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Chapter Text

Nine-year-old Toby was miserable. It was the first week of summer vacation, and he was stuck in bed with a cough and fever. While all his friends would be playing outside, going camping or down to the beach with family, or having a pool party or BBQ with friends, he was sick in bed. It just wasn’t fair, he thought.

Just then, the door opened a crack, and in came Toby’s mother. She’d been able to get the past few days off work so she could stay home and look after her son, but she’d have to go back to work soon.

“Hey, Toby,” she said softly. “Feeling any better?”

“Hi, Mom. A little,” he answered – but then, he noticed her suit. “Do you have to go back to work?” The disappointment in his voice was clear.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied, “but your Grampa’s coming over to look after you while I’m at work, so he’ll be here in a while. Mummy will be back before Daddy gets home, alright?”

“I told you, I don’t call you guys Mummy and Daddy anymore.” Being sick had made Toby grumpier than he normally was.

“I’m sorry – I just can’t help it when you’re sick.” With that, Toby’s mom bent down beside the bed and kissed his cheek. “Stay in bed at least until Grampa comes, and be a good boy, okay?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Although Toby sometimes got a little annoyed with how his mother would baby him when he wasn’t feeling well, deep down inside, he didn’t really mind it. He knew it was only because she cared about him.

“Great. See you tonight, baby.” With that, she ruffled Toby’s hair, kissed the top of his head as she got up, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Toby sat quietly staring up at the sky out the open window for a few minutes, still feeling a little sulky at not being able to go out and play. However, it was because he was sitting so quietly that he even heard the voice at his window say, “’Allo.”

Startled, Toby looked in the direction of his window – and saw a little worm sitting right outside the window screen.

The worm had a blue back, a pale underside, and wild tufts of grey hair sprouting from his head. He also had grey whiskers on his face that gave him a moustache, and wore both a scrap of red felt around his neck for a scarf and a dried-up leaf on his head for a hat. Toby stared at the worm for a good minute before he recovered enough to ask, “…Did you just say ‘Hello’?”

“No, I said ‘’Allo’ – but that’s close enough,” the worm answered.

Still shocked at seeing a worm talk, Toby asked, “You’re a worm, aren’t you?”

“Yeh, that’s right,” chuckled the worm; he also had a Cockney accent, making everything he said sound a little odd.

“But…but animals can’t talk,” Toby started. “They can only talk in fairy tales.”

“Things in this world are not always what they seem, boy,” replied the worm, “so you can’t take anythin’ for granted.”

“So…what are you doing here?” asked Toby, still trying to comprehend the fact that maybe all animals could actually talk.

“Well,” the worm began, “I just happened to be crawlin’ by your window when I saw you in your bed there and noticed how sick and unhappy you looked. So, I thought I’d pop in and cheer you up with a story – and if you’d be so kind as to let me in, I’ll tell it to you.”

“A story?” Toby asked. “Is it any good?” he added skeptically.

“’Course it’s good,” the worm replied. “Me dad used to tell it to me when I were a little ’un, and his dad before him, and his dad before him, and I used to tell it to me own little ’uns. Today, I’ll tell it to you.”

Toby thought about it for a moment. Mom had told him not to get out of bed, but…he decided he wanted to hear this story. And so he pulled off the sheet he was sitting under, went over to the window, slid up the screen (the house had an unusual feature in that you could slide window screens up and down), and letting the worm crawl into the palm of his hand, Toby picked him up and brought him into the room.

“So does this story have any sports in it?” Toby asked as he set the worm on his night-table and got back into bed. He liked stories with a lot of action or adventure in them – nothing with too much love or romance.

“Are you kiddin’?” the worm chuckled. “Fencin’, fightin’, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…”

“Sounds okay,” said Toby, still feeling dubious. “I’ll try to stay awake.”

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you,” said the worm, a bit sarcastically. “Your vote o’ confidence is overwhelmin’. And now,” he continued, “for the story of ‘The Goblin Princess Bride’…”

And this was the story that the little worm told to Toby…

A long time ago, in the far-off kingdom of Druwyth (in which peacefully lived humans, goblins, and all other creatures, side-by-side), there lived a girl of nineteen whose name was Sarah.

“Hey, just like my sister!” said Toby.

“Beg your pardon?” asked the worm, a little annoyed at being interrupted so early on in the story.

“I have an older sister named Sarah,” Toby explained. “She’s twenty-three and lives with her boyfriend in their apartment. I think they’re gonna get married in a couple years.”

“That’s just the name of the girl in this story,” the worm replied, sounding exasperated. “Me dad always used that name when he told me this story, and his dad did, too, and so on, and so on. Now, will you kindly let me go on?”

“Sorry,” Toby apologized. “Keep going.”

Sarah lived on the farm her family had owned for generations, and her favourite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm-boy who worked for her on the farm. He was a year older than herself, and his name was Jareth – but Sarah never called him that; she only ever referred to him as the “farm-boy”.

“Isn’t that a wonderful beginnin’?” said the worm, interrupting himself.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” replied Toby – although he still wasn’t fully convinced.

Sarah’s life was pretty simple: she would usually ride her horse around the countryside, and when she wasn’t doing that, she would order Jareth around (and nothing gave her quite as much pleasure as doing so). “Farm-boy,” she might say, “polish my horse’s saddle; I want to see my face shining in it by morning”, or “Farm-boy, fetch me that pitcher”, or “Farm-boy, fill these buckets with water for me”. But whatever command Sarah gave Jareth, his response was always the same: “As you wish.”

“As you wish.” That was all he ever said in response to Sarah’s orders. However, it was an incredible day when Sarah realized that whenever Jareth would answer her with “As you wish”, it was his way of saying “I love you”. Perhaps even greater than that was the day that Sarah realized she truly loved him back – or even more amazing, the day that they shared their first kiss…

“Hold it, hold it,” Toby interrupted. “What is this? Are you trying to trick me? Where’s the sports? Is this a kissing story?”

“Just wait, boy,” the worm answered – but Toby asked, “But when does it get good?”

“Keep your shirt on and let me tell the story, now,” the worm responded.

Since Jareth was so poor, he had no money for he and Sarah to marry, and so, finally, he made the decision to go out into the world and try to make his fortune across the sea. Although this was a hard decision for him, since it meant he would be far away from his dear Sarah, it was an even more emotional time for her.

“I don’t believe this,” muttered Toby.

The day finally came when Jareth packed up the few belongings he had and prepared to leave. At the gate, however, Sarah was waiting for him – and as soon as she saw Jareth, she ran to him and embraced him as tight as she possibly could.

“It’s not fair that you have to seek your fortune so far away; I’m worried I’ll never see you again,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Of course, we’ll see each-other again, buttercup,” Jareth reassured her.

“But what if…if something happens to you?”

Jareth pulled away slightly and looked Sarah right in the eye. “Hear me now…I’ll always come for you. Always.”

“…But how can you be so sure?” Sarah’s voice broke as she choked back a sob.

Jareth smiled at her. “Because this is true love, precious,” he answered. “This doesn’t happen every day, you know.”

Sarah smiled bravely; with that, she and Jareth shared one last tender kiss, and then, he picked up his belongings and headed on his way.

Jareth never actually reached his destination, nor did he return. News eventually came that the ship Jareth had been on had been attacked by the infamous rogue goblin pirates – and from that, the rumour spread that he had been killed in the attack.

“Murdered by pirates? That’s pretty good,” said Toby. This time, the worm didn’t even bother to chide Toby for interrupting.

When Sarah heard the news that Jareth was dead, she was so upset that she couldn’t even weep; however, she stayed put on the farm for a long, long time, never speaking to anyone else, stuck in a deep, dark pit of endless depression.

“I’m never going to fall in love again,” she vowed one day, not long after getting the news.

Chapter Text

About five years after these events, nearly every villager, peasant, and commoner in the kingdom of Druwyth (human, goblin, or otherwise) gathered in the castle courtyard one day to hear big news: the announcement of Prince Fridleifus’ engagement to his bride-to-be, and a chance to meet her.

Trumpets sounded as Prince Fridleifus stepped forward from the tower, followed by the vizier, known as Count Arryn, and then by the king and queen. Instantly, a hush fell over the crowd.

“My people,” Prince Fridleifus began loudly from the tower, “As you know, our kingdom of Druwyth will, in a month, be celebrating its 500th anniversary!”

A cheer erupted from the crowd.

“That very same night,” the prince continued, “I shall marry a woman I have chosen for my own: a woman who was once a commoner of Druwyth, like yourselves; but perhaps, you will not find her common now. Would you like to meet her?”

Another loud cheer.

“Then I present her to you!” Fridleifus called. “My bride-to-be…the soon-to-be princess…Sarah!”

The crowd was silent as it turned towards where Prince Fridleifus gestured. Instantly, trumpets sounded again as none other than Sarah, the one who had loved Jareth so dearly and always would, appeared in the archway – clad in fine jewelry and a beaded, pale-pink gown, and wearing a flower crown made of gold on her head.

Sarah felt odd, both in her unusually ornate clothes (having grown up on a farm, she’d never worn anything this fancy in her life) and at having so many people bowing down or bending to their knees in respect as she walked down the long carpet, into the courtyard, and up to a stone’s throw from the balcony where Fridleifus was standing. However, more than Sarah felt out-of-place, she felt empty. Ever since she’d gotten the news of Jareth’s death, a feeling of emptiness had been steadily growing in her; now that feeling consumed her as she gazed apathetically up at the prince. For although the law permitted Prince Fridleifus to take any woman he wished as his bride, princess or peasant, she didn’t love him – in spite of his reassurances day after day that she would grow to love him.

Ever since Sarah had been taken to live at the castle when Fridleifus had chosen her as his bride, she was free to do just about anything she liked – and so, she often spent her days riding her horse about the Druwyth countryside; these days, it was the only thing that brought her any joy. One particular day, however, Sarah was riding alone through one of the many forests in Druwyth when she quickly drew her horse to a stop at the sound of a voice: “’Scuse me, little lady…”

When Sarah looked to her left, she saw three figures standing on the path. One was a tall, furry beast who had horns, a tail, and two tusks protruding from its lower jaw; one was a fox who wore an eyepatch, plumed hat, and colourful shirt and vest and sat on a shaggy dog; but the one who had spoken was a dwarf with large ears and nose, wearing a skull cap over his white hair and clad in simple travellers’ clothes.

“We are but poor, lost circus performers,” the dwarf continued. “Is there a village nearby?”

“Not at all,” Sarah replied. “The nearest village is still several miles from here.”

The dwarf paused as the beast walked up to the horse. “Then there’ll be no-one to hear you scream,” the dwarf answered…and right as Sarah did start to scream, one of the beast's hands closed over the back of her neck in such a way that it knocked her out cold. There was no way anyone would have heard her.

Within a few minutes, the beast – Ludo, as he was called – had carried Sarah down to a ship waiting for the trio, and the dwarf, otherwise known as Hoggle, had stolen the earrings and other small trinkets Sarah had been wearing to add to his personal collection of jewels. Now, he had just one last thing to do before they sailed away with Sarah…

“Sir Hoggle, what is that thou art tearing?” called Sir Didymus (the fox-knight) from the spot on the ship where he’d just tied up Ambrosius, the dog he rode as a horse.

“Part of a soldier’s uniform from Thorearis,” replied Hoggle, ripping the insignia off the uniform and attaching it to Sarah’s horse’s saddle.

“Hrrm?” grunted Ludo from where he’d laid Sarah down.

“Thorearis – the country across the sea,” answered Hoggle. “Y’know…the one Druwyth has had a tense relationship with fer decades?” With that, he sent the horse on its way. As Hoggle boarded the ship, he explained, “Once the horse gets to the castle, they’ll all think soldiers from Thorearis abducted Fridleifus’ bride – and when they find the little lady dead on the Thorearis frontier, all suspicions’ll be confirmed.”

“Kill girl?” Ludo asked.

“Whaddaya think?” Hoggle responded irritably. “I hired you two to help me start a war; it’s a prestigious line o’ work, y’know, with a long an’ glorious tradition.”

“Not right,” grumbled Ludo, shaking his big, shaggy head.

“Am I goin’ nuts,” Hoggle started, “or did you actually think something? I didn’t hire ya to think, beast, I hired you fer yer strength! Got it?!”

“If I may be allowed to speak, though,” piped up Sir Didymus from where he stood, “I must say, I agree with Sir Ludo on that point.”

“Now look who’s talkin’!” cried Hoggle. “Her life don’t mean nothin’ to ya; I’ll kill her myself! And remember, fox, that when we met, you was a penniless drunk who had to steal whatever drink y’ got! And you…” (turning to Ludo), "if y’ want me to send you back to that awful circus you was in before, just keep it up! Y’ hear?!” And with that, Hoggle turned and stomped off to his position on the ship.

When Hoggle had gone, Sir Didymus came up beside where Ludo was steering.

“Sir Hoggle canst fuss,” he said quietly, “and he doth like to take it out on…”

Ludo thought for a moment. “Us!” he mumbled.

Sir Didymus smiled under his whiskers. “He meaneth no harm…” he continued, “but he is very short on…”

Ludo thought again. After a moment, he grinned, “…Charm!” Although the big beast didn’t talk much, rhyming always made him happy whenever Hoggle agitated him.

“Sir Ludo, thou hast such a gift for rhyming,” Sir Didymus grinned back. Hoggle, however, who’d overheard, called down, “Oh, stop it, you two!”

Completely ignoring Hoggle, Sir Didymus went on, “Sir Ludo, are there rocks ahead? If there are, we’ll all be…”

“Dead!”

“No more rhymin’, Ludo – I mean it!”

Sir Didymus thought quickly. “Er, would anybody care for a…”

“…Peanut?”

“AAAAGGGHH!”

By the next morning, Sarah had been conscious for several hours and no-one in Druwyth could have known what Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo had done with her. By this time, they had also sailed into a very different part of the massive lake: the water was thicker and greenish-brown in colour, several large rocks stuck out of the water, and the trees on the nearby islands also looked incredibly sickly. But the most notable thing about this new area of land was the horrible smell that hung in the air and murky water.

“Ugh!” Sarah cried when the smell first hit her nose. “What is that?!” To which Ludo only replied with, “SMELL!”

“I’ve sailed through here before!” Hoggle gasped between breaths. “We’re in the Bog of Eternal Stench!”

“Stench?” inquired Sir Didymus. “Of what speaketh thou?”

“The smell!” Sarah replied. Pausing for a moment, Sir Didymus sniffed the air; he shrugged. “I smell nothing,” he finally answered.

“You’re jokin’,” Hoggle answered, holding his nose – right as Ludo repeated, “SMELL BAD!”

“But I live by my sense of smell,” Sir Didymus answered – and he sniffed again. “Ah…the air is sweet, and fragrant…” But then, as he happened to glance behind the ship, his voice trailed off.

“What’re you so worried about, Didymus?” Hoggle asked him in disgust. “You’ve kept lookin’ astern ever since last night!”

“Sir Hoggle, art thou sure nobody followeth?”

“The whole idea would be absolutely inconceivable!”

“You might think you’ll get away with kidnapping me,” Sarah chimed in from where she sat trying to block out the smell, “but you won’t. Prince Fridleifus will catch you, and have you all hanged.”

“Of all the necks here, little lady,” Hoggle retorted, “If I was you, I’d be most worried about yer own.”

At that, Sarah got up and quickly walked over to the side of the ship; she was just about to climb over and swim away when Hoggle caught her long skirt. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he told her. “If you so much as set foot in the Bog, you’ll smell bad for the rest o’ your life; it’ll never wash off!” And then to Sir Didymus again as Sarah sat back down, “I told ya to stop doin’ that; we can all relax, cuz this whole job’s nearly over!”

“I repeat, art thou sure nobody followeth?” Didymus asked again.

“I told you, the idea is fully, totally, 100% inconceivable!” Hoggle answered – then paused. “…Why?”

“Then what yonder ship is that?” Sir Didymus inquired. Startled, Hoggle joined Sir Didymus at the stern and stared long and hard out at the water behind them; Ludo and Sarah also leaned over the railing where they were. Sure enough, there was some sort of ship out there.

“Probably just some local fisherman out fishin’ this morning…near the Bog of Eternal Stench…” started Hoggle, though even he didn’t sound convinced by what he was saying. The ship was too large and too fancy to be any sort of fisherman’s boat; it was also black and covered with blue, silver, and lilac glitter. But before any more attention could be paid to the mysterious ship, a loud thump came from overboard. “What –!” started Hoggle before he saw what had happened.

What had happened was this: there were several rocks somewhat close together that stuck out of the bog – and Sarah, seeing a chance, had jumped out of the ship, landed feet-first on one of the larger, flatter stones, and was trying to pick her way across the several rocks in the bog that acted as stepping stones. As many as there were, though, they were still fairly far apart, so getting from one stone to another was no easy job.

“Sail after her!” Hoggle yelled – and with that, Ludo and Sir Didymus started turning the ship towards Sarah as much as possible without crashing into the rocks (ordinarily, Ludo would've been able to summon the rocks away, but these rocks were too firmly fixed in the ground). Just then, a loud splash sounded from behind Sarah. Startled, she turned and saw that one rock was no longer there; right then, another rock suddenly collapsed into the bog.

“D’you know what those are?” Hoggle called. “Those are the Tumbling Stones! They always collapse below the water when people start walkin’ on ’em! If you come back to the ship, you’ll be safe from the Bog, but I promise you won’t get no offer like that from the Stones! And if you fall in, you’ll stink forever!”

Nervous but determined, Sarah pushed on – but now, stones would start to wobble even if she so much as put her foot on them. Stones were collapsing behind her, in front of her, and the more stones sank, the closer the ship was able to get to Sarah. Oh, horror – now the very rock Sarah was standing on was starting to wobble, but the nearest stone she could step on was much too far away! She shrieked as she nearly lost her balance on the rock, but she managed to grab an overhead tree-branch as the stone that she’d been standing on finally collapsed as well. However, the branch wasn’t strong enough to support her weight, and was bending perilously close toward the water, threatening to break. “HELP!” she screamed, now only a few inches above the Bog. “HELP!”

Chapter Text

“– But she doesn’t fall into the Bog at this time,” the worm suddenly interrupted himself.

“What?” Toby answered, confused and a bit surprised.

“She doesn’t fall in,” the worm repeated. “I’m explainin’ to you what happens, cuz you looked right nervous.”

