"...'e knows...no, 'e doesn't know. No! He doesn't know 'e knows..." Hoggle scratched his chin, which caused him to trip over his own feet and stumble head-first through the kitchen archway. He never could do two things at once. There had been a noise. There had definitely been a noise, not that he saw anything when he stepped out of the dank closet optimisically called his "office". A thin, scraping sound had crept up to his ears, and thinking to follow it to its source, he had set out for the kitchen.

A few chickens that had been rooting for bugs amongst the filthy straw looked up at his arrival, but then quickly resumed their business. Hoggle sneezed and climbed to his feet. He shook his head sadly, "Who am I kidding? 'E knows everything!" The chickens declined to comment. Hoggle sighed. This was a problem if ever he knew one. And he knew one. Actually, he knew several, the largest of which was a glittery pain-in-the-rear and no mistake.

"Hogstar."

Speak of the devil. Hoggle scratched the general area of his pain but did not turn around. Let 'im call me by me proper name fer once.

"Hoogle." The Goblin King's voice had taken on a sharp edge, like those found on the row of kitchen knives hung tidily to one side.

Hoggle winced, but kept his gaze focused on the more daring of the chickens: a black-and-white hen who was periously close to the hearth and its fire. The daft bird was practically nose-in-the-ashes. Hoggle's stomach rumbled. He did love chicken soup.

A strong hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. "I say Hoggle. It's a dangerous thing to ignore your king, hmm?"

Hoggle shrugged violently, but was still surprised when the hand released him. He turned. "So ye knows my name after all. Imagine that."

Jareth ignored the barb. "I felt some magic just now; from your... office, I believe." He bent down until they were eye to eye. "Were you speaking to someone?"

Hoggle swallowed hard. "No...no...noes. I weren't." He looked at his shoes, at the king's boots, anywhere except Jareth's eyes. "You said it yerself. Nobody ever calls me."

Jareth put a finger on Hoggle's chin, drawing his gaze. "I think you're lying."

Hoggle was sweating now, but tried hard not to show it. "I am not! You can trust ol' Hoggle not to take any calls from any gals at anytime. Nothing doing."

The Goblin King's eyebrows rose into twin peaks above his narrowed eyes. "And which gal, precisely, would you not be taking any calls from, hmm? Sarah, maybe?"

Hoggle backed up a step, nearly tripping over another chicken. "I don't know nothing 'bout it! Ye hears me? Nothing!" Barely an arm's length away, the knives measured his bravery and mocked him in their sheaths.

The king pressed his advantage, coming thisclose to the little dwarf, but stopping shy of a touch. "Do you want to know what I think? I think you've been Above, watching her, hiding in shadows like the unseemly coward you are." As Hoggle cringed away, he continued, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face, "Come, come, Hedgewort. Where's your bravery now?" He moved backward, widening the gap between them. "Oh I'm sorry, was I being overbearing? Pompous maybe?" His words were razor sharp.

Hoggle sat down hard in the straw. "I didn't do it. I don't know how the Vine gots there..." He stopped mid-sentence. Whoops. He glared at Jareth. "Ye don't trust me. I can't do me work under these conditions."

Jareth's smile grew wide and predatory. "You tried to kill me. Or have you forgotten? I think under the circumstances, my trust is the least of your worries." He straighened. "Enough of this." The Goblin King drew himself up to his full, impressive height. "You will go Above and take care of the problem."

"Me?" Hoggle's protest was as squeaky as his new, midwinter boots. The king glared at him, long fingers tap-tap-tapping on one thigh. "I can't -"

"You will."

And just like that, the Goblin King was hovering over him, lovingly caressing a crystal in his fingers. Hoggle saw his life flashing before his eyes and something unpleasant seemed to be happening in his bowels. He farted impressively; the stench of fear made eye-wateringly real.

Jareth's right eye twitched, but he gave no other indication that he noticed anything unpleasant. "You'll take care of this problem," he told his trembling subject, "or I'll promote you again."

Hoggle gulped, scrabbling backward until he hit up hard against the raised stones of the hearth. "But they'll see me..."

The king shook his head and smiled. "Oh don't worry, Hoggle. You'll fit right in." And with a flick of his wrist, the crystal shattered and Hoggle's world faded to black.

"Sarah, come here." Gi gestured furiously at her friend from her perch by the front window. As it was a basement apartment, the window was very high on the wall, but it had a wide ledge that the girls had made into a sort of window-seat, excellent for naps or merely watching the squirrels frolic on the lawn. Of course, you had to climb on an armchair to get up there. It required some upper-body strength.

