#proto-celtic language
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
a-modernmajorgeneral · 3 months ago
Photo
The Hallstatt culture was the predominant Western and Central European archaeological culture of the Late Bronze Age (Hallstatt A, Hallstatt B) from the 12th to 8th centuries BC and Early Iron Age Europe (Hallstatt C, Hallstatt D) from the 8th to 6th centuries BC, developing out of the Urnfield culture of the 12th century BC (Late Bronze Age) and followed in much of its area by the La Tène culture. It is commonly associated with Proto-Celtic speaking populations.
Tumblr media
Vierpassfibel
Hallstattzeit, Bronze
24 notes · View notes
yvanspijk · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
English is part of a large language family that includes French, Welsh, Polish, Persian, Greek, and Albanian. They stem from a common ancestor reconstructed as Proto-Indo-European.  The cardinal numerals from 1 to 10 illustrate their relationship well. Click the image for a selection.
101 notes · View notes
mehilaiselokuva · 1 year ago
Text
Finnish words by unusual language of origin
*note: this does not list all the languages that the word was borrowed from, only the oldest known origin of it
*also: if you've never seen a word on this list, please don't doxx me. These are all real words. I don't spread misinformation. Why do I still need to put this in my posts
Job: Ammatti (from proto-celtic *ambaxtos) Fun Fact: this is the same root that forms the english word “Ambassador”!
Wagon: Kärry (from proto-celtic *karros) Fun Fact: This is the root that forms the English word “Car”!
Poem: Runo (from proto-celtic *rūnā) Fun Fact: This is the root that forms the English word “Rune”!
Hikikomori: Hikky (from Japanese hikikomori 引き籠もり)
Clam: Simpukka (from Mandarin zhēnzhū 珍珠)
Goods: Tavara (from proto-turkic *tabar) Fun Fact: words descended from this root can be found as far as China and Siberia!
Dungeon, jail: Tyrmä (from proto-turkic *türmä) Fun Fact: This toot extends to Azerbaijan and even Yiddish!
Rauma (city name) (from proto germanic *straumaz meaning stream)
Cherry: Kirsikka (from ancient creek kerasós κερασός which might also have older forms) Fun Fact: this word is widespread, even appearing in Arabic.
God: Jumala (possibly from proto-indo-iranian) Fun Fact: This word could be related to Sanskrit dyumna द्युम्न if it is from proto-indo-iranian
Tumblr media
102 notes · View notes
rrcraft-and-lore · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
catt-nuevenor · 2 years ago
Text
Morá
Have a gander at this from a Proto-Celtic Etymological Dictionary:
Tumblr media
Read 'demon' with a fair amount of side-eye here, we're dealing with a translation and reconstruction from a post Christianisation period. When you see 'demon' think more 'supernatural being'.
A quick guide to the abbreviations:
GOID - Goidelic, Celtic language group including Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx.
PIE - Proto-Indo-European, ancestral language of many modern and ancient European Languages.
COGN - Think of it as comparative examples from languages outside of Proto-Celtic or its descendents.
Of the comparative examples:
OHG - Old High German
Russ - Russian
Croat - Croatian (Standard)
ETYM - Etymology
REF - Reference to source Dictionary texts.
Source: Matasović Etymological Dictionary of Proto-Celtic
37 notes · View notes
languages-i-guess-comic · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tiny sketches from the comic!! It's all coming along and the five tiny chapters will be (luckly) ready soon! :DDD
8 notes · View notes
myownwholewildworld · 4 months ago
Text
acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour
Tumblr media
series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.
Tumblr media
A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.
The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.
Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.
Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.
Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.
“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.
You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.
“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.
Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.
Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.
“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.
“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.
But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.
You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.
Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.
Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.
Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.
The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.
Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.
General Marcus Acacius.
His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.
Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.
Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.
You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.
“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.
And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.
That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.
You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.
The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.
“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.
You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.
Then you saw him. Your athair.
“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.
Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.
Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.
And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.
You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.
“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.
He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.
When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.
His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.
“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”
Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”
The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.
A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.
Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.
To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.
General Marcus Acacius.
A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.
“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.
“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.
You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.
“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”
Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.
“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.
Tumblr media
“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.
A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.
You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.
At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.
But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.
He came, he saw, he conquered.
And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.
“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.
Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.
“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.
Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.
And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.
Tumblr media
Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.
As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.
Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.
With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.
There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.
Tumblr media
The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.
With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.
You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.
You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.
Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.
The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.
“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.
He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.
“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”
The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.
You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.
Tumblr media
“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.
“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.
The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.
The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.
A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.
Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.
Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.
At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.
The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.
His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?
Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.
His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.
Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.
His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.
Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.
Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.
With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.
Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.
“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.
“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.
A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.
So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.
Tumblr media
How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.
Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.
“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.
Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.
You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.
“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.
“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.
Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.
You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.
He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.
“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.
His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.
“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.
He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”
With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.
When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.
You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.
