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enola6 · 2 years

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Bearer of the Scar (Azog the Defiler/Reader)

When she was a child , no younger than a few moons, did he first see her.

Over the mountain to the north lived a small settlement of men, and so did her parents. Both merchants of the textile trade that was oh-so booming during the season of winter, when women needed new dresses and men needed new coats.

They loved their daughter , their one and only daughter . But no one knew of the merchants and their travels, that was until they settled down from their travels and made home in the town of Rogendey.

They dwelled in the small cottage alongside the green creek that ran too deep. Their house was small, but so were they with their little trinkets and silks that were hailed all across the race of man. When (y/n) was born, Bruadar and his wife named her (y/n), after the creek that ran near their little house .She was comfortable, and so were her forebears .

Everyday was the same. Bruadar’s wife would awaken, collect the eggs to prepare breakfast ; feed the chickens and horse; prepare breakfast; awaken her son and husband; eat with them; see them off to work; then finally return to the house to nurse her daughter.

And everything was pleasant in their unremarkable lives.

First it was the wandering ranger. He stumbled into the town one morning with his arm torn off and his head in a predicament. The townspeople offered him food and drink, though his lips would not take any of it after he met his maker.

The townspeople grew suspicious . They sent their men and boys, though they could not navigate the foreign pass without a map or compass.

“Orcs I believe,” The merchant said to his wife “orcs from the eastern pass. That ranger must’ve lured them here”.

And on that very night, terror struck.

It was peaceful in the Arden house. The merchant and his wife were asleep , his wife holding the babe in her hand as her son laid on the bed next to them. The fire was out, but the kettle was left on mistakenly by the merchant's son. It was a soundless night, with only small peeps coming from Bruadar’s mouth as he snored.

“The door was torn down and the kettle was shoved to the rug,” was the way the merchant’s son described it, “Mother awoke first, then father. But whatever they must say, I heard it first.”

Bruadar grabbed the sword that he kept underneath the pallet. He rushed in front of his wife, shielding her from any attack that might occur.

“Back away, intruder,” He threatened the orc with the sharp iron in his hand. His attempt was in vain for the orc jabbed the human and hit his sword, signaling he wasn’t going to leave without a fight.

“Stupid men, always so bold, but you will drop like flees !” The orc laughed with his foregin tongue .

“Pega, run for the window ! Take Piwrî and Keander with you!” The merchant called out to his frantic wife. She grabbed ahold of her babe and child, and rushed towards the window.

Her son opened it with his free hands. He looked back at his father , he fought with the orc like a hero would ‘and the hero always wins’ he thought to himself.

“Son, do not look back.” Pega yelled to her child as she hoisted him over the small opening. Though the outside was not as safe as she had hoped. Houses were set ablaze, children were screaming, and orcs ran rampant as they tore into homes of the humbled and stores of the rich. A small cart in the market was tipped over, nearly crashing into Pega and her daughter as she made a run for it.

“Mother watch out !” the boy called to his mother. The boy was too late, for the mother had been stuck by an arrow to the chest and had fallen.

Her babe lay under her as she began to yowl in distress, as a babe commonly does when under distress. The boy lifted his mother’s lifeless corpse and found his sister under her shawl. Oh how perilous her screams were to the boy.

He looked around . The world almost seemed somber for a second. Houses he once knew and loved were being burnt to the ground ,with torches that blazzed throughout the long night that seemed to never come to an end.

“Father…” he cried aloud, holding his dear sister in his grasp. A slight tear rolled off his chin and onto her red face, which found its way into her mouth along with all her other tears. The saltiness was overwhelming and made her yearn for her mother’s milk, something she had not had since eventide. She was a sweet girl, she really was, but at the moment, Keander seemed to detest the role of her elder brother.

Then a blade found its way into his leg. He did not know who it had came from, but he suddenly became aware of the sudden death that had crept upon him, though he was not ready to approach the clouds just yet. He dropped the babe in his hands and fell to the floor, playing dead as the orc came to inspect his victim with his keen eyes. It was selfish, and he knew that. But he wondered if there was any hope for the wailing babe in this state of affairs.

