#biadh

[amonrawya]

3rd of October: Durin's Day / An Treasamh Latha dhen Dàmhair: Là Dhurin

English Translation:

In the early years after the dragon came, the Dwarves of Erebor set their eyes on survival. Much was lost to them during this time, cultural and religious customs they failed to sustain in their wanderings.

As soon as they had homes once again, mines to work in and forges to fire, Thorin looked to these things for the final missing piece in their lives. His nephews, growing fast, had never experienced Durin's Day in any way other than that of the Blue Mountains.

He heard Erebor in their speech, saw it in the style of their clothes, and even in the weapons they favoured, but so much of his nephews' cultural references lay elsewhere. He wished for them to understand Durin's Day through the eyes of their own culture.

Thus, ten years since Erebor had seen its last Durin's Day, her people put on a feast in Thorin's Halls the like of which was rarely seen. They worked tirelessly to have everything right: musicians woke up old ballads, bakers brought back old delicacies, and the elders gathered to pass their folktales onto the new generations. The exiles.

Another wound was healed that night, another wrong put right. Thorin watched over the festivities as Fili and Kili learnt how to sing a traditional Erebor hymn and thought of his own childhood.

Finally, everyone came together on the stone slopes before the gates of their halls to watch the last vestiges of the sunset fade from the sky behind them and the autumn moon rise in the eastern horizon. For a precious few minutes, both lights lingered together, before the sun was overcome at last.

Thorin stood with his arm around Dis and the boys by their legs, wide-eyed with their first Durin's Day beads braided carefully in their hair. They were't likely to sleep tonight.

The towering stature of the Misty Mountains blocked it from view, but Thorin knew - could see - beyond their white peaks lay Erebor, bathed in the silver light of Durin's moon.

Maybe he started it, or perhaps they all did so at the same time, but slowly and quietly, their low Dwarven voices rose into the sky with a song of home-sickness on their lips. A mourning song.

Oh, far over the Misty Mountains cold...

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Anns na bliadhnaichean a chaidh seachad as dèidh don nathair-sgiathach tighinn, thoirt na Troichean Erebor an sùilean air mairsinneach. Chaill iad tòrr tron àm seo, nòsan cultarach is creideamh nach do chùm iad beò anns am fuadan aca.

Cho luath ‘s a bha dachaighean aca a-rithist, mèinnean a bhith ag obair anns agus ceàrdaichean a chuir teinne anns, chaidh Thòrin don rudan seo a’ sireach am pìos mu dheireadh air fhàgail bho am beathannan sa Bheinn Ònaranach. A’ fàs cho àrd a-nist, cha robh na mic a pheathar eòlach idir air an dòigh dhen Là Dhurin ach an dòigh na Beanntan Ghorm.

Chuala e Erebor san dòigh-bhruidhinn aca, san stoidhle aodach, eadhon san arm a bha an dithis measail air. Ach leis na rudan beaga, chunnaic e gun robh sin a’ tighinn bho àitichean eile. Bha e airson ‘s gum biodh iad a’ tuigsinn Là Dhurin tron shùilean an cultar aca fhèin.

Air an adhbhar sin, deich bliadhna seach gun do chunnaic Erebor an Là Dhurin mu dheireadh, chuir an t-sluaigh aice seòin air dòigh nach fhaca iad gu tric anns na Tallachan Thòrin. Dh’obraich iad gu cruaidh airson a h-uile rud a bhith ceart: dh’èirich ceòladairean seann balantan, rinn bèicearan seann biadh fìnealta, agus chruinneach na daoine aosmhor ri chèile airson am beul-aithris aca a thoirt don ghinealaichean ùra. Na fògraich.

Shlànaich gort eile an oidhche sin, rud eile a chuir ceart. Choimhead Thòrin air an subhachas mar a dh’ionnsaich Fìli is Kìli laoidh traidiseanta Erebor a sheinn agus smaointeach e air na làithean anns an robh e fhèin beag.

