DISCLAIMER: I own some blue nail-polish, one pair of jeans and a battery. If you sue you will only get the said three items; I own nothing else.

NOTES OF AN AUTHORESS: Another installment where I actually begin to bring in some plot! If you look very carefully, with a magnifying glass you will find it. Now review or I'll get the goblins to make up a song about you! And reviewers get a free, a free...chicken.

The Goblin King arrived back in his realm in a swirl of glittery smoke. In one stride he shed his little-boy form taking instead his true aspect, the tall and domineering ruler of the Labyrinth, Lord of Dreams and Master of the Wish. He strode across the courtyard, his white cloak fluttering behind him and his mis-matched eyes searching. It was too quiet. Normally the courtyard would be swarming with goblins, haggling and bartering for today it was Market Day; chaos reigned.

But not today.

A black chicken ran across the stone tiles, it's claws clacking and its neck stretched out as though it really did not want to be there and needed to leave as soon as possible. Jareth watched it curiously, wondering where on earth everyone was. He walked on a few steps and distinctively heard someone usher a child inside and slam a door shut. Wha-?

Ah yes, he remembered. Last week Market Day had got so out-of-hand that several very drunk (and stupid) goblins had made up a song about him. A song entitled: "Why-we-hate-the-stupid-glittery-poof-with-the-crappy-hair-and-tight-pants-and-eye-shadow-that-also-happens-to-be-our-king" It had twenty-three verses. After listening to it, white faced with rage Jareth had ordered the culprits tortured and killed, the culprits families thrown in The Bog of Eternal Stench, the culprits chickens plucked and roasted alive and anyone who had looked at the culprits in the street thrown in an oubliette. He had then banned Market Day forever and if anyone was caught selling anything, buying anything or haggling in any way they were to be beheaded for high treason.

That explains everything he thought as he walked up towards his castle. And it also explained why his subjects were hiding from him; he had been in an utterly foul mood for the entire week and had no less than twelve goblins thrown in the Bog, fifteen thrown out the tower window and countless goblins thrown in an oubliette. He couldn't remember why but he seemed to recall that one of them had made the mistake of sneezing in his presence.

But now he wasn't in a bad mood. Now he was, actually, feeling better than he had done in monthes. So where were his goblins? They were supposed to be here to celebrate with him!

As Jareth irritably kicked the chicken and headed for his castle he began to muse one the reason for his good mood and temporary absence: that Sarah girl, now she was really something. She was bright and funny and utterly unafraid of him. He had watched her for a while before approaching her. She was a dreamer and although other children her age thought her strange she didn't seem to care. She played her imaginary games on her own while concerned parents timidly tried to get her to socialize. But for all her magical worlds and games Jareth could tell she was lonely, that she wanted someone her age to confide in about her fantastical creations. So, for the first time in...ever he had taken the form of a human boy to keep her company.

And he had given her the book. Part of him doubted the wisdom of this act, giving a mere child the access to that kind of power. If she said the words...

But Jareth didn't like self doubt so he ignored the niggly little feeling that he might have done something wrong and swept into his throne room like the King he was.

As soon as he entered the various goblins that were there (a lot less than usual) froze, stopped whatever they were doing and stared. One or two jaws actually dropped. Jareth stopped looked at them in a mixture of confusion and anger. What was so fascinating?

"What?" he snapped as he strode over to his throne and sat down, feeling disconcerted as the goblins gaze followed him. No-one spoke until one young goblin, unable to contain himself let out a snort of laughter. When he realized what he had done his eyes widened in fear and he opened his mouth to speak but it was too late. Jareth said automatically. "Bog." The goblin disappeared.

His subjects immidietly went back to normal, bustling about and drinking. One started to polish Jareth's boots and another took his cloak for him. But the atmosphere was tense and as Jareth raised a hand to his hair he realized why.

He had forgotten to take the bloody hair clips out.

"Sarah, this is Karen. She's a friend from work."

The little girl tore her gaze from her patent leather shoes and gave the blond woman in front a brief nod before returning her eyes to the floor.

Her father looked apologetically at the woman and sighed. "Sarah's a little shy around strangers," he offered by means of explanation; the utter truth. Sarah, while bubbly and talkative around people she knew was silent and sullen around strangers. She was happy with her own company, a quality that was worrying in a girl of seven.

"Hello Sarah," Karen said in a voice that was all too bright and cheerful and just a little bit patronizing, bending down to look at the girl in front of her. "How are you?"

"Fine," was the short, sharp reply. She didn't look up from her shoes.

With a sigh Karen straightened up and exchanged a look with Sarah's father.

"Can I go play?" Sarah enquired, her voice hopeful as she looked pleadingly towards her father.

"Yes, of course," her father resigned and watched as his daughter scurried off into the garden, grabbing a book and one of her teddies on the way out. Karen came up behind him and took his hand.

"She's an odd one isn't she Robert?"

"Yes," was his reply as he turned to face her. "But hopefully she'll snap out of it soon. Sometimes I worry about her, all lost in her fairytale world."

"Don't worry. She'll get friends her own age and soon she'll be playing with Barbies, the same as any girl her age."

"I don't know. Sometimes I think she'll keep on dreaming forever."

"Give me the child. I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my power is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great. You ha-"

"Sarah!" Trilled a high pitched voice from the back door. "Time to come in now sweetheart, your father and I have something to tell you!"

Sarah looked angrily at Karen; ever since she had moved in she had been restricting the amount of time she was allowed to play. She insisted on dragging her to see vapid and boring girls who wore too much pink and never wanted to play her Labyrinth games. They said that goblins were icky and that they should be princesses. Sarah hated them.

She grabbed Lancelot from where she'd left him under the tree, holding him by one well-worn arm. "Coming Karen!" She called as she tucked Labyrinth under one arm and walked slowly towards the door, deliberately dragging her feet.

"Hurry up Sarah!" Karen reprimanded as Sarah finally entered the house, still moving at the pace of an injured snail. "And take those shoes off!" She added when she saw the mud that coated Sarah's footwear. Obidiently Sarah removed the offending shoes and traipsed into the lounge where her father was waiting, a broad smile on his face. Karen went and stood next to him and he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Now Sarah," her father began, looking at Karen with barely-contained excitement. "We have some very exciting news. Karen and I are getting married! The wedding's in a months time; you can be a bridesmaid if you want. Isn't that wonderful?"

Sarah drew in a deep breath and didn't let it out again. She froze, feeling as though her father had stabbed her through the heart, as though her entire being was suddenly turned to ice. Seeing her face her father reached out towards her. "Sarah?"

Time started again and Sarah moved away from him, tears filling her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. "No! You, you, you can't!" She stuttered. "What about Mummy? What about...No!" Sarah turned and fled from the room, bolted up the stairs and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her and sliding the bolt across. She hurled herself onto her bed (that her mother had bought) and sobbed her sorry heart out until her tears drenched the pillow and her throat ached.