It came into the Labyrinth in the night, sneaking, a thing so tiny it 
was never seen nor sensed.  It slipped through the maze on an ill wind, 
searching with undeniable purpose.  It had been released into the 
Aboveground first, and sped through the sky to the Underground to feed, 
to grow strong again.  It found her, smelling the roses on the wind, 
following the scent to the castle.  A Herald, it thought darkly, 
hungrily.  A Herald...
Aeris' dreams cut off suddenly.  She opened her eyes, awake, but 
somehow not.  She knew that she was still safe in her castle bed, 
sleeping--but she knew this was no dream.  She stood in a room filled 
with candles.  They glowed from every corner, casting strange rainbows 
of light.  A man stepped out of the shadows.  He was tall and handsome, 
with long, sandy hair that curled slightly at the ends.  His eyes were 
black.  He smiled a humorless smile at her.
"Who--"
He cut her off with a wave of his hand.  She was stuck mute by his 
gesture.  "I am Necrodemos."  The name chilled her without reason.  "You 
are now my prisoner, Herald."  And his hollow, mirthless laughter came, 
echoing up and up through the room.  "I have you at last!" he said.
Aeris turned to run.  But through the door she pushed open lay a 
frightening nothingness, mist swirling beneath her.  She felt hands like 
ice grasp her shoulders, and a whisper like death in her ear.
"This is the beginning.  Now."  And Necrodemos pushed her into the 
emptiness below.  Water, she though blankly, as she struck what seemed 
to be an ocean of it.  And then she saw the eel.  And then she saw its 
teeth.

Jareth sat bolt upright in bed, the screaming echoing through his 
castle.  Someone pounded on his door.  He reached for the robe that lay 
on the chair nearby and threw it over himself, tying it as he threw open 
his door. Standing in the hall was a goblin, lighted candle in hand, 
shaking with fright..
"What is it?" he demanded of it.
"The Herald," it said, and Jareth snatched the candle and kicked the 
goblin out of his way.  He turned to his left and ran towards her door.  
Aeris, the Herald of the Underground, was staying in the castle while 
the Goblin King had her tiny cottage demolished and built a larger 
dwelling with more luxuries over it.  The simple way of life the former 
Herald (Callisti, Aeris' mother), had preferred was not the sort that 
such a young girl would appreciate.  Jareth understood that.  But he 
didn't have to like her being here.  It was unbearably uncomfortable.  
Their last adventure together had been downright strange--his shadow, 
parted from him, had fallen in love with her--and he was still sorting 
that out in his mind.  In the meantime, he didn't want to have to deal 
with her.  But there she was.  Down the hall he found his father on his 
way to the Herald's room as well.  They reached it and Jareth attempted 
to pull the heavy wooden door open.  It was locked.  Lucas extended a 
hand and it crashed against the inner wall with the force of his magic.
Aeris was not in the bed.  She was sitting in the corner, her legs to 
her chest, arms crossed protectively over her face, screaming with all 
her might.  She looked as if she'd been swimming.
Lucas grabbed her and shook her, and her screaming stopped abruptly, 
her blue eyes flying open to stare wonderingly at the Goblin King.
"I...I..." she said.
"You had a nightmare," he told her.  The sounds of castle inhabitants 
rushing to investigate made him look up.  "Jareth, go tell them it's 
alright."  The young man gave Aeris one disgusted glance and walked out.
She stood up.  Her purple nightdress was soaked.  Her hair was dripping 
water.  "I'm wet," she said, unable to do any more than state the 
obvious.  She was completely shocked still.
"You probably dumped your basin over yourself.  You should change and 
dry off and get back to bed.  I'll send a goblin in--"
"No, I've got it.  How embarassing."
"Not at all," he told her.  "Good night.  And pleasant dreams, Herald."
She nodded, forcing a smile on her pretty face.  She felt a blush 
creeping up her neck, and she sighed as she shut and locked her door 
again.  She tried to remember what she'd been dreaming of, but not only 
could she not think of it, it was as if she wouldn't let herself, and 
that was twice as frightening.  Leaving her soaked nightdress for the 
goblin servents in the morning (a luxury she didn't want to get used 
to--she was very self-sufficient), she wrapped herself in her robe.  She 
rubbed her long hair with a towel, trying to dry it a little.  She 
thought of what Lucas had said about the water, and walked slowly over 
to her basin, wondering.  She let the towel fall on the floor and 
reached out to grasp the ancient white bowl.  She touched the edge, 
almost let her hand slip in...and stopped.  She couldn't do it.  She 
went to put on a dry nightgown.  As she was changing, Jareth was still 
outside the door, leaned casually against the wall.  He looked suave and 
handsome even in his robe, and he knew it.  He reached out when the 
goblin who'd awakened him walked by.
