This story was partly inspired by FancyLadySnakeCakes's 'Two Bastards and a Dog', if you haven't read that story go read it, it's brilliant. And also partly inspired by an old save file of mine, where I coerced a certain orc into joining me on my travels across Skyrim, he quickly became my favourite follower.


The Brigand and the Beast

Chapter 1

He was small when he was born, weak and mewling like some pup. As he had breathed his first breath, his mother breathed her last. His father would have left him out in the highlands for the wolves to take, for the crimes of being a runt and for taking his mother's life. But the wise woman had begged Urag to keep his second son, the Chief had looked upon his youngest child with disgust while Ghorbash had howled in the wet nurse's arms. Urag allowed him to live. He had been merciful that day. As he had grown from a babe to a child, Ghorbash had quickly learnt that he would always be second in his father's eyes to his old brother. Urag had always been harsher in his words to Ghorbash, always eyed him with a looked laced with annoyance and disgust. He was always the one to bear the brunt of his father's anger, his brother always received the praise. Whilst he had always received scorn. At the age of eight his father had him start learning swordsmanship, and of course he was always pitted against his old, stronger, quicker brother.

His brother was good to him, kind to him. He was always the first to praise him on his swordsmanship or his forge work, always the first to dust bloody grubby knees, always the first to dry fat tears. Burguk was his greatest supporter, ally and friend. He was always there to sooth him after their father's words cut him. Always greeted him with a tusked smile. He loved his brother dearly, but still he could not stop himself from resenting him, hating him for always receiving his father's praise. For always being stronger, quicker, smarter. Better.

It had been a normal sparring session with their father watching them both critically, and of course Burguk had won. His father simply grunted with unsurprised disappointment when his second son had fallen sprawled in the dirt, a wooden sword levelled at his neck. Ghorbash ran from the stronghold that day, his hands bloody and his eyes hot and wet with embarrassment and indignation. He wondered in the wilderness until the sun had sunken beneath the horizon, he tried to double back to return back to the stronghold, but realised he was lost. After hours of walking in circles the little orc lay down on the ground, huddled into a ball, and sobbed while the wolves howled. He knew his father would not send a search party to find him, he would let him die. The little orc was not sure how long he lay upon the cold earth, but when the sky and began to turn pink he heard a sound in the thicket. At first he though it was the wolves coming to eat him, he desperately scrabbled back across the dusty earth whilst spluttering and sobbing, only for his brother to step out of the thicket.

His brother was thick with dirt and full of digs and bumps from walking through the wilderness all night in search of his little brother. Burguk held him in a suffocating embrace until his littler brother's sobs of joy and subsided to soft sniffles. They walked back to the stronghold the littler orc holding onto his big brother's large hand tightly, a slight skip in his step. After a while of silence the happy skip in Ghorbash's step faltered as he realised something. ''Father's going to be furious.'' He said in a small voice. His brother was quiet for a moment before he finally said. ''Father will be relieved to see you are alive.'' Ghorbash's bottom lip curled against the two pearly nubs of growing tusks, his brow lowered and scrunched together. ''No he won't.'' Burguk sighed heavily and stopped them both, he turned to his little brother.

''I now it's hard for you to see it, but Father does loves you.''

''No he doesn't, he only loves you.'' His brother's eyes were full of concern, slowly a corner of his lip lifted as a thought struck him.

''Do you want to know a secret?'' The little orc's brow was still pinched but he nodded his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. Burguk bent forward to his little brother's ear and whispered. ''When no one else is around, when it's just me and Father, he only talks about you. About how much you're improving and strong you've become.''

''Really?'' His small flint eyes bright. Burguk nodded and gave him a kind tusked smile.

''Then why is he so hard on me?''

''Because it his way.'' Burguk sighed ''He just pushes you so you do your best.''

They walked on again, in silence for a long time. Ghorbash worried at his bottom lip, as thought that had plagued him for as long as he could remember rolled about in his head.

''Do you think Father is so harsh on me because I killed Mother?''

Burguk was quiet for a long time before he finally answered. ''I do not know little brother.''

When the returned Ghorbash had expected his father to shout at him until the Longhouse had been reduced to rubble, the towering mass of orc and marched towards his two sons and had raised his hand. Ghorbash had flinched expecting to be struck, only for his father's large rough hand to fall gently on the top his head. A surprisingly tender gesture. Later that day in his room in the Longhouse Burguk tended to Ghorbash's scrapes and cuts. The older boy smeared a foul smelling paste across his weeping knee, Ghorbash flinched at the stinging pain but Burguk held him firmly so he didn't move.

