Chapter 2
Malath groaned and pried his sticky cheek off the cold wood floor. Rising up, he gulped like a terrible sea monster coming up for fresh air. He sure looked the part. The Orc had slept on the floor, which was normal behavior, and he proceeded to rise unsteadily to his feet. It was no easy task. His vision was blurry, and his eyes were caked with crust. His head felt five times its size and it was hard to keep still without wobbling like a newborn babe who doesn't know how to operate motion quite right. Malath leaned against the dresser and groaned again, dragging a hand across his haggard face, which had a lot of drool on one side; disgusted with himself.
Well if I have to be awake, he told himself, then it's time for some grub.
This was the highlight of his morning. Not the going outside part, but getting food. From the looks of things, you'd never know he ate like a king; for his moss green skin stretched tightly over his big bones, and most of his muscle mass had gradually reduced since his career ended. Malath used to be a beast of an Orsimer, as most of his kind was, but he used to be exceptionally amazing.
Malath stumbled around and wrenched open one of the dresser drawers, pulling out the first article of clothing his hands came across. He roughly pulled a pair of breeches on and a dirty blue tunic. He unsteadily descended the stairs and walked past the cold hearth, reaching his boots and cloak. Malath shoved the worn leather onto his feet and drew his hood up, making sure he looked a proper hermit, before heading out the door.
Sunlight assaulted his eyes, and he stood still for a moment; blinking rapidly, until his vision adjusted to the sudden change. Whiterun was bustling with activity, as the commoners went about their business for the day, and he did not greet anyone he passed as he made his way to the Plains district. Everything was the way it was each time Malath came here, and he liked it that way. He paid no attention to the other customers as he made his way over to a Bosmer for fresh meat. Malath haggled with Anoriath for a few minutes, before grudgingly agreeing to a price. A young woman stood to his right, eying some of the stalls, and as he shopped the Orc watched as she interacted with the elf. Her mages hood was pulled up so he could not see her face, but he knew she was not native to Whiterun. Malath gathered his packages and was beginning to continue his rounds when he saw out of the corner of his eyes a scene that filled him with instant anger.
He was not too hung-over to miss the filthy Bosmer as his grubby hand brushed over the girl's rump, roughly squeezing it, and neither did the girl.
"Hey!" There came a shout, and the girl spun around, confronting Anoriath with a well-placed fist to the jaw.
There was a thud, and Malath watched the attack unfold, his hands raised, but the Bosmer simply stumbled back and cried foul.
"Thief!" His voice rasped, clutching his stubbly cheek. "Stole from me, and then assaulted me!"
"What!" He roared, stepping forward, watching the girl as she backed away from the stall. He had completely forgotten that he was a quiet hermit the moment he'd witnessed the girl being violated.
Her hood had fallen back, revealing a young and beautiful elvish face. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and anger.
"Y-you bastard!" She cried out, but it was too late.
A few guards had heard Anoriath's cry and were making their way over to the plains district.
Malath didn't know what he was thinking, as he never intervened in anything. But something inside him gave a nudge. Anoriath was a dirty son of a bitch and the opportunity to fuck with him was too tempting. The mage didn't deserve to be arrested. Malath knew that Anoriath had an understanding with the guards, and they'd take his side first.
In a split second decision, Malath strode up the girl and took a hold of her arm, dragging her to him so he could speak in a hushed tone.
"Go now," He growled quietly, pointing to Breezehome. "I will come for you when I have cleared this up."
"What?" She replied, looking up at Malath with wide blue eyes.
"I saw what he did," He explained quickly, "but you're going to get arrested if you don't go! Now!"
The elf didn't need to be told twice, and she quickly bolted, easily slipping into a small crowd of people who were making their way towards the market. Malath turned to face Anoriath, a scowl on his weathered face, and he quickly advanced; his face inches away from the cowering man.
"I saw what you did," He growled menacingly, thoroughly enjoying the fear he was instilling in the pathetic man. Anoriath gulped, visibly shaking.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll send them away."
Anoriath nodded once, and the Orc stepped away from him. He retrieved his packages and continued to the vegetable stand, determined to finish his purchases before heading back. The guards finally reached Anoriath, only to be sent away again with a nervous laugh and an apology. Once Malath was finished, he calmly walked back to Breezehome, and entered his home. He was greeted by a fire roaring in the hearth. The girl had removed her traveling cloak and hung it up beside the door. It was the first time since winter some months past that he had felt warmth inside Breezehome. She stood up when he entered.
"Thank you," she began, and Malath shrugged her off.
"He's a son of a bitch anyways," he replied, kicking off his shoes. "Saw him grab your ass. Then he had the gull to accuse you of stealing."
She blushed at the Orc's language, looking down at the floor, but smiled.
"I know who you are," she responded softly, and he ignored her; wandering over to the cupboards to put away the fresh food.
"Yeah?" he asked after a moment of silence.
He needed a cup of something strong. Malath rummaged around and found another goblet, so he set them both on the table.
"You're the Dragonborn." She whispered, and he stiffened.
"Was the Dragonborn," came his guttural reply.
"Just because Alduin is long gone doesn't mean you stop being Dragonborn," the elf replied briskly, "You're a legend, Malath."
Malath. That was my name.
"Do you have a name?" He asked, trying to change the subject.
Malath poured wine into the goblets and offered one to her. The elf gratefully accepted it.
"Lenia," she replied, smiling warmly at him.
Malath took a gulp of wine and nodded, studying her for a moment.
She was short, her head barely reaching the bottom of his chest, and she was a tiny woman. Malath watched Lenia as she moved closer, taking a seat at the bench beside him. Her brunette hair was cut just past her shoulders and formed a wavy mass around her young face. Her skin was a creamy tan color. He took another sip, looking away. It had been a long time since a beautiful woman was in his home, and he felt dirty as his thoughts drifted to unwanted places.
"There won't be any problem," Malath mumbled, referring back to the marketplace. "I took care of it."
"Thank you again," Lenia replied happily, turning her blue-eyed gaze on him. She smiled again, and before he knew it he was smiling back. It was contagious.
Lenia frowned, and he hastily wiped the smile from his face.
Gods… do I look that bad? Probably.
"What?" He asked after a moment, unused to being stared at.
"You don't smile very often do you?" She asked, and he looked down at his cup.
"No…I don't do much of anything nowadays."
"You should smile more often," Lenia replied, and he couldn't deny that she was kind.
It turned his stomach into knots and too many feelings he had spent so long trying to suppress bubbled to the surface. He did not like it one bit.
I need to distance myself.
Malath stood up, moving towards the fire, and turned his back to her, staring at the flames. They were silent for a little while; he could hear the quiet noise of her cup being set down on the wooden table with his still good hearing. After a while, there was a rustle, and he forced himself to turn around.
Lenia was sifting through the cupboards, humming to herself.
"What are you doing?" He asked, and the girl shot him a pleasant smile.
"Making a meal, of course. It's the least I can do."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes I do," She cut in, her voice firm.
Malath gave a defeated sigh and did not try to sway her. His stomach rumbled in response. He was really hungry.
Interesting elf, I'm surprised she can stand to be in the same room as my deadbeat self.
Malath took a seat near the fire, enjoying the warmth that spread through his bone.
Lenia turned out to be a decent cook, and he grudgingly admitted to himself that he enjoyed her company, as they sat together at the bench in Breezehome. It was certainly a strange twist of events.
I just wanted to buy some food.