely there is no shame in undressing before us? We have already done so, and you cannot swim in those clothes."

"I think I'll wait," Toby gulped. What was going on?

"Toby, you should stop fighting your urges," Maegorod murmured.

Toby spun. How did the redhead get behind him? He hadn't even seen him move!

He didn't see Brethiliaur's eyes narrow in contemplation. But he did hear his words- "Lirimaer, surely you know that there can be no shame in a body like yours?"

Lirimaer? Lovely One? He had no right! Without thought, Toby found a crystal in his hands, glowing with an unnatural brightness that had never coloured any of his other crystals before. He almost threw it at Brethiliaur but stopped with a supreme effort, undecided, turning to Maegorod only to find the latter departed from his position. The flash of black threw his mind into the back of his skull in fright.

"Easy, mellon nín. Calm down. It is all right now. It was only a test. Easy."

He didn't realize that he had dropped to his knees, shaking and shivering in Maegorod's arms. He didn't even realize Maegorod was trying to comfort him, calling his name and stroking his neck. All he could see were the dark eyes that had never really left his mind's eyes, the honeyed words slicing razor-like through his soul until he'd wanted to kill himself. The hand on the back of his neck was only pressing him down, pressing his face down and he just knew those hands would turn hard and merciless.

Brethiliaur seemed to sense that comfort would not help, for he directed his elfish friend to undress the mortal and then both took him into the water. Toby had stopped his fit but was deathly silent, pale beneath the golden tan and shriveled in his skin. The water seemed to lap around them with an added sympathy.

"It will be all right," Brethiliaur sighed, worried. The reaction with the crystals had been much as he had intended. The nature of the bond could only be truly understood by experience. No, what worried him was the hysteria. It had been a test and Toby had collapsed. Brethiliaur had only expected Toby to get a shock and say something about not wanting to cheat.

"Why?" the mortal asked, not even opening his eyes as he asked the question. From his attitude he seemed almost not to care. But from the stiffness in his shoulders, the elves could tell it was quite the opposite.

"To make you refuse us," Maegorod informed him, "Though your reaction was a little strange."

Strange? Of course; because neither of the two knew about his rapist. "You had no right to touch me," he repeated, "Or even try that without my permission. Are we clear?"

"We understand," Brethiliaur smiled. Tentatively he reached out to stroke the golden hair but Toby pulled away, swimming away out to the middle. The two elves exchanged another speaking glance and followed him.

For a while, all three just swam, diving beneath and surfacing, exploring the perimeters of the lake at leisure. Toby didn't join them, of course, and the seething, cold look on his face told them why. It puzzled them, but they hesitated to go to him until he was ready to hear them.

"Okay," he said at last, "Explain. What happened back there?"

Maegorod pushed his hair off his face and bobbed on the surface for a few minutes. Brethiliaur looked to him expressively, making him sigh and shake his head. "We were instructing you on the nature of your relationship with your bond mate."

"And I suppose you couldn't just tell me what you were trying to do?"

Brethiliaur still did not seem inclined to speak. Maegorod shrugged. "Words do not always paint a reliable picture. Sometimes, one must feel it to acknowledge it. Besides, you would not have believed us even though you have felt the dynamics of the bond at work."

"I don't even know what those dynamics are," Toby growled, splashing water in his frustration, "You can't just expect me to pick up on something I can't recognize, you know."

"The nature of the bond," Brethiliaur said unexpectedly, "When combined with a formal binding, becomes in the way of a submissive relationship. It is more prominent with homosexual couples. One male will take control, and the other- for reasons private and varied- will submit. It is the way things are."

"Submit?" Toby almost fell over and drowned himself. He wasn't a submissive. He didn't work like that.

'I belong to you. I exist only for you and you alone'... 'nothing but you'... 'mark me, brand me, use me'... 'just make me scream the things I want to tell you'...

The blinding feeling of utter completion as Jareth had taken him, those words ringing between them as if it were a binding spell of some kind. Arradine kept safe in his body, his husband inside him, love and need and caring surging through him until he thought he would die if only to feel those chains on his wrists bind him to the Goblin King forever.

But he wasn't submissive... was he? Blue eyes fixed on the images in his head, he made slowly for dry land. The elves at his back said nothing. They did not go to him when he walked out and dressed- still wet- and left them on his own path.

They waited until he was out of earshot to feel safe enough to question what had just happened:

"It appears he knows nothing of his life," Maegorod guessed, "The Goblin King has been remiss."