Toby noticed that he had unconsciously been clutching his sheets really tightly – but now he relaxed his grip as he tried to play it down. “I wasn’t nervous,” he lied. The worm just eyed him doubtfully. “Well…” Toby admitted, “maybe I was a bit…concerned…but that’s not the same thing.”

“It’s alright,” said the worm. “We can stop now, if you want.”

“No, it's okay,” Toby answered quickly. “You can keep telling it, if you want to.”

With that, the little worm resumed his story.

“D’you know what those are?” Hoggle called. “Those are the Tumbling Stones! –”

“You already said that,” Toby bluntly pointed out.

“Oh, you’re right!” said the worm. “Sorry ’bout that, beggin’ your pardon. Now, let’s see…the rocks were collapsin’, she was frightened, she grabbed a tree-branch, it was breakin’, and then…”

Just before the branch Sarah was hanging from could break, a loud howl came from Ludo, and a large stone from the land rolled down into the bog and fixed itself steadily enough in the water that Sarah could stand on it, much to her relief. The other Tumbling Stones were still too far away for her to even try to reach – and so a moment later, one of Ludo’s large hands reached out, grabbed her by the neck of her dress, and pulled her back into the boat.

“Put her down!” Hoggle ordered, and Ludo obeyed. As Sarah began tearing off a corner of her hem that had gotten into the Bog when she’d been hanging from the branch, Sir Didymus looked astern again; the sparkly ship was still there.

“Sir Hoggle,” he cried, “I do believe yonder ship doth grow closer!”

“He’s no concern of ours right now; sail on!” Hoggle answered. Once Sarah had torn the now stench-ridden piece of her hem off and thrown it overboard, Hoggle set to work binding her wrists together to prevent her from trying anything else. “S’pose you think you’re pretty brave, huh?” Hoggle muttered to Sarah.

She stared back at him rather defiantly. “Only compared to some.”

By noon, the ship had sailed completely out of the Bog of Eternal Stench. Later that afternoon, Sir Didymus called out again, “Yonder ship is now nearly on top of us!” then quietly to himself, “Canst he be using the same wind as our own ship?”

“Whoever he is, he’s too late – see?!” Hoggle pointed straight ahead. “We’ve reached our destination: The Escarpment of Delirium!” Sarah looked where Hoggle was pointing; sure enough, up ahead was a cliff wider and higher than any she’d ever seen.

“Hurry up!” Hoggle commanded Ludo and Sir Didymus. “Move the thing! No…the other thing! Move it!”

In a couple minutes, the ship had sailed down a rather narrow chasm in between the cliffs: safely out of harm’s way. Or so they thought…

Before long, the ship had reached a small portion of land where a long rope hung down from the clifftops – Hoggle and his team had secured it here when they’d last been at the tops of these cliffs in preparation for this endeavour.

“We’re safe here,” Hoggle assured everyone. “Only Ludo is strong enough to climb up this cliffside; this follower will have to sail around ’til he finds a harbour o’ sorts!” With that, he and Sir Didymus started putting a harness on Ludo that had four different loops for Hoggle, Didymus, Ambrosius, and Sarah to fit into. Sir Didymus helped Sarah into the loop she would be carried in, then Ambrosius, and then he and Hoggle got into their own loops.

Sarah stared up at the cliffs. No wonder they were known as The Escarpment of Delirium – they were so insanely high! But before she had much more time to think about that, she felt the ground disappear from under her feet; Ludo had started climbing.

Meanwhile, down below, the mysterious, sparkling ship had sailed right up to the shore and cast its anchor, and out jumped a lone figure. He was clad all in black, from shirt to boots (save for a silver pendant he wore that hung down to his chest), and he wore a black mask over his face and a black scarf over his head that strands of his long blonde hair stuck out from under. Nearly as soon as he’d jumped out from his ship, he grabbed the rope and started climbing after the four.

“This follower of ours hath begun climbing our rope,” Sir Didymus commented nervously, looking down. “And he gains on us quickly!” Then to the dog, “Have no fear, Ambrosius!”

Hoggle followed Sir Didymus’ gaze. “Inconceivable!” he muttered – and to Ludo, “Faster!”

“Ludo go faster,” Ludo protested.

“I don’t believe this,” Hoggle snapped. “I hired you for the strength that the circus made you famous for – and yet, this fella’s gaining on you!”

“Ludo carry people,” Ludo pointed out. “Mask man alone.”

“No excuses!” Hoggle answered. “If you can’t go faster, I’ll need to find myself a new beast!”

“No say that,” Ludo begged. However, the man in black kept gaining on them. Again, Hoggle barked, “Didn’t I make it clear that yer job is at stake?!”

Not much longer, though, and the group had reached the top of The Escarpment of Delirium. The man in black was still climbing the rope. Sir Didymus slipped out of his loop and onto the clifftop, and then he helped Ambrosius, Sarah, and Hoggle up; once Didymus and the latter two had helped Ludo up, Hoggle quickly pulled out a small knife, ran over to the rock where the rope had been tied, and began cutting through the rope. The man kept climbing. In a few seconds, Hoggle had neatly sliced the rope in two, and the sawed-off end had gone tumbling over the cliff edge.

Holding Ambrosius’ bridle, Sir Didymus walked back to the cliff edge and looked down over it – only to see that the man in black was now clinging to the cliffside and staring back up at him. Ludo joined Sir Didymus and saw the man in black. “Mask man strong,” Ludo commented.

Ludo’s comments had caught Hoggle’s attention, and he came over beside Sir Didymus and Ludo and looked down – and instantly yelled, “He didn’t fall?! Inconceivable!”

Sir Didymus looked at Hoggle. “Sir Hoggle,” he began, “thou hast used that word on numerous occasion, yet I doubt that thou knoweth its true meaning.” But before Hoggle could respond, they looked down at the cliffside again. The man in black was now trying to climb.

“This fella’s seen us with the little lady, so he needs to die,” Hoggle finally declared. “Ludo, carry her; you and I will head for the Thorearis frontier. Didymus, wait for this fella; if he falls, catch up, and if he makes it, use yer sword.”

“Very well,” Sir Didymus answered, “but might I be permitted to fight with my left hand?”

“Why?” Hoggle asked. “You know we’re in a hurry!”

“But if I were to use my sword with my right hand,” Sir Didymus responded matter-of-factly, “the fight would most certainly be over too quickly. Using only my left hand will satisfy me.”

“Oh, have it your way!” Hoggle grumbled as he started shuffling off. Before Ludo started following Hoggle, however, he turned to Sir Didymus. “Careful,” he growled. “No trust mask man.”

“I’m waiting!” Hoggle called – and with that, Ludo and Sarah started following Hoggle.

Once they were gone, Sir Didymus practiced a jab or two at the air; when the man failed to appear, Didymus led Ambrosius back to the cliff edge and looked down again. The man in black was still trying to climb.

“Salutations, brother!” Sir Didymus called down. “Slow-goeth?” The man looked up at him.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he answered, “but this isn’t as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t distract me.”

“My most sincere apologies,” Sir Didymus called back.

“Thank you.”

Sir Didymus walked back toward the center of the cliff – and then, with a “Steady, boy”, he mounted Ambrosius, pulled out his small sword, and practiced a few more jabs and charges at the thin air. But still no sign of the man in black.

After a minute, Sir Didymus dismounted Ambrosius again, sheathed his sword, and walking back to the cliffside, called down, “Canst thou climb any faster?”

“If you’re in such a hurry,” the man in black replied, “you could lower a rope or tree-branch or something like that.”

“There is rope up here,” Sir Didymus answered, “but thou may wish not to accept my help; see, I am only waiting for thee to climb up here so I may kill thee!”

“Well, that does put a damper on our relationship, doesn’t it?”

“However, I shall promise thee now: thou shalt reach the top alive before I kill thee.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

“I’d rather not wait; therefore, I shall give thee my word as a fox – as one of the talking beasts of Druwyth!”

“No good; I haven’t had terrific experiences with many of the creatures that live in Druwyth, or any of the neighbouring kingdoms.”

“There is no way thou shalt trust me?”

“Nothing comes to mind…”

“Then…” Sir Didymus thought. “…Then I swear to thee on the soul of my father, Sir Godelot, thou shalt reach the top alive.”

The man in black sighed. “Very well. Throw me the rope.”

“Stay put, Ambrosius!” Sir Didymus instructed his dog. With that, he quickly ran over to the rope, unwrapped several coils that had been wrapped around the rock the rope was tied to, and threw them over the edge of the cliff. As soon as the rope was in the man’s reach, he took hold and climbed the rest of the way to the top. Once the man in black reached the top edge, Sir Didymus helped him over the edge and to his feet.

“Thank you,” the man said as he started drawing his sword.

“Hold on a minute,” Sir Didymus responded. “We shall wait until thou art ready.”

“Again, fox, thank you.” With that, the man in black sat wearily down on a nearby rock to catch his breath, shake some small stones out of his boots, and brush dust from the cliffside out of his long hair.

“I mean not to pry,” Sir Didymus began from where he sat next to Ambrosius, “but…doth thou have six fingers on thy right hand?”

The man in black stared incredulously at Sir Didymus. “Do you always start conversations like this?” he asked – to which Sir Didymus responded in explanation, “My father was murdered by a six-fingered man.”

Catching the drift, the man held up his right hand. Only five fingers.

Neither one spoke for a moment; then Sir Didymus explained further, “My father was a sword-maker, you see; one day, this six-fingered man showed up and requested a special sword, and my father agreed to make it. It took him a long time to make a sword quite similar to this one that he made for me…” Sir Didymus pulled his own sword from its sheath and handed it to the man, who admired the straight, shining blade and the gem-encrusted handle. “Magnificent,” he commented, handing it back to Sir Didymus. “It’s too small for any human, but I’ve never seen its equal.”

Sheathing the sword again, Sir Didymus continued, “When the six-fingered man returned for the sword, he demanded it for a much lower price than he had promised. When my father refused him, the six-fingered man instantly stabbed him in the heart. I loved my father so, that I challenged the man to a duel – but since I was still only a pup, I failed. The six-fingered man left me alive, but he gave me this wound” (pointing to the eye-patch over his left eye).

“Once I was old enough,” Sir Didymus continued, “I took up fencing so that the next time I meet the six-fingered man, I shall not fail – but I shall go to the six-fingered man and say, ‘Greetings. I am Sir Didymus. Thou hast killed my father; now, prepare to die.’”

“So, you’ve studied swordplay all your life?” the man in black asked.

“More pursue than study, recently,” Sir Didymus answered. “It has been nearly fifteen years, and I have never found the man. Now, I only work for the dwarf, Sir Hoggle, to earn some money.”

“Well, I certainly hope you find this man someday,” the man answered, rising to his feet.

“Thou art ready, then?” Sir Didymus inquired.

“Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair,” the man in black answered.

“You seem like an honourable man,” Sir Didymus commented. “I hate to kill thee.”

“You seem like a noble fox,” the man replied, drawing his sword (and also appearing, Sir Didymus noted, to be left-handed). “I hate to die.”

Sir Didymus remounted Ambrosius, sword in his left paw, and answered with only two words: “Begin, then.”

Chapter Text

And begin, they did.

A couple of sword clashes, and Sir Didymus swung his sword at the man. A circle, a few more sword clashes, and the man swung his own sword at Sir Didymus. From there, the two began more in earnest – Sir Didymus charging at the man on Ambrosius, then retreating a bit as the man charged, and repeat. As the man retreated somewhat, he made for the rocks nearby and began to climb them.

“Thou doth use Bonetti’s Defense against me?” Sir Didymus inquired as Ambrosius clambered up onto the rocks.

“I thought it was fitting, since the terrain is so rocky.” The two circled.

“Thou expecteth me to attack with Capo Ferro, then?”

“Of course. But I find that Thibault tends to cancel out Capo Ferro, don’t you?” And with that, the man in black made a low swing with his sword that caused Ambrosius to rear – sending Sir Didymus flying. He got back up again, unhurt, right as Ambrosius ran for a large rock nearby and hid behind it.

“Ambrosius, you coward, come here at once!” Sir Didymus commanded. The dog hid further behind the rock. “Ambrosius! I order thee to – oh, never mind!” Sir Didymus let out a huff and continued battling the man on foot. In response to what the man had said, Sir Didymus answered, “Thibault does tend to cancel out Capo Ferro – unless thy enemy hath studied Agrippa like I have!” And Sir Didymus did indeed perform “Agrippa” excellently.

More sword clashes, more charges, more retreats. “Sir, thou art incredible!” Sir Didymus commented amidst the swordplay.

“Thank you,” the man responded. “I’ve worked hard to become so.”

“I shall admit, thou art better than I am. Now, Ambrosius, come here this instant!” The dog refused.

“If I’m better than you, then why are you smiling, fox?” the man asked, a bit suspiciously.

“Because I know something that thou knoweth not…” More sword clashes.

“And that is…?”

“I am not left-handed – ha-ha!” And with a triumphant laugh, Sir Didymus switched hands with his sword and instantly began forcing the man backwards – backwards up a flight of ruined stairs, towards the ruins of a tower.

“You really are amazing,” the man in black commented.

“I ought to be, after nearly fifteen years,” Sir Didymus answered – then, “Ambrosius, you’re embarrassing me!”

By this point, he had cornered the man in black in part of the tower and had him pinned against the edge. A couple rocks from the ledge tumbled down to the ground far below from the man being pushed so hard against them.

“Had enough, have you?” Sir Didymus asked triumphantly. “Then put down your weapon, and I’ll see that you are well treated.” There was a tiny hint of gloat in his voice as he added that part.

“There’s something I ought to tell you, too,” the man in black said suddenly. “…I’m not left-handed, either.” And with that, he shoved Sir Didymus far back enough that he could quickly switch hands with his sword – and in just a couple quick swings, he had knocked Sir Didymus’ sword clean out of his paw.

Startled and disarmed, Sir Didymus retreated a few steps down the flight of ruined stairs. Nearby was a ruined doorway that had a horizontal pole built into it for some reason – and seeing that his sword had fallen somewhere near it, Sir Didymus quickly jumped down, grabbed the pole and swung from it before landing on his feet, and picked up his sword.

Once Sir Didymus had retrieved his sword, the man in black threw his own sword down into a patch of grass – and then jumped for the pole, did two full swings around it, landed on his feet, and nonchalantly grabbed his sword from the grass patch.

Sir Didymus stared. “Who art thou?” he asked.

“No-one of consequence,” the man answered.

“But I must know.”

“Get used to disappointment, fox.” And with that, the two resumed their swordplay – by this point, it was so intense that Sir Didymus had started yapping his head off and was completely forgetting to call Ambrosius out of hiding. Through some swift moves, the man in black got Didymus to start retreating again – and again, knocked the sword out of the fox’s hand and straight up into the air. However, Sir Didymus was more prepared this time, and caught his sword as it fell back to earth before he resumed fighting, barking madly. A few more clashes, charges, retreats, and waves of both swords – and the man in black suddenly made a swing so close to Sir Didymus that the fox froze; instantly, the man knocked the sword out of Sir Didymus’ paw with ease and held him at sword-point.

“Kill me quickly, sir,” Sir Didymus said simply, dropping to his knees.

“I would sooner throw a rock at a stained-glass window than destroy an artist such as yourself.”

Seeing that the man in black wouldn’t kill him, Sir Didymus tried again. “Before this day, though,” he began, “never have I met my match in battle; yet thou, sir, hast fought me to a standstill. Now I, Sir Didymus, yield to thee. Come, then – if thou shalt not kill me, then let us be brothers henceforth, and fight for the right as one!”

“I have no interest in such things,” the man in black answered. “But I can’t have you following me, either, so…” And with that, the man clocked Sir Didymus in the back of the head with his sword-hilt, knocking the fox unconscious.

“Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect,” the man said to Didymus’ limp figure. And with that, he sheathed his sword and ran off after the rest of the group. Only once he was gone did Ambrosius finally come out of hiding and stand beside his master until Sir Didymus awoke later on.

In a while, the man in black had come to a different part of terrain, much further along in pursuit of the dwarf’s party. However, little did he know that he’d been seen…

“Inconceivable!” Hoggle exclaimed as he saw the man – then to Ludo, “Give her to me!” With that, Ludo set Sarah down; as Hoggle took her, he instructed Ludo, “Catch up with us!”

“Huh?” Ludo growled.

“Just finish this fellow off – however you want!” Hoggle answered. With that, he turned to leave with Sarah.

“Ludo’s way,” Ludo grinned to himself. “Thanks, Hoggle…what Ludo’s way?”

“The man in black will be along in a minute or so,” answered Hoggle. “When he gets close, summon up one o’ the rocks nearby and HURL IT AT HIM!” On that note, he turned and ran with Sarah.

Ludo paused and thought. “Not Ludo’s way,” he concluded.

In a minute or so, the man in black had nearly reached the spot where Ludo waited for him in hiding – and he slowed his pace to a wary walk, looking all around him. No-one was in sight.

He went on slowly walking forward, when he suddenly heard a loud howl – and whirling around, he saw a large rock (still too small to be a boulder) come flying in his direction and hit one of the larger rock mounds behind him. He drew his sword, and a moment later, Ludo stepped out from behind a large rock pillar.

“You can summon rocks?” the man questioned.

“Sure,” Ludo answered. “Rocks friends.”

“I believe you, considering what I just saw.” Pause. “So, what happens now?”

“Ludo fight mask man,” Ludo replied. “No tricks. No weapons. Fight with skill.”

“Sportsmanship?” the man asked. “So, I’ll put down my sword, and you won’t summon any rocks at me, and we’ll try and kill each-other like civilized creatures?”

Ludo picked up another stone to summon at the man. “Or, Ludo kill now.”

“I think the odds would be more in your favour at hand-fighting,” the man in black answered, putting his sword down.

“Ludo big,” Ludo agreed matter-of-factly, putting down his rock.

And with that, the fight began. The man in black charged at Ludo and hit him full in the torso – but Ludo was so big that he wasn’t even affected. The man retreated and ran full-steam into Ludo again, and getting his arms around the beast, tried to move him. To no avail; Ludo was far too big and strong.

“Are you fiddling around with me or what?” the man in black asked, stepping back.

“Ludo let mask man do well,” Ludo replied. “No die embarrassed.” With that, he started towards his opponent – but the man crouched and slipped through Ludo’s legs. Ludo looked through his legs to see what had happened, and then straightened.

“Mask man quick,” Ludo commented as he turned around.