''Ghorbash, do you hate me?'' He flinched at the sudden question, his brother's eyes were unreadable as he watched him, waiting for an answer. Ghorbash could not bring himself to tell the truth and so looked away and refused to speak. The silence was telling. ''It's alright if you do.'' His brother continued, his expression still unreadable. ''We're brothers, that makes us rivals,'' Burguk gently wrapped a piece of bandage around his brother's knee. ''and also friends.'' He tied a tight knot to secure the bandage. He then sat beside his little brother on the bed. ''When we're older we will have to fight each other to become Chief, one of us will kill the other.'' A terrified lump formed in Ghorbash's throat, he struggled to swallow his fear. His brother turned to him, with that lopsided tusked smile. ''But, remember I'll always be your big brother, I'll always be your friend. I'll always be there to protect you.''


As time passed Ghorbash grew. His tusks became sharper and longer, but they were still smaller than his brother's. He grew in height and became a gangly built teenager, it would take a few more years before he filled out and became thick and solid with muscle. At the age of fifteen he was taller than the Nord hunters that occasionally wondered near to the stronghold, but he was still smaller than his brother. With age came the sudden interest in the opposite sex, which was a problem. In the stronghold only the Chief had the right to bed the women, that way if any child was conceived it was assured that the child had the strongest genes and those genes would carry onto the next generation. In short, the Chief could happily screw his wives, or any consenting woman for that matter, while the rest of the tribe was forcibly celibate.

This might have been less of a problem for Ghorbash had Gnarl not joined the stronghold some years before. He had paid little attention to her then, she had moved into the tribe with her mother, they had been vagrants or something, he hadn't paid much attention he had been a child after all. But as the years had passed she had grown into a handsome creature with two delicate fine tusks, brilliant clear blue eyes, full breast and long legs. She had quickly grown into a superb hunter, despite her young age she quickly became the leader of the hunt. One summers day Gnarl approached him about joining her on the hunt, he had agreed before she could finish asking.

They had done well, he was clever with a bow, she had been surprised at his skill. He had momentarily bristled at that, she had presumed him to be weak. He soon forgot about his anger however. They sat beneath a juniper tree their kills lying beside them, she was so close he could feel her heat. His eyes followed the hoop of gold than hung from her ear down her neck. She turned to him suddenly her fully lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something but had reconsidered.

''What?'' He asked her, his voice was a thick gravelling sound now.

''I've never been this close to a man before.'' She watched him for his response, her mossy cheeks blooming with red. Pride filled him momentarily, she had called him a man. Not a boy, a man. ''I've never been this close to a woman.'' A small beautiful grin pulled at her lips. He couldn't help himself. He kissed her then, she was surprised but eagerly returned the embrace. They were both stupid and arrogant with their youth. It was a mindless thing to do, but they ended up screwing under that juniper tree.

Months passed, and the two young lovers kept their routine of going on the hunt and laying with each other. And all were none the wiser. They hoped.

They lay on the earth side by side, panting their bodies slick with sweat. He watched her, she was beautiful, his eyes ran the across the contours of her face. Down the length of her glorious neck to watch, mildly fascinated by the movement of her breasts as she breathed. Her eyes fluttered open, he met her gave. She leaned forward and pressed tusked kisses to his shoulder as she raised herself on top of him.

''I love you.'' He growled into her neck. She abruptly stopped for a moment, before she laughed against his broad shoulder. Her kisses start heading south.

''Don't be such a fool. Of course you don't.''


His father paced furiously, his footsteps thundered up the his youngest son's spine. Ghorbash was knelt on the floor in the Longhouse while his father snarled and growled back and forth in front of him. The young orc's eyes raised from on the floor to his brother who stood watching the scene his arms behind his back. Burguk was now nearly as tall as his father, and as thick. His brother would not look at him, instead he stared straight ahead, unreadable. Ghorbash dropped his eyes again to the floor in self pity. His brother couldn't save him now.

Someone had found them out, maybe someone had followed them, he didn't know. He and Gnarl had been up to their usual routine in the wasteland, they had returned back to the stronghold their kills slung over their shoulders. Everything had appeared to be normal that was until a deafening bellow of his name from his father had issued from the Longhouse. And that was how he found himself at his father's mercy. His nails dug into his palms, they drew blood, he did not notice. He wondered what had happened to Gnarl, he worried for her desperately. They had grown careless, arrogant enough to return from their 'hunting trips' without any kills, stupid enough to think that no one would notice.