The pale orc took the child in his hands , admiring her intricate beauty as she stopped her wailing to look at him curiously . He stopped for a moment, and for a second he lost his attention to all his surroundings as he stared at her. He became so unaware that he did not notice the merchant creeping up on him to stab him.

The orc screamed in surprise, but the merchant did not harm him with his humanly blade.

He dropped Piwrî, leaving two scratches on her neck from his claws.

“Keander, take your sister to Bree, you have a widowed aunt there,” the father yelled to his son as he began to spar with the attacker.

Then the boy looked upon his father’s attacker with a quivering mouth and eyes that refused to close.“Azog the defiler…” the boy whispered when he caught his sister in his hands .

He ran faster than a horse on foot, only looking back to see his father die, and the orc looking back at him with a sinister smile.

As (Y/N) grew older, her scars never disappeared. The way they were so thoughtfully crafted into her skin seemed to arouse the girl with thoughts of their forming. She would sometimes touch them, her soft fingers tracing the scars the defiler had created. Her aunt grew worried, she made her cover her neck with thick fabrics and scarves made of wool, even in the summer when the sun never ceased to shine.

“Do not show any human the marks upon your neck,” The woman scolded as she stirred the stew in the cauldron “or you will be killed by them, killed by the men who claim to protect you.”

And so she went about her life. Not paying much attention to her scars. She even forgot they were there, but briskly remembered when her brother pointed them out to tease her, as brothers do of course.

“You will wed a man, a traveler from Umbar.” her brother told her one morning after he came home from a hunt. “Perhaps he will like you, even with your scars.”

“How will I wed when I have not even met this ‘inamorato’ of mine” the maiden retaliated with excess grain in her hands that she was using to feed the pigs. She threw some of them at her brother, but the grain just clanked on the iron of his chestplate as it made its passage to the wood floor.

The boy looked upon his sister with false maturity. He thought it appropriate to take her place in the courting process, advertising her to the man he had gambled her away to. He did not wish to make her aware of the way in which he had met Warley Shep, for he had lost his game to him, almost lost his dear aunt’s house but managed to bargain away his sister instead.

The tavern was lively , with barmaids and bards enjoying their drinks with instruments in hand. Though the brothers paid them no attention, Keander couldn’t help but stalk his eyes on one of the barmaids. The barmaid brought her pitcher to Keander’s cup, filling the vessels with pure ale.

“Where will you take her,” the older brother implored. He took another swing of his ale, some drink spilling from the vessel.

“Umbar,” Warley replied, almost seeming annoyed at the dull question. “My home, I promise she will love it.” He then placed his drink on the table, his grip on it tightening as he stored into his new brother’s eyes. “I have heard rumors.” he began to say.

“Rumors ?”

“Rumors that my dear wife has been marked by The Pale Orc, the chieftain of Moria.”

Keander widened his eyes and nearly spat out his drink.

Many thoughts ran through his head at that moment, all which had to do with his dear sister and the night before they had reached Bree. His hands began to sweat and they slipped from his vessel . “You think my young sister has promised herself to an orc?” he jested uncomfortably, his eyes betraying him. “An orc you say ? Oh Master Shep, you jest”.

“Brother ! Master Shep !” the young girl cried from the other side of the tarven. Both of the men turned to look at her, both finding beauty in her appearance. She walked towards them with her arms wide open, a small basket dangling from her hip.

“Sister!” Keander embraced his sister and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek.

“wife!,”

(y/n) looked to her newlywed bridegroom, as he called her name from behind her and expected her head to whip around her head. Her face was much gentler than his, and her hands were fairer for they had never seen an honest day's work. She kept them ungloved, her vanity becoming the best of her.

“We leave tomorrow, in the morning . I’ll come for you at your aunt’s house as soon as the roaster crooks”.