Tumblr media
@devilbat2 @subterralienpanda @lordofthundersstuff @just-mj-or-not
@grace16xx @killaqceen @minabarker @noisynightmarepoetry
@perfectlytenaciousrunaway @myheadspaceisuseless @imnvv @bekscameron
@immyowndefender @orchiddream108 @jungkooksmamii @jellybeanxc
@sjc7542 @triangleshapewinner @moongirlgodness @ijustlovemensm
@box-of-sarcasm @orcasoul @thesadvampire @shittypunkbarbeque
@penvisions @fairiebabey @blueturd16 @vestafir
@holla-at-me-hood @httpsastral @evangelinemedici @cathsteen
@ksxxxxxx @whoaitspascal87 @passionnant-peche @madnessofadaydreamer
@hufflepuff-in-narnia @akumagrl @bobcatblahs @thepalaceofmelanie
@itsbrandy @voidofendlessdarkness @tardy-bee @pascalislove
@inept-the-magnificent @dianomite @thereisaplaceintheheart @fridays13th
@witch-moon-babe @amortentiaxo @holaputanas @kmmg98
199 notes · View notes
Note
I’m saving up my Welsh questions so I’m not a total bother!!
1. I can broadly understand why location names in Wales are different in English (colonialism ☹️) but can you explain Castell-nedd v Neath? Maybe I haven’t gotten far enough yet but it seems to be an outlier in that they just dropped a whole part of the name?
2. Cinio v swper, I’m assuming (perhaps incorrectly hence the checking) that cinio = noon meal and swper = evening meal? Is that right or is it backwards?
3. I am deeply interested in the etymology of llun because it appears to be both a picture and (+ dydd) Monday. Are they linguistically connected??
4. Speaking of days. Am I right in inferring that dydd iau means Thursday and ddydd Iau means on Thursday? I can’t quite differentiate why the spelling changes.
5. Speaking of days part two. Nos Mercher v bore dydd Mercher. Why does nos appear to drop the dydd? Does bore ever do the same?
6. Moving away from days. There seems to be no difference between dych chi’n and wyt ti’n as far as I can tell. Are they interchangeable or are they formal/informal like vous/tu? Or is this a dialect thing like different regions??
7. I am learning about eisiau and I have a question about contractions. It appears to be dw i’n mwynhau but dw i eisiau. Why no ‘n?? I know the i’n is i yn so where’s the yn with eisiau? 🤔
Welsh my beloved you are so fun to learn but Duolingo sucks at explaining nuance.
HA okay *cracks knuckles*
1. Location names are always a bit of a wildcard between languages, because sometimes they corrupt differently and sometimes they have wildly different origins and meanings in the first place. Castell Nedd - Neath is actually a relatively mild one; it's just that people abbreviated it more in English than in Welsh. A similar thing happened to Penybont ar Ogwr - Bridgend.
By contrast, Abertawe - Swansea is totally different, with different meanings. Ditto Drefdraeth - Newport, Caergybi - Holyhead, etc. Wild shit.
2. Like a lot of languages, cinio can either mean lunch or evening meal depending on who uses it - the English equivalent is 'dinner'. Younger generations generally mean lunch. Swper is a direct transliteration of supper, though, with the same meaning (I personally use 'te' instead for evening meal). So, in short, you're broadly right, but it's a bit ambiguous.
3. Oh, you'll like this! As far as we know, it's from Proto Indo European lewk, meaning 'bright; to shine, to see' - we also get 'goleu' from it. The theory is that Dydd Llun therefore gets a similar etymology to Monday, because it refers to the moon (lleuad/luna). Llun (picture), meanwhile, is a thing you see, depicting what you see. The fact that they ultimately corrupted into the same word is coincidental.
4. There's some fun stuff here, okay.
So, you are hitting up against everyone's favourite Celtic language quirk which is MUTATIONS ┌⁠(⁠★⁠o⁠☆⁠)⁠┘ These pop up in many funky ways of course. In this instance, it's not a plural but it IS trying to tell you something. So:
Dydd Iau: Thursday
Dyddiau Iau: Thursdays
Fi'n mynd i'r dre ddydd Iau: I'm going to town on Thursday
Basically, the mutation is there to indicate that there's an invisible preposition going on. If we hypercorrected it would be "Fi'n mynd i'r dre ar ddydd Iau", and that's what triggers the mutation; but in modern Welsh it's a quirk of this particular context that we do away with the preposition, because the mutation makes it clear it's there invisibly. Why do we do this? Unknown.
5. This is a slightly weird one and I suspect the answer lies somewhere in the fact that 'night' just means the dark bit while 'day' can either mean the light bit OR a 24 hour period containing both.
But, actually: you can actually drop the dydd for bore, too. It's dealer's choice. BUT, you cannot have the dydd for nos Fercher. In English, the 'day' part of 'Wednesday' is kind of invisible, and just means the 24 hour block. But in Welsh, they're still separate words, and it very much means 'the light part'. So 'nos dydd Mercher' would be like saying 'Wednesday Day Night.'
6. It's formal/plural Vs informal. Chi is formal (or plural), ti is informal.
Occasionally monoglot English Tumblrs make posts about how they reckon we should bring the you/thou divide back to English, and as a person who speaks a language that still pulls this bullshit and occasionally has to play the "How formal am I supposed to be with this person" game, every time it makes me sneer and think about how those same people complain all the livelong day about invisible social rules. You do not want this, folks. Be suitably grateful to your forebears.
7. Ah, yes, eisiau is a law unto itself.
So, the yn/'n in Welsh is normally there because the verb 'to be' gets split in half, and half gets attached to the following verb to make that verb active, right? So for example:
Rwy'n cerdded - I'm walking
Roughly, but not literally, equivalent to the English "I am walking", except if you were to split "Rwy'n" out into "Rwy yn", neither of those words means "I" or "am" - it's not a literal step by step translation.
