Once more, with feeling: Bethesda owns all the property of the Elder Scrolls, and I don't. No surprises there.
M'aiq the Liar
presents "What Happened to the Bridge Troll?"
As the prey may well know, M'aiq knows much and tells some. The Khajiit will tell the prey about a certain bridge troll. Perhaps the adventuring humans have come across him in their travels. He is the bridge troll under the bridge that is, floating backside up in the water and making a stench the Khajiit would be grateful to not have to smell again. M'aiq knows the story of this troll and what happened in the final hours of his life that led to his untimely passing. The Khajiit will tell the human.
M'aiq was making his rounds from Leyawiin to Anvil, as he often does and happened upon a certain bridge. That is where he met the troll.
The troll called out, "Oh, my good Khajiit, I need you to take a momentary pause in your travels, for I am a troll of the bridge and my duty is to collect coinage from those that wish to pass my bridge."
So M'aiq—what? The human did not know that the troll could speak? He talked as much as any human, if not more. So many words. Perhaps the Khajiit should spare a few of his words to enlighten the prey about this troll. Yes, this troll was a special troll. M'aiq might say that he was a troll who dared to be different.
From birth, the rancid troll could feel he was different. Ugh, a baby troll. Yes, he smelled like a normal troll and looked like a normal troll though, unfortunately. It was when the foul creature opened his mouth that he knew he was different. After all, his first words were, "Why, mother, I do believe I'm hungry."
The troll spent his life searching for his purpose. However, the only occupation a troll could hold ever is to be a bridge troll. Sure, he did not have the temperament for such a job, but the troll had to hold up the family business, M'aiq supposes. M'aiq's family doesn't have any jobs. Well, the Khajiit wonders if skooma dealing is a job, but if it isn't, then his family doesn't have any business. Jobs are for humans with clean clothes and britches of steel, not for sugar tooth Khajiits. Anyway…
It was some years after the troll started working at a bridge that M'aiq perchanced upon the creature. He had on some extravagant human clothes and was sauntering about the bridge area. M'aiq was traveling so he needed to cross.
The troll noticed the Khajiit and called out, "Oh, my good Khajiit, I need you to take a momentary pause in your travels, for I am a troll of the bridge and my duty is to collect coinage from those that wish to pass my bridge." Hmph, troll's bridge indeed. M'aiq knows the haughty Imperials with their steel britches were the ones who constructed the bridge and owned the land it was on, but M'aiq digresses.
M'aiq lowered his ears and bared his teeth as he said, "Money? From M'aiq? Good luck, troll."
"Please, sir, I would really not like to use my angry voice and expend hurtful words upon such a kind soul. A few coins is all I ask," said the troll, holding out his well-manicured claws.
"The Khajiit has no money!" M'aiq answered. Of course, M'aiq had no money. He had just visited Bravil after all; his money sack was empty, but his Skooma bottle was full, yes indeed.
The troll cleared his throat and said, "I'm afraid you've caused me to say this…give me money now!" M'aiq could not help but suppress a few laughs.
The troll then placed his claws on his hips and stated, "You are foul. I don't approve of your behavior!" M'aiq was shaking with the effort of keeping his laughter back. Then, troll stated, "Ah, you quiver before my nasty, nasty words. Just hand over your gold, and I will apologize for saying such curses."
"M'aiq fears no troll," the Khajiit stated as he leaned over the short, stubby troll.
"N-no?" the troll inquired. "Not even…a small bit? I didn't upset you by…saying I didn't approve of your behavior?"
M'aiq replied, "I don't even approve of my behavior."
The troll suddenly burst into tears, covering its face, and said, "I don't approve of mine either! I'm just not meant to be a bridge troll! Oh, warm Khajiit, tell me, what should I do?"
"How about giving M'aiq some money."
"Why, sadly, I haven't any. No one has paid my bridge toll!" Suddenly, he gasped and cried, "I have soiled my family's name!"
"I'm sure they've soiled themselves already," M'aiq said with a wry smile, before cringing a bit.
The troll answered, "I must do the honorable thing and take my own life with this wine here and the waters beneath the bridge. Khajiit? Would you help me in writing out my last words? I want them with my body so all will know of my tragic tale. Perhaps someone can learn from my horrid experience." His horrid experience? M'aiq's experience wasn't too pleasant either. Trolls, egh.