“I will wait for you.”

“And that you must.”

The wooden door opened in the morning. A small kiss was planted on her brother’s cheek as she made her way to her husband’s carriage. Her brother followed her outside, walking in the garden to reach his sister and his new brother. A party of many carriages were lined up in the town square , yearning to return home from the rugged town known as Bree.

To his warm home, where the lake ran deep and the sun never ceased to shine. The fishermen would make their way to the lake, with nets in hand that would return with plenty.

(Y/N)’s face was red as she fiddled with the loose braid in her hair. She pressed her lips together, observing her husband place her bags in the carriage. He did not seem docile or gentle at that moment, or perhaps she was paying too much attention to him, searching for a flaw.

“Sister,” her brother called. His stride was tense and his clothing dirty . He came up from below the driver’s box where she sat oh so anxious and skittish.

“You scared me”, she heaved after giving out a small yelp. Her hand was placed on her heart and her face had become even more red from embrasement . The scars on her neck seemed to burn even more in the moment , but she moved her scarf to cover them.

“Dear (Y/N), did you not hear me announce your name?”

“Do not take me for a fool, dear brother,” she spat sharpley , “you did not call for me.”

“Oh but I did. Perhaps you are too nervous”. He wiggled his eyebrows , though she did not take kindly to his teasing as she brought the wool of the scarf down to gently slap him. “Ow…”

“You are the one who got me into this situation, and you will pay.”

“Wife!” They were both interrupted by the traveler when he took his seat next to (Y/N) in the Driver’s box. He slapped his hand on her knee, to which she annoyingfully raised her leg to drop his. He looked upon her with a galling gaze but paid the small action no mind. “We will go, my brother, and I am afraid your dear sister will never return”.

She gave him a glare. Her life before her flashed through her eyes, her life in Bree where she lived as long as she could remember. But now she was being taken away, by a man who she did not know with every ounce of her being. She detested him, it was their third day of meeting and he was already taking her away.

“Bye, (Y/N)”.

“I love you”,

“And I love you too”.

The horses began to trot, and all the carriages bagan to move, one by one. The town seemed to grow smaller as she kept on looking back in the distance. She grew sentimental , her mind racing with stories and games of her youth.

The trip was boring to (Y/N), but the horses kept her entertained with their braided manes and tails. She felt as if she was counting time all day.

“May I nap in the carriage?” she asked her husband in the afternoon after she had nearly fell asleep on his shoulder, “Please , I have grown tired”.

“Oh course , my wife”.

Her husband spoke, but she did not listen and moved to the hay before he could finish his sentence. She thought it odd that her husband never called her by true name and instead settled for the word ‘wife’. She felt it odd, but perhaps that was because she had never been a wife, and didn’t know how to be one either.

Her nap was soothing with her only disturbance being the yelling of the travelers to each other. Suddenly, the cart stopped and she jolted from her sleep. The curtain of the carriage danced in the wind as it gave (Y/N) a clear view of the outside. She looked around and came to the sudden realization that it was night, with no sign of the sun in sight.

A fire was being started and the women began to warm their hands and prepare food. (Y/N) reached to retie her slippers before suddenly being grabbed from behind. She gasped and began to push away before she heard a low chuckle and recognized the owner of the voice.

“Warley!” she had gasped before pulling away from her husband. He laughed and nearly fell from his sitting position . She placed a hand on her heart and exhaled, relieved that it was him rather than any other man. “You frightened me, I thought-”

“You thought what ?” he inched closer to her, his hand catching onto her blouse before kissing her. He fulled away with a dumb smile on his face, to the young woman, he looked like a fool. She shifted in her position and hugged herself with her own arms, her dress skirt became unanticipatedly interesting as her eyes began to focus on every stitch and pattern. Noticing that she was uncomfortable, her husband twirled one of her loose hairstarand in his fingers before placing it behind her ear.

“You are so beautiful, an enchanting temptress tempting me with every breath you take…” he whispered to her with his hot breath .