Mu dheireadh thall, thàinig a h-uile duine ri chèile a-mach air na slèibhtean mu bheul an geata nan tallachan. Choimhead iad air dol fodha na grèine san speur air an cùlaibh, an solas a’ dol às beag air bheag. Agus gealach an foghair a’ tighinn suas san fàire Ear. Airson beagan mionaidean prìseil, dh’fhuirich an dà sholas anns an speur ri chèile mus do dh’fhalbh a’ ghrian.

Sheas Thòrin le a gàirdean timcheall a phiuthar, Dìs, agus na bhalaich ri taobh nan casan. Bha na sùilean drileach aca a’ coimhead mòr, agus bha a’ chiad grìogagan Là Dhurin a bh’ aca air pleatach anns am falt. Cha bhiodh e comasach gun cadail iad a-nochd.

Cha b’ urrainn dha a’ faicinn tro na Beanntan Àird a’ Cheò, ach bha fios aige gun robh Erebor air a seasamh dìreach thar air na mullaichean gheala, lannrach anns an t-solas ghealach Dhurin.

Is docha gun do thoiseach esan e, no ‘s docha gun do rinn iad uile e aig an aon am, ach gu slaodach agus gu samhach, chaidh na guthan ìosal troiche dhan speur le òran chianalais air an bilean.

Ò thar na Beanntan Àird fhuar a’ Cheò...

[the-freakin-spellcaster]

Oh god some motherfucker just hit me with a compound tower of Babel and nonsense spell oh god oh fuck I've only got like 5 seconds before it faodaidh carbon dà-ogsaid duilgheadasan eaconamach adhbhrachadh, leithid biadh don arm, nach gabh a bhuain no a ghiùlan, a’ fìreanachadh thaighean-cluiche glanaidh. Ma dh’aontaicheas oileanaich leis an tràchdas seo, bu chòir dhaibh dinneir leis a’ cheann-suidhe. Faodaidh tu na luachan toraidh a thaisbeanadh ann an graf. Às an seo chì thu gu soilleir an togalach agus an sgìre. Cuir dealbhan agus eisimpleirean ris. Às deidh dha na boireannaich na h-eich a ghabhail thairis. Tha creagan cruaidh pailt agus feumail mar bhiadh chrùbagan. Bidh am prìomh thùs a’ cumail smachd air a’ chriathrag, agus tha na modalan tèarainteachd a leanas a’ toirt a-steach taic iomallach.

[saoghal-nan-saoghal]

Is duilich an catharasg a chumail a thaobh bìdh ma tha thu a' seachnadh feòil, uighean, agus bainne mar-thà. Chan eil nas motha ri sheachnadh gu tradaiseanta. Saoilidh mi fhìn am-bliadhna gun lean mi air eiseimpleir nam Muslamach agus gun seachnaich mi biadh uile gu lèir fhad 's a bhios a' ghrian fo na neòil - tha fios gun gabh rudan eile a sheachnadh cuideachd, ach nì mi sin co-dhiù, agus bu mhath leam faicinn na nì gainnead de bhiadh lem smuaintean agus lem chuid ùrnaighean.

[cuneiform-tablet]

I‘m slowly building a tag system for this blog: colours are in Gàidhlig (gorm is my most frequently used one bc I‘m colourblind and all blues and greens are under one category for me, so using a language that categorises blue and green together anyway is useful). Fashion sometimes includes stuff which wouldn‘t normally be considered „fashion“ just bc it‘s given me an idea for something I‘d want to create. Havi is anything religious for me (the High One). History is it‘s own tag but there are also „weird history“ and „bizarre history“, there is no difference I just have problems disorder and forget which one I use a Lot so like... it‘s inconsistent oops... everything else? Who knows honestly I‘m not a very organised person. Oh! Music often has either sound files or music recs. I‘m gonna add to this as I go, it‘s mainly my own index- I‘ve tagged them all at the bottom of this bc I can just click ‚em, easier than searching. Menagerie is for beasties :)

Why did I make the mood tag have six Os? That‘s annoying. Well it‘s done now 😬

Biadh = food/recipes. #for me is just... things I can‘t fit into other topics but I still want easily accessible. I‘ve run out of tags on this post lol

Botany is ofc, Botany. What it says on the tin.