“I have to be.”

“Why mask?”

“Why do I wear it, you mean? Well, it’s terribly comfortable, actually; I think everyone will be wearing them in the future,” the man replied (dodging Ludo’s massive fists repeatedly while talking).

Ludo’s fist came again – and at this particular swing, the man in black jumped out of the way and up onto a rocky ledge behind Ludo, and jumping onto the beast’s back, wrapped his arms around Ludo’s shaggy neck. Ludo tried to grab him, but his arms wouldn’t let him reach the man.

“Figures why man give Ludo trouble,” Ludo answered – and with that, he leaned heavily against a rock pillar so that the man in black was slammed into it. “Oof!” the man grunted – then, when he’d recovered enough, “Why’s that, do you think?”

“Ludo fight one person,” Ludo answered; he was starting to have trouble breathing from the man’s tight grasp. “Ludo always – fight groups.” Slam – into another rock pillar.

As Ludo leaned away from this pillar, the man in black asked, “Why should that make such a –” (another slam into the rock) “– oof! – difference?”

“Use different – moves when – Ludo fight crowd,” Ludo grunted as he started sinking to his knees, his air completely cut off, “than when – Ludo fight – one…” And with that, Ludo fell to the ground, having passed out.

As soon as the beast was out cold, the man in black rolled him onto one side (with some considerable effort) and put his ear to the beast’s chest. Good – he was still alive.

“I don’t envy the headache you’ll have when you awake,” he said to Ludo’s still form. “But in the meantime, rest well – and dream of female beasts like yourself.”

And with that, the man in black rose to his feet, picked up his sword from where he’d lain it, and hurried on after the last of the group.

Meanwhile, the band of three’s plan had been a success. Sarah’s horse had arrived back at the castle with the Thorearis insignia on its saddle, and almost instantly, Prince Fridleifus had gone out with several of his men, along with Count Arryn, in search of his bride. At the moment, they were at the top of the Escarpment of Delirium, and Prince Fridleifus, being the incredible tracker that he was, was figuring out what had happened. Or at least, it seemed like he was figuring it out…

“But I’ll get back to that later,” the worm added.

“There was a duel,” he stated, following the footsteps in the dust. Following some more clues, he added, “It ranged all over, and both fighters were extremely talented.”

Chapter Text

Within the hour, the man in black had reached yet another area of terrain; this time, it was more hilly than rocky. Pretty soon, he reached one particular hill – and there sat Sarah with the dwarf.

Hoggle was clearly waiting for him. In fact, he’d even set out a light meal on a low rock he used as a table: some bread, apples, cheese, and two goblets with a bottle. Sarah sat blindfolded with her wrists tied, and had a knife being held to her throat by Hoggle.

“So,” Hoggle said when he saw the man in black, “it’s down to us, eh?” He quickly added when the man started walking forward, “If y’want the little lady dead, just keep comin’, y’hear?”

The man in black stopped walking as he shook his head. “You really are horrible,” he stated.

“No, I ain’t,” the dwarf responded, completely misunderstanding the comment. “I’m Hoggle.”

Ignoring Hoggle’s remark, the man in black started slowly walking again. “Let me explain –” he began.

“There ain’t nothin’ to explain,” Hoggle answered. “You’re just tryin’ to kidnap what I’ve rightly stolen!”

“Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement?” the man asked, still walking forward.

“There won’t be no arrangements,” Hoggle replied, “and you’re just killin’ her!” He pointed the knife a little closer to Sarah’s neck, causing a gasp to escape from her.

Again, the man stopped walking. “If no arrangement can be made, then you and I are at an impasse,” he answered Hoggle.

“Seems to be,” the dwarf replied. “'Cuz I can’t compete with you physically, and you ain’t no match fer my brains.”

“You’re really that smart?”

“Lemme put it this way. Ever heard o’ Plato, or Aristotle, or Socrates?”

“Yes.”

“Morons, all of ’em!”

“Is that so?” There was a half-smile on the man in black’s face. “Then I challenge you to a battle of wits, Hedgewart.”

“Hogwart,” Sarah corrected from where she was sitting – in spite of not being able to see the man.

“Hoggle!” Hoggle answered annoyedly; then, “A battle o’ wits, eh? For the little lady?”

A single nod from the man in black.

“To the death?”

“No…not exactly. Will you still accept, though?”

“…Fine.” And with that, Hoggle put down the knife he’d been holding to Sarah’s throat, and the man sat down opposite the dwarf. “Good. Pour the wine, then, Higgle.”

“Hoggle.”

“Yes.” With that, Hoggle poured wine into the two goblets; meanwhile, the man pulled a small vial from his belt, removed the cap, and handed it to the dwarf. “Now you’ll see what I meant by not fighting to the death. Smell this, but don’t inhale too deeply,” he instructed, handing the vial to Hoggle.

Hoggle sniffed it quickly, then sniffed it again – inhaling just a little more deeply while still being careful to follow the man’s instructions. “Smells like peaches,” he mumbled, returning it to the man.

Taking the vial back, the man responded, “What you smell is the syrup of a peach species known as hallucinogenic peaches. They grow where I come from, and are one of the most unique drugs in the world. They have almost no taste in spite of smelling so strong, but if the syrup or even just one bite of the peach itself is ingested, the person who ate or drank from it is put to sleep for several hours and has hallucinations and wild dreams the whole time; for reasons unknown, the most common hallucinatory dreams seem to be of being in a glittering ballroom.”

With that, the man in black took the goblets and turned his back to Hoggle. The dwarf couldn’t see what was happening, but a moment later, the man turned around again, set the two goblets down, and rotated their spots a few times. “Alright, then,” the man announced. “Which one has been drugged? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you choose a goblet and we both drink and find out who wins – and who hallucinates.”

“It’s so simple,” Hoggle answered. “All I have to do is divine what I know o’ you – fer instance, are you the sort o’ fella who’d put drugs in his own goblet or his enemy’s? A clever fella would put drugs in his own goblet, ’cuz he’d know that only a fool would reach for his own goblet; I ain’t a fool, so I can’t choose the wine in front o’ you. But you musta known I ain’t a fool, and woulda counted on me reaching fer your goblet, so I can’t choose the wine in front o’ me.”

“You’ve made your decision, then?”

“Not a bit,” retorted the dwarf. “’Cuz hallucinogenic peaches come from the southernmost parts of America, and as everyone knows, the Americas are mostly peopled with criminals; criminals are used to people not trustin’ ’em, as you ain’t trusted by me – plus, you said that the peaches grow where you come from, so you must be one of them criminals from the Americas, which means I can’t choose the wine in front o’ you.”

The man in black looked at Hoggle, his expression unreadable. “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect,” he commented.

“Just wait ’til I get goin’!” Hoggle cried – then paused. “Er…where was I?”

“The Americas.”

“Right, the Americas. You musta suspected I’da known the peaches’ origin and yours, so I clearly can’t choose the wine in front o’ me.”

“You’re just stalling now, aren’t you?” the man in black asked, resting his chin on his hand – and in a tone of mock pity, added, “Oh, dear, poor Hoghead.”

“It’s Hoggle!” Hoggle yelled. “And you’d like to think I’m just stallin’, wouldn’t ya?” Continuing in a more regular tone, he went on, “You’ve won over my beast, which means you’re really strong – so you coulda put the drug in yer own goblet and relied on yer strength to save ya, so I clearly can’t choose the wine in front o’ you! But you’ve also beaten my fox, which means you musta studied, and in doin’ so, you musta learned that man is mortal and thus, you woulda put the drug as far from yerself as possible, so I clearly can’t choose the wine in front o’ me!”

“You’re trying to trick me into giving something away, aren’t you?” the man smirked. "Well, it won’t work.”

“It has worked! You’ve given everything away, ’cuz I know where the drugs are!”

“Then choose a goblet!”

“I will! And I choose –” Suddenly, Hoggle pointed to something behind the man. “What in the world is that?”

“What?” The man turned to see what the dwarf was pointing at – but while his back was turned, Hoggle switched the two goblets around. Turning around again, the man commented, “I didn’t see anything.”

“Huh – coulda sworn I saw somethin’. Well, no matter,” Hoggle replied, trying to keep a smile off his face.

The man in black wasn’t fooled by Hoggle’s attempts. “What’s so funny?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’ll tell ya in a minute,” Hoggle answered. “But first, let’s drink – me from my goblet, and you from yours.”

Without another word, both man and dwarf picked up the goblet from in front of them and drank. As Hoggle set his goblet down again, however, he started to chuckle.

“You guessed wrong,” the man answered.

“You only think I guessed wrong, that’s what’s so funny!” Hoggle answered. “I switched goblets when yer back was turned – ha-ha, you fool, you’ve fallen fer one o’ the oldest blunders! The most famous is ‘Never get involved in a land-war in Asia’, but less well-known is ‘Never go in against a dwarf when drugs are on the line’!” With this statement, Hoggle burst out in a fit of cackling laughter – which ended almost as soon as it started with a sobered down, “Oh, what have you done…?”, and then with Hoggle falling over where he sat and starting to snore. “Zzzzzzzzzz…everything’s…dancing…zzzzzzzzzz…pretty…dress…zzzzzzzzzz…”

Sarah turned her head in the direction of the snoring; just then, the man in black pulled off her blindfold. She didn’t turn towards him, but kept staring at the dwarf’s sleeping figure. If it hadn’t been for his snoring and occasional muttering, she would’ve sworn he was dead, he lay so still.

When Sarah finally turned her head back towards the man, he had picked up the knife Hoggle had held to her neck just a few minutes ago and was cutting through the ropes around her wrists. He was bent over his work, so she couldn’t see his face.

“Who are you?” she asked, a bit suspiciously.

The man in black looked up at her for a moment, but she couldn’t see his face very well due to his mask. “I’m no-one to be trifled with,” he answered – and then bent his head down again as he continued cutting through the ropes. “That’s all you need ever know.”

Sarah thought for a moment before she spoke again. Although she couldn’t see his face very well, she noticed that the man in black had blue eyes – and one was dilated, thus looking slightly darker than the other. It seemed familiar…but where had she seen eyes like that before?

“So…it was actually your goblet that was drugged?” Sarah finally asked. She’d been listening to the man and dwarf’s whole conversation.

Pulling her to her feet, the man in black answered, “I didn’t know what he was going to do, so they were both drugged; I spent the last few years building up an immunity to hallucinogenic peaches. And Hoggle was wrong about one other thing: they don’t grow strictly in America – they grow wherever goblins are.”

As the man in black had pulled Sarah up, she’d also caught a better glimpse of the silver pendant hanging around his neck. It was in the extremely recognizable shape of the rogue goblins’ symbol…but before she had any more time to think about that, the man had grabbed Sarah’s hand and started running for hills that lay ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Prince Fridleifus’ party had come to where the man in black had beaten Ludo – and the prince was examining the slight dent left in the ground from where Ludo had fallen.

“Someone has beaten the giant…” he mused, mostly to himself. Rising to his feet, he informed his men, “There shall be much suffering in Thorearis if she is dead!”

With that, he jumped back on his horse and led the party further on in search of his bride.

Chapter Text

For the last half-hour, it seemed, Sarah had been being half-led, half-pulled across the terrain by the man in black, over hill after hill, past rock after rock. Finally, the man released his grip on her hand and she sank down onto a large, flat stone.

“Catch your breath,” he instructed.

“If you let me go,” she puffed, “you’ll get whatever you ask for ransom – I promise!”

The man in black leaned against a rock column, laughing. “What has the promise of a woman ever been worth? Very funny, princess,” he answered.

“That’s not fair! Can’t you see I’m giving you a chance?” Sarah replied. “You might as well turn yourself over, then, because no matter where you take me, there’s no better tracker than Prince Fridleifus. If he can track a falcon on a cloudy day, you can be sure he’ll find you.”

“Do you really think your darling will save you?”

“I never said he was my darling, but all the same, I know he will save me.”

The man in black paused before walking towards her. “You so freely admit that you don’t even love your fiancé?”

Rising to her feet, Sarah answered, “He’s fully aware that I don’t love him.”

“That you aren’t capable of love, you mean?”

Sarah stared indignantly at him. “I have loved more deeply than a killer like you could ever dream!” At that, the man’s hand flew up, and just as quickly, Sarah turned her head, sure that he was going to slap her.

But it never came. Lowering his hand again, the man said coldly, “That was a warning, princess. The next time my hand flies, there are penalties for lying where I come from.” And at that, the man grabbed Sarah’s hand, and the two were running across the hills again.

About a half-hour after this brief conversation, Prince Fridleifus’ party reached the spot where Hoggle had been drugged. The dwarf still lay where he’d fallen: snoring away and hallucinating, dreaming that he was dancing with beautiful women.

Dismounting from his horse, Fridleifus examined the scene – and noticing the vial, he picked it up and sniffed it. “Hallucinogenic peaches; I’m completely positive of it,” he declared. “Someone has put the dwarf into a drugged sleep.” Pointing far ahead, he added, “And there are the princess’s footprints. She’s still alive – or was alive, about an hour ago. But if she is dead when we find her, I shall be very put out…”

As he mounted his horse again, he called to one of the soldiers, “Secure the dwarf on your saddle and take him back to the castle! We shall keep him imprisoned until we can…interrogate him.”

“Yes, your highness,” the soldier answered. And as he fastened the sleeping dwarf to the back of his saddle and retreated in the direction of the castle, the rest of the party rode on, following the footprints.

Another half-hour, and the man in black let Sarah sink onto a fallen log, saying nothing but “Rest again, princess”.

“I know what your game is," Sarah panted once she’d caught her breath a little. “The way you’ve treated me gives it away; you’re with them, aren't you?” She remembered what the man had said about hallucinogenic peaches growing wherever goblins were, and also recalled the shape of the silver pendant around his neck. “You’re in association with the rogue goblin pirates – admit it!" she cried.

“Gladly,” the man in black answered, bowing slightly. “What can I do for you?”

“You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces, and then burn in hell,” Sarah replied venomously.

At that, the man shook his head, clicking his tongue in phony shock. “Hardly complimentary, princess,” he answered, somewhat sarcastically. “What is it that makes you so hate me?”

Sarah paused with the pain of the words before she spoke: “You killed the only one I’ve ever loved.”

The man paused, seeming to consider her words. “It’s quite possible,” he replied. As he paced around where Sarah sat, he asked, “Out of sheer curiosity, who was this ‘love’ of yours? Another prince – rich, ugly, scabby?” He sat down on a nearby rock.

“No!” Sarah answered quickly, whipping her head around to face the man in black. “He was a farm-boy, and he was poor…poor, but perfect…” Her voice softened as she remembered, “With hair like wheat, and one eye like the sky and the other like the sea…” As she thought about Jareth, she remembered the man in black’s eyes when he’d looked at her when cutting her bonds. She now realized that his eyes looked a lot like Jareth’s – but this man’s eyes were sharper and harder, and seemed to hold more authority than Jareth’s soft blue eyes had. There was clearly no connection.

“The ship my love was on was attacked by your goblin pirates – and everything anyone’s ever told me about rogue goblins involves them not taking any prisoners!” Sarah continued, coming back to the present.

Lazily putting his arms behind his head, the man in black answered, “You can’t really afford to make even a single exception, you know. Once other rogue goblins hear that someone higher-ranking than them has gone soft, they begin to disobey their sovereigns and then it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time!”

“Why do you make fun of my pain? That’s not fair!” Sarah cried.

“Because like it or not, princess, life is pain,” the man replied shortly. “And anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you something. As for not being ‘fair’, you say that so often; I wonder what your basis for comparison is.”

Rising to his feet and walking towards Sarah (who had looked away again in disgust), the man in black added, “I think I remember this farm-boy of yours. This would be five years ago now, correct? Does it bother you to think about him nowadays?”

“You can’t upset me,” Sarah answered simply, still looking the other way. However, one glance at her face would’ve told anyone that she was fighting tears as memories of Jareth came flooding back, replacing all the disgust in her.

“He died well; that should please you,” the man commented, walking a few feet away. “No bribe attempts or blubbering; he just said, ‘Please…please, I need to live’. It was that ‘please’ that caught my attention, and so I asked him why it was so important that he live. ‘True love,’ he answered.”

Sarah finally looked up at the man again, and saw that he was looking back at her. “And then he described a girl of unearthly beauty and faithfulness – I imagine he meant you, seeing as he described dark hair, green eyes, and fair skin. But you should be glad that I killed him before he could ever find out what you really are.”

Something in Sarah began to snap as she stood up and faced the man in black right in the eye. “And what am I?” she inquired hotly.

“He talked of your ‘enduring faithfulness’, princess,” the man retorted, “but tell me honestly: when you found out this farm-boy was dead, did you get engaged to Fridleifus later that day, or did you wait a week just to honour the dead?”

That did it for Sarah. “Look,” she snapped, “you’ve belittled me once, and you won’t do it again! Ever since I got the news of my love’s death, I’ve been dying inside!” She would’ve said more, but the sound of horses galloping on one of the higher hilltops made her stop; Prince Fridleifus was near.

Turning back to the man, Sarah added, “And you can die, too, for all I care!” And at that, she pushed the man in black down the hill they were on top of. However, something the man called up as he rolled down the hill caught Sarah’s ear – and made her heart stop beating for a second.

“Aaaaaassssssssssssss…yoooooooooouuuuuuuuuu…wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissshhhhh…”

Even after Sarah’s heart resumed beating, she stood frozen for several seconds. Jareth was alive?

“Jareth…” she murmured. “…My God, what have I done? …HOLD ON, JARETH, I’M COMING!” And with that, Sarah began running down the hill after Jareth. However, the hill was too steep to let her keep doing that for long – and she ended up tripping over her own feet, thus losing her balance and rolling the rest of the way down the hill.

Meanwhile, Fridleifus’ party paused at the top of another hill.

“They’ve disappeared. This man must have seen us coming,” Fridleifus noticed. “That would account for his panicking into error. Unless I’m wrong – and I’m never wrong! – they’re headed straight for the Fire Swamp.”

And off they rode again.

Down in the ravine lay Sarah and Jareth – still a bit bruised and shaken up from their fall down the steep hill. Sarah sat achingly up, and Jareth managed to make his way over to her.

