Author's Notes: Thank you everyone, for your kind comments. Although I still find it hard to believe at times, it's rather nice to think someone else is looking forward to reading this story the way I look forward to writing it.

QueenOfHearts3, I thought you might be surprised. And special thanks go to you, because even though you didn't realize it, your comment was responsible for prompting a rewrite of the first paragraph of the last chapter. I think it is much improved from the previous draft (not that anyone will see that) and adds more to the story. Water Spirit, you asked if I was going to go into detail about the other side of the Merandanon. Not exactly... The chapter below does say where it ends, however.

Chapter Eleven: Dead or Alive

At first Jareth thought he was dreaming again, the drowning dream-- only this time, the water that filled his nose and mouth were real. He'd forgotten how deep the river ran here, as if it sought to carve a path to the very heart of the earth. Disoriented and dizzy, Jareth struggled to hold his breath and struck out with a powerful kick. When his head and arms broke the water's surface, he gasped for air and the water tumbled him along until he was able to catch hold of a piece of driftwood. Locking his arms around it and laying his cheek against the rough bark, he let the river carry him where it willed.

When he later woke, he was lying on his side on the sandy bank of the riverbend, just before it emptied out into a small lake. Jareth laughed hoarsely. He knew exactly where he was. Slowly pulling himself out of the water, he paused for breath. The gash in his side no longer bled, but it still burned. It was the only part of him that was warm, and he pressed his hand to it, the bandages long gone. The answering stab of pain helped clear his mind enough for him to get to his feet, half-stumbling his way around the lake until he reached the shelter at the far side. Even after all these years, he could find it with his eyes closed. It was just as he'd left it.

At his touch on the door handle, a small, silvery chime rang out over the clearing. Jareth fell across the threshold and collapsed on the hearth.

"Fire," he managed to whisper.

Bright flames sprung up before him, kindling the wood left in the fireplace. The stone was quickly leeching the remaining heat from his body, but he would be warm soon. Jareth crept closer to the flickering heat and closed his eyes. With the wishspell binding him or not, it no longer mattered. His strength was utterly gone, and without it, his kingdom would soon falter and fail. He'd been wrong about the fire. The cold permeated to the core of him now, penetrating deep into bone and blood until he felt his heart slow to a languorous beat within him. He wondered how long it would take him to die, lying here like this, and once more he cursed himself for a fool. Unbidden, an image swam up from the depths of his foggy memory of a slender, dark-haired girl with starlight on her face. My Sarah... He had reordered time, he had turned the world upside down... all for her. The bitter laugh that choked him was little more than a harsh escaping of air. She was never mine... Only my destruction.

For of course, Jareth had known it would come to this. He'd sworn it would never happen, but his curiosity about the girl was his undoing. Once he'd set eyes on her, his fate was already written.

He knew how this story ended.

He'd seen it years before, a dark vision of the Labyrinth's end days reflected back at him in the pool of the Silverwood forest.

All Sarah could hear was her own breathing that came in short, frightened gasps, and the beat of her heart that matched the thundering of Rumor's hooves as they fled. Whatever was chasing them had fallen a little behind, crashing through the sparse undergrowth and trampling fallen branches underfoot. Rumor had gradually turned away from the river-path, and now they were in an older part of the forest, where the trees were spaced further apart. There were fewer obstacles to dodge here, and she could run even faster. Although she was afraid they would lose themslves entirely, Sarah had little choice. Leaving the river would make them harder to find, and she trusted Rumor's speed to outrun the beast.

In the distance, she thought she could see more light breaking through the dim shadows, a clearing perhaps. If we could just reach it, Sarah thought, I could at least see what's following us. Perhaps Rumor felt the same, for the mare doubled her efforts, aiming for the pale green light that filtered through the trees. She twisted right, then left, and in a final burst of speed, horse and rider broke through to the light. They were in a larger clearing than Sarah had imagined, and in the center was a large pool of water with a surface like a mirror reflecting the window of sapphire sky above. Rumor wheeled quickly to face their pursuer, and Sarah held her breath...

But nothing was there. The forest was strangely quiet and empty, and all around them trees with trunks like Roman columns stood like silent sentinels. Sunlight warmed her back, and they stood there for a few uncertain moments. Then somewhere close by, a bird began to sing, a thin, sweet melody that rang through the clearing like a tiny golden bell. Sarah waited and watched.

Whatever it was, it was gone.

Hoggle stood on the balcony and surveyed the castle yard proudly. The thorn-vine had taken hold almost everywhere else, but since he and Sir Didymus put the goblins to work on it night and day, they'd managed to at least clear the castle walls and keep it cleared. Certainly, the goblins grumbled a great deal, but having been a member of the party that vanquished the goblin army five years earlier, Hoggle was afforded a certain amount of respect. Surprisingly, there were no hard feelings.

"S' nothin'." One goblin magnanimously proclaimed. "Pass t' rhum."

That was the other key to success, an idea dreamed up by Sir Didymus. Each goblin's rhum allowance had been doubled... but only if he'd completed the day's quota of vine-pulling. To be honest, it was Sir Didymus who mostly rallied the troops, as he called it. Between caring for Ludo and overseeing the goblin workforce, the little knight was entirely in his element. And as for Hoggle...

Well... Hoggle had discovered the fine art of delegation.