'Yn' gets bundled in with the verb, more often than not. And again, while this is not a literal translation, it makes the verb into an '-ing' word. Welsh does not distinguish between "I walk" and "I'm walking" - it's always "I'm walking."
But eisiau is different because it's not used grammatically like that. You personally cannot actively want something in Welsh. But, there can be a want upon you. So instead of "I am wanting", you say "There is a want upon me."
So, "I want to go to town": "Mae arna'i eisiau mynd i'r dre".
Duolingo might be asking you to construct that slightly differently, though; they might want "Mae eisiau arnaf i" or something similar. But ultimately that's what it's doing.
I hope this was helpful! Let me know if anything is baffling, still.
124 notes · View notes
armthearmour · 4 months ago
Text
Arms and Armor of the Hallstatt Celts: A (not-so) Brief Overview
The Hallstatt culture is an archaeologically-defined material culture group. The typesite for this group is in Hallstatt, Austria, where a deep salt mine which had been in use since the Neolithic served as the lifeblood of the local community. A substantial cemetery of approximately 1,300 burials near the mine has helped to clearly define artistic trends associated with this cultural group. The culture is associated with early Celtic or proto-Celtic language speaking groups, and for a long time, was thought to have been the origin of the proto-celtic language. This idea has since been debunked, as it is now known the first proto-Celtic speakers predated the Hallstatt culture.
The Hallstatt culture is divided into four phases, A-D (henceforth abbreviated as Ha. A-D). The first two of these phases are associated with the end of the bronze age in the region, the last two, with the beginning of the iron age.
Tumblr media
Since the defining of the culture in 1846, Hallstatt influence has been found from Eastern France to Hungary, as far south as Serbia and as far North as Poland. The core Hallstatt region covers much of Austria and Southern Germany. By the Ha. C period, distinct practices had arisen in the Hallstatt sphere of influence: distinct enough for academics to split the culture into two “zones”, the East and the West.
Tumblr media
Unfortunately, due to the antiquity of this culture and the utter lack of any written records concerning them, the archaeological record is both relatively thin, and the only source of information available for these people. As such, in constructing a timeline of Hallstatt arms and armor, there will be substantial gaps which we can only hope will be filled by future discoveries.
Armor
Three types of armor are commonly found in Hallstatt contexts: belts, cuirasses, and helmets.
That broad belts (both of leather and of bronze) are considered armor in the ancient Mediterranean is clear from references in which these items are placed in context with other armor. In the Iliad, for example, in book 7 after Ajax and Hector meet on the field of battle and fight to a stalemate, they exchange equipment. Hector “gave over his silver-studded sword, bringing with it the sheath and well-cut baldric” (l. 303-304), while Ajax reciprocated with “his war-belt bright with crimson” (l. 305). Additionally, a short list of military equipment issued by the Neo-Assyrian empire recovered in Tel Halaf lists 10 leather belts alongside bows, swords, spears, and other arms and armor.
A number of bronze and gold belt plates survive from both the Eastern and Western zones, though most of these plates date to the Ha. D period.
Tumblr media
While the majority of these plates are decorated with embossed and incised geometric patterns, some (particularly from the Eastern zone) include scenes of warriors on foot and on horseback.
Tumblr media
The cuirasses of the Hallstatt period exhibit an interesting progression. In their most basic form, these bronze cuirasses remain essentially the same from Ha. A-D. They are characterized by essentially simple forms: a tubular breast and backplate which terminates at the waist and includes a tall standing collar to defend the neck. The earliest examples, however, include substantial embossed decoration in much the same manner as appears on the belt plates.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Only in the late Ha. B to early Ha. C period does this decoration begin to take on a more anatomical form; a group of seven cuirasses recovered in Marmesse, France in 1974 shows this evolution nicely. These cuirasses retain the same form, though a slight taper is now evident near the waist. The circular embossing closely resembles that of the previous period, however embossed lines are now apparent, and the placement of the embossing is such as to evoke the musculature of the warrior wearing it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The final stage of the cuirasse’s evolution arrives in Ha. D. This form is much more plain, lacking the apparent horror vacui which typified earlier iterations of this style. Instead, the anatomical element is even more pronounced: embossing emphasizes the warrior’s pectoral and abdominal muscles, and additional circular bronze plates are riveted to the upper chest to simulate nipples.
Tumblr media
The final element of armor with substantial enough evidence in a Hallstatt context to be addressed is the helmet. Unfortunately, surviving helmets are extremely scarce, and there is no pictorial evidence to consult prior to the Ha. D period.
Four helmet types appear both archaeologically and artistically in Hallstatt contexts. We will call these the crested, the plated, the double-crested, and the Negau.
Only one artistic example of the crested helmet is to be found, and no archaeological examples. It is to be found on a grave good in the shape of a wagon adorned with many figures made ca. 600 BC and recovered in Strettweg, Austria.
Tumblr media
A find from Normandy (outside the Hallstatt sphere of influence) dated ca. 1200-700 BC shows what this type of helmet may have looked like.
Tumblr media
The plated type is nearly as obscure, represented by only a single survival and a single artwork. The helmet, recovered in Šentvid, Slovenia and dated ca. 800-450 BC, is curious for the distinct pearly texture of its surface.
Tumblr media
A number of similar helmets appear on a situla recovered from the Certosa Necropolis in modern Bologna, Italy. This situla is dated ca. 600 BC, and bears a striking resemblance to other situlae found in Hallstatt contexts.