''But on your armour, get your sword.'' Ghorbash blinked up at his father, he didn't seriously expect the young orc to fight him. ''Both of you.'' Ghorbash's eyes widened as his gaze flew to his brother. Burguk looked equal shocked, his eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. ''But Father-'' The older brother began, his words died when his father gave him a furious look. ''Understood Father.'' Burguk said weakly.


''Your crimes will be paid in blood. You will fight and only one of you is to return.''

Father had not even appeared to be pained when he had issued his sentence. If his father had cut him down himself, it would have been merciful. But this... He supposed that this way Urag would finally be rid of his youngest son for good. They had walked in silence out into the wilderness, side by side they had marched until they had left the stronghold long behind. Only then did they stop and face each other. His brother slowly drawn his sword, as if to delay the moment when they would spill each other's blood.

Burguk held nothing back as he lunged forward, Ghorbash blocked the blow in time. The steel sang as they clashed. It was during this fight that Ghorbash first felt the pain inflicted by a sword. The younger orc smashed the hilt of his blade into his brothers face, blood spattered to the floor as his nose crumpled. Burguk punched a balled fist into his brother's gut, Ghorbash doubled over, winded. Ghorbash screamed as white hot pain suddenly ruptured across the side of his face. Burguk's sword was painted with blood, his face was grim. The younger orc steadied his breath as the pain twisted and pulled at every nerve in him. Ghorbash lunged forward a war cry on his lips, their blades met with a squeal. Malacath must have forsaken him then, as suddenly Ghorbash's sword shattered into a thousand pieces. Burguk wasted no time in viciously kicking his brother to the ground.

Ghorbash watched as Burguk raised the sword above him. He waited for the sword to plunge into his gut, he closed his eyes. His last thought was of Gnarl, he heard the sword drop through the air and a sstunk. He flinched at the sound but, strangely, felt no pain erupting from his stomach. He opened his eyes to see his brothers sword impaled into the ground, he turned his head to see his brother watching him with sad eyes.

''You may be a damned idiot, but you are my little brother. Not even Malacath's own wrath could make me kill you.''

Without another word Burguk turned away from his brother, leaving him alone in the wilderness.

''Remember I'll always be your big brother, I'll always be your friend. I'll always be there to protect you.''


A group of Imperial soldiers were the ones who found him, they took him with them to Solitude. He stayed in the capital working on the forge, making armour and weapons for the army, after months of blacksmith work they began to train him to become a soldier. They taught him how to use a shield and how to disarm a man. Soon enough he was part of the Imperial army and travelled all across the Empire and saw sights he could have only dreamed of back in his tiny stronghold. A world away from his old life he still found himself wondering what had became of his brother, had he become Chief yet? Hardly a day passed when he didn't think of Gnarl, had she been made to pay with blood like he had, or had his father been merciful and allowed her to live? She was the last thing he thought of before he fell asleep, and the first thing in his mind when he awoke. He missed dearly, if only he could hold her in his arms again. Years passed and Ghorbash became quicker, smarter and stronger. He grew to be larger and thicker than any Nord, his tusks became strong and sharp. He left the Imperial army after nearly ten years of service, tired of the constant routine and strict code of conduct. He returned back to the province of his birth his thirst for adventure wetted but not fully sated.

He wondered aimlessly for a while taking a small job here and there. Soon enough he found himself in the wilds of the Reach. He made no plans to linger, the longer he stayed to more likely it would become that he would find himself winding up the mountain path to his old home. Which was something to be avoided at all costs. His brother was more than likely Chief and if he held to tradition this time, he would not hesitate in killing him. He was making his way down the main road from Markarth when he heard the sound of a fight. His curiosity pricked he followed the sound off the main road and into the wasteland. He should have stayed on the road.

The sight that met him when he found the source of the commotion made his heart stop. A large bear lay very much dead across the road, a woman stood above the fallen beast, a bloody sword in hand. The woman turned at his approach, her skin was a mossy green two proud delicate tusks rose from her full lips. It was Gnarl. She had grown from a girl into a woman. She was more beautiful than he remembered, his heart swelled at the sight of her.

''I haven't seen you before brother orc. What is your name?'' Her voice was guarded, but not unkind. He had changed a lot since his exile ten years ago, he realised and she likely didn't recognise him.

He shouldn't have answered, he should have turned back to the road. But now, being so close to her again, not even Malacath could have turned him away. A smile tugged at his lips. ''Don't you recognise me, Gnarl?'' The woman dropped into a fighting stance, defensive and cautious.

''How do you know my name?'' She snarled.

''You really don't recognise me? It's me, Gnarl. It's Ghorbash.''

