Malg the Magnificent - დიდებული მალგი

Part 6: Guardian

          "It has become apparent to me over the years that some who come to the College of Winterhold to learn are not content to stay within the safety and confines of the college grounds," Tolfdir said as the hastily scrawled note left in Malg's chamber.

"What can we do?" Wiggles-Her-Fingers asked.

"About what?" Tolfdir questioned her back.

"What do you mean?" she retorted. "About Malg! He has gone out alone against a serious danger! There has to be something we can do!"

"The same thing we did the first time he left and went poking around down in Saarthal or when you dragged him off to Dawnstar and across the entire north of the country, I suppose," Tolfdir said.

Wiggles-Her-Fingers went quiet.

"Incidents like this became common enough at the College of Winterhold that our former archmage decided that the college's policy would be to wish them well," Tolfdir continued. "By in large, the mages comport themselves well, as you two did, so it reflects well on the college, and we can use any good will we can get. In addition, the real-world experience you received during your adventures is something we cannot give you here, wouldn't you say?"

"That is true," Wiggles-Her-Fingers conceded. "I am just confused. After we spoke about it, he did not seem to have any interest in answering the summons. I wish I knew he had changed his mind."

"Would you have gone with him?" Tolfdir asked.

Wiggles-Her-Fingers could not meet his gaze. She merely looked at the letter, trying to find words that would not come.

"What happened out there?" Tolfdir asked.

Wiggles-Her-Fingers looked away and then down at her feet. Tolfdir's question burrowed into her. She wanted to answer him, but she did not want to expose herself in that way. It was hard enough to tell Colette. She did not want anyone else to know.

"Perhaps that is why," Tolfdir said. "He did not want to force you to refuse." Tolfdir gave the letter back to her and said, "Try not to worry too much. I know it is easier said than done, but worry won't help him. Prayer perhaps." With that, the professor left her to her thoughts.

As Malg traveled the now familiar route between Winterhold and Dawnstar, he worried about whether or not Wiggles-Her-Fingers would be angry with him. He would never have thought about leaving without her, but the way she had rejected the steward's request tugged at his heartstrings. There was a tremor in her voice, a fear floating just below the surface of what she was willing to admit. She wanted nothing more to do with undeath, and he was not about to put her in the position where she would have to confront it again. Besides, who would want to be dealing with rotting corpses clattering around trying to murder you. Ugly, decayed faces, rancid flesh hanging off dusty bones, and if you were ever unfortunate enough to be around when one of those rattling bone bags moaned, that was a smell that could relieve you of your senses. Seriously, what was wrong with necromancers? For a moment, Malg wondered exactly why he was going back. Even with his mind clouded by a berserker's rage, he still remembered that fetid reek.

Malg stopped. The memory of that smell nearly turned him around, but he quickly reminded himself that if he did not use magic for good, it was not enough in and of itself. That was a realization he had only recently come to understand. It had not come from some big event. It just logically made sense, and it made him wonder if the College of Winterhold had the right idea closing themselves off from the rest of Skyrim. Falion had left the college to do something good, and even if the mage was working with conjuration magic, which Malg found repulsive, and did not particularly like him, Malg still respected what he was doing. Malg shook his head. If he kept going like this, he was going to give himself a headache. He decided it was better just to enjoy the world around him as he went.