A Ritual Formality

"I could snap you like kindling..."

And if truth be told, Master Bra'atc thought, snapping the boy would still be as simple as that.

Or, as O'Neill would have it, not.

~oOo~

The non-warrior he had derided on that first encounter had shown himself harder to break than Bra'tac could have imagined at the time. It still amazed him that meeting Teal'c's new allies had shown him, even at the ripe age of one hundred and thirty-three, how much he could still have to learn about other races, other worlds, other people.

And even more so now, after Kheb.

What had happened on that mystical, forbidden planet had changed much. It was not just the weight of years he had felt lift from his shoulders (a young man of eighty, he had told Teal'c? Maybe he should have said a youth of sixty-five, brash and ready for battle) but also for the hope and faith he had come away with. He was not sure why - the strange young 'priest' had spoken in riddles that an old warrior found harder to grasp than he had admitted - but it did have something to do with Teal'c's 'kindling' friend, with him standing, weaponless and barefoot, in front of Apophis's soldiers and coming out of it with all their lives.

The Tau'ri scholar was not for snapping.

Bra'tac adjusted the heavy covered platter he carried as he entered the Stargate. For the first time in more years than he could recall, he felt... what was it? Ah yes, nervous. O'Neill, Major Carter, Hammond of Texas... formidable warriors all, and he had thoughts one day of he and Teal'c, their freedom and battles finally won, sharing with them all. But this was different. He was not sure that any of them would understand, not even Teal'c, who would never have seen this old, venerable, neglected symbolic ritual. But at this moment, after what they had shared, it felt right.

"Tak mal tiak, Master Bra'tac."

Teal'c, along with his warrior brethren, his commander Hammond of Texas, and (to the Jaffa mind) a suspicious number of onlookers, was waiting at the ramp.

"Tak mal tiak, Teal'c, Hammond of Texas." He bent his head in respect to the leader, in acknowledgement to the rest. "I am not this time the bearer of ill tidings."

"No, rather a large... plate?" This was O'Neill, of course.

"I have brought a gift, in recognition of what occurred on Kheb."

"I see," Hammond, who clearly did not see, said politely.

"Do you not have rituals on this world involving the giving of food?"

"Oh yes," and it was of course Doctor Jackson, as inquisitive as he ever was no matter what the moment, who broke in, "pretty much every civilization does, don't they? It seems to be one of the central ways that social groups all over the galaxy operate, one of the most important -"

"Thank you Doctor Jackson," Hammond cut in calmly. "Yes we do, Master Bra'tac. I take it that this," with a nod to the plate, "is just such a tradition on Chulak."

"Jaffa food?" O'Neill turned an inquiring gaze on Teal'c. "Something different from what we had when we were there for Ryac?"

"Or the feast we nearly -" Doctor Jackson stopped, and winced.

O'Neill glanced at him, and took over. "That we sort of gatecrashed that first visit. So," changing the subject with his usual unsubtlety, "how different?"

"Very different, human."

Teal'c was frowning slightly. "Master Bra'tac, I am uncertain which practice you mean."

Bra'tac gave them all a sliver of smile. The dish was, he admitted to no one but himself, becoming heavy, and the odor of its chief ingredients was beginning to waft through the gateroom. Several faces - among them the beautiful Major, the General and several of the onlookers - took on faint alarm.

"Of course, Teal'c hasn't told us much about the real delights of Chulak food," O'Neill spoke easily, rocking back a little on his heels, "even when we suggested that the mess could try some recipes if he knew them. And if we could get the stuff to make them."

"And as I recall, you were most relieved to hear I could not."

"I wasn't." Doctor Jackson spoke wistfully.

"As I have said, I have found your planet's fare more than satisfactory, DanielJackson," Teal'c answered. "There is nothing that I find I cannot do without."

Bra'tac nodded. "This is true. Unlike the palace feasts, true Jaffa fare is meant to build strong bodies and hardy minds, and is not for the weak and decadent."

"Like the Spartans," Doctor Jackson said quite eagerly. "They were famous for their black broth, said to be made of boiled pigs' legs, blood, salt and vinegar -"

"Christ, Daniel," O'Neill screwed his face up, "thanks for sharing."

