Author's Note: Just as 'blah' refers to thought processes, when Toby's a wolf, 'blah' also implies wolf-speak. Basically, it means clear communication in whatever form the main character of the scene uses. It will be logical enough from the scene itself.

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Spring... the time of new life and new beginnings. Birds returned in spring and snow melted in spring. The trees and plants burst into life and the air spoke of new voyages.

Whatever it was- spring, the air or the new trees- Toby was determined on his new journey. In winter, on a day that he had calculated to be approximately the 25th of December (or Christmas day in his world), he had realized that his life had begun to slide down into a bog so murky that the original was all but unrecognizable. And so he was determined to make a change.

"Hoggle, I really think that I should do this alone," he urged, picking up the pack that had been ready since autumn, "I'll leave Arradine here with you guys and I'll come back just as soon as I know what's happening."

"No, and that's my final word," the dwarf snapped, stubby arms folded as he stubbornly glared up at the mortal, "I promised your sister to keeps an eye on you and that's what I'm a-going to do. So save your breath."

"Hoggle, it's dangerous."

"So's the Labyrinth. And I ran that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think that Jareth would have let you die?"

Hoggle batted the question away with his hand, clearly convinced of that answer- "I ain't none of his concern. Jareth wouldn't 'a cared."

Toby shrugged. It made no sense to him, but he did have one final warning- "If we're caught by the fairies, you know they're going to kill us all, right?"

Hoggle only looked up with a wide grin and tapped his head. "Think, Toby. I used to sprays their hybrids at the Labyrinth gates. They weren't never going to be merciful to me."

Nights were spent in the company of the elves, planning strategies and practicing with his powers. They were still limited and he had no illusions that he would ever have the ease with magic that his bond mate did, but he at least knew how to use it when he needed to. Other nights were spent roaming the forests in animus, spreading warnings to the other wolf packs that he and his kin were not to be touched on their journey.

Which was when the astonishing news had dropped- and all because the new leader of one of the packs had forgotten his place and challenged him.

Toby hadn't wanted to fight; he'd done that before and respect had come with a great many injuries and a lot of rage. But this wolf was a new-comer who did not see the need to respect him and so, when he had politely approached with a question, he found himself in the middle of a rather vicious argument.

They had fought.

The new-comer had lost badly.

Toby was aware that he had cheated. At the last minute he had used the little elfish magic he knew to bring a rock out to trip the other wolf and tear the soft pads on his right foreleg. The poor thing would probably have a limp for life.

'I was told that one amongst you had word of a prisoner in the Faerie Kingdom,' he growled, 'Which is it?'

The beaten wolf pressed himself flat to the ground in a show of obedience and yipped, 'I have brought that news. I roamed the mountains to the north of the lands for many turns of the moon. Strange reports were given of a prisoner in the Palace of Mirrors.'

Toby drew in a sharp breath and stalked closer, teeth bared in a gentle warning. 'Tell me of this Palace. Where is it?'

'It lies ten weeks from the capital of the Fairy Queen. Through the forests where the wild geese fly and up into the mountains that ring the seas. Do you look for someone?'

Toby considered that question. He did, but how much could one trust an animal? He'd always been very careful about telling his contacts only as much as they needed to know; the threat that the Fairy Queen might be just as able to mingle with the animals as the Goblin King ensured that nothing passed his lips without conscious thought. 'I look for the half-goblin who ruled the Goblin Kingdom. Is he there?'

The wolf seemed confused and whimpered slightly, obviously unable to answer that question from lack of the right understanding. Wolves never had any concept of kings and kingdom, though they understood leaders and territories. But the Goblin King would never have been a source of much interest to wolves unless he posed a threat or interacted with them in some way. Had Toby been able to speak with an owl or an eagle, he might have been able to speak of Jareth by name or title. With the wolves, very few knew of the former Goblin King, let alone cared where he was.

'Did you see the prisoner?' he demanded instead, clawing a patch of earth in front of his beaten opponent's quivery nose. The nose quivered again and snuffled slightly.

