GEORGIA. Tbilisi. Nino is a kidnapped bride. Her boyfriend and his friends took her away one day and forced her to marry him. Its a socially accepted practice in many villages, and so she decided to stay with him rather than return to her family. She says she is happy. 2006.
I told someone about the bride-snatching traditions in the Asian part of the world, and I know I sounded completely insane for claiming it was still a practice of today, but here is where I first heard of it in my life, years and years ago - in this Vice video about the bride-snatchings of Kyrgyzstan (I watched a lot of Vice videos back in the days)
Tradition is powerful. It gives people identity, meaning, and belonging. But not all traditions deserve to be celebrated. Around the world — and throughout history — some practices have been so destructive, violent, or dehumanizing that they remind us culture must always be questioned, not blindly followed.
Rating: Teen
Relationship: Male Orc x Female Human
Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Lover, Orc, Orc Boyfriend
Content Warnings: Brief Violence, Attempted Assault, Bride Kidnapping, Abduction, Forced Marriage, Rescue
Words: 4844
A young woman is taken against her will to be a bride for an orc she's never met, and another orc comes to her aid. My first medieval orc! Please leave feedback!
The Towns Masterlist
“Just the nails, then, Thandur?” You asked the large orc standing at the counter. He nodded and smiled.
“Yeah, thanks,” Thandur said. “We always run out quick. Although, if you could throw in that hatchet, that’d be great.”
“Thandur, that’s not a hatchet,” You said, laughing. “It’s a woodcutting axe.”
He snorted playfully and held up his massive hands. “Not for me, it isn’t. I’ll still take it.”
Thandur was a blacksmith, like your father was, but he lived in an orc stronghold six miles north. He came down at least twice a week with orders from the stronghold members who didn’t want to go into the human town themselves. Your village was one of four that bordered his stronghold, but he did most of his shopping in yours, as it had the largest market.
Your papa made all the big things in the shop, like swords and armor and wrought iron castings and the like, and you made the small things, like nails, sewing needles, buttons, fish hooks, chain mail rings, and other such tiny daily necessities. You even did heavy armor repair and made jewelry, when the occasion called for it. The two of you worked well together, and he trusted you to run the shop for him while he did the heavy work. That was how you’d met Thandur nearly a year ago, and you’d come to consider him a friend.
The small things you made were a valuable resource to the orcs, since with their large fingers, it was difficult for them to produce such tiny things themselves. You’d even attempted to teach Thandur how to turn nails, but he always fumbled them and was unable to pick them up from the floor when he dropped them. It was almost adorable.
If you were honest with yourself, you had a bit of a crush on Thandur. He was shorter than most orcs you’d met, but only slightly, still just as intimidating. He was easily three times your size in muscle alone, and you weren’t exactly considered small by human standards; you were actually a bit chubby and had some muscle in your arms from smithing. Many had called you too "manly-looking" and told your father it would be hard to marry you off. Your father replied that he had no intentions of "marrying you off," that you were perfect, and anyone who didn't think so could shove it where the sun don't shine.
Unlike most other orcs who wore leather and furs, Thandur usually wore normal clothes like shirts, tunics, tabards, and trousers, though they were stretched a bit tight on his large frame. He bore a clan rune burned into one of his large outer tusks, like all in his clan, and he also wore a special cloak pin that he had made as a gift for all of his immediate family, which you thought was really sweet. His hair was long and light brown, almost bordering on blonde, and twisted into spiraling braids that hung well past his shapely behind, which was another custom of his family. His skin was the ash-green of oak moss, and his eyes, though brown at first glance, had flecks of green, gold, and silver, like stones in the silt of a river.
You lifted the leather bag filled with three thousand nails that you’d hand-turned yourself, each identical in size and length, and added the “hatchet” to his order.
“Eighty-six gold, Thandur,” You told him pleasantly.
Her narrowed his brown eyes at you. “Did you give me a discount? I could have sworn I paid ninety-three last time I was here.”
“Are you complaining?” You asked him sardonically.