Vampire and Werewolf tags should be singular (really all should be singular by default) but occasionally I apparently lose my mind and make it plural for some reason. I think I‘ve fixed them all but I‘m not sure.

I‘ve made a new tag: gallery . For art pieces I like (Aivazovsky, Gentileschi and Bouguereau will still get their own tags as they‘re particularly close to my heart)

Gonna tag stuff with projects they suit sometimes now too ie. Black Dog, the Blight, Traveller in the Duat etc.

Have made a new Medicine tag for... medicine. Well. Medical stuff.

Future Time for Scify!

[ismiseraonaid]

Tha mi trom air am prògram-còcaireachd anns an Gàidhlig.

[cuneiform-tablet]

Thank you chef side of tumblr

not gonna fuckin say it again

[sgribhisg]

’S toigh leam abhocado air tòst airson na bracaiste agam.

Dé am biadh as toigh leibh airson na bracaiste agaibh?

Instagram

[honeypunk3]

Lùnastal

Là Lùnast son dhuibh! Rinn mi aran agus silidh 😋

[thelinguaphilelady]

Food

○ ìm - butter

○ hama 🍖

○ aran 🍞

○ cèic 🍰

○ biadh - food

○ buntàta 🥔

○ caìse 🧀

○ isag 🐟

○ uisge - water

○ rìs 

○ uisge-beatha 🥃

○ sgadan - herring

* is toil leam cèic - I like cake 

* cha toil leam isag - I don’t like fish

* math agua blasta - good & tasty

[ceol-mor]

Duolingo Scottish Gaelic vocabulary: the basics

halò — hello

madainn mhath — good morning

feasgar math — good afternoon

oidhche mhath — good night

tapadh leat — thank you (informal)

fàilte — welcome

ceud mìle fàilte — a hundred thousand welcomes

tìoraidh — bye

balach (vocative: a bhalaich) — boy

caraid (vocative: a charaid) — friend

caileag (vocative: a chaileag) — girl

seanair (vocative: a sheanair) — grandfather

athair(=) — father

cù — dog

càt — cat

piseag — kitten

bò — cow

mec — pig

cearc — chicken

tunnag — duck

tì — tea

cofaidh — coffee

uisge — water

uisge-beatha — whisky

rìs — rice

aran — bread

ìm — butter

cèic — cake

taigeis — haggis

hama — ham

brochan — porridge

biadh — food

piobar — pepper

snog — nice

math — good

dona — bad

beag — small

mòr — big

sgoinneil — brilliant

blasta — tasty

toilichte — happy

brònach — sad

bhioran — excited

ceart gu leòr — okay, fine (of something/someone)

spòrsail — fun

Chan eil... — is not

Chain eil mi... — I am not...

Tha... — is

Seo... — This is

Is toil leam ... (gu mòr) — I like... (a lot)

Cha toil leam... (idir) — I don’t like ... (at all)

E — he

I — she

Mi — I, me

Thu — you

[ficseanspeisear]

Càite a bheil an cofaidh?

Sheall Tim aig an inneal-cofaidh a bha falamh. Agus cha robh cupa cofaidh aige an latha sin fhathast. Agus nuair a sheallas e air a' bhòrd-obrach ris am poit, cha d' fhuair e am baga cofaidh no cupa cofaidh dha. Bha Tim tro chèile.

"Càit' a bheil an cofaidh, a Jason?" Thuirt Tim às a' chidsin. Dh'fhosgail e na caibineatan.

Cha do fhreagair Jason. Dh'obair e air a mhotar-rothair.

Ghluais Tim na biadh agus sheall e anns na poitean dhan cofaidh. Nuair nach d' fhuair e an cofaidh, dhùin Tim na caibineatan. Sheall Tim anns a' chiste-dhrathraichean. " Càite a bheil an cofaidh?"

Cha do fhreagair Jason.

Chuir Tim an seòmar bun os cionn. " A Jason, Càite A Bheil An Cofaidh?!"

" Dè cofaidh."