"Sure," the Khajiit agreed, hoping to silence him. The troll retrieved a pen and some paper for the Khajiit to write with. He held the wine bottle aloft and began his drawn out speech.
"Dearest passerby," said he, "I have failed in my duties as a troll. I received no monetary tribute from those who traveled across my bridge. I fear that the fault lies within me and the passive nature that was brought about by the sensitivities of my intellect. Taking this bottle to my lips, I leave this world to join my troll brethren here in the waters where I have failed." The troll stopped to take a drink and sniffled a bit before saying, "Do you have all of that, my good Khajiit?"
"To the letter," M'aiq answered.
Well, as much as M'aiq hates to admit it, he is not as good with words on papers as he is with his mouth. Why, he only learned to read about a year ago! Give the Khajiit a break, eh? M'aiq did the best he could in writing out the troll's sad note. The Khajiit also did him the favor of keeping it brief. No one would want to read a long-winded note talking about failure and intellect and other silly human words.
It read something like, Mee wurst troll evurr. Nobuddy pay brijj tole. Me nott sceary enuf. Mee gett drunc an kil sellf. Troll droun.
With a nod, M'aiq approved, definitely. It was not only brief but also poetic in its bluntness, or so M'aiq thought. As the troll was finishing off the rest of his bottle, he half-lay, half-fell down on the ground, mumbling about something. In an untimely coincidence, a pair of mounted adventurers came riding up to the bridge just then. M'aiq simply moved out of the way and watched as the troll was nearly trampled. By luck, he was only kicked in the leg by one of the horses. M'aiq did not say a word.
"Ow!" wailed the troll.
The horses jerked to a stop as one of the riders said, "Holy Oblivion! I think I hit it!"
"No way, man!" yipped the other rider.
The troll moaned with a slight slur, "My leg hurts." The two gave frightened yells. Still, M'aiq did not say a word.
"Man, oh, man!"
"We gotta get rid of the body!" exclaimed the first one.
They jumped off their horses and lifted up the inebriated troll.
The second one asked, "Where do we put it?"
"Uh…uh…down there! Under the bridge! Hurry before the—"
"—Halt!" shouted a Legion guard. M'aiq perked a brow and glanced at the guard. "What are you doing?"
The two men hollered as they dropped the troll over the bridge, "Ah! We didn't do anything!" The troll fell into the shallow water. A small groan was heard following the short splash.
"Now I'm wet," the troll said weakly, "and my leg hurts even more."
"We're so dead!" the pair cried.
"Not you two," said the Imperial, "the Khajiit." M'aiq's ears immediately drooped.
Glaring at the guard, he said, "What has M'aiq done?" The humans in steel britches sure do make this Khajiit's life a hard one.
"You look mighty suspicious standing there by the bridge," said he.
"M'aiq has done nothing, you foolish Imperial," said the Khajiit with ferocity. Ah, M'aiq only realizes what a fool he was now.
The Imperial soldier quickly took down the Khajiit and forced the bottle of Skooma from his very pocket. Amidst the scuffle, the Khajiit dropped the troll's note, but he could care less. M'aiq was indeed a fool for letting the guard take away the precious moon sugar and lug him into the filthy human prison in the Imperial City. M'aiq was there only for an hour until an old man in clean Imperial clothes came and broke the wall of his own prison. M'aiq believes he seemed a rather perverse old man. The man had talked about seeing M'aiq in his dreams. Not pleasant. He spoke many words, so much. His clothes were very shiny, and by the Gods, there was a lot of talking. The guards offered the Khajiit a chance to be free, but did M'aiq take it? If it meant listening to more of that old human's words, of course not. So here M'aiq remains, in the Imperial City prison.
Agh. He hears shouting now, foolish Imperials. The Khajiit should close the door in the wall now. There. Now all is quiet for the old Khajiit. He can finally get some rest.
"Here kitty, kitty, kitty. I've got a big, juicy rat in my cell for you."
...M'aiq is in Oblivion, assuredly, and it's all because of that damned bridge troll.
"Hahah, you're going to die in here; you know that, don't you?"
The Khajiit is going to take his chances with the Imperials in steel britches after all. Good day...
M'aiq reopens the door in the wall and disappears.