"Hello," he told it, picking it up by the scruff off the neck and 
dangling it at eye level.  It knew better than to kick or struggle.
"Your Majesty?" it asked helplessly.
"I'd like you to awake the Herald at the crack of dawn.  Be persistent.  
I understand she enjoys being awakened very early after a bad sleep...to 
get it over as soon as possible, you see."
The goblin nodded, and Jareth dropped it, grinning, and walked back to 
his room.
Aeris suffered through a nearly sleepless night, tossing and turning, 
wondering about her nightmare, wondering how she could have forgotten it 
so soon, or why she couldn't even get a sense of what it was about.  It 
was near dawn when she finally slipped into sleep again.
The goblin pounded on her door, and she opened her eyes, rolling over 
to ignore it.  The pounding continued.  "Herald," the shrill voice 
called through the door.
"Go away."
"Herald?"  The pounding started up again, this time combined with 
calling her title.
She threw off the covers.  "Okay, I'm up, I'm up!"  She answered the 
door.  "What's this about?"
The goblin looked usure, but seemed fairly pleased with itself.  "His 
Majesty the Prince Jareth instructed that you be awakened at the crack 
of dawn."
"Oh did he?"
It nodded.
She kicked it across the hall.  "Resilient little things," she 
muttered, watching it pick itself back up as though it was nothing.  
"Give that to His Majesty for me," she called to it, slamming her door.  
She groaned, and wandered sleepily over to her dressing table.  The 
sunlight that filtered into the room was going to make sleep impossible.  
She might as well get up.  She glanced into the mirror and immediately 
looked away.  She was a disaster.  Large dark circles were under her 
eyes, her hair was a mess, and to top it all off, she still looked 
fourteen.  It wouldn't have mattered so much, except that it was just 
one more thing.  Her aging had abruptly slowed to a crawl when she took 
over the position of Herald from her mother.  At fifteen or sixteen, it 
hadn't mattered so much.  By seventeen it was a minor annoyance.  She 
was eighteen now, and ready to look like a woman, but her face 
stubbornly remained stuck on fourteen.  She groaned again, then reached 
into the basin in front of her and splashed a handful water on her face.  
Then she froze.  She leaned over, and stared down into the bowl, eyes 
wide and not a little frightened.  The basin was almost full.  Her wet 
nightdress still lay where she'd left it; no servant had been in to fill 
the basin.  She swallowed hard, then stood up, slowly convincing herself 
that she had somehow done it and forgotten.  After a while, it worked 
well enough to let her get on with dragging through her morning.
A few hours later, she caught the goblin bringing in Jareth's breakfast 
and got a wonderful idea.  She stopped it and grabbed the tray, 
muttering something about how she could play games too, then walked in 
smiling.  He was dressed, sitting at the small table in his room, 
looking at papers.  "Jareth," she said sunnily, setting the tray in 
front of him.
"Herald?" he said hesitantly.
"I'm so glad you thought to get me up early, Jareth.  I really 
appreciate it."
"I...Of course," he said, though she could see him watching her 
curiously.
She fought not to giggle.  "I thought I'd pay back the favor," she told 
him.
He glanced down at his breakfast.  "How?"
She shrugged.  "Oh, you'll see."
He pushed the tray away, then smiled elegantly up at her.  "I'm not 
hungry."
"Suit yourself."   And she strolled out the door.  She paused at the 
threshold, and turned around.  Something in her eyes was strange, they 
were almost black in the shadows of daylight coming through his windows.  
"You are untrustworthy, and so you do not trust.  She has used it 
against you.  But this girl is not your victim any longer.  Not yours.  
Now she and I play."  The voice didn't even sound like hers, but then 
she was out the door and he heard her whistling down the hall in her 
usual manner.
In the throne room that afternoon, she was rewarded by the sound of his 
stomach rumbling the entire way through a meeting with some Underground 
dignitaries.  Jareth had realized her game and was reasonably irritated, 
cursing his own mistrust and knowing what she had meant by the 
door...sort of.   The rest of it still puzzled him.  And he had begun to 
watch her.