“Oh, Jareth…you’re alive…” Sarah said quietly, her eyes threatening to fill with happy tears. She got a good look at Jareth as he held her in his arms; somewhere on the way down, he’d lost both his mask and the scarf he’d worn over his head. Sarah could now see that his hair was much longer and wilder, and that he was somewhat better built (from adventuring, perhaps?). Now that Jareth’s mask was gone, it was also easier to see that his eyes weren’t much different from before – but they certainly did hold more authority; that was easy to see even in how his brows now looked, too. But no matter how different he may have looked, he was still the same Jareth that Sarah loved. With that, she hugged him as tight as she could, and instantly felt his arms tighten around her, too.

“Sarah…” he answered, smiling – but all of a sudden, she gave him a hard shove in the chest that almost toppled him over.

“You son of a – where have you BEEN?!” Sarah cried angrily. “You had me worried SICK!” With every accented word, she pushed him over again.

Jareth sat there, shaking his head. “I’ve missed you, too, precious,” he answered, somewhere between laughing and exasperation. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Calming down and mentally chastising herself for lashing out, Sarah asked more calmly, “So where have you been all these years?”

“I’ll answer that question once you answer mine,” Jareth answered. “I told you I’d always come for you; why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Well…I thought you were dead,” Sarah responded. “Everyone said you were dead.”

“Even death can’t stop true love, buttercup,” Jareth replied. “All it can do is delay it. After all, it’s only forever; it isn’t long at all.”

Sarah wasn’t so sure about the forever-not-being-long part, but death not stopping true love? Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? If she had, she could’ve stayed out of this whole mess with Prince Fridleifus! The thought made her want to laugh out loud…but she was both too exhausted from her fall down the hill and too full of love for Jareth to do so at the moment.

“I’ll never doubt it again,” she murmured.

“There’ll never be a need to,” Jareth whispered in response.

Sarah smiled – and instantly closed her eyes as Jareth pulled her close; only a split second later, the two were sharing a kiss more passionate than any –

“Oh, no,” Toby moaned. “Please, no!”

“What is it? What’s the matter?” the worm asked.

“They’re kissing again,” Toby complained. “Do we have to hear the kissing part?”

“Someday, you may not mind so much,” the worm replied – still a little annoyed at being interrupted for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Ignoring the worm, Toby asked, “Why not skip to the Fire Swamp? That sounds really good!”

The worm sighed. “Very well. You’re sick, so I’ll humour you. Now let’s see, where were we?…”

Sarah and Jareth would have stayed at the bottom of the ravine for longer, but the sound of horses’ hooves brought them back to Earth – and with that, Jareth pulled Sarah to her feet, and the two raced along the ravine floor.

Looking back up at the top of the hill, Jareth commented triumphantly, “That fiancé of yours is too late – just a little further, and we’ll be safe in the Fire Swamp!”

“The Fire Swamp?” Sarah’s heart sank as they started running again. “But we won’t survive!”

“Nonsense,” Jareth answered. “You’re only saying that because no-one has yet.”

And in just a few seconds, they had indeed entered the Fire Swamp.

Chapter Text

All her life, Sarah had been told to stay out of the Fire Swamp; now, she could clearly see why.

It was damp, like any other swamp, but the large, dark trees almost completely blocked out the sun. There were large vines hanging down everywhere and climbing up around every tree-trunk – some were like ropes in texture while others were more like wood – and sparkling, dewy cobwebs hung everywhere; the ground was also covered in mud, sand, dead leaves, and broken twigs and branches.

Looking around, Jareth commented nonchalantly, “It’s not that bad.” Sarah just stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here,” Jareth explained, “but the trees are actually quite lovely.”

They walked on silently for a while – but not before an ominous popping sound came from underground, followed by Sarah’s skirt catching fire from a sudden burst of flames from the ground. Instantly, she and Jareth tried to put it out, and they succeeded in smothering the flames before too long. “That was an adventure, wasn’t it?” Jareth remarked as he pulled Sarah to her feet again. “Were you burned at all?”

Sarah shook her head. “You?” The answer was no.

They walked further on, still silently. Sarah was just about to ask Jareth where he had been for the past five years (he hadn’t really given her an answer earlier), when a soft sound came from overhead: the fluttering of wings.

A moment later, a fairy appeared. Sarah had noticed before that several fairies fluttered around the trees in the Fire Swamp, although she couldn’t think why creatures like them would live in such a place. This fairy was flying right towards her and Jareth – and like all the other fairies, she had white hair, delicate gossamer wings, and a dress made of dead leaves.

“Look…” Sarah murmured, holding out her hand for the fairy; to her surprise, the fairy landed in Sarah’s hand. Unable to resist, Sarah stroked the little creature’s hair with one finger.

“Oh, how sweet…hi – ouch!” Sarah yelped as the fairy fluttered away again. “It bit me!” And there was definitely a tiny, bleeding spot on her finger to prove it; at once, Sarah tore off a small strip of her hem and wrapped it around her finger for a makeshift bandage.

“I suppose things aren’t always what they seem in this place,” Jareth commented. “You shouldn’t take anything for granted in the Fire Swamp.”

Almost as soon as the words had left his lips, the popping of another flame-spurt came – and Sarah quickly got out of the way as more flames shot up.

“Like I said,” Jareth added, “the Fire Swamp certainly keeps you on your toes.”

And onward again. The vines and cobwebs eventually became so thick that Jareth had to slice through them with his sword.

“So…where have you been since you left?” Sarah finally remembered to ask. After all the excitement over the flame-spurts and the fairies, she’d almost forgotten.

“It’s a long story, precious; are you sure you want to hear it?” Jareth answered – to which she nodded vigorously.

“Well, then…so as you know, the ship I was on was attacked by goblins, and at one point, I was battling with their captain, who also happened to be their king –”

“King? But they’re subjects of Druwyth, aren’t they?”

“Yes – many of them, anyway, though not all.”

“Then King Rhesus, Fridleifus’ father, is their ruler.”

“Not to them, he isn’t. These goblins hate Rhesus’ line; rather, they hate the fact that humans rule the kingdom and not they – and it’s the same with all of these rogue goblins, whatever kingdom they’re from: they hate their line of sovereigns. Of course, you know how Druwyth would be if goblins ruled it…”

Sarah giggled a little. Goblins tended to be rather wild, fun-loving creatures – but if they were to rule a country, they would be so scatter-brained and all over the place that the kingdom would likely collapse in just a few minutes.

“And so, over the centuries, these goblins from all different kingdoms have banded together and formed their very own kingdom; the nations they come from have always said they’re going to launch an attack and take the goblins back to their homes, but do you think they ever will? Of course not. Anyway, as I said, I was battling with their captain and he’d beaten me and was about to kill me, and I said the very same words I told you your ‘farm-boy’ had said about needing to live.”

“For true love?” More popping from the ground, and Jareth quickly lifted Sarah out of the way as the flames shot up.

“Precisely,” he answered, setting her down again. “And it was the ‘please’ that got his attention, too. So, he kept me as one of the prisoners, because all those rumours about goblin pirates never taking prisoners just aren’t true, and when the attack was over, he took me home to the goblin kingdom to get to know me better. After a few weeks of my getting acquainted with the kingdom and with the other goblins, their king told me I was unlike any human he’d ever met before.”

“How so?”

“Because I treated them as friends, unlike so many humans in Druwyth and beyond would (as equals, they would, but friends? Doubtful). And after said few weeks of getting acquainted with me, he told me that he saw qualities in me that would be desirable in a king. In the goblin kingdom, you see, being king works differently than being king in any of our human-dominated kingdoms. There is no passing of the torch from father to son at death; whenever the old goblin king feels it is time for him to retire, he picks a worthy candidate and makes him the next ruler. This old goblin king believed I would be an ideal monarch for the goblins, and so I spent the next two years training to become so – and when the last year was over, they made me their new king.”

“So, you’re a goblin king?” Sarah asked, hardly able to believe her ears. Her Jareth, a king? Who would’ve thought? It would certainly explain where he’d been for the last few years.

“Exactly,” Jareth replied. Going on, he added, “I also learned all sorts of things during my training to become a ruler; I learned swordplay, fighting, seafaring, different types of magic, and, of course, building up immunity to hallucinogenic peaches. It’s quite amazing, really, being goblin king; I handle everything from kingdom issues to sailing (these goblins are quite the sea-farers) to dealing with children wished away to the goblins – I even have my own goblin spies in neighbouring kingdoms, always on the lookout for any sort of trouble or news, or for potential new subjects.”

“What kinds of magic did you learn?” Sarah inquired, hardly interested in goblin spies or hallucinogenic peaches.

“Two kinds, in particular: one, conjuring up and juggling magical crystal balls” (he demonstrated, and Sarah gazed at the sparks and colours flashing inside it with awe) “and two, turning myself into an owl to fly over large areas of land.”

“You’re joking,” Sarah answered. Without another word, Jareth suddenly shrank down into a barn owl, flew a couple of circles over Sarah’s head, landed on the ground, and grew back into his human form, answering simply, “I think not.”

Continuing on, Jareth added, “I think you’ll like the kingdom, buttercup; the castle sits at the very center of the city – the goblins have built up both the castle and city incredibly over the centuries. There are forests and gardens all around the kingdom, and surrounding the entire city is a massive maze – more specifically, a labyrinth.”

“Whatever for?”

“The goblins that live in this kingdom have a habit of stealing children that people wish the goblins would take away – but if the person who wished the child away truly wants them back, they have to solve this labyrinth in thirteen hours, or else the wished-away child gets turned into a goblin. And don’t ask me why it's thirteen hours; that’s just the way the goblins have run the labyrinth for centuries.”

On they went again. “So…what made you come back?” Sarah asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“By this point, I’d been king for almost three years,” Jareth answered, “and I’d come to the conclusion that although I loved being goblin king, life meant nothing if you weren’t by my side, precious. So, I left some of the cleverer goblins in charge while I was gone, and I sailed one of the smaller goblin ships back to Druwyth to bring you to my kingdom. I soon found out, however (through some of my goblin spies), that you were engaged to that Prince Fridleifus – and not long after that, I heard from them that you had been kidnapped. So, I set sail again to find you when I finally noticed the dwarf’s ship out in the Bog of Eternal Stench; using one of my magic crystals, I found out that you were on board the ship, and so I followed the ship and pursued that party ever since. Then I freed you, and here we are. Can you follow all that?”

Sarah nodded. “So…” She couldn’t resist asking. “…Am I going to be a goblin queen?”

“You’ve guessed it,” Jareth laughed; Sarah laughed, too.

By this point, both of them were tired of talking, and so they continued on silently. At one point, however, Sarah stepped into a particular spot of sand, expecting solid ground to be underneath her feet – and instead, fell right through the sand with a scream.

Jareth froze for a few seconds – and then got an idea. Grabbing his sword, he hacked through one of the stronger vines (with some considerable effort), and holding it a couple feet from the end, he jumped down into the sand after Sarah. He did so just in the nick of time, too, because a few seconds later, a wild creature covered in fur and feathers known as a firey came out from behind some trees and sniffed the sand.

“Huh; coulda sworn I smelled humans,” it squawked – and off it went.

Ordinarily, a hole full of sand will be completely full of sand all the way down to the bottom. Not so with this hole; the thick sand (that somehow still let some light through) acted like a two-foot deep lid over a hole that went down, down, down…and this particular hole, Sarah frightenedly noticed as she went down, was lined with grotesque hands that were reaching out, grabbing for her, and slowing her fall before stopping it altogether.

“HELP!” she yelled up to where she’d fallen from. Instantly, a few hands on the wall paired together to form eyes, a nose, and a mouth – and answered her, “What do you mean, ‘help’? We are helping!” Another face formed and added, “We are Helping Hands!”

“You’re hurting!” Sarah answered, turning uncomfortably in their grip.

“Would you like us to let go?” chuckled a new face as the other hands started to loosen their hold on Sarah.

“NO!” she shrieked just as she started to fall – and more hands caught her again right away.

“Well, then, c’mon: which way?” asked another face as it formed.

“Which way?” Sarah repeated, confused.

A new face formed to her left. “Up or down?” it asked. Other hands formed faces and joined in on the conversation.

“C’mon, c’mon!”

“We haven’t got all day.”

“Well, it’s a big decision for her…”

“Which way do you want to go?”

“Yes, which way?”

Sarah was so shaken up by this whole turn of events that it took a few seconds for what the hands were saying to register. But how to make a decision? She didn’t want to go back up to the Fire Swamp, but she didn’t want to find out what was at the bottom of this pit, either…

Just then, she heard a voice call out, “Grab hold, Sarah!” – and a split-second later, a thick vine came tumbling down, just a few inches above her. With relief, Sarah realized that the voice had been Jareth’s; instantly, she wrenched one of her arms free from a hand’s grasp and caught the vine.

“If you hands would be so kind as to act like platforms for us to climb,” Jareth ordered, “Sarah and I will be climbing up on our own. Sarah, start climbing when I tell you to!”

“They chose u-up!” sang out another face; in just moments, a bunch of the hands were forming faces and echoing, “They chose up; they chose up!” Whenever a hand-face was done talking, the hands held themselves stiffly out, palms up, to act as foot-rests for Jareth and Sarah. Jareth climbed far enough up the vine that there would be some space between himself and Sarah, and then called down, “Climb now, Sarah!”

With that, Sarah got her other arm free from the hands’ grip, grabbed the vine with her newly free hand, and started climbing after Jareth, using the hands as foot-rests. In just a few minutes, the two of them had made it out of the two feet of sand covering the Helping Hands’ hole and were both lying on the ground, gasping for any air that was fresher than the stale air in the hole had been.

When Sarah and Jareth had recovered enough to breathe more normally again, they sat as upright as they possibly could and held each-other tightly; both of them were exhausted from the stress that the Fire Swamp gave.

“I told you we wouldn’t survive,” Sarah said weakly. “We might as well die together here.”

“No,” Jareth answered. “There’s no need. We’ve already bested the Fire Swamp; we can survive.” Pulling Sarah to her feet, he went on, “When you think about it, the Fire Swamp has four main terrors. One is the flame-spurts, but each one is proceeded by enough noise that we can avoid them. Two are the fairies, which we now know not to provoke; three is the sand lids covering the Helping Hand pits, which you were clever enough to discover how they looked, and so in the future, we can avoid them, too.”

“But Jareth,” Sarah went on, pausing. “What about the…the…fire creatures?”

“You mean fireys?” Jareth asked. “I don’t think they exist.”

He spoke too soon; almost as soon as Jareth had finished speaking, a series of loud shrieks and cackles (amongst an excited call of “HUMANS!”) came from behind a tree – and out jumped several creatures covered in fur and feathers, all rather unique from each-other in how their faces looked, and ranging in colour from pink to red to orange.

Fireys.

Chapter Text

In a flash, the fireys were surrounding Sarah and Jareth. All that could be heard were their wild cries of “It’s a couple o’ humans!” and “Ooh, goody, we got company!”

“What do you want?!” Sarah cried; Jareth also drew his sword and managed to get a couple fireys to back off.

“What, us?” one firey asked. “We just like to have a good time!” another firey answered; yet another one chimed in, “That’s right!”

“Get back!” Jareth shouted to the fireys, holding his sword out in front of him and prodding it in the fireys’ direction to keep them at a distance. Sarah stayed behind him, trying to keep out of the fireys’ reach; however, even Jareth’s best efforts couldn’t keep the energetic fireys away for long. Pretty soon, they were surrounding Sarah and Jareth again, knocking their own heads off their shoulders and tossing or dribbling them from one firey to the next (fireys were unique creatures in that they could practically take themselves apart and put themselves back together again with no harm done), swinging from tree-branch to tree-branch, lighting themselves on fire using their fingers like matches, getting separated from their own limbs and reassembling themselves, dodging Jareth’s sword jabs – and enjoying every moment of it.

This went on for a few minutes – Jareth and Sarah trying to get away all the while – when one of the fireys yelled, “Come join the fun!” and the two were hauled right into a crowd of fireys. Sarah managed to grab hold of a stick and tried to poke the fireys away from her and Jareth, but the stick got knocked out of her hands after only a few seconds. The fireys were now all over Sarah and Jareth with their hands mostly around the two humans’ heads; the only things to be heard were cries of “Shake your pretty little heads!” and “Tap your pretty little feet!”

“Leave us alone!” Sarah cried; Jareth waved his sword wildly at the fireys, but it did no good now. The only good thing about the situation was that the fireys didn’t bother lighting themselves on fire like they had before – if they had, Jareth and Sarah both would’ve gotten burned much worse amidst all the hubbub (worse than the minor burns they did accidentally get from the fireys’ grasp). And, of course, there was head-tossing galore on the fireys’ part.

“Hey,” one firey suddenly called out after they had spent a minute tugging on Jareth and Sarah’s heads. “Hey, their heads don’t come off!”

“Of course, they don’t!” Sarah answered, trying desperately to get a firey’s hands off of her head. But the fireys were not to be so easily deterred. “Hey!” another one called. “Where’re you two goin’ with heads like that, huh?!”

“I know what we can do,” yet another one eagerly piped up. “Take off their heads!” All the fireys whooped and screeched with laughter in agreement to this idea, their heads bobbing up and down on their shoulders, when Sarah suddenly got an idea – and catching one of the fireys’ heads in mid-air, she threw it as far away as she could.

“Hey, lady, that’s his head!” protested one of the fireys – and then as Sarah grabbed his head, “Hey, that’s my head! What’re you doin’?!”

“Jareth!” Sarah yelled over their protests. “Throw their heads as far away as you can!” Without another word, Jareth sheathed his sword, grabbed the head of another nearby firey and did the same. Sarah and Jareth kept grabbing fireys’ heads and throwing them as far away as they could until all the fireys’ bodies were wandering aimlessly around, looking for the head that belonged to them. Only then did Jareth and Sarah run for their lives – but the fireys’ protests and threats echoed after them.

“Hey, you two – it’s against the rules to throw other people’s heads!”

“You’re only allowed to throw y’ own head!”

“Yeah, that’s right! C’mon!”

“Where’s the referee?”

“Now we gotta take your heads off – ha-ha-ha!”

“Stop ’em, somebody, stop ’em!”

“Come back here, you two, play the game!”

“Yeah – we’re gonna throw your heads!”

“Hey, you can’t quit; the game’s not over!”

“We get a free throw!”

“You both wanna take your heads off, don’tcha?”

“Sure, they do!”

“Don’t you wanna look like us?”

“It won’t hurt; get a saw!”

“If y’ play, we’ll take off your arms!”

“Take off your ear – you don’t need two ears!”

