#tarnin austa

[elluendifad]

Valima Tarnin-austa! Annon Laer Vaer!

Blessed midsummer and solstice, the gates of summer, to all! This holiday marks the middle of the summer season, which is Laire in Quenya and Laer in Sindarin. To celebrate, I will share a little information about how Tarnin austa fits in my own practice and cosmology--as always, take a pinch of sugar and a pinch of salt and know that what works for me may not look the same as what works for you. I have written this myself with no generative or editing AI involved. This comes from the perspective of just one cuivienion vanya, with all the potential biases that come with that. I also highly reference both the tolkien gateway articles on Tarnin austa and Arien, as well as the generally-accepted calendar/Loa used by most tolkien-based spiritual organizations posted by Way of Arda's Lore fka Tie Eldalieva.

[Gif Description: Single monarch butterfly opens and closes its wings while resting on a yellow-orange sunflower. Leaves and additional flowers in the background. End Description.] Holiday: Tarnin austa/Annon Laer/Gates of summer Season: Laire/Laer/Summer, the midpoint. Observation/focus: Arien, and Anar the sun that she pilots. Energetics: Warming, Moving/Stimulating This holiday falls in Varda's month and is named 'Fiery' , Nárie in quenya and Nórui in sindarin. As she is the star-kindler and lady of pure light, any observation of Varda or her spheres is also apt for Tarnin-austa. This year, Tarnin austa falls as the moon, Isil (Q)/ Ithil (S)/ Rána (N) is currently waning and is only 28% visible. It is also Valanya (Q)/ Orbelain (S)/ Friday, which is the Day of the Powers. I personally associate this weekday first with Tulkas and Nessa (for starflower day-valar-direction correspondences, ymmv) and secondly with all of the Valar. Any additional flavoring this adds to Tarnin austa may be subjective, so let me know what that means for you in replies or reblogs or asks (even if the answer is nothing!) This is an ideal time to communicate with or otherwise reflect on/work with Arien, the maia who gave up her place in Vána's golden gardens to pilot the sun-ship and bring the last fruit of Laurelin to all of creation.

Arien's journey is one of hope and diligence, she is unerring in her path and in the fulfillment of her duty, and in this way is steadfast in her devotion to all beings out in the world and beyond. She rejected all seductions from the marrer and was one of the most powerful fire spirits among the kindreds of the Ainur. She rarely wore a guise and in her naked splendor was difficult for all to look upon.

In truth, life would not be possible on this planet without her steadfast gift of warmth, and it is this delicate balance of distance and angle that makes this Arda such a paradise. At the same time, her radiance is so powerful that direct exposure to it is harmful to most creatures, and we have developed physiological, behavioral, or technological barriers to protect ourselves.

While most of us don't celebrate this holiday with a silent overnight vigil broken by singing at sunrise in the Gondolindrim way, there is always time to rest in a sunbeam, light a candle or bonfire, and enjoy the assurance of the sun's path in the sky.

additional personal practice and other thoughts under the cut

Today is a bit interrupted for me, as I got called into work and don't have the free time to explore some sunshiney tea blends or to set out solar water as I had hoped.

So for now, the best I can do is some calendula-codonopsis-linden with rooibois while I write this. Felt like a bit of sugared ginger would also be nice. The moistening linden (and marshmallow root in my water bottle, not pictured) should hopefully counteract the drying calendula. In general, heat and dryness are irritating to me because my general constitution is already those things: if I was having to hang outside today, there'd absolutely be hibiscus and mint in here, too. It is sunshiney, yellow, strengthening, and I love the way the faint vanilla of rooibois blends with calendula and codonopsis.

[ID:Flatlay photo of a mesh tea strainer with codonopsis root, calendula flowers, linden leaf and flower, red rooibois leaf, and two cubes of sugared ginger. The colors are overwhelmingly yellow and dark orange. End ID.] Later today I will be attending a little parlor ritual from a witch business in the city near me, mostly because I happened to see somebody genderqueer in their photos the same way I am and want to check out a space possibly friendly to me. My tarot readings and the correspondence of weekday, moon, and holiday are pointing me toward doing (kinda but not too) new things and having fun. I am perfectly sufficient to show up in public just as I am, with the magic that I am. I assume their tea will also be sunny and that there's probably going to be candles or fire. I am basking in my love of the world. I am basking in the fact that my one small part in it is not alone--change is slow, though it still forms and shifts and forms anew. I can depend on the sun, and I can depend on myself. Hantan le <3

[tiutale]

Erestor sent a look to every elf he passed as he approached the practice grounds. Most had left out of respect to their captain. The nosey ones left out of fear of the councilor. 

He let his eyes roam Glorfindel's frozen form as he knelt beside a fallen leaf. Just one leaf. One of brilliant greens swirled with white definitions through its body. A unique variegation not seen in many of this species. 

Glorfindel's bow lay on the ground beside him. His quiver of arrows full. He had barely begun his practice before memory overwhelmed him. Stepping slowly and silent, Erestor folded himself to sit beside his mate. 