"I do not think Jareth said nothing out of neglect. The mortal does not seem the kind to like this sort of relationship, never mind that he has already pledged himself to it. Likely Jareth said nothing in a deliberate attempt not to alarm him. It is not always so; you know that. For the most part they will be lovers."

Maegorod snorted. "Lovers? Formally bound bond mates are never just lovers, Brethiliaur. They are soul mates- the two bodies with one combined mind, one combined heart and one combined essence. Look to Toby's aura. The silver of the Goblin King still stains it in large amounts, even without the physical presence. The child will have no chance to do more than offer himself."

"He is already far gone, is he not?"

The redheaded elf smiled and nodded, his hazel eyes still worried. "There will be trouble. For he will not give up control, and Jareth will not tolerate anything less than complete surrender. Lord Pelinlas always despaired for that."

"Aye, were he only here," Brethiliaur mourned, "His wisdom is much needed. Be that as it may, I think we should go to Gwenél and tell her of this. And then perhaps a talk with the creatures?"

So decided, the two left, climbing out of the water and dressing, fluidly graceful beneath the hot sun.

Toby was not seen for the rest of the day until nightfall, when he came back for the evening meal in much the same good spirits he always seemed to feel. If he noticed the searching glances directed to him by the three elves, he gave no notice of it. Instead, he seemed to set himself out to please, drawing his friends out to talk without fear and playing cheerfully with his daughter in apology for neglecting her all day.

And that night again he cried himself to sleep.

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It was almost over. It had to be! He couldn't stand another moment of this.

But he looked up and the soldier was still there. The heated metal band on his neck seared again and he looked mutely to his Master, pleading for mercy. But mercy was withheld.

The needles were slender and sharp. But the points they were pushed into were agony and he suffered them as he had been instructed- in silence, with a gag in his mouth and tears on his face. His stomach roiled and he was only thankful that he hadn't eaten for so many days or he would have choked to death on his own vomit.

As it was, he was beginning to lose all sanity.

A song kept going through his mind, the like of which he had never heard before. It sounded so strange, filled with words he couldn't remember or recognize, filled with opulent images that he had been told were not what he truly liked. His Master had told him so.

"Deeper."

The command was soft spoken and the needle was driven just an inch more into his palm. He swallowed down the sob, knowing it would do no good.

Why did his Master do this to him? It had been an accident! He hadn't meant to turn his head when his Master reached to kiss him. Only he had been tired and something had told him that he shouldn't have to endure what could not give him any pleasure in return for that night. So he had tried to request his Master to leave him be, just for one night! After all, he would not do so normally.

The needle drove in further.

The soft voice in his head whispered all the painful ways he could be punished. He cried out again and again in his mind to his Master, begging to be released, pleading to be forgiven. And his Master's soft voice only dealt him a harsher punishment.

"You should learn that I control you."

He waited for his title. He waited to hear himself addressed as 'pet'. It was a favourite term of endearment. When he had asked to be told his name, his Master had just teased that he was 'his pet', no more and no less. And he had been kissed and cosseted as a prized lapdog. But why was his Master not calling him so now?

"Because you are not mine," the answer came grimly, "How could you be? You refuse me. You turn away from me. After all I have done for you, you deny me? Then you are not mine. I cannot love someone who cannot love me in return."

The needle pulled out with excruciating slowness. Bile burned in his throat as he screwed his eyes shut over the avalanche of tears that threatened to cascade down his cheeks.

'Please,' he begged mentally, 'I love you. I love only you. Please!'

"Only me? How truly romantic of you. And where was this romanticism when I came to you to show you love? When I offered you pleasure, you threw it away. How can you prove you love me?"

'Try me now,' he screamed silently, 'Try me now and I will not turn. I swear it. Master...'

The sentences were getting disjointed. The words were running round and around in his head like a broken record, like the wheels of a moving bus. Wait! What was a 'bus'? Where did the word come from?

"Leave us."

The needles left. He could only take the time to cradle his hand to his chest, the sinful hand that had pushed his Master away. He hated his own hand for the pain and he felt it was deserved.

The gag was ripped from his mouth and he had barely time to lick his dry lips before it was filled once more. Yet this time, he actively welcomed it. The needle pain kept its work. But he concentrated on his Master, forgetting everything in proving just how much he loved the other male. For he did, didn't he? Why else would he feel this way? His Master had done so much for him, had given him so much. His Master had told him of the time they had spent together, of the fantasies they had played to each other before the memory loss.

Of course he loved him. And he was meant to live this way, surely? On his knees, with his mouth and body at his Master's disposal?

What else was there for him?