Phiob Tim a shùilean slaodach. Agus shaobh a cheann gu Jason. Agus thuirt e cho sàmhach "Dè cofaidh! Dè Cofaidh! Thuirt e! Agh, tha gaol ort agam, Jason. Ach tha fios agam nach eil thu cho gòrach!”

"Dè a thuirt thu?" Dh'èigh Jason. Bha e na briathran toilichte.

"CÀITE A BHEIL AN COFAIDH A CHUIR MI ANNS A' CHIDSIN LEIS A' PHOIT?? SIN COFAIDH!!!!"

"Ah, uill, chan eil fios agam." Thuirt Jason. Choisich Jason dhan chidsin. Chunnaic e dè a rinn Tim. " Agus stad a' dèanamh tòn an cidsin. Ghlan mi e sa mhadainn seo dhut."

Spadh a shùil nuair a cuala e Jason. Shlàraig Tim an doras dùin. Agus thuirt e leis a guth a' snigheadh anns a' phuinseanach. "Jason, mo bhràthair, mo chairdeil, Càite A Bheil Mo Chofaidh?!"

"Chan eil fios agam ach thig dhan t-seòmair eile leam. Agus seallaidh sinn anns a' mhionaid no dha." Rug e a làmh do Tim. Chiortalaich a mheuran dha nuair a sheall e nach deach Tim a dhol a làmh.

Chuir e mùig ri Jason ach cha do tug e a làmh. ‘’Chan eil mi toilichte leat an-dràsta. Chan eil cofaidh agam fhathast agus tha mi sgìth.’’

Choisich iad anns an t-seòmar eile. Nuair a ghabhas e a-staigh, chunnaic Tim na rudeigin air a’ bhòrd.

‘S anns air a’ bhòrd a chuir Jason bracaist. Cheannaich e cofaidh às Jitters Coffee a ‘s fheàrr le Tim. Agus chòcairich e foileagan leis uighean agus sliseag beucainn dha. Agus bha am baga mòr gun do chuir Jason air a' bhòrd.

Bha iongnadh air Tim. Shuidh e ann an sèithear agus sheall e air a h-uile rudeigin.

Rinn Jason snodha-gàire ri Tim agus thug e am baga mòr dha. ‘’Fosgail e!’’

Nuair a fhosgail e am baga, fhuair e inneal-cofaidh, cairt Jitters Coffee, trì bhaga cofaidh agus cairt a thuirt gun robh fo-sgrìobhadh dhan cofaidh aige às an Dealtag agus na Bràigh-dearganan.

‘’Co-là breith sona dhut!’’

Rinn Tim snodha-gàire ri Jason agus thug e ciosagan dha. ‘’Tapadh leat. Ach ma fholaicheas thu mo chofaidh gu bràth tuilleadh, aithreachasaidh thu e. An bheil thu a’ tuigsinn?’’

‘’Tha. Tha mi a’ tuigsinn, eun naoinein.’’

Agus bha gàirdean Tim timcheall amhaich Jason.

[anarchotolkienist]

bha mi airson ceistean a chur thugad ach dhìochuimhnich mi!

5 (saoilidh mi gun tuirt thu sin uaireigin ach tha mo chuimhne dìreach cho dona), 13 (oir tha mi an dùil gum bi thu a' seinn gu tric ach s docha nach bi?), 43, 48, 95

(mas e ceist neonach a th'ann, thuirt mi an àireamh ceàrr like, oir bha cuid dhiubh gòrach agus tha eagal orm gun sgrìobh mi àireamh ceàrr sìos agus chan eil mi ag iarraidh gun smaoinich thu gun robh mi airson am faighneachd like)