"Crazy, " Jareth was telling Stephan.  They were together by the 
fountain in the gardens.  "She's absolutely insane.  Somethings just 
wrong about her."
"No," disagreed Stephan.  "She's a lot of things, but she's not nuts."  
The younger of the two, he knew his brother's trickster streak well, and 
tended to be hesitant with him even when Jareth was obviously serious.  
He sighed wistfully.  "She's certainly a lot of things."
"Since when did you see that?"  Jareth stared at Stephan, a little 
surprised.
"I don't know.  I always liked her."
He scoffed.  "You used to tease her."
"No, Oberon used to pull her braid, and you used to tease her.  I just 
followed you around until I got old enough to know better.  And I know 
Aeris isn't crazy.  She's acting weird, yeah, but--"
"Sh."  Jareth held up a hand to his brother's face, and when Stephan 
stopped talking, he could hear Aeris singing, her voice coming through 
the hedge of the garden.  They watched her, standing on the benches, 
Stephan on tiptoe, just enough to see over the hedge into the rose 
garden.
Aeris was walking through, her white dress fluttering in the breeze and 
her black hair blowing loose around her shoulders.  She was a child of 
the Labyrinth roses herself, and it was always the rose garden she came 
to when she was at the castle.  Suddenly, her song stopped, and she 
halted.  Her eyes were very blue for a moment, and very wide.  Then they 
shifted.  They were like large, dark orbs in her face, endlessly black 
and searching.  They were taking in her surroundings, glancing over 
every rose, every part of the hedge, the cobblestone walkway.  The smile 
that spread itself on her lips was wide and frightening...and hungry.  
Then it was over.  She resumed singing, as though nothing had happened, 
going back to the very syllable she left off with.
The brothers waited until she was gone before they spoke again.  "I 
told you," said Jareth finally.  "Something's wrong.  Maybe she's not 
crazy.  But something is definitely wrong."
Stephan was shaken.  "Did you see her eyes?" he asked.  "What was 
that?"
"I don't know."  Jareth shook his head.  "She could be a danger to 
herself or even the kingdom.  As a matter of fact, I'm almost certain 
she is.  We've got to find out what's going on."
Aeris was more aware than any of them that something was wrong.  She 
felt as though she hadn't slept in days, even though she went to bed 
early every night and woke up later and later each morning.  She 
couldn't remember her dreams, though she had a feeling she was having 
them.  And things were getting stranger in her waking life.  She had 
been brought breakfast by a goblin a few days ago and nearly ran away 
screaming when she saw her reflection in the silver tray.  The reason 
was...well, she wasn't even dealing with that, end of story.  Another 
time, she had been sitting outside the castle, sketching a particularly 
good veiw of the Goblin City, but when she looked down at her paper, 
there was a misty scene...towers linked with long, high suspension 
bridges, hanging in nothingness, surrounded by a strange fog all around.  
She had burned the paper, mystified by her own secretiveness, aching to 
run to Lucas with her fears, but unable to speak of them at all.  She 
had suddenly become completely unable to look at a pool of water, even a 
spill on a floor without gasping for breath, terrified that she was 
drowning.  The worst part of it was the lost time.  She would black out 
and then come to in a totally different surrounding, having moved around 
and perhaps even (gods forbid) interacted with people she had met on the 
way.
The day after Jareth and Stephan spoke of her by the fountain was the 
day she finally fell all the way into the cavernous blackness that was 
growing in her mind.  He requested her company in one of the drawing 
rooms of the castle.  He and Stephan waited for her, darkness falling 
outside, the fire throwing its flickering light on the walls.  Jareth 
lit the lamps.
"She's not coming," Stephan said.
"Yes she is."  And there was a knock at the door.
Aeris opened it and moved tentatively into the room.  "You asked to see 
me?"
Jareth was momentarily thrown off guard by her appearance.  She was 
always such a pretty girl, but then she was so tired and stressed.  She 
looked like a frayed cord, coming all apart.  "Herald, would you sit 
down?"  He gestured a chair.  She sat, but he remained standing, 
conscious of the psychological advantage it would give.
"Aeris," began Stephan.  "What's wrong?"
She glanced at him, mildly surprised.  "Nothing, Stephan.  Why?"  But 
Jareth saw her hand involuntarily reach up to fidget with her braid, and 
her eyes dart over to the door, then back to Stephan's face.  Her 
wide-eyed innocence wasn't fooling anyone.
"Don't, Aeris.  We know.  We've seen the way you've been acting," 
Jareth told her, hoping to be able to get it out of her with friendship.