“The game’s almost over!”

By this point, however, the fireys’ shrieks were growing further and further away. It would undoubtedly be several hours before their bodies all found their right heads again.

In a half-hour or so, the trees in the Fire Swamp started growing further and further apart, and more sunlight filtered down to where Jareth and Sarah walked. Another hour or two, and the two of them stepped into a clearing and realized they’d finally left the Fire Swamp – a bit scratched and mildly burned from their wild encounter with the fireys, but nothing serious and otherwise unharmed.

“We made it,” Sarah marveled, staring at the green, sunlit forest ahead of them. “We actually survived the Fire Swamp!”

Jareth turned to face Sarah. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?" he asked her.

Sarah gave Jareth a doubtful look that made him laugh; she laughed, too. As they both grew quiet again, they started leaning toward each-other – but just then, the sound of horses interrupted them before they could share another kiss.

Jareth instantly had his sword out again and was en garde, keeping Sarah safely behind him. A moment later, the party of horses appeared – and to Sarah’s horror, it was Prince Fridleifus and his party of men. They had gone around the Fire Swamp and caught up with Jareth and Sarah on the other side.

“Surrender!” Prince Fridleifus ordered as he drew to a halt.

“You’re surrendering to me?” Jareth asked him airily. “Fine, then; I accept.”

“I give you credit for bravery, but don’t make a fool of yourself,” the prince answered coldly.

“But how can you possibly capture us?” Jareth returned. “We’ve made it through the Fire Swamp alive and so now know its secrets. Thus, Sarah and I can live happily there, and so you’re welcome to come visit us if you ever feel like dying.”

“I’ll repeat myself: surrender!”

“It won’t happen, prince!”

“For the last time, SURRENDER!”

“Death first!”

Jareth had been too engaged with the prince in their argument to notice anything else, but throughout this discourse, Sarah had noticed the prince’s men dismounting from their horses, ducking behind trees – and as she now saw them pulling out their bows and aiming them at her and Jareth, she blurted out, “Just promise not to hurt Jareth!”

The soldiers’ bows drooped in surprise, and both Fridleifus and Jareth stared at Sarah. In a regular tone, Sarah explained to Fridleifus, “If we surrender and I go back to the castle with you, will you promise not to harm him?”

“May I live a thousand years and never hunt again if he is harmed,” answered Prince Fridleifus, pleased that Sarah was finally cooperating.

Sarah continued, “He’s the king of the rogue goblins. Promise to return him to his kingdom and to not attack the rogue goblin kingdom…and I’ll go with you.”

“I swear it will be done, then,” Prince Fridleifus replied. Then to Count Arryn, however, he muttered (too quietly for Sarah to hear, although Jareth heard perfectly well thanks to his magical abilities), “Once Sarah and I are out of sight, take him back to Druwyth and throw him into the Oubliette.”

“I swear it will be done,” Count Arryn answered, just as quietly.

As the guards closed in around Jareth and Sarah, Jareth simply stared at Sarah. She knew what he was silently asking her: Why would you do that?

“I’m only trying to keep you from being killed,” Sarah answered sadly. “As long as I know for certain that you’re alive somewhere in the world, I can still be a little bit happy.” And with that, she climbed onto Prince Fridleifus’ saddle, and off the two of them rode, Sarah continually gazing over her shoulder after Jareth. Jareth also stared after her until she and Prince Fridleifus had just about disappeared.

“Come, sir,” said a voice to Jareth’s left; when he turned, he saw that the count had spoken. “We must take you back to your subjects,” Arryn added.

Jareth looked up at Count Arryn as the soldiers led him over to where the count sat on horseback. “We are men of action,” Jareth told him. “Lies do not become us.”

Count Arryn gave a half-smile. “Well-spoken, sir” – and he motioned to a guard to tie Jareth’s wrists behind his back. While this was being done, however, Jareth happened to look down, and instantly noticed something unusual about the count’s right hand.

It had six fingers on it instead of five…

Noticing the direction of Jareth’s eyes, Count Arryn asked a bit suspiciously, “What is it?”

“You have six fingers on your right hand," Jareth observed. “I believe a friend of mine was looking for you…”

Instantly, Count Arryn drew his sword and clocked Jareth on the head with its hilt, knocking Jareth unconscious.

However, what no-one knew was that behind one of the forest trees was a little goblin by the name of Grobble, who’d seen and heard the whole scene with Fridleifus, Jareth, Sarah, and Arryn: one of Jareth's many goblin spies…

Chapter Text

Hours later, Jareth woke up to the sound of small feet pattering along a stone floor. Once he was slightly more awake, he also saw that he was in some sort of room carved out of stone. It was clearly underground, since there were no windows and it was only lit by candles – but another glance around the room showed him that this was basically some sort of torture chamber.

Another unique feature of the room was the large stone faces carved out of the walls and two metal door-knockers hanging on the wall - one with the knocking ring through its ears and one with the ring in its mouth. What on earth could they and the stone faces be for?

The sound of feet continued, and a moment later, Jareth saw that the sound came from a little albino goblin coming down the steps towards the table he was chained to. When the goblin reached where Jareth lay, he set down the tray he was carrying and put some ice that was on the tray on where Jareth had been hit in the head with Count Arryn’s sword-hilt. That done, the goblin dampened a rag in a small bowl of water (again, contents his tray had carried) and began tending to the scratches and small burns Jareth had gotten from the fireys’ rather rough handling.

“Where am I?” Jareth instantly asked the goblin.

“The Oubliette,” the goblin answered in a whisper much huskier than most goblins’. “Don’t think about –” And the goblin suddenly went into a hacky coughing fit before answering in a somewhat more normal voice for a goblin, “Don’t think about tryin’ to escape.” As he continued his work on Jareth, he added, “Man bound in too-thick chains, and no-one can rescue man, either; the entrance is secret. Only prince, count, and me can get in and out.”

“Then I stay down here until I die?” Jareth asked.

“Uh-huh – till you gets killed,” the goblin answered, cleaning another scratch on Jareth.

“If they’re only going to kill me, why are you seeing to me like this?”

“Prince and count always wants victims bein’ healthy before they’s broken.”

“So, they’ll torture me, then?”

The goblin bobbed his head vigorously.

“I’m sure I can make it through torture.”

The goblin furtively shook his head no.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Man makes it through Fire Swamp, so is very brave. But no-one survives ‘Machine’…” And having finished his job, the albino goblin packed the bowl and rag back up on his tray and left, leaving Jareth alone once more.

Meanwhile, at the castle, Sarah had been cleaned up after her adventure from the past two days, and was now wandering aimlessly around the castle, feeling absolutely miserable. Although she was glad that Jareth would stay alive, she was regretting what she’d had to do for that to happen – even having second thoughts about her actions. He’d probably never forgive her for abandoning him like that. Perhaps it would’ve been better if she and Jareth had died together in the Fire Swamp or been killed by Prince Fridleifus’ men in the woods; then, at least, she wouldn’t be missing him as badly as she was now.

At one point, she passed Prince Fridleifus and Count Arryn in the hallway and didn’t even see them – but they saw her very clearly. “She’s been like that ever since we got back to the castle,” Fridleifus commented, watching her receding figure. “She’s always been fond of my father, you know; it must be his failing health that’s upsetting her.”

“What else?” Count Arryn agreed as they walked on.

King Rhesus, father of Prince Fridleifus, died that very night – and before the following dawn, Sarah and Fridleifus were married.

The next afternoon, Sarah met her subjects again – this time, as their queen. Fridleifus, now wearing the king’s crown, stood in the same tower he’d introduced Sarah in, with Count Arryn and the queen mother by his side. After announcing to the commoners that King Rhesus was dead, the now King Fridleifus went on, “My father’s final words were –”

“Hold it, hold it!” Toby cried. “You have the story mixed up! She doesn’t marry Fridleifus, she marries Jareth – doesn’t she? After everything Jareth did for her, she doesn’t even marry him?! That’s not fair!”

“Y’know, you’re startin’ to sound a lot like Sarah,” the worm commented. “After all, who ever said life was ‘fair’? It’s not written anywhere, boy; life’s not always fair.”

“But you’re messing up the story!” Toby almost yelled. “Just tell it right!”

“Do you even want me to keep tellin’ it?” the worm asked irritably.

“Yes,” Toby admitted, a little sheepishly.

“Alright, then,” the worm answered. “No more interruptin’, now.”

The next afternoon, Sarah met her subjects again – this time, as their queen. Fridleifus, now wearing the king’s crown, stood in the same tower he’d introduced Sarah in, with Count Arryn and the queen mother by his side. After announcing to the commoners that King Rhesus was dead, the now King Fridleifus went on, “My father’s final words were, ‘Love her, as I have loved her, and there will be joy.’ Now, I present to you your queen…Queen Sarah!”

The crowd was silent as it turned towards where King Fridleifus gestured. Instantly, trumpets sounded as Sarah appeared in the archway, wearing the exact same jewelry and gown as she’d worn when she was first introduced – only now, she also wore the queen’s crown on her head instead of the gold flower crown she’d previously worn as princess.

Once again, people started bowing down or bending to their knees as Sarah passed them on her walk into the courtyard – but this time, someone in the crowd was yelling “Booooooooo! Booooooooo! Booooooooo!”

A moment later, the booer stepped out into the crowd; it was an old, hunched-over goblin woman dressed in rags and carrying all kinds of garbage and junky odds-and-ends on her back.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Sarah questioned the goblin-woman indignantly, “You dare boo your queen? Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m you in the future, my dear!” rasped the old goblin hag. “Clingin’ to ev’ry material possession y’ own – this is the stuff that matters, since y’ have no true love in your life! Y’ had it in your hands for just a moment, and y’ gave it up!”

“But they would’ve killed Jareth if I hadn't done it,” Sarah protested, trying to push the thought of aging to become this hoarding old goblin woman out of her mind.

“Your true love lives,” the goblin woman crowed, “and yet, y’ marry another!” Turning to the crowd, she accused, “True love saved her in the Fire Swamp, but she treated it like garbage! And that’s what she is – the queen o’ garbage, the queen o’ refuse! So, bow down to her, bow to her – bow to the queen o’ slime, the queen o’ filth, the queen o’ putrescence!” Turning on Sarah again, she went on, “Booooooo! Booooooo! Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Garbage! Booooooooo! BOOOOOOOOO! BOOOOOOOOOOOO! –”

Sarah screamed as she sat bolt-upright in bed. Only a dream, she realized; there were now just ten days until the wedding, and the king was still alive – but she’d been having worse and worse nightmares every night since returning to the castle.

“Ha! I knew she'd never marry that old Prince Fridleifus!” Toby practically cheered.

By now, the worm had just about lost all patience with Toby’s interruptions. “Yes, yes, you’re very clever. Now shut up.”

Sarah knew now: she could never live without Jareth. With that, she threw on a robe and ran to where Prince Fridleifus was working.

Upon entering the study, she cried, “It comes to this – I love Jareth! I always have, and I always will! I can’t marry you – if I must marry you in ten days, you can be sure I’ll be dead by morning!”

Prince Fridleifus stared into her pleading eyes for several seconds, completely bewildered. When he’d recovered, he answered, “I could never cause you grief…consider our wedding off.”

Sarah inwardly breathed a huge sigh of relief; rising from his chair, Prince Fridleifus asked Count Arryn, “Has this Jareth been returned to his subjects?”

“Yes, highness,” was the reply.

“Then we’ll send him a message,” Prince Fridleifus declared; then he turned back to Sarah. “But, beloved…are you sure he still wants you? After all, you were technically the one who left him after the Fire Swamp – and anyone associated with rogue goblins is not to be trusted…”

Sarah held her head high, more confident of the truth than she would’ve been about five years ago. “My Jareth will always come for me,” she answered.

The prince thought as he paced a few steps. Looking at Sarah again, he went on, “I suggest a deal. You write a letter to your love, explaining how much you love him and how much you want to be with him and asking him to come for you; then, I’ll send my fastest ship to the rogue goblin kingdom in peace, and make sure that the letter is delivered to him. If Jareth still wants you, bless you both. If not…” Fridleifus paused. “…please consider me as an alternative to suicide. Is it a deal?”

Sarah nodded – although she knew in her heart that if Jareth ever didn’t want her, she would sooner die than be married to someone she didn’t love. With that, the prince returned to his work, and the count escorted Sarah back to her room.

The next morning, Prince Fridleifus and Count Arryn were walking through the forest near the castle together. Recalling the incident with Sarah the night before, Count Arryn commented, “Your princess is really something; perhaps a tad simple, but her appeal is undeniable.”

“I know – the people are quite taken with Sarah,” Prince Fridleifus answered.

“And it’s now here that I must explain something – otherwise, what Prince Fridleifus says next won’t make any sense,” the worm suddenly interrupted.

“What is it?” asked Toby, already interested.

“Remember how when Fridleifus was searchin’ for Sarah earlier, I said it seemed like he was figurin’ out what had happened to her?”

Toby thought for a moment. “Yes…”

“He already knew,” the worm answered. “And in fact, he doesn’t really love her at all. He saw her beauty and decided to take her as his bride – but in fact, he’s going to use her to start a war.”

“What?!”

“You see, he hired Hoggle to kill Sarah so that he could frame Thorearis for it and go to war with them – that’s all he really wants to do, since you’ll recall that the two kingdoms have had a strained relationship for years. Fridleifus threatened that if Hoggle failed to kill Sarah, he’d be executed the day after Fridleifus and Sarah married – again, you’ll recall that he ordered Hoggle to be imprisoned for ‘interrogation’? But now that Hoggle’s failed his assignment, Fridleifus is gonna do the job himself.”

Everything was starting to come together for Toby. “Of all the rotten, sneaky, lying –!” he started. “Go on!”

“It’s odd,” the prince continued, “but when I first hired the dwarf to kill Sarah on our engagement day, I thought that was clever – but it will be so much more moving when I murder her on our wedding night. Once Thorearis is framed, it’ll be the last straw for the nation; in fact, they’ll demand that we go to war.”

Count Arryn chuckled approvingly; then, having reached a certain knotted old tree, he muttered to himself, “Now where is that secret knot? It’s always so hard to find…” He pressed a few knots on the tree until he finally found the one that opened up the door that led down into his torture chamber: the very Oubliette that Jareth was imprisoned in.

Turning, Arryn asked Fridleifus, “Will you come down to watch, sire? Jareth has his strength back, and so I’m starting him on the Machine today.”

“Arryn, you know how much I love watching you work,” Prince Fridleifus answered. “But I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to kill, and Thorearis to blame for it. I’m swamped!”

Arryn put an understanding hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Get some rest, then,” he replied. “After all, if you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.” With that, he headed down into the Oubliette and Prince Fridleifus returned to the castle.

Since the incident at the Fire Swamp, Grobble had been following the group, and he’d now secretly overheard the whole conversation between Fridleifus and Arryn: so not only had his king been imprisoned in the Oubliette, but they were also planning to kill his king’s lady love!…

In a few minutes, the albino goblin had rigged Jareth to be hooked up to the Machine and had then wheeled him over to it. Walking over to the machine as the goblin hooked Jareth up to it, Count Arryn motioned to the massive contraption. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he remarked. “And it took me half a lifetime to invent it, too. By now, I’m sure you know about my deep, abiding interest in pain; at present, I’m writing a definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be completely honest with me as to how the Machine makes you feel. Since this is our first try, I’ll use the lowest setting.”

At the head of the table Jareth lay on, there was a wooden column labeled with numbers from zero to fifty, and another wooden bar that could slide up and down the numbered column. With that, the count slid this bar up to the number one – and instantly, the Machine sprang to life. The water-wheel spun, the gears turned, the wheels rotated, the bellows went up and down, and Jareth started writhing and jerking in pain as the Machine took effect. This went on for a whole minute; then the count slid the bar back down to zero, and the machine slowed to a full stop.

Heading over to his desk, Arryn explained, “As you know, the suction pump invention is many years old. That’s basically all this is, but instead of sucking water, this Machine sucks life. I’ve just sucked away one year of your life; at some point, I might even go up to five, but I’m not completely sure what that would do to you. So, we’ll just start with what we have – tell me, what did this machine do to you? And remember, this is for posterity, so please be honest. Now, then: how do you feel?”

A low groan came from Jareth.

“Interesting…” mused the count, writing it down.

Chapter Text

That afternoon saw Prince Fridleifus busy at work in his study, looking over all sorts of documents. Just then, four voices called out: “Y’ sent fer us, sire?” Looking up, Fridleifus saw the two (or maybe four?) goblins he’d sent for: Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim, the two Chief Enforcers of Druwyth.

Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim were some of the most unusual goblins you’d ever seen; they were two sets of conjoined twins (that was really the only way to describe them) – Alph and Tim were one pair, and Ralph and Jim were another – but two of these twins had their heads upside-down near the ground and their legs up in the air. Perhaps even more unusual than that was the fact that each pair also had five hands instead of four – but there was no way to really describe them; you’d just have to see them in person to believe.

Fridleifus motioned for the two to enter. Both goblins instantly came in and stood beside Fridleifus’ chair – one on either side.

“As the Chief Enforcers of all Druwyth, I’m trusting you two with a secret,” Fridleifus told them. “Goblin killers from Thorearis are hiding out in the goblin shantytown in the forest and are planning to kill my bride on our wedding night.”

“Er…we haven't heard any such news,” Jim answered. Tim added, “But they might’ve” – and he and Jim looked up at Alph and Ralph. Ralph answered, “…We don’t know!” right as Alph added, “We haven’t heard that, either!”

Just then, the sound of footsteps caught the trio’s (?) ears; a moment later, Sarah had entered Prince Fridleifus’ study.

“Any news from Jareth yet?” she asked. Rising to his feet, Prince Fridleifus answered, “Still too soon, dove; patience.”

“But he will come,” Sarah replied confidently.

“Of course,” Fridleifus assured her.

With that, Sarah turned and left the room – and Fridleifus instantly sat down again, back to business.

“I will not let her be murdered,” Fridleifus declared. “On the day of our wedding, I want the goblin forest emptied, and every inhabitant arrested! Any shantytown inhabitant who is later found to not be a Thorearis assassin will be sent back to the goblin forest after the wedding.”

“But sire, the inhabitants will resist,” Tim protested. Alph added, “That’s right, we won’t have enough guards to deal with ’em!”

“Form a Brute Squad, then!” Prince Fridleifus snapped. “I want the goblin forest empty before I marry!”