Teal'c eyebrow shot up, and he spoke gravely. "Indeed," he rumbled. "Such a meal even a true Jaffa might well choose to forgo... or at least," after a moments' thought, "the limbs of the swine."

Bra'tac matched the lifted eyebrow, and watched O'Neill blanch and look at both of them suspiciously. It may have been frivolous, but he never found the diversion of - what did the man call it? - pushing Tau'ri buttons to grow stale. But he did have more important matters to deal with. "May we retire to more private rooms, Hammond of Texas? I have this gift for your people. In particular -"

He paused, an evil demon inside him prompting him to look long and thoughtfully at O'Neill. The man paled even more, but when poked in the side by his scholar (unobtrusively, but not nearly enough for Bra'tac's sharp eye) tried to look pleased at the idea. "Blood, you said?"

"Sadly," Bra'tac took a little pity, "no. These... Spartans you speak of, they had their own ways, we have ours."

"Oh, peachy."

~oOo~

Brat'ac laid the massive plate down on the briefing room table, and looked around, again allowing himself one moment's malice by pausing on O'Neill. He had to agree, the smell from the plate was becoming pervasive, even worrying to those of weaker stomachs than Jaffa. And human stomachs, like human bodies, were weaker.

It was all part of this rite, this formal gift of Retah T'rtH.

"This custom is one Teal'c may only have heard of," he said gravely. "It is old and out of fashion now, but my own father performed it and it meant much to him and his forbears. As a child and youth I myself saw him formally honor other Jaffa this way. I admit, I have done so myself, but not in recent times.

"Doctor Jackson, you have a passion for the past."

"Uhh," the young man had been trying to both listen and discreetly, incorrigibly, study the symbols on the cover, but looked up at that, "yeah. I think everyone knows that -?"

"I would share this old custom of my fathers - of the Jaffa - with you." He lifted the cover.

Teal'c spoke first, cautiously. "Those are Chal'tii death onions."

Major Carter turned wide eyes to him. "Death onions, Teal'c?"

"My mother used to prepare them for us. They were a noteworthy part of my childhood."

"Ahh..." O'Neill said weakly. "Jaffa comfort food then, wonderful."

"If I understand the term correctly... no. My mother was not skilled in preparing food."

They all stared at the small, oh-so-shiny quarters of vegetable surrounded by piles of black, hard bread cones made - as Bra'tac knew and Teal'c probably suspected - from the oldest and most basic recipe known on Chulak. Bra'tac felt rather than saw Teal'c's reaction - shock, amazement, even pride - as he watched the humans' faces and smiled to himself. Teal'c, a youngster of one hundred and one, may not have seen this but his father must have told it to him.

"Well I'm sure, cooked correctly, they are - delicious," Major Carter said valiantly, trying not to back away too obviously. "So many wonderful shades of blue, after all."

"And Carter should know, she loves blue food," her commanding officer added, less than helpfully.

Doctor Jackson, however, had lit up like a watchfire at night. "This is fascinating, Bra'tac. Chal'tii... death onions?" He was clearly committing the words to memory as he barreled on. "Probably bred from onions taken from ancient Egypt or other cultures, thousands of years ago. And this -" he delicately extracted a single cone of the bread and examined it like an artifact of pure gold "- this is probably made from what were originally middle eastern grains."

"It is retah bread, from ancient grain and made to an old recipe, correct. It was long ago the custom to share this plain but honest meal with those who you feel a debt of no ordinary size to, a symbol of sharing respect and admiration, and gratitude. True, the sharing is a formality, and has been forgotten, or made changed to suit modern tastes and modern appetites, but the meaning is more important than minor details." He paused. "In the time since Teal'c first met you, you have all performed well and bravely, and have done much to assist the cause of freedom."

Hammond, his expression at his most civil, spoke with his usual imperturbable courtesy. "Nothing we were not happy to do, Master Bra'tac."

"Yeah, it was..." O'Neill stopped, and went on more seriously. "Okay, not nothing. But you really didn't have to do this for us."

"I have not."

"Oh... oh?"