Neither spoke for many moments. Perhaps hours. The wind caressed the leaf carefully held in the Vanya's fingers. Even the birds held their joyful songs in reverence of the melancholy sitting upon the golden sun of their valley. 

"They leave like leaves in the fall." 

Erestor raised an eyebrow and looked to his mate. He kept his peace letting whatever had struck his love process and seep out of his mind. 

"They all left. One by one. Some in groups. The wind swept them back over the seas and I have nothing here to remind me-" his voice seized as his fingers let the leaf fall. "He left me. I-" 

Erestor began to understand. Since the twin' birth Glorfindel had spent the Summer Solstice apart from the family. Usually on patrol for months. This time Elrond forbade it. Now he understood why. He had suspected his mate had been running. But he would not push. 

"You are angry with him. For his choice?" 

Glorfindel turned the leaf by its stem his brow furrowing. "I cannot be. Choice is the most precious thing left to us." 

Erestor turned his body and face Glorfindel. "You do not blame him but you are still angry with him.* he paused, watching carefully choosing the moment. "You blame the three of them for letting you leave valinor to." 

Sharp emerald eyes looked at the councilor. Shimmering with tears they flashed in anger. "This was my choice-" 

Erestor glared.

"It was a choice influenced by words from those who care for you making assumptions on what would make you feel your role is accomplished. It was not a choice of your own will Glorfindel. It was a choice pieced together by influence." 

Glorfindel's anger dissolved into shocked confusion. "What do you mean?" 

Erestor took a soothing breath through his nose. And let it out slowly. He had avoided this conversation long enough. "Your return was of the Valar's making. They knew well that presenting you with the offer would lead you to seek advice from those you cared for most. They also knew those elves were far to damaged from the events of their death. They would leave their advice aside assuming it was what you wanted and give their blessings. It was *never* a choice given to you." 

Glorfindel's eyes widened leaving the pooled tears to slip down his cheeks as realization set in. "You-knew this-" 

Erestor raised a finger to wipe the wet lines from his mate's face. "I guessed it. But I also know how those fools operate. They *knew* your heart would drive you to return. They *knew* your family would assume that is what you wanted. I would not put it past Irmo to have a hand in that influence either. None of you truly chose this of free will, Fin." 

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed and he let the leaf fall. "Do we have free will Erestor?" He turned to his mate as Erestor moved closer, grabbing his cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Aye Meleth. This is free will. Being here. Choosing to protect this peace. Choosing to seek solace with one another while our hearts beat together. Choosing to set expectations aside and live how we wish. We have it here. Now. With no influence of their make." 

Glorfindel closed his eyes, tears slipping down once more. "I miss them, Erestor. So much so my breath stops and I feel my heart would cease beating." 

Erestor let his lips sit against Glorfindl's as they spoke.

"They are with you Meleth. In Song. You only need to quiet the pain enough to hear them." Rubbing his nose against the other's he smiles lightly. "We are here to keep you until you see them again. Do not let despair take the heart of your fire." 

Glorfindel let out a shuddering breath and raised his arms to take Erestor into a fierce hug. His face buried in his shoulder, his own body shuddering with the release of his sorrows.

[twelfthadept-fics]

Asarat

Glorfindel remembers the terror of that night and as he looks at the festivities in full swing below him, he has to remind himself again that this is not wrong.

Glorfindel has begun to settle into his new life, but holidays still take some getting used to.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @glorfindelweek! I meant it to fit the Day 3 prompt (Friendship) but it kinda morphed into Day 4 (Celebrations), so, uh, not sure exactly how to tag that...

[ziana-wyvern]

ꕥ⁂⚘ Tarnin Austa ⚘⁂ꕥ

-The Gates Of Summer-

The “Gates of Summer” (Tarnin Austa) is the Elven Midsummer festival which starts the prior night and anticipates the rising of the Anar, the Sun in the East, who is “steered” in the skies by a fiery Maia (meaning “Beautiful One”) named Arien.

“[…] and now at length is that great feast Tarnin Austa or the Gates of Summer near at hand. For know that on a night it was their custom to begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing it even till the dawn of Tarnin Austa broke, and no voice was uttered in the city from midnight till the break of day, but the dawn they hailed with ancient songs. “For years uncounted had the coming of summer thus been greeted with music of choirs, standing upon their gleaming eastern wall; and now comes even the night of vigil and the city is filled with silver lamps, while in the groves upon the new-leaved trees lights of jewelled colours swing, and low musics go along the ways, but no voice sings until the dawn."

Book II of the Lost Tales (aka HoME Vol. II), JRR Tolkien

Merry Midsummer everyone! Enjoy your summer!🍒

[hhimring]

Bells and Drum

For @gondolinweek

Thank you for the beautiful prompt posts!

Characters: Salgant, OFC.

No warnings. The feast of Tarnin Austa referred to is not Gondolin's last Tarnin Austa.

‘Listen,’ Salgant remembers Solosimpe saying.