“No, ma’am, no complaints from me,” He said, smiling, the skin of his lips pulled tight over his twin tusks. As he counted out the coins, he leaned in close. “Guess what.”
Ooh, gossip. “What?” You asked eagerly.
“I heard someone in the stronghold say there’s going to be a harvesting from this town.”
“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Do you know who it is?”
He shook his head, his long ears wiggling as he did so. “No. I don’t even know which orc it is, it’s just a rumor going around camp. If I find out more, I’ll tell you about it next time I come down.”
You smiled and handed him his goods. “I can’t wait to hear about it. Safe trip back, all right?”
He nodded and saluted you with a wide smile, picking up his wares as if they weight nothing, and stepped sideways out of the narrow door.
Harvesting was an orc tradition of choosing spouses from outside the stronghold that weren’t orcs. Usually, it was agreed upon beforehand, with correspondences between the parties involved, but it had never happened in your village before.
You wondered if he was hinting that he was planning on harvesting you, and part of you hoped he was, but at the same time, you and this shop were all your father had left. You’d both lost your mother and brother during childbirth just two years ago, and it had affected both of you greatly. As much as you loved the idea of spending a life with Thandur, you couldn’t leave your father. You hoped Thandur would understand.
Early the next morning, just before first light, before most of the town had even woken up, you went out to tidy up the shop, sweeping up iron flakes and failed castings your dad hadn’t cleaned up the day before. As you walked out to cart in some firewood, you bent to pull up some weeds from the flowers planted on either side of the door of your shop. Suddenly, a shadow fell over you.
You looked up and saw an absolutely massive orc standing over you. He was much older than Thandur and had a completely different demeanor. Where Thandur was friendly and open, this one was aggressive and foreboding. His eyes were glassy green and his hair white with streaks of black. His skin was pale green and he had the same clan tattoo on his right tusk, meaning he was part of the same clan as Thandur, but he seemed like a completely different breed of orc.
“Hello, sir,” You said a little shakily, glancing around surreptitiously and realizing no one was out yet and you were quite alone. “Can I help you with something?”
Before you could say anything else, he raise his arm and backhanded you. It pushed the breath from your lungs and knocked you to the ground. He bent down and put a hand over your mouth, his fist enclosing around your entire head, and said in a low undertone, “If you scream, I’ll snap your neck. Understand?”
With confused tears streaming down your face, you nodded. He picked you up and flung you over his shoulder.
“Don’t talk and don’t fight. You’ll just make it worse for yourself,” He said, then left town and headed for the orc stronghold.
Oh gods. You suddenly understood. You were being harvested, but not by Thandur, like you hoped. You’d never met this orc before and didn’t know why he had chosen you, but you knew sometimes orcs took spouses against their will. It was frowned upon, but not illegal, not even in human law.
You wept as he trudged back through the forest road with you dangling upside-down from his shoulder like a downed deer, trying hard not to make much noise in case it angered him. If he was willing to hit you on your first meeting with no provocation, you couldn’t begin to imagine what he would do to you if he was angry.
The trip felt incredibly long, and all you could do was think of your father. You’d never see him again. Often human spouses who lived in orc strongholds were free to visit their families, but you doubted that this orc would afford you such a luxury. You knew your father would fight, but he had no legal recourse, and the orcs might kill him if he kicked up too much trouble.
When you finally got to the stronghold, a large gate met you, and the orc carrying you barked an order for it to be opened. With a great creaking and groaning, the gate gave way, and the orc marched you inside with no ceremony. You had heard from Thandur that a harvesting came with great celebration, but most people who saw you and him together didn’t spare you a glance. Some of the older orcs gave a half-hearted cheer, but most of the rest purposefully ignored you.
Except for one, who’s eyes met yours when the orc carrying you turned a corner. His sweet, brown eyes widened in horror, his friendly face drained of color, and he dropped the pile of firewood he’d been carrying on his bare feet without so much as flinching. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as your new “husband” took you to your new home.