“It won’t be easy, sire,” Jim replied; Ralph added, “No, not at all.”

“Try ruling the world sometime,” Prince Fridleifus answered sarcastically. “Go, now, prepare the Brute Squad!” And at that, the two (or four?) goblins left the room.

The day of the wedding finally came, and the Brute Squad set to work fulfilling Fridleifus’ orders. Cartload after cartload of arrested goblins came pouring out of the shantytown all day as the Brute Squad charged through every corner of the small goblin village and captured inhabitants left and right. Finally, however, the job was nearly over.

Coming up to one of the soldiers, Jim asked, “Is ev’ryone out?”

“Almost,” the soldier replied, “but there’s a fox – one of Druwyth’s talking beasts – giving us some trouble.”

“Then you’d better give him some trouble!” Alph answered. With that, he and Ralph, Jim, and Tim went on in pursuit of a few goblins from the village.

So, what had ever become of Ludo and Sir Didymus after their adventure with Hoggle? The answer was that they’d both come back to this area of Druwyth, which was where Hoggle had found and hired them both in the first place. Ludo had been going around and finding out news from the kingdom that might be important for lack of anything better to do until he’d been suddenly recruited for some “Brute Squad”, but Sir Didymus…well…he was back exactly where Hoggle had found him – a penniless drunk. At the moment, he was slumped outside his old cottage with Ambrosius by his side, waiting for Hoggle.

“I await thy return, Sir Hoggle!” Sir Didymus slurred, cradling a bottle in one paw. “Thou hath told me to go back to the beginning, and I have! This is where I am, and this is where I shall stay! I shall not be moved!” Followed by another deep swig from his bottle – but just then, one of the members of the Brute Squad rounded the corner of Sir Didymus' cottage with a “Ho, there!”

“Keep thy ‘Ho, there’; I shall not move,” Sir Didymus mumbled.

“Fridleifus has given orders,” the soldier returned.

Suddenly, Sir Didymus rose to his feet, stumbling as he went, brandishing his sword. “So hath Sir Hoggle,” he answered drunkenly. “When a job goeth wrong, you go back to the beginning. This was where he hired me, and I’m at the beginning – and I shall stay ’til Sir Hoggle comes.”

“Brute, come here!” the soldier called to someone – but Sir Didymus eased himself up onto a chair sitting outside his cottage, slurring once again, “I…am waiting…for Sir Hoggle…” But just then, a large pair of hands suddenly picked Sir Didymus up by the collar. Feeling the hands, Sir Didymus looked up at their owner rather lazily – only to see Ludo’s big face looking back down at him.

“Ludo,” Ludo grinned.

"Thee,” Sir Didymus smiled back stupidly. Ludo only responded with a nod of his head – and a fist to the face of the soldier who’d just been bothering Sir Didymus.

“Didymus look and smell bad,” Ludo pointed out; however, Sir Didymus shook his head idiotically. “Maybe so, but I feel just fine,” he slurred. With that consolation, Ludo carefully set Sir Didymus down again – only for Sir Didymus to fall flat on his face.

With the two friends reunited, Ludo instantly picked up Sir Didymus, set him down on the chair outside the cottage, and started nursing him back to health with some stew that had been cooking outside. As Ludo fed Sir Didymus, he told his friend as best he could about everything he’d learned from hanging around the castle (and particularly from a goblin spy he’d met in the forest by the name of Grobble): that Fridleifus’ bride-to-be was also the man in black’s true love, that Hoggle had been thrown in prison and was to be executed the day after Fridleifus and Sarah’s wedding, and that Count Arryn, the six-fingered man, was nearby: living in the castle just a couple miles away. Considering Sir Didymus’ nearly life-long search for the six-fingered man, he took the news pretty well – by passing out where he sat.

In just a few minutes, Ludo had carried Sir Didymus down to the stream and dunked him into the water face-first. Instantly, he picked the fox’s limp figure up again by the collar and dunked him face-first into the chilly water again and again in an attempt to revive him until Sir Didymus screamed, “Stop it, Sir Ludo, that’s enough!” Shaking the water out of his ears, he added, “Sir Ludo, doth thou know where this Count Arryn is now?”

“In castle,” Ludo replied. “Castle guarded.”

Wringing the water out of his cap and putting it back on his head, Sir Didymus asked, “By how many guards, pray?”

“Uhhm…thirty.”

Sir Didymus thought for a moment. “How many men canst thou fight at maximum, Sir Ludo?”

“Hmmm…ten?”

“Then…that doth leave me twenty men,” Sir Didymus thought, counting on his fingers. “Even at my best, I cannot fight that many at once.”

Sir Didymus sat down on a rock by the stream. “I need Sir Hoggle’s planning skills,” he muttered. “That hath never been my strong area.”

“Hoggle locked up,” Ludo reminded Sir Didymus.

“No…not Sir Hoggle…” A light suddenly went on in Sir Didymus’ head. “Not Sir Hoggle…the man in black!”

“Hrrm?”

Rising to his feet again, Sir Didymus explained, “The man in black hath bested thee with strength, thy greatest power, and he hath bested me with the sword. Surely, he hath also outthought Sir Hoggle – and any man who can do that can plan a castle onslaught any day! Sir Ludo, follow me; we must find the man in black!”

“Where is he?” Ludo asked.

“Don’t bother me with trifles!” Sir Didymus called over his shoulder, already headed back to his cottage to get Ambrosius. “After fifteen years, my father’s soul shalt be at peace; there shall be blood tonight!” And off he ran again with Ludo lumbering after him.

Back at the castle, Prince Fridleifus was sharpening a dagger on a stone in his study when Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim entered and bowed before Fridleifus’ table.

“Rise and report,” Prince Fridleifus ordered, polishing the dagger blade with a rag.

“The forest is empty,” Ralph answered – and Tim added, “And thirty men guard the gate.”

“Double it!” Fridleifus replied. “My princess must be safe, you know.”

“But the gate only has one key,” Jim pointed out; Alph added, holding out said key, “And we take turns carryin’ that.”

Just then, footsteps came along the corridor; Alph instantly put away the gate-key and Prince Fridleifus put down the dagger as Sarah appeared.

“Ahhh, my angel,” Fridleifus smiled, rising to his feet and walking towards Sarah. Taking her hands in his, he continued, “Tonight, we marry; in the morning, my Chief Enforcers’ men will escort us down to the Druwyth channel, where every ship in the armada waits to accompany us on our honeymoon!”

“Every ship but your fastest, you mean?” Sarah replied.

Prince Fridleifus froze for a second, the smile fading from his face.

“Every ship but the one you sent to Jareth’s kingdom,” Sarah explained.

With that, Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim left the study. Recomposing himself, Fridleifus answered with a slight laugh, “Of course. Yes, of course – not that one, naturally.”

Sarah almost rolled her eyes at the prince’s stupidity. “You never sent the ship in the first place, so don’t lie,” she answered quietly. “I’ve gone down to the harbour every day and it’s been there this whole time.” Taking her hands from Fridleifus’ grasp, she added, “No matter – Jareth will come for me anyway; he always will.”

“Darling, you really can be a silly girl sometimes,” Prince Fridleifus retorted, returning to his desk.

That was the last straw. “Yes, I am a silly girl!” Sarah replied. “And do you know why? Because I didn’t see before that you're nothing but a coward full of fear!”

With a sudden snap, Prince Fridleifus sheathed the dagger he’d been polishing just a couple minutes earlier. “I wouldn’t say such things if I were you…” he answered steadily.

“Why not?” Sarah responded. “You have no power over me; Jareth and I are truly in love. You can’t track that love with a thousand dogs or break it with a thousand knives.” Her voice rising, she went on, “And when I call you a coward, all it means is that you’re the slimiest weakling to have ever crawled the earth!”

That snapped the building tension. “I wouldn’t say such things if I were you!” Prince Fridleifus repeated hotly; grabbing Sarah’s arm, he dragged her down the hall (Sarah fighting and writhing in his grip, trying to free her arm the entire time) and towards a small room that he then threw her into. Sarah scrambled to her feet, but before she could get out of the room again, Fridleifus had pulled the door shut and locked it. Sarah instantly started banging on the door, furiously screaming “Let me out!”, but paying no attention to her, Prince Fridleifus ran in the direction of the forest where Count Arryn had his Oubliette.

Finally reaching the entrance a few minutes later and hurrying inside, Fridleifus ran down the stone steps of the Oubliette, past Count Arryn and the albino goblin, and right up to the table where Jareth still lay hooked up to the Machine.

Bending over Jareth, Fridleifus said forebodingly, “You and Sarah truly love each-other, so you might’ve been truly happy. Not even one couple in a century is likely to have that chance, no matter what the fairy-tales say. And so, I doubt that any man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will.”

And with that, he slid the bar of the Machine from zero up to fifty.

“Not to fifty! –” Count Arryn cried – but it was too late. The Machine had gone into full-power mode, and Jareth was already shaking and screaming as life was sucked away. Count Arryn looked perturbed and yet slightly intrigued by the Machine’s effects, and the albino goblin looked downright sick – but Prince Fridleifus was undeterred.

The more the Machine took effect, the more Jareth screamed in agony – until his cries were heard throughout the forest, heard by all the soldiers guarding the gate, throughout the nearest village. Sarah heard it only too well from where she was locked up (having pounded so hard on the windows in the room she was trapped in that they’d partly broken); she had no idea what it was, but it first made her uneasy, and then frightened. Meanwhile, Sir Didymus and Ludo had heard it from where they were journeying through the village closest to the castle.

“Listen, Sir Ludo!” Sir Didymus cried. "Doth thou hear that? That is the sound of ultimate suffering – the very same sound my heart made when the six-fingered man murdered my father! The man in black makes it now!”

“Mask man?” Ludo asked.

Sir Didymus nodded. “His true love, the lady Sarah, marries Prince Fridleifus tonight as thou told unto me, so what else canst be the cause for his suffering?” And with that, he and Ludo pressed their way further through the crowds in the village – which, to be honest, was no easy task.

“MOVE!” Ludo yelled; instantly, everyone moved. Looking back at Ludo, Sir Didymus simply said, “Thank you very much. Forward, Ambrosius!”

In the forest, the albino goblin was wheeling a cart through the forest to collect Jareth when both a voice and sword blade at his throat made him nearly jump out of his skin: “Where is the man in black?”

As he turned, the goblin saw Sir Didymus and Ludo standing behind him; when the goblin failed to respond, however, Sir Didymus added, “Jog his memory, Sir Ludo.”

A moment later, Ludo’s fist had met the albino goblin’s head and the goblin lay unconscious on the forest floor. “Ludo jog too hard,” Ludo commented, staring down at the goblin’s figure. “…Didymus?” Looking up, Ludo noticed that Sir Didymus had dismounted from Ambrosius and was kneeling in a small glade, holding out his sword in both paws.

“Father…I hath failed thee for fifteen years,” Sir Didymus murmured. “Now, our misery shall finally end…somewhere nearby is a man who can help us. But I cannot find him alone…I needeth thy help. I need thee to guide my sword, Father…please…guide my sword…”

As if in a daze, Sir Didymus rose to his feet, still holding his sword out in front of him, and started walking slowly. To anyone else watching, it would’ve seemed that the fox had started wandering aimlessly around the glade, but it was not the case. Sir Didymus walked left and right, his sword out in front of him, as though he were a sleepwalker; Ludo stayed standing where he was, but Ambrosius, not knowing any better, wandered after his master and started following Sir Didymus wherever he went. After about a minute of this, Sir Didymus walked steadily forward – only to have his sword blade stick right into a tree.

Suddenly coming back to reality, Sir Didymus saw what had happened, and pulling his sword out of the tree, he turned around and leaned back against the tree feeling disappointed and foolish. However, he happened to lean against a particular knot that opened a door in the tree…

In less than a minute, Sir Didymus and Ludo had gone down into the Oubliette and found Jareth lying perfectly still on the table next to the Machine. When Jareth gave no response, Ludo put his head near Jareth’s chest and listened – and after a moment, said only one word:

“Dead.”

Chapter Text

“Wait, wait,” Toby interrupted, “What did Ludo mean, ‘Dead’? He didn't really mean ‘dead’, did he? Jareth isn’t really dead…right?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say somethin’s ‘dead’?” the worm asked. “Now, do you want to keep hearin’ the story?”

“But who gets Fridleifus?” Toby cried.

“How d’you mean?”

“Who kills Prince Fridleifus?” Toby repeated. “Who kills him at the end? Someone’s gotta do it! Is it Sir Didymus? Who?”

“Nobody kills Fridleifus,” the worm answered. “He lives.”

“You mean he wins?!” Toby could hardly believe his ears. “Geez, why did you even bother telling me this story?!”

“Y’know, you’re still pretty sick, I reckon,” the worm replied, “and you’ve been takin’ this story rather seriously. Perhaps we should stop here.”

“No, I’m okay!” Toby said quickly. “I’m okay, really. You can stay – I’m alright.”

“Alright,” the worm answered. “Now, let’s see, where were we? Ah, yes – in the Oubliette…”

Sir Didymus and Ludo stared down at Jareth’s still figure.

“It just isn’t fair…” Sir Didymus remarked. He paused for a whole minute. “However, my family hath never taken defeat this easily. Come, Sir Ludo – bring the body.”

“Body?”

Turning around, Sir Didymus asked, “Hast thou anything of any value on thee?”

“Uhh…hrrm…no.”

“Then I hope I have something to offer,” Sir Didymus answered. “Enough to pay for a miracle.”

In a while, Sir Didymus had led Ludo down to a house out in the woods – Ludo carrying Jareth’s body under his arm. Sir Didymus knocked on the door, only for a sharp voice to call out, “Go away – the Wiseman isn’t seeing anyone!”

However, Sir Didymus kept pounding on the door until the same voice answered, “Alright, I’ll wake him up!” About a minute later, a window in the door opened up and a wizened old face appeared. “What is it?” the face’s owner asked in a husky voice.

“Art thou the same Wiseman who worked for King Rhesus all those years?” Sir Didymus asked.

“It was that Prince Fridleifus that fired me,” the Wiseman answered. “I have no interest in recalling that.”

“While you’re at it, why don’t you give him a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?” snapped the sharper voice.

As the Wiseman closed the window in the door, Sir Didymus and Ludo heard him mumble to the other voice, “Be quiet!” Sir Didymus kept pounding on the door until the Wiseman reappeared and stated, “If you two gentlemen don’t leave, I’ll call the Brute Squad.”

“Ludo on Brute Squad,” Ludo pointed out, right as Sir Didymus agreed, “He is on the Brute Squad, sir. But please – we desperately need a miracle, it’s terribly important.”

“But I’m retired,” the Wiseman replied – right as the sharp voice added, “And why would you want someone the King’s stinkin’ son fired?”

“Be quiet!”

“Ah, nuts!”

“I might kill someone in need of a miracle,” the Wiseman added – but before he could go on with excuses, Sir Didymus interrupted, “But the one in need of a miracle is already dead!”

“Is he?” the Wiseman asked. “Then bring him in; I shall have a look at him.” He closed the window in the door – and a moment later, the door opened. Sir Didymus tied Ambrosius up outside and then he and Ludo went into the house (incredibly, the house was actually big enough for Ludo to go inside), and Ludo laid Jareth down on a table in the middle of the odd room.

Once Sir Didymus and Ludo had entered the house and the Wiseman had started examining Jareth, it was easier to see what the Wiseman looked like; he had long white hair and a long moustache to match under his large nose, and he was dressed in an earth-toned robe. It was also easier to see that the owner of the sharper voice was a little bird that seemed to be growing out of the hat on the Wiseman’s head.

After examining Jareth and thinking for several minutes, the Wiseman declared, “There have been worse.”

“Please, sir,” Sir Didymus said nervously, “We are in a hurry.”

“You can’t rush these things, y’know,” the bird answered. “You rush the process – you get crappy miracles!”

“Precisely,” the Wiseman replied. “And of course, you two have something for pay?”

“Oh, yes…” answered Sir Didymus unsurely. He’d have to find something to pay the Wiseman with…

“I always need some kind of payment,” the Wiseman added. “Only once did I not take payment, and that was a very noble cause.”

“This is noble, sir,” Sir Didymus answered. “Er…his wife is crippled, and his children standeth on the brink of starvation…”

“Ay, will you listen to this crap?” the bird snapped; the Wiseman added to Sir Didymus, “You really are a terrible liar.”

Telling the truth, Sir Didymus told the Wiseman, “I need this man to help me avenge my father, you see.”

“Eh; the first story was better,” retorted the bird, turning his head around as the Wiseman turned to get a pair of bellows from beside the fireplace. “This man probably owes you money,” the Wiseman commented thoughtfully as he brought the bellows over. “I shall ask him.”

“Dead,” Ludo pointed out.

“Ohhh, look who knows so much, eh?” the bird asked sarcastically.

“Will you please be quiet?!”

“Okay…Okay!”

“Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Okay.”

“Alright. …Sorry.”

“…You finished?”

“…Yes.”

Turning back to Ludo and Sir Didymus, the Wiseman explained, “Your friend here is only mostly dead, you see; sometimes, things are not always what they seem, for there is much difference between dead and mostly dead.” With that, he placed the end of the bellows in Jareth's mouth, and as he pumped air through the bellows, he went on, “With all dead, you cannot do anything.”

“Except go through his clothes and look for loose change!” the bird piped up; this time, the Wiseman didn’t even bother to chide the bird – but merely put away his bellows and, bending down close to Jareth, called, “What is so important for you to live for, my son?”

With that, he pressed down on Jareth’s chest – and as the air left his still form, two words also escaped: “Truuuuuueeeeee…looooooovvveee…”

“‘True love’! There – thou hast heard him! Canst thou ask for a more noble cause than that?!” Sir Didymus exclaimed.

“But that is not what this young man said,” the Wiseman lied. “He clearly said, ‘To blave’. And course, ‘to blave’ means ‘to bluff’, so your friend may have bluffed through something –”

“Liar!” the bird suddenly shrieked, perking right up. “LIAR! LIAR!”

“BE QUIET!” the Wiseman demanded – but the bird went right on, “‘True love’ – he said ‘true love’, you heard it!” Going on, the bird told Ludo and Sir Didymus, “Ever since the old Wiseman was fired by Prince Fridleifus, he’s lost all confidence!” It was as though the little bird had gone straight out of his head.