"I have brought this first and foremost to acknowledge my debt to Doctor Jackson."

"Uhh... me?" Doctor Jackson looked up, startled.

"I believe, Doctor Jackson, we shared some small illumination on Kheb, it made me - young of mind and sure of heart again, and I would not have had this but for your search for the child. I would therefore share this with you... and your people." His eyes flickered round. "You are young, too young to be my brother as you are Teal'c's, and I doubt you will ever be a true warrior. But after Kheb..." Bra'tac paused, "after Kheb, I have a debt to you."

The man's eyes became shadowed. "Me too," he spoke softly. "You were the one to say to put the weapon down, I don't think I said thank you for that -" He stopped at an uncomfortable shuffling of military feet around them. "I know, Jack, I know. The very young -"

"Ah ah," his commanding officer cut in hastily. "Don't say it."

After an awkward pause - Bra'tac did not know why, not care to - Doctor Jackson returned to examining his bread cone. "I've seen bread like this," he said softly, "in the tombs of Egypt."

"It does look very old." Major Carter reddened. "I mean -"

"Not quite that old, I think," Bra'tac inclined his head. "You are correct, but in these matters it is the symbolism that counts - as I said, it is the meaning more than the details. That the gift is accepted and Retah T'rtH shared is enough, and an honor to myself, my forbears and my people."

She smiled uncertainly, and nodded.

"The basis, maybe even the barest bones of the recipe, could have come straight from the Valley of the Kings. There's an old Egyptian prayer," Doctor Jackson's voice was soft and wondering. "Give my spirit bread and onions to eat..."

And before anyone could speak - before even the two Jaffa watching him could do more than blink - Doctor Jackson broke off some of the bread, scooped up a chunk of bright blue bulb... and popped them in his mouth.

The two Jaffa, the General and everyone else around him blinked again.

The General and everyone else except the two Jaffa visibly cringed.

Bra'tac watched as one the most unlikely, most foolhardy and most incredible non-warrior he had ever known chewed valiantly, then spoke mildly. "I believe that I did say, the gift of Retah T'rtH is - symbolic, as is acceptance.

"It is not however, required that you actually eat it."

"It isn't?"

"No. The sharing has been merely figurative for many lifetimes, possibly ever since the first Jaffa tasted a Chal'tii onions and renamed it accordingly."

"They're... fine." Doctor Jackson's voice was faint and somewhat strangled, but he managed to force the words out. "Much stronger taste than smell, though. And after all," ignoring the complicated sounds coming from his appalled teammates, "a custom this old has to be experienced..." he swallowed again, "really experienced to the full. You should all try some too."

"Did you not hear me say the meaning was more than minor details, young human?"

"Uhh... yes, but I don't see -"

"One minor detail," Bra'tac overbore him easily, "being the fact that both Chal'tii death onions and retah bread are, even to the strongest Jaffa stomach, deeply unpleasant."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed solemnly. "My mother was not that unskilled in preparing food, DanielJackson."

"Uhh... well, okay, not the best thing I've eaten but umm... really, honestly not the worst." Doctor Jackson shrugged. "Much better than Spartan black soup. And as you said, it's the meaning - it's living something that had its roots in the history that is a part of both of us - that's a gift. Master Bra'tac, I don't know how to thank you."

He scooped up another of the onions, and looked around at the blank faces looking back at him. "What?"

O'Neill let out a faint moan. Major Carter simply stared. Teal'c gave the precise eyebrow lift that was the Jaffa equivalent of a shrug. Bra'tac looked at Hammond of Texas and saw the shared helpless exasperation on the Tau'ri leader's face.

For someone who might never fight with much proficiency that an old Jaffa could wish for, Doctor Jackson still showed no understanding of whatever the term for preservation instinct might be, nor concern for O'Neill's increasingly grey head that was a testament to it. But he had to give credit where credit was without doubt due.

"I have given, and been given, the gift of sharing Retah T'rtH but five times in my life," he said finally. "Trust me, young human, I have yet to see even the bravest Jaffa do as you have just done -

"And not snap."

Doctor Jackson gazed at him mildly. "I don't snap," he said... and Master Bra'tac could not argue with that.

- the end -