Gnarl's brow pinched as she stepped closer to the towering orc, slowly recognition bloomed in her eyes. Her mouth fell open in shock before it twisted into a wide tusked smile. ''Ghorbash! I thought you were dead, but you're - well you're not.'' She crossed the space between them and threw her arms around him, he held her tightly and breathed in her scent. ''You're alive.'' She said into his shoulder, as if she needed to reassure herself that it was indeed her childhood lover, and she had not gone mad. He made a movement to kiss her, old habits died hard it seemed, strangely she turned her head so the kiss landed awkwardly on her cheek. She pulled away from him and did not meet his eye. ''I cannot Ghorbash, I am married.''

His heart broke.

''I don't understand.'' He tried to touch her face, a tender gesture, but she evaded his gesture by turning her head again.

''I though - we all though, you were dead. A lot has changed since you... left.''

''But I love you.''

This time she met his eye, they were cold. ''You're a fool for doing so.''

She was a stranger to him, someone unknown. Ghorbash hadn't cried since he was a child, in that moment he thought he would weaken and begin to sob. But he would not allow himself to show such weakness.

''Come brother, Burguk will be pleased to see you.''


His brother let him return to the stronghold as if nothing had changed. He even still called him 'little brother', even if it was ironic now. Ghorbash now stood taller than his brother and was thicker and had larger tusks. He had been proud of that, he was finally bigger than his big brother. But his pride over his size and tusks had could not lessen the blows to his heart when he saw Gnarl on his brothers arm. He lived on the fridges of the tribe, spending most of his time out of the stronghold hunting. He distanced himself from his tribe, from his brother, from Gnarl. He didn't even sleep in the Longhouse like all the others, but slept in a hut near the wall of the stronghold. Everyday he thought of leaving and never returning, but the thought of dishonouring his brother and Gnarl again held him back.

When her belly began to swell, heavy with child. He barely spent any time in the stronghold at all, some nights he even slept out in the wilderness. It was in the darkness that he did away with any feelings that he still held for her. He killed it mercilessly, he would not allow himself to love her. He would allow himself to be so weak and foolish again.

For a few years life lazily slid past him in the stronghold. It was when he had recently passed his twenty-eighth winter that something out of the ordinary happened.

A human had approached the gate of the stronghold, and had asked for entrance. Never in all of his years had he heard of a human wanting to enter any stronghold. The sentry had no idea what to do and so had asked the Chief what to do, after much deliberation the Chief himself had climbed to the top of the sentry post and given the human the task of finding the Forgemaster's Fingers, a relic more myth and legend than anything else. The human, a woman, he had been told had accepted the quest and had gone off on her way.

Not one of the orcs expected her to return. After a few days the stronghold soon forgot about the intruding little human woman, and life returned back to it's normal monotony. That was until the woman returned again, the fabled Forgemaster's Fingers in hand. Burguk had been presented with the gauntlets and had named the woman an honorary orc, that day she wondered from the forge to the wise woman's hut. The orcs treated her with cautious kindness, she was something strange to them, unnerving even. Most had never even talked to a human before, whenever a human was met during the hunt neither party spoke to each other. The woman treated them with respect and kindness, something very rare indeed. Ghorbash had seen how cruel men could be towards his kind outside of the protection of the stronghold, they were considered little more than beasts. And were never treated as equals with men.

Ghorbash himself avoided her, much like he did to the rest of the tribe. It was late, probably past midnight and a chill had crept into the air. Ghorbash didn't feel the cold as he practised against the dummy, he hacked at the manikin until all of the straw had bleed from the woven skin onto the floor. So engrossed in his training, so ensnared in venting his many frustrations, he did not hear the human woman approach him until it was too late.

''It's a little late to be maiming dummies don't you think?'' He was so startled by her sudden approach he dropped his axe, making him swear loudly. Shame and embarrassment was hot in him while he stooped down to pick up the weapon. He placed the axe back in the loop at his waist and scowled down at the woman. She was dwarfed by him, the light from a nearby torch explained why, she was a breton. She worn strange leather armour with many buckles and pouches. Her skin was dark, the colour of fresh clay from much time in the sun. Her auburn hair was short and windswept, falling down to her shoulder. Dark war paint delicately adorned above and bellow her eyelids, her eyes were dark, probably brown he couldn't tell, or much care. Her eyes were unnerving, she looked at him the same way a wolf would.

''What I do is my own business, breton.'' He growled back.