She bit her lip, her old unsure habit.  "What are you talking about?"
Stephan leaned forward in his chair, his face concerned and open.  
"Aeris, just tell us the truth.  We saw you in the garden.  You've been 
acting so strange..."
"Did I say anything?" she asked suddenly, a vague terror in her voice.
Jareth's eyes narrowed as he studied her.  "No," he said, and she 
settled back a little.  "No, you didn't say anything.  But you've been 
strange enough that we know something is wrong."
There was a long pause, and then she smiled grimly, convinced, somehow, 
of something.  "You're just playing another game!" she said, 
exasperated.  She threw her hands up and began to leave.
"Herald, I haven't dismissed you yet," he said, summoning up his 
commanding voice.
"I didn't know this was a formal meeting," she challenged him.
"It is.  Sit down."
She raised her chin.  "You're not the king yet, Jareth."
"You serve my family, and you will serve me."  His smile was hard as 
she eased back into her chair.  He knelt in front of her, blocking any 
more retreats, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.
"Jareth," she said, pleading with him.  "Don't make me tell.  I don't 
think it'd let me anyways."
"Aeris, tell me," he said, sensing in his predetory way that he was 
close to the kill.
She opened her mouth, beginning to say she didn't know, but then she 
began to remember.  She remembered the night Necrodemos had come, the 
night she'd had that first nightmare.
But her eyes slipped closed, her chin fell on her chest, and her 
shoulders slumped.  Jareth, surprised and dismayed, reached out to shake 
her, but suddenly, she looked up at him, and he nearly fell back on the 
floor in shock.  Distanly, he heard Stephan gasp.  He stared into her 
eyes.  They were like the ebony of piano keys, hard and shining.  They 
were empty.  There was nothing of life or light in that black.  It 
seemed to draw him closer, beckoning him in.  He almost leaned towards 
her face, and then stopped and stood, his heart pounding in his chest.
Inside her mind, she stood before Necrodemos again.  Now they were on a 
bridge, the long cables stretching up forever.  She felt it sway lightly 
under her feet.  She recognized this...it was the place she had 
unwillingly drawn and burned.  He had built it inside her mind.
"Aeris, you have come to me at last.  Now we dance forever."
Jareth heard her own voice issue from her lips, but the inflection, the 
words themselves, were not hers.  Her eyes flashed blue again.
"No!" she said.  "I won't stay here!"
"But of course you will.  Don't you want to dance with me, Aeris?"  
Necrodemos leaned close to her, and the scene shifted; she stood in a 
golden ball room, her hair and dress suddenly changing to accomodate the 
scene, a white ballgown.  He touched her hands.  She thought he was 
living ice.
"What are you going to...do?" she whispered into those dark, empty 
eyes.
"Frighten you, darling."  His laugh came, and she shivered helplessly.  
"Frighten you right up to the edge of madness.  And then over."  He 
pulled her closer and pressed his cold lips to hers.
Jareth watched the strange dialogue, his mouth open in surprise.  Then 
Aeris came alive in front of him, her arms reaching out to catch him as 
she flung herself from the chair.
Her wide blue eyes stared desperately up into his.  "Help me, Jareth."
Then the black swirled into them, and her eyes closed.  She slipped 
from his arms into the floor.
In her mind, she ran though the halls and doors of the strange castle, 
the long ball gown tripping her, Necrodemos' laughter filling her with 
fear.  She came out in the royal rose garden.  It was still and sweet 
there, and she paused.  Weeks' worth of nightmarish fears returned to 
her, plunging endlessly through the mist into oblivion, being chased by 
swarms of horrible fairies and faeries with red eyes and black hair and 
bat wings and teeth like razors, facing again and again monsters that 
defied description.  She knew they were only the creations of her mind; 
she knew that.  But she knew that now she was helpless; Necrodemos had 
finally grown strong enough to trap her in her mind, and there was no 
escape into the world of sane reality.  She was at the mercy of her 
nightmares, and they were getting worse.  Within the week, she would be 
completely insane.  She collapsed against a stone bench, mourning her 
lost mind.  Then the roses around her suddenly grew teeth in terrible 
grinning mouths, laughing Necrodemos' laughter as she ran from them.