Tumblr media
The most well attested form of Hallstatt helmet is the double-crested type. This type appears with the onset of Ha. D, and sees use until the end of the Hallstatt period. It is attested to by several survivals
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and numerous depictions on a number of situlae
Tumblr media
and belt plates.
Tumblr media
This type is so-called for the twin crests that adorn the helmet’s skull; crests which, as is attested by the pictorial evidence, served as anchors to large plumes likely made from horse hair.
The final type is named for a town in Slovenia where a large cache of helmets of this type was found in 1812. The Negau type appears at the very tail end of Ha. D, and primarily in Etruscan and Italic contexts. However a number of finds (including the eponymous horde) come from regions of Hallstatt (and eventually La Téne) influence.
Tumblr media
Weapons
The weapons which can be found in Hallstatt contexts are very much the same as those found elsewhere in Europe, consisting primarily on spears, axes, swords, and daggers. The spears and axes of the period are very similar to those found elsewhere in Europe and across the Mediterranean in the late bronze to early iron age, and as such will not be discussed further.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Indeed, even the swords of the Hallstatt bronze age (Ha. A-B) bear no significant differences from other swords found in Central and Western Europe at the time.
Tumblr media
It is not until Ha. C, and the advent of the iron age, when two new types unique to the culture emerge. Though similar, these sword types, called Gündlingen
Tumblr media
and Mindelheim, are distinguished by a number of factors.
Tumblr media
First and foremost is size, with Mindelheim swords averaging around 85 cm or 33.5 in in length, while the Gündlingen type only averages 70-75 cm (27.5-29.5 in). Another striking feature of the Mindelheim type which is almost non-existent on Gündlingen swords is a pair of deep grooves on either side of the blade. Additionally, Gündlingen swords are only ever found in bronze, while Mindelheim can be found in either bronze or iron. Gündlingen swords seem to have been tremendously greater in popularity, with only 27 examples of the Mindelheim type being known to over 240 of the Gündlingen. There is also a geographical element: the majority of Mindelheim swords have been found in the east from Austria to Germany, Poland, and as far north as Sweden. Gündlingen swords, by contrast, have mostly been found in the west, as far as Britain and Ireland. Neither type, however, can be found in the core Hallstatt Regions after the advent of Ha. D, when daggers become the primary funerary good of the elite.
Daggers, of course, were not unknown in Hallstatt regions prior to 620 BC. A number of survivals from Ha. A-B attest to the fact that single-edged daggers were popular.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
With the advent of the iron age and the rise in popularity of the peculiar Hallstatt sword types, daggers become more rare, until once again they spring back to the fore in Ha. D. At this time, a particular dagger type is almost ubiquitous. This dagger has long, straight quillons mirrored by a tubular pommel. The grip is thin, and the blade is broad and double-edged. This same basic form is present, both plain and with various embellishments, until the end of the Hallstatt period.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
148 notes · View notes
mapsontheweb · 1 year ago
Photo
Tumblr media
How to say “Word” in different languages spoken in Europe
Indo-European Etymology: English word and its cognates come from Proto-Germanic *wurdą, from Proto-Indo-European *wr̥dʰh₁om. Spanish palavra comes from Latin parabola (“comparison, illustration”), from Ancient Greek παραβολή (parabolḗ, “comparison; parable”). French mot comes from Late Latin muttum (“sound”). Romanian cuvant is inherited from Latin conventus (“convened, assembled”). 
Slavic slovo and similar come from Proto-Slavic *slovo (“word”). Serbo-Croatian term is inherited from Proto-Slavic *rěčь (“speech”). Bulgarian term is inherited from Proto-Slavic *duma (“thought”). Scottish-Gaelic and Irish words come from Proto-Celtic *woxtlom. Non-Indo-European: Maltese and Turkish ones come from Arabic كَلِمَة‎ (kalima). Hungarian szó comes from Turkic. Keep in mind that most of these languages have synonyms for this exact term.
by languages.eu
198 notes · View notes
thevixenwitch · 2 months ago
Text
Cernunnos - A Confusion of Aspects
Introduction
This was supposed to be a simple bit of research that I was going to do as a devotional act to Cernunnos, but over the course of the night I kept encountering the same dead ends that pointed to the same singular source of misinformation. So do not expect this to be entirely objective.
Let's begin with a simple question: Who is Cernunnos?
A Gallic deity, with difficult to trace roots. Depicted sparingly, there is debate on whether or not various depictions can actually be attributed to him. Particularly, one of the most famous supposed depictions – the Gundestrup Cauldron – has been theorized by Celtic scholar John Matthews to depict a Shaman and not the god himself, according to his book The Celtic Shaman. Depiction variation and debate is not uncommon in discussion of older religions and cultures, particularly when Romanization and Christian censorship were at play. Not to mention Wiccan appropriation and repurposing of beliefs without regard for earlier context.
Others have made fantastic deep dives into potential depictions and discussed them at length, and I am no historical scholar, so I have little to add in this case. I highly recommend the essay The gods of Gaul: Cernunnos by @mask131 [1] for a piece regarding depictions through history.
Upon reading the previous essay, I was inspired to dig deeper into Cernunnos, from historical contexts to meditating on my own UPG via my connection with him. My own connection with him was something that happened casually over time, ranging from dreamlike interactions to conversing directly through divination. I am an incarnate Fae, and worship him as the King of the Fae, in addition to other aspects and epithets such as:
Cernunnos
King of the Fae
Master of the Sacrificial Hunt, The Horned God, and other Wiccan Concepts
Master of the Wild Hunt
Pan
The Green Man
Herne the Hunter
This list is influenced by a resource post of druidry.org[2], but I will be researching each of these titles for further insights into their sources and how they do or do not connect to my own practice ahead.