Sarah had been washing dishes in the adjoining kitchen, a feat made rather more difficult when you tried to do it without bending your neck very much. With a feeling of some relief, she shut off the water, wiped her hands on the backside of her jeans, and walked out to join her friend. "What is it?"

"Some old guy is poking around your car." Gi scooched to one side so that Sarah -who had stepped up onto the chair and was now leaning forward onto the ledge - could see. "He looks like Santa Claus!"

Sarah shaded her eyes and squinted, but the sun and snow were too much for her to see very much at all. She did make out a figure in red moving down in the street, but that was it. Climbing back down -awkward due to her neck - she rooted around for her boots and then her coat. "I'm going out."

"No kidding," said Gi. The blue-haired girl slithered from her seat and followed Sarah. "Wait," she called as her friend opened the door. Sarah spun around. "Take this." Gi thrust a long, hollow poster tube at her. "Just in case."

Sarah started to protest, thought better of it, and mutely accepted the tube. Fat lot of good this will do if it's some car thief. She moved through the door, and Gi slipped out behind her.

The two girls moved slowly across the snowy walkway. The afternoon was a quiet one, and as they drew closer to the street, they could hear the figure muttering as it pulled at the vines encasing Sarah's car.

Sarah listened intently for a moment, stopping Gi just shy of the main sidewalk. Oh no, she thought, it can't be... "Hoggle?"

The figure was halfway through the passenger-side window now, but at the sound of her voice it started, bumping its head. A stream of extremely creative profanity came pouring out of the car as the figure pulled out, revealing itself to be a small but stocky old man with a thick head of snow-white hair that flowed down his back and around the front of his face to form a lush, full beard. He did, most definitely, strongly resemble Santa Claus.

Except of course, thought Sarah wryly, Santa would never swear like that. Or look that grumpy. Her face broke into a broad grin, and -thrusting the tube back at Gi - she ran across the street and threw her arms around the grumbling figure. "Hoggle! I'd know you anywhere!"

The old man looked shocked, or possibly scared, or maybe both. "No, no, no," he began, "I'm not Hoggle. Hoggle is safely Underground where 'e belongs, minding 'is own business." He shook off Sarah's arms and stepped back, nearly losing his footing on the slippery street. "I'm - I'm -" his eyes darted frantically around him, before snapping back to Sarah's face. "I'm Mr. Vine. And I've come about your problem."

Sarah choked on a laugh, tried to cover it with her hand, and started coughing instead. Her eyes began to water. "Mr. Vine?"

Gi came up behind them. "Is everything okay?" She looked suspiciously at Hoggle. "Who is this guy?"

Hoggle was pulling at his beard in a way that suggested he wanted to rip it off of his face. Sarah was still giggling. She linked arms with Gi, face flushed and giddy with delight. "It's Hoggle! You know, from the mirror! He's come to help with my ...problem." A glance at the car seemed to send her into near-hysterics.

"I'm not Hoggle, I tells ya," fumed Hoggle. He was not having a good day. The stupid beard itched and he was too large; it was awkward.

"Oh I'm sorry," gasped Sarah in between fits of laughter, "I meant this is Mr. Vine!" She fell to one knee in the snow, tugging on Gi.

"I don' see what's so funny," said Hoggle peevishly.

Gi helped Sarah to stand again, keeping one eye on the little man as she did so. "Are you sure this is Hoggle?" she asked. "He looks different."

"Gah! Of course I looks different, 'cause I ain't Hoggle! I'm Mr. Vine, okay?" He jerked a fat thumb back at the overgrown car. "And you got a serious problem here. Very serious." He tried to avoid looking at Sarah, who was still alternately laughing and coughing.

"Well if you're not Hoggle, then how do you know about this problem? Where are you from?" asked Gi, ever reasonable.

"I...I..." Sarah was trying to speak, but no words would form. The water on her face was beginning to freeze and it was difficult to breathe. Her neck felt like it might just break right in two.

Hoggle looked from the car to Sarah and his eyes grew wider than wide. "Get her out of here!" he said to Gi, "It's hurting her. Get her away!"

Gi put her arm around Sarah's waist and hauled her away from the car. When they reached the far side of the street, Sarah's coughs grew less and she stopped, planting her feet solidly in the snow and refusing to go any further.

"I'm fine," she insisted, as Gi kept trying to pull her toward the house. She looked back at Hoggle, moving her whole body to avoid twisting her neck. "I don't know what happened..."

Hoggle shuffled over to them. He eyed Sarah curiously. "I don' know what he did to ye, but stay far away from that plant. Up here, you call to it like ale to a goblin." He spat. "Fine mess this is. What does 'e think I'm going to do about it anyway?"

It was a question without an easy answer.