Yes I am Human. Yes I am marrying a Bugbear. We don't care what you think! -- Anon Guest
Everyone thinks that Bugbears are goblinoids created to be the violent enforcing arm of goblin rule. However, their temper is entirely understandable. Goblins are furless tunnelers distantly related to both lizards and Dragons[1]. Hobgoblins are only a little larger than their extremely prolific cousins.
Bugbears average out at eight feet tall.
Once all three goblinoid people banded together, it was the Bugbears who encountered a world not made for them, and one that refused any kind of accommodation. You try repeatedly banging your head against doors, walls, and ceilings and see how happy you are about it. Another thing to consider is that Bugbears are the only goblinoid adapted for colder climes, and thus bear a thick coat of fur. The rest of the goblinoids prefer very warm places indeed.
It is therefore only natural that Bugbears are irritable.
In their more natural environment, in the colder areas of the wide world, Bugbears are remarkably chill. Their long limbs make tall and impressive structures. Many travelers are surprised to learn that they farm. Fields of various vegetables, yes, but they devote most of their time to livestock. The vegetation is mostly for the livestock.
Unlike their omnivorous and smaller cousins, Bugbears are obligate carnivores. They have to be careful about what vegetables they eat, and how much. Some can't eat a single thing that grows out of the ground. That's my Brunk. Big and strong, and brought down by a single slice of carrot, poor dear.
When I say, "We met in battle," I mean that we were fighting a pack of rabid snow bears together. My village and his village. Allied because of a mutual threat. Snow bears are terrible enough, rabid snow bears are the worst. One of them had knocked me down and knocked the borrowed helmet off my head, revealing the cap I had underneath, made out of a whole rabbit skin.
I was young and I loved it. I still love it because it's silly and because Brunk loves it, but it belongs to the kids now.
He speared the bear in the chest and picked me up by the collar. "Upsy-daisy, Bunny. Keep fighting!" He never for a moment believed that I could not. Unlike the stupid gormless lunkhead boys from my village.
We sort of teamed up. He went high with his extra reach and I went low with sharp knives and quick reflexes. It's amazing how disemboweling a snow bear really slows them down. Obsidian knives are the best for that.
We were painted red at the end of the day, and had to bathe in the hot springs before we ate or drank anything. Rabies. Every part of a rabid animal is poison. I can tell you that I was sick of chewing and spitting snow all battle. So was Brunk.
That evening, when the fight was done and the snow bears were burning on a pyre, we shared a blanket. I shared his warmth.
"Such a pity. All that meat gone to waste," he lamented.
"We have pigs," I said. "Just as much meat and way tastier." A couple of them were roasting on the spit. Someone was making chitterlings soup. The rest of the Bugbear village were making something out of the rest of the pigs.
Very little goes to waste around goblinoids.
What piqued my curiosity was the two pots. One almost the exact size of a Bugbear dinner bowl. Vegetables were going into the larger pot, but not the small one.
"That's for me," said Brunk. "I'm among the few who can't have vegetables. It's rare, but some of us can only eat meat." He casually cracked open a marrowbone with his tusks, then split it the rest of the way with his hands. "Have some marrow. You'll grow big and strong. Well. Stronger."
The other Bugbears cooed and taunted him in Ghukliak, the language that all goblinkind share. He taunted them back.
"What's that about?"
"Er. The usual. Share marrow with someone and everyone wants to know when the wedding is. You're a little bunny of a Human. You should be big and strong. Then you'll be a terrifyingly mighty warrior."
"Aren't I already scary now?"
"Admirably so."
The villages knew more than we did. But then again, we're both a bit dumb. It wasn't being in love that caused it. We just are that way.
We look after each other in this house. Him and me and any kids we have room for. It works, and we're happy. That's what counts.
[1] Both deny any culpability in their existence.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / IgorKovalchuk]
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