His hut was small but well built from the outside. Inside left a lot to be desired. There was a single bed, a table with a single chair, a fireplace with a hanging pot, a shelf with sparse selections of food but plenty of drink, and a rack with weapons loaded onto it. That was it. There was no indication anywhere that he was preparing to take a bride.
He let you fall to the ground without warning and you fell right on your rear, a startled oof escaping your lips. He grabbed you painfully by the arm and pulled you up, pushing you toward the bed. Your heart stopped. Now? No, not now.
Please, you begged to any god kind-hearted enough to listen to your plea. Please don’t let this happen. Please. I can’t… I can’t do this… he’ll hurt me, I know it… please help me…
“Clean this place up,” His gravelly voice demanded impatiently. “I’m going to get supplies. This place had better be immaculate and lunch ready by the time I return, or you’ll be sorry you were born.”
Too late for that, you though.
With that, he left, locking the door behind him, leaving you sniveling and dizzied on the cold stone floor.
What do I do? You asked yourself. What if he doesn’t like what I cook? What if he does, and he decides to take me to bed? I can’t do it. I can’t.
You brought your hands up to rub your eyes clean, and it was only then when you realized you were still clutching the weeds you’d pulled from your front stoop. You also realized it wasn’t weeds, it was belladonna.
A small glimmer of hope swelled up in you, and you got up to start your tasks with a new determination.
It was difficult; everything in this house was built for people far larger than you. While you worked, shaking out the bedding and sweeping the floors, you made a tincture of the belladonna, trying to figure out what would be a good dosage for an orc his size. After putting the tincture in one of the only spare bottles, you put it in your apron pocket and burned the leftover plant parts in the fire.
You set to work starting a meal with the meager items available to you. There wasn’t much: most of it was dried meat. There were potatoes and half a cabbage, however, so you boiled the meat with some herbs to soften it back up, and then sauteed the meat with the vegetables. Cooking wasn’t your strongest suit, but you did your best.
As midday crept closer, you began to worry that he’d be back soon, so you popped open the bunghole of one of the mead casks and emptied the entire bottle of the belladonna extract. This would kill any human man, but with orcs, you weren’t so sure.
As you wedged the cork back into place and stepped down, the slam of the door opening startled you out of your skin.
Your abductor had returned, carrying a basket of food. He also hauled a new sword over his shoulder, which it settled onto the weapons’ rack.
You put a plate of food on the table in front of the only chair, and filled a large flagon from the poisoned mead barrel.
He sat down at the table and looked at the meal you had cooked, sniffing and grimacing.
“I expect better in the future,” He said, taking the flagon and draining it. “This is hardly a meal.” He held out the flagon to you and shook it in your face. You took it, nearly fumbling it, and refilled it again from the poisoned barrel.
He picked up his fork and began eating.
“Tastes better than it looks, though not by much,” He said.
“Thanks,” You said uncertainly. “So, I guess I’m going to be here for a while.”
“For as long as I want you to be,” he said matter-of-factly. That wasn’t comforting.
You gulped, but pressed on. “It might help if we introduce ourselves.” You told him your name. “What’s your name?”
“Kaffak,” he replied. “But you will call me Husband and nothing else. You understand?”
“Yes, Hu-Husband,” You said, trying to keep the grimace off of your face. There wasn’t a second chair, but even if there was, he insisted you wait until he had eaten his fill before you were allowed to eat. He didn’t leave you much.
You learned he was quite the drinker. Before he’d finished his meal, he’d nearly emptied the mead barrel. His words were starting to slur, and he was swaying at the table. You weren’t sure if he were drunk or if the poison was taking effect.
“Are you tired, Husband?” You asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. His response was a grunt, which you took for a yes, and you gingerly took his arm and led him to the bed, hoping he’d pass out there.
As he was about to hit the mattress, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you under him, grabbing at your breasts and trying to push up your skirt.
“No!” You screamed. “No, don’t! Please, let go!”
“I’m your husband, you will not refuse me!” He bellowed, grabbing you by the throat, still attempting to unclothe you.