[1] mask131, Tumblr
[2] https://druidry.org/resources/cernnunos - this is not a reliable resource
Tumblr media
^ Cernunnos depiction on the Gundestrup Cauldron
Cernunnos
As learned in the previously linked essay, the name “Cernunnos” originates from the “Pillar of the Nautes” or the “Pillar of the Boatmen”, where the name is placed directly above a depiction of an antlered figure on the Block of Four Divinities[3] alongside the deity Smertrios. Many Gaul artifacts can be found in French museums. The Pillar of the Boatmen is attributed as a Roman-era inscription[4], so that gives us only enough information to hypothesize.
My takeaway from this is that the name Cernunnos is a modern approximation because of lacking, provable historical records, but rather serves a purpose as a modern placeholder. I came across information claiming that worship of Cernunnos as a deity was brought into modern belief by neo-pagans and popularized by Wiccans, particularly through Margaret Murray’s writings. During her studies of folklore in the early 20th century she put together a Witch-cult hypothesis that stated how a variety of horned deities were aspects of a “proto-horned god”[5]. In addition, this belief was adopted by Gerald Gardner and formed the basis of the concept of the Horned God within Wicca.[6]
“Sometimes also known as Carnonos, his name has firm Proto-Indo-European origins. It stems from the PIE word *k̑r̥no-, and is thus cognate to Germanic *hurnaz and Latin cornu, all meaning “horn”. In the Celtic Gaulish language, this word was karnon, and the connection with the name of Cernunnos is clear - it reflects the deity’s stag antlers, growing from his head. Thus, Cernunnos literally means “the horned one”.”[7]
Gallic history is sparse and difficult to pin down due to a lack of written records or literature. Multitudes of visual depictions dating from the Roman era have been attributed to Cernunnos by Archaeologists, having been retrieved from northern Gaul. These depictions are hypothesized to be this deity or others of similar archetypes. In addition, sites tend to use the words “Gallic” and “Gaelic” semi-interchangeably, despite the regional difference. Gael meaning a Celtic tribe from modern Ireland-Scotland, and Gaul meaning a tribe located in modern France. There is speculation that Cernunnos was a proto-Celtic deity, and could have had roots in any or all Celtic practices and beyond, but that is speculation because there is a lack of evidence to support the theory in any substantial direction.
[3] Name sourced from Athena Review, Vol. 4, No. 2, which also sources Huchard, V. (ed) Archéologica. 2003. “Le Pilier des Nautes Retrouvé. Histoire d’une Métamorphose.” Dijon, France. Éditions Faton S.A
[4] An observation attributed to Hatt, Jean-Jacques who recorded that the artifact was originally erected in 1st century AD.
[5] Margaret Murray, The God of the Witches
[6] Kathleen Sheppard Forced into the Fringes: Margaret Murray’s Witch-cult Hypothesis 21 April 2017
[7] According to Aleksa Vučković via ancient-origins.net
Tumblr media
^Cernunnos's face as depicted of the Pillar of the Boatmen
King of the Fae - UPG
This title is predominantly UPG and relates to my own existence as an incarnate fae.
I find him similar but above other more location-based wild gods, beings like boar lords, and other guardians and rulers of nature. There is a loose hierarchy within fae politics, for lack of a better word, that is predominantly power based. Not as in subjugation over other beings, but rather quantified by expanse of control or domains. Finding the words for this section proves difficult, but he is simply above all of us, with a connection to all Fae. Cernunnos does not view himself as better than any of his subjects, he is not preoccupied with anything like that.
Does this title equate him with the concept of Oberon? No, I don’t believe so. He also exists outside of the seasonal courts, as he goes through a physical shift with the seasons instead of remaining in one form.
Master of the Sacrificial Hunt & The Horned God
Many modern depictions and associations with Cernunnos took their form via Wicca, as previously mentioned. The now heavily discounted Witch-cult hypothesis led to the adopting of the name as a common main aspect of Wicca’s concept of the Divine Masculine or the Horned God that absorbed many horned deities into one being, losing their individual status and becoming “aspects” of a central pillar. This is a theme often seen within Wicca and expands to their depiction of a central Divine Feminine deity as well, the pair often referred to as The Lord and The Lady. This is a simplification that I do not agree with. The epithet “Master of the Sacrificial Hunt” is unable to be sourced beyond the previous essay on Druidry.com and a repost of the same write-up on witchesofthecraft.com, so this title isn’t possible to verify. Although, mentions of Cernunnos identify him as a being that has a seasonal cycle of death and rebirth, which this epithet may be indicating. This belief appears to also have its basis within Wicca and lacks historical evidence. To quote from Wikipedia, “Within the Wiccan tradition, the Horned God reflects the seasons of the year in an annual cycle of life, death and rebirth
and his imagery is a blend of the Gaulish god Cernunnos, the Greek god Pan, The Green Man motif, and various other horned spirit imagery.”[8][9]
While I am large proponent of UPG, I do not abide by stating such concepts as strict facts. I will explore this further in future sections.