Na gabh idir dragh a ghaoil, taing son faighneachd orm! Bha corra cheisteanan neònach ann, mar a bhios an-còmhnaidh air an làrach-lìn mhallaichte seo, ach shaoil mi gum biodh na daoine a bhios gam leanainn glic gu leòr son an seachnadh, is bha mi ceart gu ruige seo co-dhiù =) Cha robh iad seo neònach idir co-dhiù! (5) Dè an dath as fheàrr leat? Saoilidh mi gun do bhruihdinn sinn air a seo cuideachd, ach chan eil cuimhne agam air an dath as fheàrr leat nas motha, so na fairich ciont ahah! ‘S e uaine dorch an dath as fheàrr leam! mar dhuilleagan nan craobh no bàrr a’ ghiuthais, no feamainn bheò a’ dannsadh san uisge =) Chan eil mi ro dhèidhieil air air aodaich, oir dhomhsa ‘s e gu bheil e cho beò an rud a chòrdas rium is chan eil mi buileach a’ faicinn sin agus e air rud marbh, ach tha gaol agam air ann an nàdar! Air aodaich, ‘s toigh leam dathan eadar liath agus gorm, agus dathan soilleir san fhairsaingeachd =) Cò am fear as fheàrr leat fhèin a-rithist? (13) An seinn thu ‘s tu a’ gabhail fras? Seinnidh, tha an ceart agad! Seinnidh mi ‘s mi ag obair, a’ coiseachd, ag eagsarsach, a’ smaointinn, a’ leughadh, a’ còicearachd, a’ fùine,  a’ fighe... Chan eil mi ro mhath air (duilich dhomh tòna a chumail agus guth ropach agam, mar a tha fios agad)  ach ‘s toigh leam ceòl gu mòr agus is math leam òrain ionnsachadh agus msaa. Dà là air ais, chuir mi seachad mun a dhà no trì uair san amar dìreach a’ seinn nan òran aig Joe Hill haha. Tha e tlachdmhor dhomh agus cumaidh e m’ inntinn air rudeigin, is tha mi gu làidir den bheachd gur e seinn rud air a bheil còir dhuinn uile - co-dhuais mhic an duine, mar gum biodh, is gur e rud uabhasach truagh gun deach e gu rud air a bheil daoine profeiseanta an sàs. Thuirt Utah Philips, an seinneadar folk anargach aimeiriganach, “In a mass-marketing culture, a revolutionary song is any song you choose to sing yourself” - ma tha an ceart aige, is reubaltach mise haha (43) Am faigh thu bruadairean annasach? Gheibh, gheibh - bruadairean uilt no letihid, mun phoileas no nàtsaich no no buidhnean den leithid, no mu dheidhinn daoine a b’ aithne dhomh uaireigin, no àitean nach aithne dhomh idir. Chan fhaigh mi aislingean gu tric idir, gu h-àbhaisteach, bidh na bruadaran agam uabhasach ann an dòigh air choireigin, ach gu fortanach, chan ann tric a bhios cuimhne agam orra. Chum mi leabhar-là rè na h-ùine as miosa, an samhradh sa chaidh, ach sguir mi oir bhiodh droch bhruadar agam cha mhòr gach oidhche is cha robh mi airson cuimhne orra bhith agam. Tha e fada nas fheàrr dhomh nist ged-tà =) (48) An e miarraid a th’ annad? (Miarraid - abair facal snog! Taing, Fhaclair bhig) Chan e idir, is cha b’ e riamh! Mura bheil e a’ cunntadh gur e bheaganaiche a th’ annam haha ‘S toigh leam biadh san fhairsaingeachd- ‘s e an aon rud nach eil mi ro mhath air biadh gu math teth - ach feuchaidh mi càil sam bith co-dhiù =) (95) Dè an tatù a tha thu ag iarraidh? Fhreagair mi seo mar-thà, ach nuair a leugh mi seo mhothaich mi gun do dhìochuimhnich mi dà rud san fhreagairt eile -  1) Tha mi ag iarraidh sionnach cruithneach na ruith - ‘s toigh leam sionnaich ged as e stereotype a th’ ann am beathaichean cruithneach, tha iad uabhasach fhèin àlainn (an deach thu riamh dhan chruinneachadh dhaibh aig an Taigh-Thasgaidh Nàiseanta? Mura tèid, feumaidh tu/sinn dol ann uaireigin, mìorbhail a th’ annta!) 2) Agus chan eil mi ann an dà-rìribh ag iarraidh seo, ach tha e èibhinn dhomh beachdachadh air - nan robh mi riamh a’ fuireach san t-Suain a-rithist, gheibhinn tatù de “STRENGTH” air mo fhèitheamhan àiteigin, is nuair a dh’fhaignicheadh daoine “Carson fon ghrèin a tha STRENGTH agad sgrìobhte air do ghàirdean?” b’ urrainn dhomh freagairt “Ò! Tha e a’ cillachadh “lùths” sa Bheurla!”. Dh’fhaodadh nach eil sin èibhinn ach dhomh fhìn ged-tà haha Taing mhòr airson deagh cheisteanan a ghràidh - bha e gu math snog beachdachadh orra =)