“Stop saying that name; we don’t say that name here,” the Wiseman demanded – but the bird instantly went on, “What, Fridleifus? Ha! Fridleifus! Fridleifus! Fridleifus, Fridleifus, Fridleifus –”

By this point, the Wiseman was hurrying around the house, trying to block out the bird’s cries. “At least tell them why you won’t help!” the little bird went on. “Fridleifus! Fridleifus!”

“This is the lady Sarah’s true love, and if thou healeth him, he shall stop Fridleifus’ wedding!” Sir Didymus cried amongst the hubbub – which instantly stopped at the sound of his voice.

“What was that?” the Wiseman asked. “You mean that if I heal this man, Fridleifus shall suffer?”

“Humiliations galore,” Sir Didymus grinned.

At that, the Wiseman smiled. “I shall help you, then!”

In a few minutes, the Wiseman had pulled up a chair, prepared a pill out of some herbs, and coated it in liquid chocolate. Looking carefully at it, Sir Didymus asked, “Is that a miracle pill, then?”

“The chocolate makes it go down easier,” the bird explained as the Wiseman meticulously brushed another chocolate coat onto the pill – adding, “Wait about fifteen minutes for full potency, and don’t go swimming afterward for a good hour.” Carefully putting the pill in a bag and tying it up, however, the Wiseman didn’t even hear a word that was said – and shortly after passing the bag to Sir Didymus, it was clear that the Wiseman had dozed off from being deep in thought again.

“I, um…think that’s your luck,” the bird commented, looking down at the Wiseman’s sleeping figure. Motioning its beak towards a box on one of the shelves in the house, it added, “Please leave a contribution in the little box.”

Sir Didymus frantically tried to come up with something, having no money on him – when he suddenly noticed something on his sword hilt: a loose gemstone, and one of particular value. Carefully twisting it off, he said simply, “Well…I can spare this, then” – and he dropped the gem into the box. “Thank you again for everything,” Sir Didymus added over his shoulder as he and Ludo left the house with Jareth.

“Gracias, señor!” the bird chirped, watching the friends through the open window of the house. “And have fun storming the castle!”

As the bird watched Ludo and Sir Didymus’ receding figures (Ludo carrying Jareth, Sir Didymus riding Ambrosius and carrying the bag containing the pill), it commented, “Well, well, then – there go a couple o’ suckers!”

Another snore from the Wiseman brought it back to Earth. “Ugh…it’s so stimulating being your hat.”

Later that afternoon, Ludo and Sir Didymus had carried Jareth’s body up to a wall surrounding the castle where they could clearly see the men guarding the castle gate. They just had to give him the magic pill – and work out how they would get past the guards.

And now much closer to the castle, Grobble still waited in hiding…

“Steady, Ambrosius; Sir Ludo, set him down,” Sir Didymus instructed. Ludo obeyed, but as he put Jareth’s body down, he happened to catch a glimpse of all the men guarding the gate. "More than thirty men…” he commented.

“That is of no importance now,” Sir Didymus answered. “We must give him the pill; quickly!”

“Fifteen minutes?” Ludo asked.

“We cannot afford to wait,” Sir Didymus replied, “for the wedding is tonight, and we hath naught time to lose! Here, Sir Ludo, help me!”

With that, Ludo held Jareth’s head in one hand and his mouth open with the other – and Sir Didymus slipped the pill in. In a moment, it had gone down.

“How long we wait?” Ludo asked.

“I knoweth not,” Sir Didymus answered worriedly – right as Jareth’s eyes opened. And as soon as that happened, it seemed that his speech was fully operational, too, what with a cry of “I’ll beat you at your part; I’ll take you both together! –” that was quickly silenced with one of Ludo’s large hands over his mouth and a comment of “Not long” from Ludo.

Jareth was clearly calmer as Ludo took his hand away, but he still had questions. “Why can’t I move?” he asked Sir Didymus – to which the fox replied, “Thou hast been mostly dead all day, you see, and so the Wiseman created a pill to bring thee back.”

“Who are you?” Jareth asked suspiciously. “Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? And where is Sarah?”

“I shall explain,” Sir Didymus answered. “Nay, that would take too much time; I shall sum it up for thee. The lady Sarah shall marry Fridleifus tonight, so we must get inside the castle, break up the wedding, steal the lady, and make our escape once I also hath killed Count Arryn.”

Jareth drummed one finger against his chest, thinking. “Hmm…that doesn’t really leave us any time to lose,” he mused.

“Wiggle finger,” Ludo pointed out. “Good.”

“I’ve always been a quick healer. What are our liabilities, then?”

“There is only one working gate castle – here, see for thyself,” Sir Didymus replied, he and Ludo hoisting Jareth up to see over the wall’s edge at all the guards in front of the castle. Lowering Jareth down again, Sir Didymus added, “And it is guarded by roughly sixty men.”

“And our assets?”

“Ludo’s strength, your brains, and my sword.”

“And rocks,” Ludo added.

“That, too…” Suddenly a smile spread over Sir Didymus’ face. “Sir Ludo, canst thou summon up an entire army of rocks?”

“Sure,” Ludo answered. “Rocks friends.”

“Perfect!” Sir Didymus almost cried out loud. “That takes care of how we shall deal with these sixty guards, then.”

“But what about once we’re inside?” Jareth demanded. “What then?”

“Well…” Sir Didymus paused, considering this. “That, we shall have to figure out…somehow. And we have until tonight to do so!” And with that, he and Ludo helped Jareth up (somewhat) to make their plans in a somewhat more efficient hiding spot on the wall.

“My sword was also taken from me when I was in the Oubliette; I’ll need a new one eventually,” Jareth added – right as his head flopped down onto his chest.

“Canst thou even lift one?” Sir Didymus inquired once Ludo had righted Jareth's head again.

“Maybe not, but is that common knowledge?” Jareth asked, his head flopping backwards this time. Again, Ludo straightened it. “Thank you.”

“A few more minor queries…” Sir Didymus piped up. “How shalt I find Count Arryn? And how do I find thee once I hath killed Arryn? And then how shalt we escape?”

“Bad day,” Ludo chided Sir Didymus, still holding Jareth’s head.

“Of course. My apologies.” In response, Ludo moved Jareth’s head in two nods towards Sir Didymus.

As the group then crept further along the wall, Ludo asked, “Didymus?”

“What?”

“We win?”

“I certainly hope so. Forward, Ambrosius.”

In the castle, Fridleifus was helping Sarah to arrange the last of her hair decorations (they really were beautiful ornaments; they were designed to look like flowers, vines, and leaves made out of silver with ribbons to match were entwined in her hair). Both prince and bride looked incredible; Fridleifus wore a silver brocade suit with flowing sleeves and a ruffled cravat, but Sarah looked a thousand times more beautiful. She was dressed in an iridescent silver gown trimmed here and there with gold lace that matched the petticoat peeking through the opening on her poofy skirt (in Druwyth, the rule was that the fancier the occasion, the fuller the skirt); the narrow off-the shoulder sleeves of the gown were topped with large poufs, and she wore a crystal necklace with earrings to match.

“You don’t seem very excited, my pet,” Fridleifus commented as he wove the last ribbon into place.

“Should I be?” Sarah asked.

“I’m told that brides usually are.”

Rising to her feet, Sarah answered airily, “But I’m not marrying you tonight. My Jareth will save me.” And with that, she left the room.

Chapter Text

After what felt like hours of waiting, darkness had finally fallen over the Druwyth sky; the sixty guards still stood in front of the castle gate, and the wedding was about to begin. Up on the wall, Ludo, Jareth, and Sir Didymus stacked their hands one on top of the other in a sign of teamwork.

In the castle, the organ was playing, the candles were lit, and the guests had gathered. Fridleifus and Sarah knelt before the altar as they waited for the bishop to begin speaking. With a gesture of his hands, the bishop bade Sarah and Fridleifus rise, and then began his speech – although he did not sound like you’d imagine any bishop would…

“Mawwiage. …Mawwiage is whut bwings us togevaa…tudaay.”

If Sarah had been marrying Jareth at the moment instead of Fridleifus, she would’ve cracked up laughing.

“Mawwiage. …That bwessed awwangement…that dweem…wivvin…a dweem.”

Suddenly from outside came a loud commotion: a long and loud howl followed by numerous thumps and thuds and then yells from Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim to their sixty guards: “Stand yer ground, men! Stand yer ground!” Fridleifus instantly looked worried, but Sarah kept a very calm, almost masklike, expression on her face.

What had happened was that Ludo was summoning an entire army of rocks – and in just a few moments, they had come rolling along the ground towards the wall around the castle.

“It must be witchcraft; hold your ground!” the guards called to each-other. From where they were hidden, Sir Didymus hissed, “Now!” – and with another howl, the rocks had gone tumbling through the gate in the wall towards the guards.

“Retreat!” cried several of the guards – yet it was to no avail. For the next couple of minutes, there were guards running here and there with rocks chasing after them, bowling them off their feet, and Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim trying to regain order.

“Then wuv…twuu wuv…” continued the bishop, “wiww fowwow you…fowevaa.” Prince Fridleifus motioned to Count Arryn with his head – and in response to the signal, Arryn left the room with a few of the guards following him.

By now, there was no hope of regaining order. “Fight! Stay and fight! Stay where you are!” Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim ordered – but to no avail. The guards had pretty much deserted the gate, and they were all alone with Ludo, Sir Didymus, and Jareth now coming out of their hiding spot.

“So tweasuwe yow wuv…” the bishop was saying – but Prince Fridleifus hissed, “Just skip to the end!”

“…Have you the wing?” the bishop asked. Without another word, Fridleifus grabbed Sarah’s left hand and put the gold band on her finger.

“Jareth is coming, and you know it,” she told Fridleifus nonchalantly.

“The portcullis, Sir Ludo!” Sir Didymus cried. With that, Ludo set down the still somewhat paralyzed Jareth and, with a great heave, lifted up the portcullis just before Alph, Ralph, Jim and Tim could get safely behind it. The two (or four?) goblins just stared at Ludo in disbelief.

“Your Jareth is dead,” Prince Fridleifus informed Sarah. “I killed him myself.”

Sarah took a long look at Fridleifus. “Then why is there fear behind your eyes?” she asked.

Picking up Jareth again, Ludo and Sir Didymus cornered Alph, Ralph, Jim, and Tim. From his hiding spot in the woods, Grobble saw a chance…

“Give us the gate key,” Jareth demanded.

“Er…we don’t have a gate key,” Tim replied; Jim added, “But, uh, they might” – looking up at Alph and Ralph.

“Um…neither of us has a gate key, either,” Ralph answered.

“Sir Ludo, tear their arms off," Sir Didymus instructed.

“Oh, y’mean this gate key?” Alph replied, holding out the gate key which Ludo instantly took from him before letting the two (or four?) goblins also run away. With that, the three hurried into the castle – and a moment later, Grobble slipped in after them…

“And do you, Pwincess Sawah…” the bishop was asking – much too slowly for Prince Fridleifus’ comfort.

“Man and wife – say ‘Man and wife’!” he demanded. Without another word, the bishop answered, “…Man and wife.”

Sarah’s heart stopped at the bishop’s words – but just as soon as it resumed, it also started breaking. Jareth was either too late, or he just hadn’t come at all…but there wasn’t much time to think about that now. Giving Sarah a slight shove towards the king and queen, Prince Fridleifus ordered, “Escort her to the honeymoon suite; I’ll be there shortly.” With that, Fridleifus ran off without even pausing to kiss his new bride – and King Rhesus gave Sarah his arm to escort her.

Sarah was still somewhat stunned as she was led towards the honeymoon suite. All she could whisper to herself were three words: “He didn’t come…”

Count Arryn and his men were hurrying down the halls looking for the intruders, and Ludo, Jareth, and Sir Didymus were coming down another hall – Sir Didymus in search of Count Arryn. At one particular corner, Sir Didymus motioned for Ludo to stop; he wasn’t sure if he’d heard someone coming…

All clear. He motioned for Ludo to come forward again, who followed Sir Didymus down the hall to their left – only for the three friends to be greeted by Count Arryn and his men coming towards them from the other end of the hall.

Still riding Ambrosius, Sir Didymus stepped forward as Count Arryn and his men approached, but Ludo hung back with Jareth. He knew this was Sir Didymus’ fight.

“Don’t be afraid, Ambrosius,” Sir Didymus encouraged the dog. Count Arryn, on the other hand, had only one order for his men: “Kill the fox and the beast, but leave the third for questioning.” Instantly, the guards rushed to fulfill his order – but Sir Didymus had his sword drawn in the blink of an eye, and in just a few more seconds, each one of Count Arryn’s men lay dead. And unfortunately for Arryn, Sir Didymus instantly recognized the count from all those years ago.

The day was finally here. It was just Sir Didymus and Count Arryn as Sir Didymus spoke the words he’d always planned to speak: “Greetings. I am Sir Didymus. Thou hast killed my father; now, prepare to die.” And Ambrosius took a tentative step forward, Sir Didymus holding out his sword.

Obligingly, Count Arryn took a step forward, also holding his sword out in front of him…and then turned and bolted down the hall he’d come from. However, Ambrosius instantly started running the other way – to which Sir Didymus cried, “Ambrosius, our battle is back that way!”

Meanwhile, Sarah was still being led to the honeymoon suite by the king and queen – neither of whom could help noticing how odd the wedding had been…

“Strange wedding…” the queen remarked. “A very strange wedding. Well, come along, dear” – but as the queen went on, Sarah stopped with King Rhesus to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” the doddering old king asked.

“Because you’ve been kinder to me than anyone in this castle,” Sarah replied. “And I won’t be seeing you again since I’m going to kill myself once we reach the honeymoon suite.”

“Well, that’s very nice,” the old king answered cheerfully, patting Sarah's hand – and as the two started walking again, he chirped to his wife, “She kissed me!”

Meanwhile, Ambrosius kept running down hallway after hallway. For anyone walking past, they would’ve just heard parts of what Sir Didymus was yelling to Ambrosius: “You’re going the wrong way! …Ambrosius, can we please talk about this?! …Sit!”

However, an idea finally struck him. “Ambrosius, if you don’t turn around now, I will never feed you again!” Sir Didymus yelled – and instantly, the dog drew to a grinding halt and turned around. “That’s better,” Sir Didymus added. “Now, where can that count be?” Just then, his question was answered as Count Arryn ran down a nearby hallway – and with another “Don’t be afraid, Ambrosius”, Sir Didymus was finally on track.

For the next couple of minutes, it was through doors, turns down hallways and corridors, and still, Sir Didymus stayed in hot pursuit of Count Arryn. On one particular flight of stairs, however, Count Arryn outran Sir Didymus far enough that he had time to pull a small knife out of his boot and then run from there into a banquet hall that this flight of stairs led into. The count barely had time to run far enough into the room before Sir Didymus had just entered the banquet room to then throw his hidden knife at the fox – which stabbed him right in the stomach.

Sir Didymus slumped back in his saddle, and fell from there onto the floor. Count Arryn grinned triumphantly as Sir Didymus lay on the floor and Ambrosius stood worriedly over his master.

“Sorry, father…” Sir Didymus whispered as he sat painfully up. “I tried…”

Taking a closer look at Sir Didymus, Count Arryn observed, “You must be that silly little fox pup I taught a lesson to all those years ago; it’s amazing, really, but such a pity. You’ve been hunting me down for most of your life, only to fail now? Incredible – but also rather pathetic.”

As the door to the honeymoon suite was closed behind her, Sarah was once again alone – and by now, her heart was completely broken. Jareth either hadn’t come in enough time…or more likely, Prince Fridleifus was right, and Jareth really didn’t want her anymore. Sarah had been afraid that Jareth would never forgive her for abandoning him at the Fire Swamp; now, it seemed that her fears had been confirmed. Why else would he not have come for her?

Walking over to a desk sitting near the far wall, Sarah sat down at it and picked up a box on the desk; when she opened it, a dagger lay inside. Her fingers traced it for a second, and then, as though in a dream, Sarah picked up the dagger; placing the blade right above the low cut of her bodice, she was just about to use it when a voice came from behind her: “Tsk, tsk, precious…”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Sarah wheeled – and saw Jareth lying on the bed looking back at her. “Jar –”

“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world; it would be a pity to damage yours,” he added.

Sarah stared at him, not amused. Really? What a pervert.

But then it struck her…Jareth really had come for her after all! Hardly caring about his comments anymore, Sarah shook her head fondly as she dropped the dagger and ran to the bed, climbing onto it beside Jareth to cover his face with kisses.

“Jareth, why won’t you hold me?” she mumbled between kisses, having noticed that Jareth was hardly responding to her.

“Gently…” he answered weakly.

“A time like this, and that’s all you can think to say right now? ‘Gently’?” Sarah asked – pulling him in again for a passionate kiss.

“Gently –!” Jareth repeated – just before his head banged against the headboard as Sarah released her grasp.

Oh. So that was what he meant by “gently”.

“Oops,” Sarah said sheepishly as Jareth winced at the pain – trying not to giggle in spite of herself. “Sorry.”

Down in the banquet hall, Sir Didymus suddenly pulled the dagger out of his stomach – and making sure to keep his free paw pressed tightly against the wound, he rose shakily to his feet.

“Really? Are you still trying to win?” Count Arryn asked rather spitefully; as Sir Didymus tumbled back against the wall, he added, “Your feelings of vengeance are overdeveloped, fox. That’ll get you in trouble one day.”

With that, Arryn drew his sword again and aimed it for Sir Didymus’ heart, but the fox held up his own sword quickly enough that he was able to block Arryn’s thrust from going into his chest – and into his shoulder. Still painful, yes, but not fatal.

Arryn tried again, and this time, Sir Didymus deflected him to his other shoulder. A couple more sword swings, and Sir Didymus blocked them both; coming forward from leaning against the wall, Sir Didymus repeated slowly, “Greetings…I am Sir Didymus…Thou hast killed my father…now, prepare to die…” Ambrosius, seeing that he likely would not be needed again during this fight, quickly retreated behind a large tapestry hanging on the wall. He would know if his master needed him again, but for now, this was Sir Didymus’ battle.

Sir Didymus advanced slowly, keeping his paw pressed against his first wound; Count Arryn kept making swings at Sir Didymus, but the little fox blocked every single one. “Greetings…I am Sir Didymus…Thou hast killed my father…now, prepare to die…” he repeated. His sword swings were getting stronger now, and he knocked Count Arryn backwards against one of the banquet tables with another cry of “Greetings! I am Sir Didymus. Thou hast killed my father; now, prepare to die” followed by a couple of barks.