It was with this in mind that Hoggle now tiptoed to the throne room. No one was about at this time of day. It was hours until the noon meal. Sir Didymus had left early that morning to see to Ludo, and every goblin worth his rhum was out on the castle grounds, weeding. There was no one to see him do what he was about to do. Still, Hoggle was a cautious dwarf, and he looked around carefully before approaching the throne. The low seat with its wide curved back was one no goblin ever dared to touch, but Hoggle had always been curious. Sarah had left him in charge, after all. And if he was in charge, shouldn't he get to sit on the throne... maybe just once?

He stopped short of touching it and listened like a hawk, ready to jump away at the last minute. But no one came, and the only noise was the screeching of goblins outside. Hoggle looked for one last time to his left and right, and then clambered up on a footstool and eased himself down on the throne as warily as if it were made of glass. But no sooner had his rear touched it then Hoggle leapt up, one hand clapped to the back of his breeches, which were now smoking hot.

"By the King's crystal balls!" he yelped, swatting at the flames repeatedly.

He stifled a yell, hopping from one foot to the other and finally sitting in a bucket of water in the corner. His backside sizzled and steamed, and Hoggle sighed with relief and cast a surly look at the throne.

"Never again," he muttered, "I know my place, no need to teach me the same lesson twice..."

Standing up, he twisted around to assess the damage and found that only his pocket had caught fire, the seat of his breeches were merely scorched. And then Hoggle saw what had caused it. Sir Didymus' mirror was still tucked in the shreds of his pocket, still hot to the touch. Hoggle eased it out and juggled it from hand to hand until it cooled, and then looked at its gleaming surface. It had been two days since Sarah had left, and there'd been no word from her after their initial contact. Hoggle and Sir Didymus had both tried to use the mirror, but could receive only fleeting images: Sarah racing across the plains, Sarah wading in a river holding onto her mount's saddle for balance. Whatever magic bestowed upon it was fading, and quickly. But Hoggle was determined to give it one more try.

"Show me Sarah." he commanded, feeling glad there were no goblins to catch him talking to a mirror.

The mirror's surface clouded, but did not show him a clear picture. Instead, he caught a quick glimpse of Sarah, leaning over the still surface of the river as if something about her reflection fascinated her. Then he saw her again, terrified and huddling low on Rumor's back as they ran through an ancient forest. Hoggle's heart nearly stopped, but in the very next scene, she sat on Rumor's back, breathing hard with her hair tumbled about her face. Something in her expression was wary, but no longer frightened. The images faded, and the mirror cooled in Hoggle's hand.

He sighed and tucked it away in a pouch dangling from his belt, where he could keep a better eye on it. He was afraid for the girl, but was she was doing all right. Sarah looked tired, even scared at times. But she'd kept going, and Hoggle knew that if anyone could find the Goblin King and bring him back to the city, Sarah would.

"That's my girl." he said softly, giving the mirror a pat. "Never give up."

Darting a quick glance around the corner, he sneaked out of the throne room and went to change his sodden breeches.

The birdsong broke the spell. Rumor calmed down immediately, paying no more heed to the forest shadows, and began cropping the lush grass by the water's edge. Seeing this, Sarah slid off her back, welcoming the chance to be out of the saddle. Their hasty flight had left its mark. I won't be able to sit for at least a week, thought Sarah dourly. She discreetly massaged her backside and looked around the clearing. It was as beautiful of a place as she'd ever seen, all green and gold and quite unlike the rather grim surrounding woods. Sarah now saw that they were not far from the mouth of the river which curved gently around before emptying into the lake over a low rocky ledge, creating a gentle waterfall that was barely taller than she was. Then at the far side of the lake, she saw something curious-- a thin trail of smoke rising from a stout chimney.

She'd nearly missed spotting the cottage. Half in sunlight, half in shadow, it neatly blended in with the trees. Glancing back at Rumor for reassurance, Sarah started around the edge of the lake, wondering who could live in such an out of the way place. Her footsteps faltered a bit. They might not be friendly. Maybe they didn't want visitors at all, which seemed only logical given their choice of habitation. Anyone who lived in these woods craved solitude, not the company of strangers. Sarah sighed and began walking again. Desirous of company or not, she had to see who was there, and ask them if they'd seen the Goblin King.

As she drew nearer, she understood why the cottage blended in so well with its surroundings. Made of the same weathered silver-gray timbers as the trees themselves, it looked like a natural extension of the woods. Moss covered the stone tiles of the roof, and a flowering vine with starry white blossoms climbed up a shuttered window, mingling with the ivy. Underneath the eave of the roof was a pile of neatly stacked firewood, and just to the side of the cottage was a crooked little tree. With its long, narrow leaves drooping, it looked oddly out of place next to the massive silverwoods. Something about it looked familiar, but Sarah could not think why.

In another minute, she'd forgotten about it entirely, because the door of the cottage stood partway open.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice echoed oddly through the clearing, and she paused just outside the cottage. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer to her call, and none to her timid knock. She gave the door a tentative push, and it creaked fully open. Sarah gasped. A bright fire in the hearth illuminated the dimness of the room, and sprawled before it was a slender figure, the shirt on his back in tatters and a half-healed cut curving up the side of his ribs. Head cushioned on an outflung arm, he lay deathly still, his face like ivory in the firelight.

Sarah had found the Goblin King.

Comments/reviews welcome.