[8] Farrar, Stewart & Janet Eight Sabbats for Witches
[9] Doreen Valiente The Rebirth of Witchcraft pg 52-53
Tumblr media
^The plaque I'm sure we've all seen in our local metaphysical store
Master of the Wild Hunt
The Wild Hunt is a concept that permeates the history of many European cultures, including the Celts.[10] Myths of Wild Hunts would most often include a central figure flanked by hunters all in pursuit of some kind of special quarry. Within Germanic legend, the mythical figure is often Odin, but there were many other figures that have been featured across cultures and belief systems, sometimes historical and other times religious. The hunters were often depicted as fairies, the souls of the dead, or otherwise inhuman participants. Witnessing the spectacle as a mortal was thought to bring calamity[11], death, or abduction to magical realms.  The concept and term were popularized by German author Jacob Grimm, originally as Wilde Jagd.[12]
This mythological concept existed in various aspects of Germanic and European folklore, across multiple cultures. Despite this, the lack of Gallic literature means that we are unable to directly connect Cernunnos to any historical uses. The prevalence of this type of myth, though, presents the obvious opportunity to incorporate our modern understanding of him into the framework to explore our own UPG. This is a topic I may meditate on further if I do further research into the concept of the Wild Hunt.
My own personal experiences with the concept are much more play oriented. If you’ve ever been to a Beltane festival, you probably know the heady feeling of being chased through the woods before being caught and celebrating the season. This interactive ritual-made-game is a fun staple you may find on the schedule of any fertility event these days meant to drive up sexually charged, excited energy. It’s a simple enough concept to incorporate into any individual practitioner’s holiday plan, if it suits your preference. Especially as a Fae, I find the concept of the Wild Hunt to be something fun to engage in with a special partner or community, and find no harm in inserting anyone into the role of Master of the Wild Hunt, as the prevalence of the format leaving the form of individual story to expand into a genre.
[10] Stith Thompson (1977) The Folktale University of California Press pg 257
[11] See, for example, Chambers's Encyclopaedia, 1901, s.v. "Wild Hunt": "[Gabriel's Hounds] ... portend death or calamity to the house over which they hang"; "the cry of the Seven Whistlers ... a death omen".
[12] Deutsche Mythologie (1835)
Tumblr media
^Johann Wilhelm Cordes: Die Wilde Jagd (The Wild Hunt)1856/57
Pan
The conflation of Pan with Cernunnos appears to be predominantly based in the view of all male horned deities being simple aspects of a larger presence – the Wiccan Horned God. As previously stated, I do not support that concept and will use this section to study Pan as a separate entity and cover where in my UPG they overlap.
Pan is the Greek god of the wilds, music, and a guardian of shepherds and their flocks. He also was usually in the presence of nymphs.[13] Unlike the Stag depictions and associations of Cernunnos, Pan sported the legs and horns of a goat and appeared similar to a Satyr. His domain expanded to agricultural and wooded areas, as well as the realms of sex and fertility. The sum of those parts was to present him as a god of the season of Spring. He had a Roman equivalent in the god Faunus, and was also conflated with another known as Silvanus at times. Pan became a popular god during the 20th century neopagan revival[14].
Even before that, worship of him was brought back by a festival originating in Painswick, Gloucestershire by Benjamin Hyett, who also constructed various holy places in the god’s name.[15] Other popular occultists of the early 1900’s such as Aleister Crowley also crossed paths with Pan, as he built an altar to the god and wrote a ritual play about him.[16] After that point, his image and general description was absorbed into the Wiccan Horned God concept after Margaret Murray’s The God of the Witches posed the idea that he was simply one part of an overarching whole.
But who was Pan outside of this, particularly who was he before the Witch-god hypothesis altered how future generations would see him?
Pan is considered by some scholars to be a reconstruction of a Proto-Indo-European pastoral deity[17], as well as Pushan, a god originating from Rigvedic that also shared goat traits.[18]
Beyond these source hypotheses, there is evidence that Pan was first worshipped in the mountainous, isolated area of Arcadia. In that area, if a hunt wasn’t satisfactory, disgruntled hunters would scourge, or whip, the statue of Pan.[19] At this time, there were no formal temples to Pan, and worship was instead pursued in woodlands and other natural spaces. While exemptions from this rule did exist, they were few and far between.[20] He predates the Olympians, like many Grecian nature spirits. I won’t go too in depth regarding direct mythology, as its difficult to do that with the Greek pantheon without tangents.
Pan was viewed as a height of sexual prowess, and agricultural success. He had a history of dalliances with Nymphs, to put it lightly, often depicted as being controlled by his lust and anger. Such as in the myth of the Nymph Echo, whom he ordered killed when she denied any man. In some versions, the pair even have two children, or perhaps chose Narcissus over him, no matter the variation he is usually painted as rash and jealous. I’m sure we’ve all seen that statue of Pan and the goat that resides in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples.
The word “panic” can trace its sources back to him, but I was surprised to find that “pandemonium” does not.[21]
In my personal view, Cernunnos ages with the seasons, being at his most virile in the Spring, then maturing into his form as a guardian of the dead come winter, appearing dead himself. This is relevant in that I find the depictions of the lustful, energetic Pan to be inspiring of how I see that Spring form. Beyond that, the agricultural and animal connections are similar, but seem to take very different forms upon closer inspection.
Within actual historical context, there doesn’t seem to be anything connecting Cernunnos and Pan in any way beyond neo-pagan labelling.
