Malg the Magnificent - დიდებული მალგი

Part 6: Guardian

Malg stayed the first night away from Winterhold at the Windpeak Inn in Dawnstar. Thoring welcomed him the moment he stepped in the door with a sudden shout just before grabbing Malg in a massive bearhug. Stunned by the unexpected showing of emotion, Malg did not react as he was lifted off his feet.

"Glad to have you back! How are you?!" Thoring asked after finally dropping Malg.

"Well, thank you," Malg replied.

"And where is your Argonian friend?" Thoring asked.

"Not here," Malg replied.

A worried look came over Thoring's face.

"No," Malg said, quickly trying to correct the misunderstanding. "She is alive, just not with me. She is at the College of Winterhold."

"Oh, good," he said. "It would have been a real shame if she fell trying to avenge her brother."

"Malg!" Karita greeted him with a hug almost as powerful as her father's. "I'm glad to see you. How have you been?"

"Well, thank you," Malg repeated.

"Wonderful," she replied. "Can I play you a song? It is the least I can do for the orc who saved our inn and perhaps even our city."

Malg's mind raced for the name of any song. He enjoyed the bardic arts, but he had never really paid enough attention to the songs being played to know what they were called. Eventually, he just shrugged.

"Don't worry," Karita said. "I'll pick a good one for you."

Thoring made sure Malg got the best room in the inn and the best cut of beef for dinner, and as he enjoyed the extra-large portion, Karita played several songs without charge. Malg found that he very much enjoyed the amount of notoriety that came from having bled the Blood Horkers. After his meal, several patrons came up to shake his hand and thank him for his service to Dawnstar.

"I could get used to this," Malg whispered to himself. As much as he wanted to continue to bask in his celebrity, the tavern eventually began to empty until he and Thoring were the only ones left. With sleep rapidly overtaking him, Malg stood, stumbled into his room, and quickly fell asleep.

Malg woke the next morning later than he had intended. Irritated that he had a late start on what he knew would already be a long day, Malg made a hasty exit, paying for his food and room and thanking his host. Thoring told him to come back any time and that there would always be a place for him at the Windpeak. Malg nodded his appreciation and hurried out into the midmorning cold. As he opened the door, a chilling wind rushed in around him, opening his lungs and banishing any last vestiges of dreariness from his mind. It focused him, opened his eyes, and reminded him of his course. In the last lingering hours of the previous night, Malg had changed his mind. He had planned to take the roads to Solitude as he had done before, but the more direct route to Solitude was over the desolate, windswept northern coast. It was a difficult way for most people, but he was an orc, born high up in the frozen, bitter cold of the Dragontail Mountains. If he could survive a childhood there, a stroll along this little-known stretch of the coast should pose little concern. At least this time, he would not have to take a dip in the Sea of Ghosts beforehand.

For the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, Malg trudged along the coastline. He stayed close to the water to keep from being slowed down in the deep snow and even though he was able to travel relatively quickly across the country, something still felt off. It was not difficult to figure out why. He missed Wiggles-Her-Fingers. They had been through some tough times together, and to be alone again was scary. Having someone he could trust to watch his back was a security that he had gotten used to, not to mention having someone to talk with and pass the time. He briefly entertained the notion that he had made a mistake, but then remembered how her transformation had changed her and shook off the idea. She did not deserve to have that trust on her again. He chose to finish this, not her. He would do it on his own.