The Hobgoblin was ushered in quickly when he said he had word about the 
Herald's illness.  The great, warty creature was a kind of 
blackish-green, his brown leather cap slightly askew on his head, the 
cocky angle of a dangerously self-assured foe.  He did not bow to the 
Goblin King as he entered the throne room, and though Jareth was tempted 
to teach the ugly thing a few manners, he followed his father's example 
of polite respect.  The Herald was too important to the Labyrinth and 
the Underground.
"What it comes to is this," the Hobgoblin said, his leering face made 
more hideous as he took off his hat and tossed it nonchalantly in the 
air.  That was how he began in the throne room, without even so much as 
a "your majesty."  He continued, "You have something I want, Lucas.  
More to the point, the Herald has something I want."
"What would that be?" asked Lucas drily, but Jareth sensed an edge in 
the king's voice.
"Why, Necrodemos, of course.  It has escaped from me, and naturally has 
come to feed."  The Hobgoblin's wide, grinning mouth turned up even 
farther.  He was proud.  "I had made a mirror," he said, gesturing 
elegantly with one clawed hand.  "I put Necrodemos at the center, to 
make it show.." the Hobgoblin chuckled away into outright giggles.  "My 
apprentice...broke it...he es..escaped..."
"Nevermind," said Lucas firmly, and the Hobgoblin managed to subside to 
a fierce grin.  "Necrodemos...what is it?"
"Do you not know--ah, but I have held him captive, since long before 
your reign.  Necrodemos.  The only one of his kind, a mental..." he 
groped for the word.  "Parasite.  A special parasite.  He feeds on only 
one thing.  Fear.  More specifically, the fear of a Herald.  Each are 
such a strange race.  Women of the roses, a creature that lives on 
terror..."  He shrugged.  "He has begun to feed on your Herald.  I want 
him back.  Our interests coincide.  You see, once Necrodemos has drained 
of her fear she will be hopelessly insane, and he will be too powerful 
for me to  trap.  It is in our best interests that she stay sane, 
perhaps even overcome him.  It hasn't been done yet--Necrodemos has 
driven innumberable Heralds mad, since the beginning of the Labryrinth.  
This one is young, far younger than the others, and has no child.  She 
will be the end of the line, but it won't matter.  With enough power, he 
could go on to rule the Underground forever...or the Aboveground for 
that matter."
"Then help her," Lucas told him, but the Hobgoblin wasn't finished.
"I demand that you cease to interfere in my activities.  That is the 
only condition."
"But you're evil!" interjected Jareth.
"And your father steals babies."
The silence was tense.  Then Lucas spoke.  "So be it.  You know you 
have my word."
"Done!"  The Hobgoblin's eyes lit with a taste of power.  "We begin."
It seemed hours before they were ready.  The Hobgoblin had ordered 
several things to be brought to him:  several different colors of 
roses--white, red, purple, yellow, pink; blue fairy wings, a bottle of 
cloud, the bark of a tree in the Bog of Eternal Stench, leaves from the 
hedge maze of the Labyrinth, and a single, rare, black rose, dead.  
"What are these things?" Jareth had demanded as they were collected.
"In the hands of a Herald, they are paints.  Now be off with you and 
your questions, boy."
Jareth had asked no more, but watched intently.  It was a ceremony of 
some sort, the Hobgoblin chuckling and chanting softly to himself as he 
crushed and emptied each thing into a large, clear, crystal bowl by the 
bed where Aeris lay, dreaming unescapable nightmares.  As Jareth 
watched, a small, blue line of smoke began rising from the bowl, and the 
Hobgoblin ran his thin, ugly hands through it as the room darkened with 
the coming of night.  The smoke gave off a strange, blue light, casting 
weird shadows on the Hobgoblin's face, and the sleeping Herald before 
them.  It had begun.
She ran through the tower, the roses following.  One had torn her 
dress.  Down and down the spiral staircase she flew, her feet 
threatening to trip over the white ballgown.  A door lay at the end.  
The roses snapped and laughed behind her.  She pushed it open and found 
herself on a bridge, slamming the door on the roses behind her.  
Necrodemos was there, smiling, walking over to her.  She panicked, then 
looked over the bridge into the mist, wondering if that was the way 
back.  The bridge swayed gently beneath her feet.  His smiled widened.  
"I wouldn't try it.  There'll be something different for you at the end 
every time."
"Maybe madness," she said, and leaped over the edge, the white ballgown 
flying up around her.
She landed hard in her bed in the little cottage.  In the other room, 
she heard her mother singing.  She got up, pulling the white gown up so 
she didn't trip.  "Mother?" she called, hesitant, disbelieving.