“Stop it!” You cried out in a strangled voice, reaching for something to use as a weapon. You hand fell on a heavy hammer lying next to the bed and swung it with all your might, connecting with the side of his head. Kaffak grunted and collapsed, pinning you to the bed. You gasped, breathing hard, feeling both terror and relief.
It took some work, but you managed to wedge yourself out from under him and fell to the floor beside the bed. Oh, gods. He was going to kill you when he woke up, you just knew it. You crouched low, crying and clutching your hair in panic, trying to figure out what to do now.
Suddenly, you heard your name being called out. It was faint, and it didn’t sound like Kaffak. Going to the window, you opened it to find Thandur standing there, panting hard and fidgeting with nervousness.
“Thandur!” You cried. You wanted to reach out for him, but you were scared of Kaffak waking up and catching you.
“Are you alright?” He asked, breathing hard, as if he had been running. “I heard you screaming. What did he do to you?” He reached up to touch your cheek, which stung. There was apparently a bruise there from where Kaffak had struck you that morning. You always did bruise easy.
“He tried to…” You swallowed, unable to voice it. “But I drugged him with belladonna and hit him. He’s unconscious.”
“Good,” Thandur said, holding out his arms. “Come on, let’s go. Quickly, before anyone sees us!”
You jumped from the window and fell into his arms, and he set you down. Next to him was a large rucksack and a bow and quiver of arrows. There was also a number of very large knives and the axe he’d bought from you strung along his belt.
“We need to go before he wakes up,” Thandur said. “Get in the bag.”
“What?” You said. “Seriously?”
“Yes!” He hissed. “The other orcs are serious about tradition. The moment you entered the compound on Karrak’s shoulder, you were married in the eyes of the law. If Kaffak doesn’t want you to leave, everyone here is honor-bound to make you stay.”
“Doesn’t that mean you are, too?” You asked trepidatiously, carefully climbing into the rucksack.
“I guess there are different kinds of honor,” Thandur said grimly. “Now hurry. We need to get as much distance between us and this camp as possible.”
“Papa must be so scared,” You said. “I hope we can get back to town before he panics too much. He’ll be so relieved to see me.”
Thandur looked at her with a pained expression. “No, you don’t understand. You can’t go back to your village.”
“What?” You whispered. “Why? My father--”
“Your father’s shop is the first place they’ll look. I’m sorry, I really am, but you can’t go back there.”
Your face fell and to began to cry again, but silently. Thandur put his hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off. Touch wasn’t comforting right now.
“I’m really sorry,” He said, and you knew he meant it but it didn't help. “But if you want to get out of this place, we have to leave now.”
Reluctantly, you nodded.
“All right, crouch down and put your arms around your knees. And put your head down, too.”
You did as he instructed, and he put furs around your body to disguise the shape. There were other things in the bag, but you tried to ignore them.
“You mustn’t move or make noise until I say. It could be a awhile, but hold on, all right?” He asked softly.
“All right,” You said, muted against the furs. You felt a bit stifled, but it was better than being struck across the face.
He closed up the rucksack and slung it over the shoulder carefully. Being suspended in the bag like this was a strange feeling, but you did your best to stay still and silent.
You felt every step Thandur took, though eventually he stopped and hailed someone.
“Open the gate, Tokat!” He called.
“Hey, Thandur! Going out again?” You heard someone call from a distance.
“Yeah,” Thandur called back. “Got a hunting itch! Might be gone a day or two!”
“You have fun, then!” The voice yelled, and you heard the front gate creak open again. You felt the bounce as Thandur began moving. After a moment or two, you heard the gate clatter shut.
“We’re out of the compound,” Thandur said quietly. “But we have a ways to go yet. Hang on and stay quiet, all right?”
“All right,” you said mutely. You had no choice but to do so.
He walked steadily for almost an hour, and soon you could hear faint voices. One of which was familiar: your father calling your name frantically, asking people if they’d seen you and calling for help to look for you.
You choked on your own breath, preparing to call out to him, when you heard Thandur say, “You must stay quiet. You’ll only endanger his life, too.”