“Stop saying that!” the count yelled as he got back to his feet – only to be met with a couple more sword jabs from Sir Didymus that left him with two sword-pricks in his shoulders similar to the ones on Sir Didymus’ shoulders. Beginning to battle even more in earnest now, Sir Didymus cried again, stronger than before, “Greetings! I am Sir Didymus! Thou hast killed my father; now, prepare to die!” Continuing to battle, Sir Didymus got so excited that he started yapping wildly as he continued forcing Count Arryn back onto another table. Taking a cue from when he’d fought the man in black, Sir Didymus swung his sword so close to Arryn that the count froze – and Sir Didymus quickly knocked the sword out of his hand and held him at sword-point.

“Offer me money,” Sir Didymus ordered.

“Yes,” Arryn answered quickly.

“And promise me power, too,” Sir Didymus added. With that, he made another quick slash over the count’s left eye that left him with an injury almost identical to the one Sir Didymus had gotten over his own eye fifteen years ago – not enough to gouge, but undoubtedly enough to blind the count in that eye.

“All the power I have and more,” Arryn replied, cupping a hand over his injured eye.

“And give me anything else I want,” Sir Didymus demanded.

“Anything you want,” the count stammered.

And instantly, Sir Didymus stabbed him in the heart with a ferocious whisper of “I want my father back.” With that, he stabbed the count even deeper – and a moment later, Count Arryn fell dead to the floor. It was finally over; Didymus had avenged his father after all these years.

Just then, Ambrosius came out from where he’d hidden and started happily licking his master all over his face. “Easy, Ambrosius,” Sir Didymus laughed weakly. “Come, then; we must find Sir Ludo and the man in black – and escape with them and with my lady.” On that note, he turned and limped out of the banquet hall, Ambrosius following close behind.

Chapter Text

“Jareth, can you ever forgive me?” Sarah asked quietly.

“Whatever for? After all, what sins have you committed lately?” Jareth inquired.

“…I married Fridleifus,” she answered rather sadly. “I didn’t want to, I never wanted to – it just happened so quickly…”

“I don’t think it ever happened,” Jareth reassured her.

Sarah was taken aback. “What did you just say?”

“I said it never happened.”

“Of course, it did!” Sarah protested, confused. “I was there when the old bishop declared us ‘Man and wife’ –”

“But I have a feeling you never said ‘I do’,” Jareth interrupted.

Sarah paused for a moment, considering this. “I actually didn’t…” she answered. “That part got skipped over…”

“Then you aren’t married to him,” Jareth concluded. “If you didn’t say it, then you didn’t actually do it.”

Of course! At this revelation, Sarah actually laughed aloud (for what felt like the first time in forever) as she wrapped her arms around Jareth’s neck. However, Jareth’s sharply adding, “Wouldn’t you agree, sire?” made Sarah stop short; as she looked up from where she'd rested her head against Jareth’s shoulder, she followed his gaze and saw Prince Fridleifus standing in the doorway – and quickly sat up.

“A technicality that will shortly be remedied,” Fridleifus answered coldly; drawing his sword, he added, “But first things first: to the death!”

“No,” Jareth answered simply. “To the pain.”

Prince Fridleifus stopped dead in his tracks at Jareth’s words. “I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase…” he muttered.

“I’ll explain,” Jareth replied. “And I’ll be sure to use small words to make sure you can understand, you warthog-faced buffoon.”

Still frozen where he stood (mostly from shock at hearing himself addressed in such a manner), Fridleifus responded, “That may be the very first time a man has ever dared to insult me.”

“It won’t be the last,” Jareth assured him. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes – ‘To the pain’ means that the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles, then your hands at the wrists; next, your nose.”

“And then my tongue, I suppose?” Jareth nodded once in reply.

“I killed you too quickly last time,” Fridleifus retorted, “and that was a mistake I won’t make again tonight.” He advanced towards Jareth, who interrupted, “I wasn’t finished. The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right!”

“And then my ears; I understand, let’s get on with it!” Prince Fridleifus demanded – right as Jareth replied, “Wrong! You’ll keep your ears, and I’ll tell you why: so that the shrieks of every child at seeing your ugliness will be yours to cherish; every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries, ‘Dear God, what is that thing?’ will stay in your perfect ears. And that is what ‘To the pain’ means; it means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in unbelievable misery forever.”

During this speech, Prince Fridleifus had been getting noticeably paler. Even his short answer of “I think you’re bluffing” couldn’t hide his cowardice.

“It’s possible; I might be bluffing,” Jareth answered. “It’s conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I’m only lying here because I haven’t got the strength to stand. But then again…maybe I do have the strength.”

On that note, Jareth slowly sat up from where he lay – and actually rose to his feet, though still clutching one of the posts on the canopy bed, pointing the sword Ludo had “borrowed” for him at Prince Fridleifus.

“Drop. Your. Sword.”

Prince Fridleifus’ sword clattered to the ground at once, the prince growing even paler than he’d been during the rest of the conversation.

Pointing to a chair sitting nearby, Jareth added, “Have a seat.” Fridleifus instantly ran to the chair and sat down.

“Tie him up,” Jareth instructed Sarah, motioning to some rope hanging up. “And make it as tight as you like.”

Sarah grabbed the rope and obeyed – but as she tied Fridleifus to the chair, she couldn’t resist giving him a smug look.

However, while she was still tying up the prince, the sound of running feet came down the hall, and a moment later, a disheveled goblin burst through the open door, gasping for air.

“Grobble run…all over castle…to find king! …Warn him!” the goblin wheezed.

“Grobble? What are you doing here?” Jareth asked, staring at the goblin. “Catch your breath before you say another word.” Sarah stared at the goblin, too. Jareth seemed to know him; could this be one of his goblin spies?

Grobble rested for a few seconds before he spoke again – but even then, the little goblin was still breathing heavily.

“Grobble warn king…” he told Jareth. “Grobble hear…prince and count talking…” (pointing at Fridleifus) “Prince plans…to kill…” He pointed a crooked finger at Sarah. “They blame Thorearis for it…and go to war…”

Jareth and Sarah stared at Prince Fridleifus in shock. “What?” cried Sarah.

“Is this true?” Jareth asked threateningly, carefully making his way over to Fridleifus (Sarah hurrying to support him on her shoulder) to hold his sword point close to the prince’s throat.

“He’s lying –” the prince started – but another sword jab that almost pierced his skin made all the cowardice in him come tumbling out. “I was – planning to go to war with Thorearis! – I would’ve blamed them – for her death! –” he stammered.

Sarah clutched at her neck in furious, horrified shock. Her life had been in danger the whole time she’d been engaged to the prince! A moment later, however, the prince jabbered on, “I wasn’t originally going to do it – I hired the dwarf Hoggle to do the job – I threatened him with his life if he failed –”

Suddenly, everything came together for Sarah. Hoggle had been hired by Prince Fridleifus to kill her!? Of all the…!

But then another thought crossed her mind: if Hoggle had been threatened with his life when it came to killing her, that might explain why he had treated her the way he had. Maybe… “Where is Hoggle now?” she demanded from where she stood supporting Jareth.

“In the dungeon,” Fridleifus answered quickly. “He was to be executed – the day after you and I wed!”

“Stay here!” Sarah instructed Jareth, guiding him down into a seated position at the foot of the bed where he could still keep his sword pointed at Fridleifus’ throat.

“Where are you going, Sarah?” Jareth called after her. Picking up the dagger from where she’d left it on the desk (grabbing it just in case she needed to threaten any guards), Sarah just answered, “I’ll be back in a few minutes; just keep him at sword-point – and thank you for warning us, Grobble!” With that, she turned and ran out the door.

Down in the dungeon, Hoggle sat locked in his cell, regretting the day he’d met Prince Fridleifus. He wished he’d had the option of never taking on the job to kill Sarah, but what could he have done? Fridleifus had threatened to kill him on the spot if he didn’t agree to do it, and had also threatened to have him executed if he failed to kill Sarah – not that the dwarf had ever really wanted to harm the girl in the first place. Hoggle had been a coward all his life, and look: where had it gotten him? He’d clearly failed his assignment; the wedding was happening tonight, if it wasn’t over already – and tomorrow, he’d be losing his life.

Suddenly, he heard someone calling his name: “Hoggle? Hoggle!” It was a female voice, and it sounded familiar… “Hoggle, it’s me, Sarah!”

“I’m…I’m over here,” Hoggle called back, terribly confused. A moment later, a guard appeared around the corner, leading none other than Sarah toward the cell! What in the name of…?

Crouching down to Hoggle’s level, Sarah looked up at the guard. “You can go; I know the way out from here,” she told him. With that, the guard turned and left, leaving Sarah and Hoggle alone.

“Sarah…what’re you doin’ here?” Hoggle asked in disbelief – also amazed at how beautiful Sarah looked in her wedding gown.

“We forced Prince Fridleifus to explain everything,” Sarah explained, “so I came down here to set you free. I had to hold that guard at dagger-point to make him give me the key and lead me to your cell.”

“You really needn’t,” Hoggle answered, sounding sheepish. “I’m not askin’ to be forgiven, and I ain’t ashamed o’ nothin’ I did; Fridleifus made me kidnap you. I don’t care what y’ think o’ me – I’ve always been a coward, and I ain’t interested in bein’ friends…”

“Hoggle…” Sarah paused for a moment. “…I forgive you.”

Hoggle stared at her through the bars. “You…you do?” he asked, not believing his own ears.

“Of course,” Sarah answered. “Now I know that Fridleifus threatened you with your life, and I see now that the way you treated me was just an act because you were afraid. We’re all going to leave for the rogue goblin kingdom and we’ll never come back here again; I’ll explain everything along the way.” With that, she turned the key in the hole and swung the door open. “Follow me – quickly, now!”

As Sarah led Hoggle back to the honeymoon suite, she explained everything: that Jareth, the man in black, was the king of the rogue goblins and that he was her true love, and that they were going to escape back to his kingdom tonight to live there.

As they hurried down one particular hall, however, a thought occurred to Sarah. “Hoggle…you like collecting jewelry, don’t you?” she asked, turning around. She recalled discovering that he’d stolen her jewelry when he, Ludo, and Sir Didymus had first kidnapped her. “Do you still have your collection?”

“Yeah…why?” Hoggle asked.

“Here.” To show Hoggle that there were no hard feelings, Sarah twisted off the wedding ring Prince Fridleifus had put on her finger and handed it to the dwarf. “Take it and add it to your collection; I never want to see it again!” she added with a smirk.

Before too long, she and Hoggle had reached the honeymoon suite again, just in time to hear Jareth threaten Prince Fridleifus, “…we are leaving for my kingdom tonight – and if you ever come near our kingdom or dare touch Sarah again, there will be dire consequences for you. Are we clear?” Fridleifus vigorously bobbed his head yes – looking every bit like the weaselly coward he was.

“I’m back!” Sarah called to Jareth. “And Hoggle’s coming with us; everything’s been forgiven, and he’s on our side!” When Jareth gave her a questioning look, Sarah added, “It’s a long story; I’ll explain it all when we leave Druwyth!”

Just then, Sir Didymus suddenly ran into the room, followed by Ambrosius. “Hast thou –” he began to ask Jareth – but then he caught sight of Hoggle. “Sir Hoggle?” he inquired.

“It’s alright,” Sarah said quickly. “He’s with us now.”

“And I owe you an’ Ludo an apology,” Hoggle added. “Fridleifus threatened my life if I didn’t kill Sarah. But I shouldn’t o’ treated you an’ Ludo the way I done.”

“Then I commend thee,” Sir Didymus answered. “Rarely have I seen such honesty. Thou art a valiant man, Sir Hoggle.”

“…I am?”

“Why, of course. But back to my original question, though,” Sir Didymus added, turning to Jareth, “hast thou seen Sir Ludo, my liege?”

“I told him to leave me here, but then I thought he went looking for you,” Jareth replied. Sir Didymus shook his head.

“In that case…” continued Jareth, rising from where he sat – and instantly falling again. “Thou had better help him, my lady,” Sir Didymus commented.

“Why does he need helping?” Sarah asked as she rushed over to Jareth. Sir Didymus simply answered, “He has naught strength, you see.”

“I knew it – I knew you were bluffing!” Fridleifus cried from where he was tied. “I knew he was – bluffing…” His voice trailed off as Sir Didymus held him at sword-point, followed by the fox’s asking Jareth, “Shall I dispatch him for thee?”

“Thank you, but no,” Jareth told him. “Whatever happens to us, I want this prince to live a long life alone with his cowardice.”

Throughout the whole conversation, Grobble had been looking from one person in the room to another; the little goblin clearly had barely any idea of how Hoggle and Sir Didymus came into the story…when suddenly, a loud voice called up from the ground: “Didymus? Where Didymus?”

Going to the window, the five friends looked down – and saw Ludo down in the courtyard with two white horses by his side. “Ludo find horses!” Ludo called up to them. “Horses for mask man and Sarah!”

“Sir Ludo, thou hast done something right!” Sir Didymus praised the beast. “Although…would you also be able to find a smaller horse for Sir Hoggle? He is coming with us!”

“Hoggle and Ludo friends?”

“Oh, yes. Quickly, please!”

With that, Ludo wandered off in the direction of the stables, and in a minute, he had come back with a pony that would be just the right size for the dwarf to ride. “This work?”

“Perfect!” Sir Didymus answered. “We shall all be right down!” Then to Sarah, “After thee, my lady.”

With that, he helped Sarah climb up onto the window ledge – but just then, Grobble tugged at her skirt. “Who are friends?” he asked. “Dwarf and beast and fox?”

Sarah laughed. “Don’t worry, Grobble,” she answered. “We’ll tell you the whole story.” And at those words, she jumped from the windowsill…down, down, down…until she fell into Ludo’s arms a moment later.

“Sarah!” he grinned at her. “Sarah friend!”

“Good catch, Ludo!” Sarah giggled as he gently set her down again. A moment later, Hoggle jumped, followed by Grobble, and Ludo caught them both. Hanging onto the window frame above him to support himself, Jareth motioned for Sir Didymus and Ambrosius to go ahead.

“It’s odd,” commented Sir Didymus, pausing, “but I have been in the revenge business for so long – yet now that it is over, I knoweth not what I shall do for the rest of my life.”

“I could find you some sort of job in my kingdom,” Jareth reassured him – and with that, he jumped. Sir Didymus considered Jareth’s words, and then he jumped as well, followed by an initially reluctant Ambrosius (who really had no reason to be, seeing as Ludo caught everyone who jumped from the window).

In a few minutes, the friends had saddled the pony and both horses, and rode away from the castle – Jareth and Hoggle alone on their steeds (Jareth having replenished enough strength to ride with one of his magic crystals), Sarah holding Grobble in her lap on her horse, Sir Didymus riding Ambrosius, and Ludo walking alongside the group.

The six friends set up camp in Druwyth that night, and everyone told their side of the story so that by the time the friends all fell asleep, everyone knew who was who and what had happened to whom. In the morning, the group stopped by the Wiseman’s house again to get some sort of cure for the wounds Sir Didymus had gotten while fighting Arryn (and the pill the Wiseman prepared really did work; by that afternoon, there weren’t even any scars left on Sir Didymus) – and from there, they rode down to the ship Jareth had come in when he’d first started following Hoggle’s party (it had drifted out a bit, but Jareth was able to summon it back with yet another crystal); they boarded with their horses, and then sailed on to the rogue goblins’ kingdom. A few days after they had all arrived, Jareth found good spots to be new homes for Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus, as well as important jobs for each of them; a few months afterwards, he and Sarah were finally married. And as they reached for each-other for their first –

“And they all lived happily ever after,” the worm suddenly interrupted himself.

“What? What?” Toby cried.

“Nah, it’s kissin’ again,” the worm explained. “You don’t like hearin’ that.”

“Well…” Toby paused. “…I don’t mind so much, I guess.”

“Alright, then,” said the worm, sounding pleasantly surprised.

As Jareth and Sarah reached for each-other for their first kiss as a married couple, it must be borne in mind that ever since the invention of the kiss, only five in history have been rated as the purest, tenderest, and most passionate. This one, however, left the other four behind.

“The end,” concluded the worm, smiling. Toby smiled, too – he’d loved the story, despite his initial doubts, and he liked the worm, too.

“I think I’d better get on my way, then,” the worm added. “Would you be so kind as to let me out the way you brought me in?”

“Sure,” Toby answered. Holding out his hand again, he let the worm crawl into his palm, picked him up and carried him to the window, opened the screen, and set the worm down on the windowsill before sliding the screen down again.

“Well…so long,” the worm said as he started to crawl off – but Toby called softly after him, “Wait.”

As the worm turned around, Toby hesitated. “Maybe…maybe you could come over and tell me the story again tomorrow. …Please?”

The worm grinned. “As you wish.”

Toby grinned back. With that, he watched the worm crawl down the drainpipe; opening the screen again, he leaned out the window and waved goodbye until he couldn’t see the worm anymore – and once the worm had disappeared, Toby got back into bed.

Toby sat quietly staring up at the sky out the open window, but he no longer felt upset about not being able to play with his friends. Instead, all that filled his head were scenes from the story: Jareth and Sarah falling in love, Sarah getting kidnapped by Hoggle and his band, the Battle of Wits, Sarah and Jareth being reunited and later getting surrounded by fireys in the Fire Swamp, Count Arryn torturing Jareth with the Machine, the Wiseman creating a miracle-pill, Sarah almost marrying Prince Fridleifus, Sir Didymus’ duel with Count Arryn – and finally, the friends all riding to freedom.

A few minutes later, however, a voice called up to Toby: “Toby, are you around?” Grampa was here.

“Yeah; I’m here, Grampa!” Toby called back. A moment later, Grampa came into the room.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he gave Toby a hug. Returning it, Toby answered, “I’m okay.” He decided against mentioning anything about the worm.

“Well, then,” said Grampa, “it’s just about lunch-time; how about I get you and I something to eat?”

“Sounds good,” Toby replied, realizing he was actually pretty hungry. He’d lost all track of time when the worm had been telling his story.

“Alright, then.” With that, Grampa left the room to go get some sort of meal ready. Just before he went downstairs, however, he called back, “Once I come back up with lunch, there’s a story I’d like to read to you. It’s called The Princess Bride, by S. Morgenstern; I think you’d like it…”