Chapter 4

Malath couldn't stay mad at the girl for very long, and to be honest, he wasn't truly mad, to begin with. Lenia had said some things that made him think about his life. But that was dangerous thinking. So, he did what he does best, and tried to drown his thoughts in a drink. However, this time he found himself hesitant to go too far because the girl still sat quietly by the fireside, her hands clasped in her lap. She didn't say a word for quite some time. Suddenly drinking wasn't as desirable. Eventually, his grumpiness ebbed away, and he was left feeling ashamed for how rudely he had acted.

How could a woman I barely know have such a profound effect on me?

It was baffling. These changes were happening all too rapidly, and he didn't even feel like being drunk anymore. Malath watched Lenia for a while, noting how the firelight made her hair and skin glow. More dangerous thinking. He let out a long sigh.

Some time passed, although the Orc never paid attention to time so he didn't know how much time had passed when Lenia finally moved. She rose to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. Malath watched her, and then hastily looked at the wall when she turned his way. He didn't know what to say to her now. Then he heard her move the chair back to its place.

"I guess I should leave."

Her soft voice floated over to him, and he turned to her. Lenia smoothed down the front of her blue mage's robes, stepping a little closer.

"Where are you from?" Malath asked, ignoring her comment.

Lenia blinked, and then moved to the bench and sat down beside him. He shifted his body so he was facing her and peered down at the girl.

Gods, she's so short... but it suits her.

"Solitude," Lenia replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear, and Malath gulped down a mouthful of mead.

"And you're a battle mage," he commented, to which Lenia laughed.

"I wish!" she chuckled, "but no…I am just an apprentice."

"What brought you to Whiterun?"

Lenia sighed, and smiled softly, a distant look in her eyes.

"I went home to visit my parents. It had been a few months since I left for Winterhold, and they were wishing to see me again. I am on my way back to the college and decided to stop and re-supply here."

"Have you been to Whiterun before?"

"A few times, briefly."

"So," Malath ventured, getting to the point of his questions. "You will go to an Inn."

"Well that was the plan," Lenia replied, eying him with a curious gaze.

"You know there's a bed underneath all those staffs," he replied slowly, and the girl's face lit up.

"There's no point in wasting your money on a room up the way when I have a spare bedroom." He continued, coughing, and Lenia grinned.

"I don't wish to impose or anything…" She replied cheekily, and the Orc snorted.

"Impose on what?" he growled, rolling his eyes, and Lenia laughed.

"Thank you Malath, I appreciate it."

"If you clean up the staffs, you can keep as many as you can carry."

Lenia practically burst out of her skin. She was truly ecstatic. He hadn't seen enthusiasm like that in a long time. It almost made him feel wistful. Almost.

"There must be something more I can do…" she replied thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

"Well…"

Lenia glanced over at him, and Malath patted his stomach

"When's dinner?"

Lenia grinned.

"I make the best lamb stew."

By the time Lenia had finished cleaning up the staffs into as neat of a pile as she could manage, she was ready to crash. The bed she had uncovered was small but soft, and relatively lacking with dust.

I guess the staffs helped with that.

After dinner, Malath had continued his nightly ritual of drinking while Lenia headed upstairs to clean. She had taken the liberty of cleaning a little more than just the spare room. Many beautiful weapons decorated his bedroom walls, and she was temporarily distracted with them, admiring the craftsmanship. He truly had an incredible collection of things.

Her pack lay slumped on the floor beside her feet, and she laid back on the bed for a little while, weary from her travels. Although today had taken an amazing turn. She'd met the Dragonborn, something she had longed to do since she was younger and the tales were just beginning to come true.

She must have fallen asleep, for Lenia woke with a little jolt, and her back was aching from lying in such an uncomfortable position. Her feet were still placed on the floor and her legs felt numb. She stood up and stretched, hearing a satisfying crack; and then shuffled out of the room and down the small staircase to the lower floor of Breezehome.

The fire had died down, and Malath had fallen asleep in the most awkward of positions on the bench. His back was bent uncomfortably, and his neck arched at an odd angle. His head lay slumped on the table. Lenia knew he'd feel the pain in the morning if she didn't get him to his bed.

She quickly reached the table and firstly cleared up their dishes. She retrieved Malath's goblet, which had fallen on the floor. Lenia cleaned up the spilled mead and then turned to Malath, smiling to herself, for his snores were ridiculously loud. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and it looked as though he had succeeded in dirtying his tunic even more; if that were even possible.

As she watched him sleep, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the Orsimer. He had put his entire soul into saving Skyrim, and when it was saved he lost himself.

Nobody was there for him, she thought sadly. To keep him feeling valued.

Lenia sighed and moved forward. She was hesitant to try and wake a drunken Orc, but he really did need a softer place to sleep. His health was poor enough as it was.

"Malath," she whispered, gently touching his shoulder.

He continued to snore, and she shook his shoulder slightly.

"Malath," she called louder.

He grunted and pushed her arm away.

"Come on dear, time for bed," She called softly.

"Bugger off."

"Watch your mouth," Lenia scolded.

She knew she'd have to practically drag him upstairs. She knelt down, hoisting his arm around her shoulders. For a skinny Orc, he still weighed a ton, and his arm alone dwarfed her small frame. She tugged, and Malath growled.

"Don't you dare make my tiny self drag your ass upstairs," she hissed in his ear.

That seemed to get a reaction, and Malath half complied. The pair both rose unsteadily to their feet; Malath leaning most of his body weight on the girl and his eyes were half closed. They shuffled painfully slow to the staircase.

Getting up the stairs was a whole other matter. They nearly climbed on all fours, and there was a lot of protesting and growling from the sleepy Malath. At some point, he wanted to lie down and she swore if she had let him he would have slept right there on the staircase. Lenia could just imagine the repercussions of that decision the next morning.

They finally reached the top. Lenia felt like she had climbed a mountain. Her chest was heaved from the physical labor, and strands of hair clung to her sweaty forehead.

Perhaps I should have let him be, but I am too close to the finish line now.

They reached the bedroom, and she intended to gently ease Malath down. But she lost her grip and he landed on the mattress quite heavily, not that it bothered him one bit. His eyes were closed, and Lenia smiled at her accomplishment, whispering goodnight. Lenia turned to leave when he called out

"Don't leave me."

His voice was quite unlike him. There was desperateness in his tone that made her chest hurt.

"Stay," he whispered hoarsely, and she couldn't say no.

"I'm here Malath," Lenia whispered, sitting down on the bed beside him.

She didn't know if he was aware of what he was saying, or if the Orc was half dreaming. She stayed there anyway, until she was positive he was asleep; and softly stroked his hair while humming a little song her mum used to sing to her. Once he was back to snoring obnoxiously loud, Lenia quietly made her way back to the spare bedroom.

She lay down on the bed and pulled the covers around her, blowing out the candle that she had lit earlier in the evening. Her decision had been made; she needed to save the Dragonborn.