"I'm here," she said, leaving her song.  "Come see my painting."
Callisti was working on an easel.  Her long gray hair was tied up in 
its usual bun.  Tears stung Aeris' eyes with her painful longing.  She 
crept closer into the room, hoping with all her might that the woman was 
not some monster Necrodemos had drawn up; but only her mother's memory 
she had conjured for herself.  She moved around to see the painting.
It was of herself.  She was lying in bed, and several people were 
standing around her.  She recognized the Hobgoblin and several of the 
things she made her paints from.  She looked at Callisti.
"It's all right, Aeris.  I may not be entirely real, but I'm not part 
of Necrodemos."
Relief swept over her and she threw herself into her mother's arms, 
crying.  "Sh," Callisti told her.  "And listen.  Right now is what 
matters, and right now you're with me.  He can't get you here.  What you 
must remember is that he is the invader.  He doesn't belong here inside 
you.  And all the power he has, you gave to him.  Remember the lines, 
Aeris."
Everything began to blur and change, and then it was the Escher Room, 
collapsing around her.  She was falling through it.  "Like Sarah," she 
thought, and landed gently on her feet.
Necrodemos came out of the shadows, playing Jareth.  He was angry, his 
face twisting with cruelty and...fear, she realized, her heart leaping 
hopefully up in her chest.  She knew then that he hadn't brought her 
here.  She had.  The situation was hers.
"So we are here," he said, his voice black with controlled anger.
"It looks that way."  She stepped forward, and a light flashed around 
her, a circle tilting up from her ankles to her head, then sparking away 
like a firework.  She was dressed like her first painting of Sarah, the 
blue jeans feeling strange but pleasantly free.  "I'd like to go home 
now."
"You may not!" he thundered at her, amazed and horrified by her 
transformation.
"I'll say the words then.  For my will-"
"No!" screeched Necrodemos, his face and shape changing before her 
eyes, twisting and evolving, growing.  She stepped back.  And continued.
"-is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great."
A beast stood before her, its wide black eyes, empty orbs, glaring at 
her with loathing and desperate hatred.  Its mouth was open, and inside 
it was madness.  Hell.  It bent over her, jaws wide.
She cringed helplessly, then heard Sarah's curse, her struggle to 
remember, and then it came.  "You have no power over me!" she shouted 
into the pit, and the monster shrank to nothing.
Everything gave way below her.  She was really falling then, not the 
light drop of the Escher Room, but the strong, fast pull of gravity.  
There was light below her, and Necrodemos was above her, flying towards 
her.
"A gift, my Herald.  A gift," he called, reaching out his hand.  He 
touched the side of her head and pressed his freezing lips to hers 
again.  Then she was through the light, awake, and it was over.
In the smoke, Jareth saw the form come into focus, fighting and 
screaming soundlessly.  The Hobgoblin bottled it, a grim smile on his 
face.  "You'll not be escaping again," he told it.
Aeris sat up slowly, blinking at the light, watching the Hobgoblin.  
She looked around at the people in the room, who were staring back at 
her in amazement.  "I made it," she said happily.  "I'm alive!"
Lucas came forward slowly, picking up her sliver mirror off the 
nightstand as he came.  "Aeris," he said softly, holding the glass out 
to her.  She gasped.  A long streak of white ran through her black hair 
on the left side, where Necrodemos' hand had been.
Life in the castle returned to normal, as it always seemed to after an 
adventure.  Aeris' cottage was finished within the month, and she could 
return home.  Jareth was told to escort her to the edge of the 
Labyrinth, as far as she would allow an escort.  "I'm fine, really," she 
had insisted to the king over and over, but he wouldn't hear of her 
going alone.  When they reached the outer gates, Aeris stopped, 
listening to the soft flap of fairy wings and thinking.
"Well, end of the line," said Jareth, begining to turn and head back.  
Aeris stopped him.
"Jareth, these things really are pests," she said, indicating the 
little winged creatures.  "Hire a gardener.  Please."  She looked at 
one, and evisioned the awful red-eyed things from her nightmares.
He nodded, seeing her small shiver.  "There's a dwarf near here..."
"Wonderful," she said, a thought suddenly occuring to her.  "What's his 
name?"
"Hog...Hogbrain?  Hogwart?  Something like that."
"I would bother to learn his name, Jareth.  He might turn out to be 
important.  You never know."  And she turned for her home, Jareth 
catching a glimpse of her shocking streak of white as he puzzled over 
her words.


 



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