#balar

"Untitled Map of Beleriand" for @tolkienrsb 2024! Fanfic by @naryaflame coming soon!

This was my first time participating so I wanted to make something big. 4ft x 3ft (122cm x 91cm), canvas, watercolor, and fine point marker for the little pictures!

Places in the pictures, going from left to right:

View of the sea from Vinyamar

View of the sea from Balar, facing West

Nauglamir

Amon Rudh

Minas Tirith on Tol Sirion

A dock at the Havens of Sirion

Gondolin

The gate into Menegroth

Amon Ereb

Himring

The hills around Thargelion

A forge in Nogrod

A hall in Belegrost

The Dagda

The Dagda (also Daghda, Daghdha, Dagdae, or Dagda Mór), usually written with the definite article, is one of the most important gods in Irish-Celtic mythology. He appears as a multi-talented warrior-leader of the Tuatha Dé Dannan, invaders of ancient Ireland who win a battle against the resident Fir Bolg. Another battle follows, this time against the seafaring Fomorians, and again the Tuatha Dé Dannan are victorious. It is the Fomorians who set the Dagda his famous challenge of eating a huge amount of porridge from his own magical cauldron. With his mighty club, inexhaustible cauldron, and great talent playing the harp, the Dagda was a universal god in Irish mythology considered to dwell in many places, including at Newgrange. As his warrior character, the Dagda is killed by Caitlín, queen of the Fomorians.

Names

Dagda means the 'good god' and the name often appears with a variety of spellings. The sense of 'good' in this context is 'many-skilled' as the Dagda was considered a master craftsman, warrior, magician and ruler. The god may also be referred to as Eochaid Ollathair, meaning 'father of all' or 'mighty father', Ruad Rofhessa, meaning 'lord of great knowledge', or Deirgderc, 'red eye' (referring to the sun). Although recognised by scholars as an important early Irish-Celtic deity, his precise significance is not known. Some have identified him as a sky god and ancestor deity similar to Cronus in Greek mythology. In any case, it is thought that these ancient Celtic gods were not specifically a focus of religious rituals in their particular honour. In contrast, his character as a divine warrior is better represented and seen in the mythological tales of early Irish history which were first written down from around the 8th century CE onwards.

We do know that in the religion of the ancient Celts the Dagda was a prominent figure in the festival of Samhain (aka Samain) which, on 1 November and including the evening of the 31st, celebrated the end of the old year and the beginning of the new. This was also a time when the spirits of the Otherworld could be best contacted. If the Dagda and the war goddess the Mórrigan, sometimes known as the 'queen of demons', came together at this time, then their sexual union would guarantee the fertility and prosperity of the tribe and its harvests and livestock in the coming year. The Dagda was also thought to have had intercourse with two other goddesses during Samhain, these are Boand (aka Boann, goddess of the Boyne River) and Indech (daughter of a renowned warrior of the same name). For this reason, in Gaelic oral traditions in Ireland and Scotland, Samhain was considered the most auspicious time to become pregnant.

Elrond and Elros have recently arrived on Balar, and Elrond is not happy to be back among his mother's people. But with some help from his brother, he begins to see Elwing in a different light. Rated G.

“I did not expect you to be so busy here,” Elrond said as he carefully ground some willow bark. He and Elros had been on Balar for nearly a month now, and last week he’d finally worked up the courage to ask about helping in the Houses of Healing. Halwen, Balar’s chief healer, had placed Elrond under the command of Lady Ianneth to help prepare medicines, for Ianneth was well-versed in herb-lore.

She was also King Gil-galad’s mother. That had worried Elrond at first, for he’d found thus far that he didn’t like Gil-galad very much -- or Círdan, or, for that matter, most of the population of Balar. But Ianneth was tolerable. She was a practical woman, and she didn’t seem to pity him, or worse, try to mother him, as though Elwing’s abandonment had left him without anyone to fill the role of parent.

Maglor and Maedhros had been more than enough. His foster-fathers had given him and Elros everything they’d needed, despite what these people seemed to think.

“There’s always something that needs doing,” Ianneth said, looking up from the comfrey liniment she was preparing. “But bruises and coughs and headaches -- those are just the day-to-day woes. The real work comes when the people who’ve escaped from the mainland make their way here. They’re half-starved more often than not, and wounded, and the Men are sometimes ill. The ones who come from Hithlum are always in especially dire straits. The Easterlings are brutal to them.”

She had the matter-of-fact tone of someone who was accustomed to seeing people suffer, but wasn’t callous towards their pain. Elrond wondered at that, for she was from Hithlum herself and likely knew many who had been killed or enslaved. Growing up, he’d heard rumors about the cruelties of the East-Men, and he couldn’t imagine being so unshaken if he learned that Maedhros, Maglor, or any of their people were being held captive and mistreated.

“How many people are left in Hithlum?” he asked. ‘Besides the East-Men, I mean.”

“We don’t know.” Ianneth stirred the liniment one final time and then carried the jar over to the counter where it would rest until it set. Then she plucked a bundle of herbs from the rafters above them and laid it down on the table. “What is this, and what is it used for?”

“Chickweed,” Elrond said automatically. He’d already grown used to Ianneth’s sudden tests, and he was pleased to say that he’d passed most of them, thanks in no small part to Maedhros’ botany lessons. “It’s used to treat blisters and rashes. But what do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean we don’t know,” Ianneth said, though she gave his answer an approving nod. “Everyone who escapes has a different estimate.”

“But then how do you know how much medicine you’ll need?”

Ianneth smiled at him, but the expression was tinged with sadness. “We don’t,” she said. “We just prepare as much as possible and pray for the best. That’s what healing is, at least during war -- preparation, prayer, and hard work.”

Elrond didn’t have an answer to that, so he simply returned to the willow bark with a noncommittal hum. Melloth, the woman who’d taught him the basics of healing, never prayed. None of Fëanor’s remaining people did, though Maglor had taken pains to speak as respectfully as he could when he taught Elrond and Elros about the Valar.

Ianneth returned the chickweed to its place and then peered into Elrond’s bowl. “It needs to be a little finer,” she said.

He nodded and began to push harder with the pestle. Ianneth left him to his work, busying herself with putting more water on to boil over the small fire. Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional rustle of cloth and the sound of stone grinding against stone. But a question was nagging at Elrond, and after a few minutes he gave in and spoke.

“How do you know the people from the mainland aren’t in league with Morgoth?” he asked. “How do you know they aren’t thralls?”

Ianneth gave him a crooked half smile. “We don’t,” she said again.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes,” Ianneth said. “A man who came from Hithlum tried to murder Lord Círdan just last year. But we’ve decided that it’s better to risk harboring a thrall or two than to turn away people who are actually in need. There are far more of the latter than the former.”

Elrond couldn’t contain a snort of derision. “That seems foolish,” he said. Maedhros and Maglor had been ever-vigilant about the possibility that Morgoth might send spies in the guise of Elves or Men, and so they had rarely trusted strangers. After all, Maedhros had been intimately acquainted with Morgoth’s methods in a way Círdan or Gil-galad would never be.

The look Ianneth gave him was heavy with disappointment. “If kindness is foolish, than I will gladly be a fool,” she said. Then she slapped another bunch of herbs onto the table -- thin green stems with unfamiliar mauve flowers. “This is earth smoke,” she said. “It’s used to treat redness and itching in the eyes. When you’re done grinding the bark, shred the blooms, cover them with boiling water, and leave them to soak.”

Elrond gritted his teeth and complied. But he exchanged no more words with Ianneth until it came time to bid her a good evening and take his leave.

@0ward