You dissolved into tears again, weeping into your hands. It felt like all you had done today was cry.
“I’m so sorry,” Thandur whispered.
Your heart broke as you listened to your father’s voice get farther and farther away until you couldn’t hear it anymore. It was likely the last time you’d ever hear it.
Another hour of walking took you out of the village and into an area where you could hear birds and the rustling of wind through the trees. You felt Thandur shift and set the bag you were in gently on the ground. You blinked against the brightness of the daylight as he opened the neck of the back.
You were indeed in a forest, a very thick and dense one. Though it had seemed bright when you first emerged from the rucksack, it there was actually very little sunlight penetrating the canopy. Birds flitted from tree to tree, but there was an odd silence that pressed in all around you. There was something odd about this forest; you could sense it.
“Come on out,” Thandur said, offering you a hand. He took a clean rag from the pocket of his trousers and handed it to you. You used it to wipe your face. From another bag he had around his waist, he pulled a small amount of dried meat and a carrot.
“You should eat,” He said. “We have a long way to go yet. We need to reach the river before nightfall. I’m sorry for making you go through your home village, but it was the fastest way.”
“It’s alright,” You said flatly. “At least I got to hear his voice one last time.” You took the food, though you had no stomach for it. He took a fur from the pack and spread it on the ground so that you could sit.
“Where are we going?” You asked in a small voice.
“A safe place,” He said. “I’ve only been there once before on a trade run, but it’s some sort of haven for people who are in danger. There are a lot of people like you there, who have no other place to go. Even if my clan comes looking for you, you’ll be safe there. There are… protections.”
You didn’t ask what that meant. “Are you sure I’ll be welcome there?” You asked, taking a small bite of the carrot.
“Oh, yes,” He smiled. “They sort of make it a habit of taking people in. As far as I know, they’ve never turned away anyone in need.”
He crouched nearby, tearing a strip from his own dried meat and chewing on it.
“Do you think my… husband is awake yet?” You asked darkly.
“You don’t have to call him that,” Thandur said.
“Don’t I?” You asked bitterly. “I am legally his wife now, aren’t I?” You shook your head in disbelief. “There has to be something I can do to get out of this union. Is there any way to appeal this marriage if the… well, the abductee is an unwilling participant?”
Thandur shook his head. “The only way to get you out of the marriage would be for another orc who wants you for their bride to challenge Kaffak in battle and kill him, and no one had ever defeated him. Ever. Besides, either way, you’d be bound to whoever won the challenge.”
“Because I’m property, is that it?”
Thandur scowled at the ground and didn’t comment.
You dropped it. “So, do you think they’re looking for us yet?”
“How much poison did you give Karrak?”
“I had four belladonna plants, but they were small, so seven unripe berries and twelve leaves in total. I used them all and made a tincture, which I put into his mead. He drank most of it, but it took a strike with a hammer to get him down.”
Thandur thought. “The hammer blow wouldn’t keep him down long, but that was enough belladonna to keep him out for almost a day. He may still be unconscious.” Thandur gnawed off another piece of meat. “If people think he’s…” Thandur hesitated, cutting his eyes at you and coughing uncomfortably. “If they think he’s celebrating his wedding night, they’ll leave him alone until at least morning. Or even longer, honestly. He’s part of the old guard. More than that, he’s a mean son of a bitch and not well liked in the stronghold. None of the female orcs want him, and that’s saying something. Trust me, the women in my camp like their men mean.”
“So I guess that’s why he went harvesting,” You said. “Why did he pick me, though?”
Thandur sighed guiltily. “That may have been my fault. I talk about you a lot, and everyone in the compound praises your delicate metalwork. He must have gotten the idea from me.”
“Why do you talk about me?” You asked curiously.
He shrugged. “I admire you,” He said simply. “You’re the only female human I’ve met who does blacksmithing. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. And you’re nice to everyone.” He grimaced. “Orcs don’t put a high precedent on just being nice to others. They all think they have to be boisterous and loud and aggressive all the time. It’s irritating.”