She walked over and settled herself in front of the big drum. She started slowly. Ta-dum-ta. And then she worked up the sound, louder and faster, until it rose in a big wave that filled the room and Salgant’s head. It lifted him up. He wanted to move. He wanted to dance, jump, do great things. Yes, even he, Salgant—the small deprecatory voice in the back of his back was drowned out by the sound of the beating drum. Then the wave receded again, slowed. The room was silent, although Salgant’s thoughts were still reverberating with the last of the drum beat.

‘Now, listen again,’ said Solosimpe.

She walked over to the wall where there was an arrangement of gongs and bells. Starting with a gentle touch, she produced an entirely different sound. It swelled out gradually, unhurriedly from under her fingers, but continued to unfold, a slow solemn sequence of sounds that calmed and seemed to open up spaces in Salgant’s head, settling him back in his skin and clearing his eyes. He noticed the way the light was falling into the room.

‘Wonderful,’ he said reverently. ‘I thought your instrument was the flute!’

‘Thank you,’ said Solosimpe. ‘I was not trying to impress you, though! There are others here that can play these better than I. I was trying to demonstrate the difference between the moods, how music can match itself to what the occasion offers and enhance it. You knew that already, of course, and you can do both on any instrument, including the flute, including your harp. But it is easier to hear the difference on the drum and the bells.’

Gently, thinks Salgant, playing his harp on the morning of Tarnin Austa, letting his harp notes ring out softly. It is time for the bells now.

Later today, it will be time for the drum.

[alystraea]

Tarnin Austa, Gondolin. They are coming.

[goldenglorfindel]

Happy Tarnin Austa!

I’m at work currently - I’ll be around for half an hour over lunch then online this evening. 

Please do come and interact and send things if you would like and I will be looking to produce some content later on.

Anyone in LoTRO will find myself and anyone else I can pull together in Imladris on Laurelin later too - I need to choose a venue but it won’t be in the Hall as usual, so will make sure to let you know

[tiutale]

In honor of today being the first day of summer I offer a small peek into how the Lords of Gondolin heal on a day of their greatest sorrow. No matter the horrors of your past you can heal from them and fins aolid footing once more. In time. Thank you @outofangband for encouragment to post this!

***********************************************

Maeglin's eyes adjust slowly to the torch light ahead. His body was vibrating with nerves as memories arose. The scent of fire. The faint screams. The consuming panic and desperation of far too many emotions and instincts flaring on fsr to young impulses. 

Fidgeting, he hefted the bag higher on his shoulder and continued down the path he started on. The evening of Tarnin Austa is not one he ever thought he would travel on. Let alone arriving at such a place. His feet instinctively began to turn in retreat. 

This was a mistake. He was a mistake. He should have remained in the Halls. Away from any other elf. He did not belong among them. Body half turned to flee, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and prickled. Dark eyes slowly turned back to his destination. 

He was being watched. Unconsciously his muscles tensed. His jaw set. Hia fingers curled into a white knuckled grip on his bag. Amber eyes watched him hauntingly distant yet strangely warm. 

Rôg. 

A gentle cool breeze swirled up around Maeglin's hair lifting and combing through it as a mother's fingers would a hesitant elfling. Without conscious thought his body turned toward the elf. His chest tightened and tears warmed and stung the corners of his eyes. 

Memories cycled through his mind of times this elf sat beside him. Spoke softly. Confidently to the feelings Maeglin could not voice. To the first time he offered him the water fruit. To the concern and support this one elf never wavered in showing him from the day he found him staring out at the open fields beyond the walls. Lost. Hurting. Confused. Empty. 

Rôg. Glorfindel. Egalmoth. Galdor. They were family. By choice. He blinked. He was now standing mere inches from Rôg. Looking up at the fairly taller elf he blinked and blushed. Smiling self consciously. He was not even aware his feet had taken him to the one elf he found comfort in in ways his Uncle could not provide. 

Especially. After-he swallowed thickly. Lowering his eyes. He had told no one of-he squeezed his eyes closed. If they knew-His eyelids flew open as a hand cupped his cheek and the warm voice of what he called his first real friend washed over him in a soothing balm stinging only his opening wounds. 

"I am overjoyed you have come, Lomion. You have been greatly missed by my heart." Rôg tilted his head as he spoke. "The shadows of our past cling to us as winter's chill clings to the growing warmth of summer. But it shall fall back as the renewal of years pass by." He grins beaming all the confidence and genuine warmth he always held. "Come little mole. We have set out blankets and tea. Together we shall see Tarnin Austa to its rightful welcome. And heal the past wounds within. Year by year." 

Maeglin felt the forge worn fingers wipe away the hot tears he had not known were falling from his eyes. Moving forward with no conscious though he buried his head against the bare chest of his closest friend, aye but they were friends! Arms warm as freshly set iron came up to surround him. Supporting not confining.

Then. They were moving.

Allowing himself to be lead into the separate healing house where other Gondolin Lords had gathered he found, in surprise, no trepidation closed his airway. No fear choked his lungs. No anger boiled his blood. He looked upon Egalmoth chastising Glorfindel. Watched the golden haired Lord dance out of a swat using Galdor as a shield. 

And he smiled. He laughed. He began to heal as the light of the Gates of Summer crept over the tree tops beyond the balcony they stood upon. And sang its own song of greeting to them.