[meantforinfinitesadness]

Strangers Part 3

Alright @ogjeems here is another part! It’s uh, worse than part the second but I had a good time writing it and really, that’s all that matters. Right?

Also, this fic is on ao3 and has the translations there as well!

Cody glanced around the Kenobi home with curious eyes. It wasn’t very big, but it seemed perfect for the small family. The front room served as their family room and sometimes a waiting area for those that were there for treatment from Mer-Khan. Steps led to an upper floor as well as a lower floor. 

The room Cody was currently in was a rùm-bìdh in their language. Or, as Cody was informed, their dining room. 

Cody had hesitated earlier when Mer-Khan had invited him and Tor-Don to stay for biadh feasgair, or mid-meal. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on him or Obi-Wan anymore than he already had, but it was Obi-Wan’s soft smile that ultimately caused him to agree. It made him feel a bit more comfortable when Tor-Don agreed to stay as well after letting Vera know he would be gone for a bit longer. 

It was a nice affair that had minimal talking and Cody strived not to watch Obi-Wan as he ate. He did notice the way his hands shook just a bit as he ate, but it didn’t seem to bother the other man. His grasp was careful and light, and it seemed Mer-Khan had taken his injuries into account when he prepared the meal for them all.

Eventually, Cody had finished eating and sat with his hands between his legs as silence seemed to go on for hours. 

“Something on your mind?” Mer-Khan asked with a kind smile. Cody blushed and cleared his throat. He thought he looked at ease and normal. He assumed he had schooled his features and that his thoughts weren’t showing on his face. 

“I was just wondering,” Cody began after shifting a bit. “There was another voice.” He said, pausing after to look at Mer-Khan and Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan nodded and rested his hands in his lap. 

“The day I found you.” He replied with a knowing look. Cody nodded in response and Obi-Wan continued. “That was my brother, Orin-Tem. Though, he goes by Owen when he’s home.” Obi-Wan informed Cody with another soft smile and Cody felt his stomach twist into knots at the sight of it. “I sent him home to get athair so he could assist in rescuing you. However,” Obi-Wan grimaced and shifted a bit. His cheeks turned red and his shoulders came up. He looked embarrassed and Cody couldn’t understand why.

“He was worried you would die,” Mer-Khan interjects when his son struggles to continue. “Your ship had caught fire and he was concerned for your life. So,” He looks at his son and Obi-Wan doesn’t come out of his uncomfortable looking position. “He decided he would pull you out. His arms were badly burned in the attempt to get you out, but he succeeded. So well, in fact, that you got out without a single burn on you.” Mer-Khan praises his son and it only makes Obi-Wan hunch further down into himself. 

Cody is left speechless at the story.

“He was unconscious when Owen and I finally arrived.” Mer-Khan continues after a beat. “Burns are not to be taken lightly and they can hurt quite a bit.” 

Cody thinks that’s a slight understatement, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he looks at Obi-Wan and wills him to raise his head. Eventually, the other man does and their eyes meet. 

“Tapadh leat,” Cody says with a smile and a look that makes sure his gratefulness for Obi-Wan’s act can be felt. 

(He prays his pronunciation isn’t as terrible as he thinks it is.)

Obi-Wan smiles brightly and laughs at Cody’s attempt at the foreign language.

(Cody realizes then that he doesn’t want to go on with his life without hearing that sound again.)

Then Obi-Wan, with that smile still playing on his face says, “Tha thu di-beathte.”

[culbertsons]

Cuairt biadh aig Siorc a rinn Caitlin an latha roimhe airson obair leughadh.

[sgribhisg]