“Is that why you’re nice?” You asked him.
He turned to you, surprised. “Am I nice?”
“You’ve always been nice to me. At least, you’ve never been loud or boisterous or aggressive when you’re around me, even when you first met me.”
“Oh.” He seemed taken aback. “Huh. I guess that explains why I’m not popular with women, either. I’m too soft.” He snorted. “Hell, by orc standards, I’m downright shy.”
In spite of yourself, you smiled. “What’s the ‘old guard’?” You asked, remembering the phrase and being unfamiliar with it.
Thandur’s expression soured. “It’s the older generation who think random harvestings and raiding villages to get what we need is acceptable. Most of the younger generations don’t condone those practices anymore, but it’s the old ones who think those traditions should still be observed. You’re the first harvesting in thirty years that was done without prior consent. Most of the younger generations, like me, think it’s barbaric and should be outlawed.”
“You’re not alone in that,” You said, frowning.
“I know,” He said, grunting unhappily. “I know how people think of orcs. That all we do is fight and raid and kill. That we’re thieves and abductors; that we take what we want and steal what we have. It’s not true. Well, it may have been true once, but it’s not anymore. We built instead of invade, we grow instead of destroy, we hunt instead of thieve. You get bad seeds in any group of people, so why are all orcs judged by what the worst of us do? We’re not bandits or rapists or raiders, not the majority of us. I’ve never even been on a real raid in my life. I’m a goddamn blacksmith, and that’s all I want to be.”
He went silent and stared off into the distance, fuming a little. You blushed a little. You must have hit a nerve.
He looked up at the sky, which was darkening. “Come on, we need to get moving. It’s a six day journey to get where we’re going, and we need to get to the river to mask our scent.”
“All right,” You said, standing and folding up the fur so that he could stow it back in the bag.
He took out a bottle and held it up. “Hold your nose,” He instructed. Just as you plugged your nostrils, he emptied the bottle against a tree. “Skunk spray. It’ll mask our scent until we can get to the river.”
Even with your nose stopped up, the spray stung your eyes. He took your hand and pulled you into a run to escape the growing cloud of stench. As you ran, he pulled an actual dead skunk from a pouch and flung it behind you, as if it had been killed by a predator. A convenient explanation for the smell. Smart.
The two of you ran at a comfortable speed for a few minutes, holding your noses, when you finally came to a tributary that led into the main river that connected most of the land.
You let your nose go, but you still smelled skunk.
“Ugh,” you remarked.
“Yeah, sorry,” Thandur said, reaching into the rucksack. “I brought soap. We can wash in the river before moving on. Here. Oh, you should also take off your shoes before you get into the water, too. It’ll prevent fungus growth between your toes.”
He laughed at you gently when you scrunched up your nose, taking off your shoes as he instructed, and he handed you a sliver of some rough brown soap. It smelled like leather, but you didn’t mind that; it was better than skunk and it reminded you of the shop.
You both scrubbed down quickly. It didn’t get rid of the smell completely, but it was bearable. It was summer and warm out, so washing in the water was a comfort. You reached down to splash water on your face and arms, then stood and was caught by the sight of Thandur.
He’d actually laid down in the stream and let the water run over his body before standing upright again, making his tunic and trousers stick to his body all over. Gods, he was well-build, and your eyes tracked his chest down to his abdomen and stomach and… farther down. You blushed and looked away. This wasn’t the moment for that.
You frowned and sighed to yourself. Maybe that moment had passed you by completely and was gone forever. Oh well. At least you weren’t spending the night with Kaffak.
If Thandur noticed your gaze, he gave no sign. “Are you ready to keep going?” He asked you.
You nodded. “Sure.”
He held out his hand and helped you to the opposite side of the stream. “Keep your feet in the water. It would be best to continue on until late. They’ll expect us to make camp early.”
Nodding again in acknowledgement, he led you forward toward the setting sun. You held his hand with one of yours and carried your shoes with the other.
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