He leaned in to kiss her again, his eyes beaming with lust and his lips gleaming with greed.

She then pulled away and grabbed onto the side of her neck, where her scar. An uncomfortable squeal escaped her lips as she held onto her neck.

Her worried husband held onto her shoulders as he tried to calm his wife. He pulled the scarf from her neck and revealed the burning scars in her neck.

“You whore !” he yelled and was about to slap her before a loud roar was heard from the distance.

It was the orcs, and they were here to pillage the camp. But the scar burned so heavily that she was unable to comprehend the screeching and clanking of the swords from the travelers who attempted to protect their camp. “Help me…” she grabbed onto her husband’s hand and watched as he readied his weapons .

He stepped over and made his way from the carriage, as he joined his brothers in battle.

(Y/N) struggled to remain quiet, she stuffed a cloth in her mouth and hopped for the best. Though she knew her attempts would be fruitful, she tried anyway to silence her screams and crush her pain.

Blackish was heard from outside the carriage when a rough hand moved the curtains around. An orc appeared, and he reached into the carriage to try and grab her. She squeaked and kicked his hand away from her.

“Go away.”

The orc grabbed her foot and dragged her out from her safe haven. Oh how frightened she was. To disappear would be such a gift right now. The orc was about to stab her, his knife high in the air. She turned to her side and placed her hands in the air in a lame attempt to shield herself from her attacker. But then the orc stopped, and looked closely at her neck.

“I found her”

“Why did you stop ? kill her!”

“Look at her, she is marked by our master”

“Bring her to him”

The two orcs bickered in a language she could not understand. But then they both looked at her, and she knew she was in trouble. She shifted away from them, trying to crawl away and perhaps grow out of sight.

The taller orc grabbed her by the hair and dragged her towards a larger orc on a warg. She did not see him , for her head was wrapped to face the orcs that were dragging her.

“Why do you bring me this girl?” the larger orc barked at his inferiors .

“We have your treasure”.

The larger orc stepped off from his warg and grabbed the girl from the other orcs. She moaned in pain as tears began to drip from her eyes, she didn’t want to accept her fate, but she gradually did as she waited for the orc chief to pierce a blade through her heart. Her hands remain limp at her sides as she is tossed around like an old rag doll, she fought the urge to punch her orc handler in the face.

She came face-to-face with their chieftain, and suddenly she remembered that old and doomy night that happened long ago. Her eyes widened with fear and he noticed this and smirked with his pale lips.

He lifted her in his hands, bringing her to sit in front of him on his warg.He sensed her fear, and he hungered for it.

“Let’s go.” he commanded his army.

She was uncomfortable. Her hands were limp and she was unable to move.

“Let me go!” She tried to punch the large orc, but he easily caught her hands in his and stopped her from her defective attempt to harm him. His large hand clawed on her neck, choking her for a short while before she started turning purple and blue. “Help me… Dear gods, help me. What have I ever done to offend you?”

She didn’t remember much of the ride to Moria. Only that her body was positioned uncomfortably and that her head was pulled closely to the pale orc’s chest. The Pale Orc, a creature from scrolls and legends that were used to scare children to sleep. Hell, even her own aunt had used stories of the defiler to scare her into the house. “He’ll rip you up, limb by limb. Do you wish to wander at dusk now?”

The woman didn’t realize it, but the warg had came to an abrupt stop which nearly sent her flying off the disgusting wolf. The sudden whiff of air made her cough and she used this as an excuse to fall to the cold floor. It was a stupid plan, it really was. But at the moment (Y/N) couldn’t feel smarter . She ran, but didn’t make it too far before being pulled by her tattered dress by the Pale Orc.

He let out a mighty laugh , and his minions followed in unison. He took his mace and smashed the weak girl’s legs from under him. She yelped out in pain as her tears formed a river to water the daisies beneath her.She thought of many things in that moment, most of it was repentance in ways she had treated her brother.She regretted calling him an oaf, calling him dull or lame…

She tried moving her legs, and cried even more when they wouldn’t move. She continued to cry when she was moved to his tent , or hut, or whatever his quarters were.