He was the largest orc she had even encountered on her travels, not that she had encountered many. He stood easily two feet taller than her and was far,far wider. Stood only in a pair of hide breeches she could see the wide plains of his chest. Not one slither of fat clung to the expertly sculpted muscle of his chest, his dark skin was taut over the thickness of muscle. Her eyes rolled over the light dusty of black downy hair on his chest to the thick squat muscle of his neck, up further to two large tusks jutting out between fat dark lips. His nose was squashed into the skull of his face at an odd angle, it had been broken many times. He snorted and growled steam while he stared at her. Cold flint stared her down at her, beneath a brow set in furious scowl. He looked at her as if she had insulted him by even talking to him. ''What are you doing here, breton? You don't belong here.''

''Well I couldn't sleep an-''

''That's not what I meant.'' He said gruffly, his voice thick with annoyance. ''What are you doing here, in a stronghold.''

She shrugged her shoulders. ''I was curious.'' The flippancy of her response and her apparent honesty made his scowl deepen.

''Haven't you learnt from cats that curiosity kills fools.''

She gave him a strange look, as if she was surprised by his response. ''I've never owned a cat, so no.''

He didn't even know why he was still talking to this fool, he was just wasting his time talking to her.

With a guttural snort he began to march past the small human . ''Hey! Wait a minute! I wasn't done talking to you!'' She hollered after him. He heard her light footfalls behind him, a small grin twitched at his lips, she had to run to keep up with him. He felt something light brush against his bicep, he made a motion to bat it away thinking it was just an insect. Imagine his surprise when his large heavy hand collided with warm skin and soft bone, a hand. Her hand. He whirled on her in an instance, snarling and furious. Why would she let him be? Wisps of fog fluttered from her mouth as she regained her breath. ''I-I said I wa-wasn't done t-talking to y-you.'' She said gasping for breath. He didn't know if she was brave or just plain stupid to keep hounding him. Her hand still rested lightly on his bicep. Stupid, she was stupid.

''Then be quick.''

She gave him an awkward grimace and finally dropped her hand from his arm. ''I wanted to talk to you, you seem more interesting than the others.''

His scowl did not relax despite how baffling she was. ''There is nothing interesting about me, little breton.''

''That's not true, they say you... left once. That's interesting.''

''It seems we have different opinions on exile, woman.''

She smirked slightly at his response, that unnerving look was back in her eye for a moment. ''They say you travelled all over the Empire.''

''With the Legion, yes.'' He replied shortly.

''Do you miss it?'' She asked.

''What?''

''Travelling, the freedom?''

He raised a horned brow at her. ''Why do you care woman?'' He asked gruffly.

Her lips pulled into a small grimace. ''Because if you do, I was wondering whether you wanted to come with me, when I leave.''

That answer was unexpected. He had been waiting for a reason to enable him to leave the stronghold for years, and suddenly this woman appears from nowhere and gives him a golden opportunity to leave. But still the thought of dishonouring his tribe made him reluctant. ''I could not leave and dishonour my brother again, woman.''

Her brow lowered in obvious disappointment, something that surprised him. ''I could pay you.''

He snorted in disgust, his eyes hard with insult. ''Do you think my honour can be bought so cheaply?'' He growled.

''I could fight you. If I wi-'''

For the first time in a long time Ghorbash laugh, properly laughed. The sudden booming sound made the little woman jump, slowly her lips turned into a smile. ''So you do know how to laugh. You're not a grump ass all of the time.''

His laughter subsided and his face became stony and grim again. ''Why are you desperate to have me join you, little breton?''

She gave him a wolfish grin, her stubby white teeth showing. ''Because you are...different.'' There was again that flash of wildness in her eyes as she eyed him. ''And besides you cave in skulls far better than I can.''

''Then hire yourself a self sword.''

She shook her head in disgruntled annoyance, she was acting like a child who had been denied a sweet roll. She sighed heavily ''If you change your mind, I'll be leaving at dawn.'' He watched her, bemused, as she walk off into the night.


Ghorbash was sat by the main gate long before dawns light started to fill the sky. Dressed in a motley mix of fur and hide armour, his axe strapped to his hip and his shield and bow on his back. He had lain in his hut, thinking over the little breton's offer long into the night. He had weighed the pros against the cons, and after much soul searching and deliberation, he had come to the conclusion that he would leave the stronghold with the human. Soon enough he heard gently footfalls, looking up he saw the breton woman stood above him, looking pleased, but strangely not surprised, to see him waiting for her.

''So you changed your mind, orc?''

He grunted in the affirmative. ''I realised I was talking in circles like some wise woman. You have my axe, woman.''

They set off down the mountain path in the early morning light. Ghorbash couldn't help himself looking back one last time before the stronghold vanished from their sights.

''I never asked your name orc.''

''It's Ghorbash.'' He grunted.

''My mother called my Faadia.'' She said while giving him that wolfish smile.