[13] Edwin L. Brown, "The Lycidas of Theocritus Idyll 7", Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 1981:59–100.
[14] The Triumph of the Moon: A History of Modern Pagan Witchcraft, Hutton, Ronald, chapter 3
[15] Hutton, Ronald. The Triumph of the Moon: A History of Modern Pagan Witchcraft pp 161–162.
[16] Soar, Katy (2020). "The Great Pan in Albion". Hellebore. 2 (The Wild Gods Issue): 14–27.
[17] Mallory, J. P.; Adams, D. Q. (2006). The Oxford Introduction to Proto-Indo-European and the Proto-Indo-European World. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press. p. 434
[18] H. Collitz, "Wodan, Hermes und Pushan," Festskrift tillägnad Hugo Pipping pȧ hans sextioȧrsdag den 5 November 1924 1924, pp 574–587.
[19] Theocritus. vii. 107
[20] Horbury, William (1992). Jewish Inscriptions of Graeco-Roman Egypt. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. p. 208.
[21] Coined by John Milton in his poem “Paradise Lost” coming from the Greek pan- “all” and daemonium “evil spirit”
Tumblr media
^Mask of the god Pan, detail from a bronze stamnoid situla, 340–320 BC, part of the Vassil Bojkov Collection, Sofia, Bulgaria (It is shockingly difficult to find art of Pan where he's not rock hard.)
The Green Man
Viewed as more of a motif or concept than a deity, the Green Man originated in England and was usually depicted as covered in leaves and sometimes armed with a club. One might encounter these visuals in parades, festivals, or painted on the signs of many pubs come the 17th century. This changed with the introduction of Julia Somerset, who claimed in the Folklore journal that the design often seen on church walls actually had pagan origins as some kind of fertility deity.[22] There is no evidence to support this claim, and it has been contested by many folklorists.[23] This assertion by Somerset was then absorbed into the Wiccan Horned God despite being described as distinctly “20th Century Folklore”.[24]
That’s pretty much the extent of this one and was honestly one of the most shocking to read about. The Green Man was at best a regional icon used in local festivities but was never any kind of deity. That title was misrepresented and incorporated without research.
My personal association would be the visuals of Winter, but Cernunnos’ Winter form appears very differently to me. More skeletal stag, less old man with a holly beard.
[22]  Centerwall, Brandon S. (January 1997). "The Name of the Green Man". Folklore. 108 (1–2): 25–33.
[23] Livingstone, Josephine (2016-03-07). "The Remarkable Persistence of the Green Man". The New Yorker.
[24] Olmstead, Molly (2023-04-08). "Is the Green Man British Enough for the Royal Coronation?". Slate.
Tumblr media
^A sign for the John Barras Pub Company
Herne the Hunter
After the last section, it is a relief to move on to something that has always been presented to me with its original fictional context intact. Herne the Hunter was a character originally depicted in The Merry Wive of Windsor written by Shakespeare in approximately 1597. Supposedly, Herne the Hunter is an antlered spirit that occupies the Royal Forest in England, occupying himself with tormenting cattle and rattling chains. While the character may have been based on local legends to some degree, it is unknown just how much verifiable connection has ever existed. Attempts to connection him to other deities or legends were made often after he was written.
There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter
(sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest)
Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner.
You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed eld
Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter for a truth.
— William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 4, scene 4
Despite Herne being a location-based character appearing only in the areas Windsor Forest occupied, certain books published in 1929 and 1933[25] attempted to identify him with Cernunnos and other horned deities. This is again the connection through which Wiccans incorporated Herne into the Horned God.[26]
[25] The History of the Devil – The Horned God of the West by R. Lowe Thompson; The God of the Witches by Margaret Murray
[26]  'Simple Wicca: A simple wisdom book' by Michele Morgan, Conari, 2000
Tumblr media
^Illustration of Herne the Hunter by George Cruikshank (1840s)
Romanizations
There are theories mentioned in mask131’s essay regarding attempts at identifying what Roman deity or deities was meant to be the equivalent of Cernunnos, but there is sadly only speculation on that front. Opinions vary from person to person, but parallels are often drawn to Dis Pater and Mercury for shared traits. I did find instances such as the Lyon Cup and an altar from Reims that feature Mercury and Cernunnos depicted side by side, so I believe it is safe to say that they were at least at some point considered fully separate beings.
Tumblr media
^1st-century CE altar from Reims with Cernunnos, accompanied by Apollo and Mercury. Mercury has a cornucopia, while Cernunnos spills grain.
Aside – Misinformation is Rampant
This one book, this one fucking “hypothesis”, changed the entire face of what would eventually become modern neopaganism. The damage of the Witch-cult hypothesis is far reaching and permeates every resource I could find while writing this piece aside from the explicitly scholarly. It is extremely discouraging how quickly you can trace something that feels off back to this one woman’s massively disproven theory that was adopted by a man that wanted to make a religion based on occult foundations because he admired ceremonial magic. The frustration I feel as someone trying to do research now after this misinformation and pseudohistory has seeped into every aspect of the path has me constantly on edge and second guessing everything I read until I can find a source.
Stating UPG as undeniable fact that others must agree with isn’t great at the best of times, but the sheer level of ignorance to historical record seems to be running rampant within the modern Pagan community. I’m all for believing something unverifiable, something that’s only true for you, or for the world from your perspective, but there is and must be a difference between that and presenting easily disproven statements as unbreakable law, especially with they come hand in hand with any dressings like, “this is actually true because I was told so by this person, who learned from this other person.” And the process is traceable to the source they borrowed from and how it was completely disproven.