He laid her down on her back, so that she could fully see his face. The scars that littered his face were admired by her in full detail as she held a face of disgust. He seemed to view her as a toy, and with a smirk on his face he took her neck in his hands and traced his mark. He enjoyed her pain.

He had searched for her for many years after his attack on Rogendey, her father’s town.

The pale orc touched her bare leg gently. Almost as if he were a husband comforting his needy wife. It was so gentle and unreal, but (Y/N) shook in her place as she felt his carese . He noticed her shaking, and even though her legs were already limp, he decided to twist them even more, making her scream in agony.

“silence,” he grumbled in his blackspeach.

He was large, as perhaps too large for the frightened girl who had never been with a man before. Her husband hadn’t touched her until the previous night, and even then he never succeeded in his goal of fully taking. Sure, he had touched her scandalously here and there , but never had he got to her womanly parts.

As memories of her husband haunted her head. She hadn’t noticed the orc’s knife making its way towards her hand, the blade facing her flesh. “No…” she sobbed and struggled, but her broken legs could only get her so far. It wasn’t long until the knife ate her flesh , and her once beautiful hands were no more.

She yelped when he removed his loincloth. His cock was huge, larger than she had ever imagined one could grow.

He pulled her by the chain that was tightly wrapped around her neck, bringing her attention to his face. She looked just as she did when he picked her up from her brother, with teary eyes and a swollen face from all the crying she had done. Yes, she was a perfect pick for his mate. She would carry his children, whether she liked it or not. Half-orc children were not uncommon , a human could become so corrupted to mate with an orc, some even did it willingly, however, these were few.

His cock rested on her clit. He looked upon the scars that he once left upon her neck and admired his great work of art, there was no need for improvement.

Her eyes shifted to look at his hand ,and if her hands were free from their restraints, she swore she would have smacked them away from her delicate neck, for he attempted to make her scars deeper than they already were. Speaking of, her hands became cold and dirty from lying under her back, she attempted to scratch them, but the rope wouldn’t budge.

“Please…” she whimpered. He looked at her face, taking his attention away from her pussy lips “please be kind…”

He could understand her, though he pretended not to. He laughed, his chuckle being heard all throughout the camp.

“You are to be silent !”

He placed both his hands on her pelvis and looked at her pussy. She seemed needy, as if she wanted to be under him in a helpless state. He knew that she would give in sooner or later, orc cum made human women naturally more submissive after all.

“Your small body will hold the children I force upon you”, He explained to her with madness in his eyes. She only nodded and listened to her master. “Your motherly breasts will leak when I command them to.”

He cock slid into her as she yelped in pain. Blood began to pore from her opening as soon as he began thrusting. He roared and made a mad face , his animalistic ways seemed to take over his mind as drool began to drip on her pussy. She too began moaning as she found pleasure in the act. But he paid no attention to her, only to her pussy that he had been craving for years.

Her creamy breasts bounced up and down, tempting the orc to grab and devour them. He did not see her as a person, alive and well, but as a pussy for him to breed.

She was his mate , and that was all she was going to be.

Her eyes rolled and her mouth would not close. She wanted him fully, and her scar was making her his obedient mate, just as he intended.

“Harder” she moaned as her back arched “Pour your seed into my untouched womb, for I will bear you an army from the eggs of my body”.

He laughed as flipped her over so that her back was to him.

“I am your slave , ripe for the taking”.

His roar was as loud as thunder, and his movement faster than lighting, for the friction from his cock almost made (Y/N)’s pussy burn .

“I love this virgin pussy,” he announced to the rest of his harem, “Fresh and made for my cock”. He continued to thrust into her , while his other hand moved up to her buds . He began to grope her milky tits, awiting her motherly milk to drip from her little buds.

It was then she came down from her high, and began to realize what she had done and she began to cry.

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