'Never. But the nobleman I have seen- fair, as all the fairy are, and dark haired. His eyes are brown. He carries a sword and a whip. The weapons had a flower carved on them.'

A flower? The description was of Archer, surely, though there could be other noblemen who were dark-haired warriors with palaces. But why flower? Archer had never... the whip! Archer always carried that whip when traveling! He remembered the Fairy Lord holding it out during that conversation in the silent forests with the graves of goblin royalty, and the worn leather handle that still had its ceremonial carvings outlined with thin silver thread. The tulip!

'This flower was a tulip? With spiked petals. Shaped like an immortal's cup.'

'This tulip was the flower. The immortals use it to brand what is theirs. The nobleman is cruel. The hunting dogs told us of his prisoner. Who are you? You smell different.'

Ah! Toby had been waiting for that question. No self-respecting wolf would ever have taken him to be what he appeared. The idea of the dogs in Archer's palace intrigued him just as much as the news confused him. To satisfy the curiosity of the wolf before him, he changed briefly to his human form before changing back.

'Keep your pack. As you can see, I have no need for one. But I will claim freedom to roam this territory when I will. And none are to harm myself, my child or my friends. Your pack knows who they are; you would do well to follow their advice.'

The usual ceremony of leave-taking done, Toby had trotted off back to the elves' burrow with an empty stomach and a head whirling with thoughts. Of all the people he had not thought to contact, Archer was head of the list! The Fairy Lord was surely the person to go to; who else would know where Jareth was and why? Toby chided himself for thinking of Archer as a fairy first. Considering Archer's intense relationship with Jareth, it more than probably Archer had managed something.

And then thought had shifted: How had the Goblin King ended up with Archer? Why hadn't one or both of them tried to find him, at least to let him know that everything was alright? It was almost going on seven years and Jareth was still missing with no one who knew where. He couldn't help remembering that the scrying had showed his husband in a rather obvious state of undress. That robe hadn't seemed to be covering anything very much and Jareth hadn't seemed to be wearing much under it. And Archer was in love with Jareth, that much he guessed, whether Jareth knew it or not.

He had thought back to the many nights when his dreams had been troubled by the bond and he'd found himself in Escher Room, searching desperately for someone who wouldn't answer his call, and all those other nights when the binding had throbbed and ached as if about to choke him or give him a heart attack. There was only one conclusion to all of it and he had spent the next two days decimating an enormous chunk of wood as a target for his knives.

Gwenél had not taken him back to her bed after that night in the autumn. She had gravely told him once more that she didn't love him and that she hoped he would soon get the blinkers off his accursed eyes and see just how much Jareth did mean to him. He had laughed and agreed to give it a shot, until that night with the wolves.

So here he was, come spring, setting out on a journey with a dwarf, a rock-calling creature, a knightly little dog and his faithful steed, and a six year old part-mortal-fairy-goblin who couldn't stop hopping from one foot to the other and would soon grow tired and want to go back to the only home she had ever known.

Toby really hadn't wanted to take Arradine with him. What if he did find Jareth and Jareth rejected her for his new life? Toby could cope with rejection, but Arradine couldn't. She hadn't heard much about her father, but the little she had heard had been enough to make her want very much to meet him. Besides, no child liked to be told that one of its parents wished it gone. He was determined, along with everything else, to force Jareth to at least talk to her. After all, she was his daughter. And he'd give back that damned Medallion and tell Jareth that he and his incestuous cousin could both go to hell and he himself was going back Aboveground to start a new life for himself.

It was spring, and the journey called.

He only wished that he had never had to make it in the first place. And that he didn't remember the love and concern in a pair of mismatched eyes that haunted him on nights when the moon was full and he couldn't sleep. And he certainly wished that it didn't break something delicate inside him every time he thought of Archer's large, warrior's hands touching what was essentially his.

But at least it was spring and the snow had melted. Perhaps it would at least be a pleasant adventure!