The Orsimeric candle tradition part 1

The first part of the last Chapter of my Dul and Gaturn gro-Morgashbur Apocrypha. You should read "The Pre-Orsimeric-Armor" and than "The orsimeric romance" first! In this multi-part Apocrpyha, we will learn something about the candle-Tradition to welcome a non-orc in a tribe, even if this tribe does not exist anymore!

With a shaky step, the petite girl entered the large courtyard of the Gro-Morgashbur family. The planted trees began to bear fruit, and the pavement path had been cleaned only recently.

The girl struggled to wear the really not so heavy gift for her host. But in the last few days, the girl was getting weaker. But she was happy. She had made it to the estate. Here she was safe.

She stopped before the estate at the end of the yard and looked up. The house offered a unique sight, perhaps even unique throughout Tamriel. The curved roof had once been the longhouse in the Morgashbur camp and perfectly represented the inhabitants of the court: former tribal orcs, who were defeated during the attack of Alcaire, but were raised to noble for great combat by the imperial emperor of Tamriel. Something they had to owe the new cooperation between Orsinium, under the leadership of Gortwok gro-Orsinium and the imperial kingdom of Tamriel.

The foundation and living area, however, had been built in the normal chunky Breton-Alcaire style. It was a meeting of two different cultures, perfectly captured in a building. Many nobles and residents of Alcaire hated this building. They fought to expel the orcs from the island and now they had irrevocably become part of their society.

The girl struggled one more time, went to the door of the manor and knocked. After a few moments, Gaturn opened the door. He looked at her and smiled. "Guilette! I have not seen you at the university for days. I did not even know if you came at all. Well, there you are." He hugged her, but he had to carry her rather than embrace. "Hey. What's wrong?" He looked deeply into her eyes and she smiled.

She loved his golden eyes. "Nothing. I'm just tired." She handed him the bag. "Would you bear it for me?"

"Of course. Beauty."

She blushed. "Do not always say that!"

And he grinned and licked his tusks. "Come in."

Behind Guilette the door of the house closed. "Are you ready?" Gaturn asked, placing the bundle of Guilette in the corner. "You wanted to have it traditionally. Therefore, we perform the flame recognition."

She frowned. "For real? Oh good. Well ... I have no problem. Who will be there?"

"Mother, father, and Ghorash."

"Who?"

"My older sister. She was based in Skyrim and arrived several days ago."

"Well then!"

Gaturn licked his tusks again. "No. She does not like you and your family."

Guilette raised her brow. "But she does not know me at all."

"Yes. But she does not care. The food is served. Do you know how to behave while flame recognition?"

She winked at him. "Surely. Let's get started!" She rubbed her hands and took the bag for the host in her hand. Gaturn took her free hand, looked at the door to the dining room, and walked in with her. Guilette was nearly slain by the spicy smell of the orsimeric kitchen, and could not resist a frowning brow and a tear in her eyes.

"Our food does not like their fine, Breton nobility nose," a deep female voice sounded. When Guilette opened her eyes, she was afraid. In front of her stood a dining table in the old tribal tradition of the Pariah. Wooden utensils lay on the table and various food, of which she knew only a few, was served.

To the left of the table sat a staunch orc-woman in imperial armor. Even their upper armies were more muscular than Guilettes whole body. A large scar pulled over the skull of the orc and she looked at the Breton with frowned brow. Next to the orc soldier sat an older orc-woman with gray, knotted hair, which actually smiled to Guilette. At the head of the table, which had been decorated with all sorts of hunt trophies, sat, as in the tradition prescribed the chief. Dul gro-Morgashbur, who wore his entire orichalcum armor. He looked at her emotionlessly.

At each seat, on the Table lay a burning candle of troll fat. She knew what that meant, and that she had to make every one present here to put out the candles to recognize Guilette as a possible part of the family.

In the background was standing an almost complete Orsimer armor which only the silver helmet was missing.

"Are you ready?" Gaturn whispered to her and Guilette smiled. She stepped forward, put the bag down, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It is an honor for me to be here," she said, and Ghorash laughed.

"She studies our culture and speaks like an ordinary breton?" Guilette turned to her sister. "Silence. I'm just talking to the chief. Not to his brood."

A loud "Pwahaha!" Sounded from the top of the table and Guilette straightened up. "Then start, tiny." Duls voice was vibrating in her ears. She nodded and took the bundle and handed it over to the daughter, who then handed it over to the father. "It's very hard for a dress and make-up," she said abruptly.

"shut the fuck up, child," said the father. "This is not an easy thing for all of us here and she is not an orc. That she has bowed at all is a miracle. And now demanding to know which gift might please the chieftain is not easy to ..." He stood up and opened the sack. He opened his eyes, let his mouth opened, and stepped back.

"Father?" Ghorash asked.

"Is this ... his? At Mauloch's Wamp! Where did you get it from?"

"From my father. I took it to hand him over to the rightfull owner."

Gaturn looked up between Guilette and his father.

"But it is the war treasure of your father, child."

"He had sold it and I bought itback."

"Father? What has she given you?" The daughter asked.

The father sat down, put out his candle with his fingertips and presented his lost pre-Orsimer helmet to his family. The missing part of the armor in the background.