We must think critically within paganism, research beyond the books with flashy covers in Barnes & Noble and question the things we are told by others are just the way things are.
Your relationship with the gods is yours alone and can take any form you want it to. Don’t let yourself be trapped by ignorance. Learn about historical contexts, question sources, seeking mentoring from those who revel in your questions and help you find the answers.
Conclusion
Cernunnos is a deity that is beyond valuable to communicate with directly due to the lack of concrete historical and folkloric information, and the prevalence of blatant misinformation that uses his name. Context is important, and even if you choose to exist outside of it, which is a perfectly valid choice, it should be a conscious one.
In addition, while attempting to research this, I actually stumbled upon sites not just with AI generated cover images, but what fully appeared to be AI generated writing. Be vigilant against information that looks like someone just skimmed the surface and made an assumption, this page had a lot of almost correct or just flat out made up information that contradicts historical fact. Especially in this modern era where people use automatic programs to make summaries of summaries for a game of unverifiable internet telephone, be aware. No matter what your personal stance on AI is, I'm sure we can all stand against information atrophy.
To me, Cernunnos is a supportive, ever-present god that helps me through things in his own way, meaning that its usually something intense and then coming out the other side putting out a fire on the back of my head. He's hands-off, and wants me to admire the turning of the seasons from new angles. He's opened my eyes to a deeper respect for other belief systems, and encouraged me to do this research so that I could better understand him as well as our own connection. He wants me to be observant and always keep learning and questioning and growing in my faith, in my magic, in my role as a faery.
When it comes to the belief systems that you rely on in life, ignorance is not bliss. Seek knowledge deep in the forest and on the frozen boundaries of a lake or standing barefoot in a grassy meadow, but also in historical records. Anyone who wants the best for you will want you to research and learn more.
Genuinely as I was finishing this up last night, adding this section to the post version the next morning, I considered becoming a YouTube essay person. Maybe someday! Perhaps an actual blog. Researching and writing this kind of thing was actually very fun. I never even did something like this while I was in school, so maybe I'm just not traumatized by the concept. Anyways, I hope this was informative and you enjoyed a peek into the journey I took while putting this together.
Now I'm gonna go light up some green in dedication to Cernunnos ✌︎︎♡⃛
Tumblr media
^The Lyon Cup, sometimes identified as Cernunnos
35 notes · View notes
jackhkeynes · 10 months ago
Note
Can you give an overview of your conworld and language for new people?
Absolutely! :D
The World
The setting I write in (hereafter "Boralverse") is an alternate history of Earth. The original difference from our own history (hereafter "IRL") is the existence of the island of Borland (Istr Boral) between Great Britain and Denmark, inspired by the IRL existence of Doggerland.
Tumblr media
The human pre-classical history of Borland can be summarised as:
With sea level rise about 8k years ago, Borland was cut off from the continent and from Britain (this is when Doggerland was submerged IRL); some Stone Age people remain. They leave some monuments—burial mounds, the Çadrosc labyrinth—and were farmers, but they had no writing or ironworking.
The Celts arrive in Borland shortly before they settle Britain in the second millennium BCE, taking up iron tools and establishing many tribal groups. Due to some later migration from Britain to Borland, they speak a language (Borland Celtic) which is most closely related to Proto-Brythonic.
I assume that as far as possible the history of the rest of the world is indistinguishable from the IRL history up to this point. I continue to do so while the Romans invade and settle Borland shortly after Britain, despite conceding to credulity and allowing a few classical references:
...in Ptolemy's description of the Pritannoi we can understand he referred to the Insular Kelts of Ireland, Britain and Borland as a whole... ...contrasting Hadrian's policies in Britain and in Borland is vital for understanding their different fates in the post-Classical age...
where I admit that the Roman Empire having an entire additional province should probably have some observable effects.
Once the Western Roman Empire collapses, I start properly diverging Boralverse history from IRL history. This begins with a different pattern of Anglo-Saxon migration; the two petty kingdoms of Angland and Southbar arise in western Borland, while the settlement of England proceeds slightly slower than IRL.
Historical divergence spreads through western Europe over the next few centuries, and by 1000 CE things are beginning to go off the rails all across Eurasia and North Africa. I leave the history of the Americas the same until Old World contact (via Basque fishermen stumbling across Newfoundland in 1470 CE), and likewise with Australia.
The map below shows Europe in 1120, during the Second Tetrarchy Period. At this time, Europe was unusually centralised, with four great empires: the First Drengot Empire (red), the German Empire (brown), the Second Roman Empire (purple) and the Single Caliphate (green).
Tumblr media
In the modern era, my hope is that the Boralverse world feels fractally uncanny; at every scale something is unexpectedly different, from political borders and languages to fashion and pop culture references.
For clarity, I employ an inconsistent Translation Convention when writing from a Boralverse perspective, mostly using IRL English but peppering in calques of Boralverse English jargon for flavour, such as threshold force "nuclear power" or jalick "garment socially equivalent to a tuxedo".
The Language
The original motivation for this alternate history setting is Borlish (Borallesc), the Romance language spoken on Borland.
It picked up a few Borland Celtic loanwords from the existing population at the time of the conquest (macquar ~ Welsh magu "raise, rear"; vrug ~ Welsh grug "heather"), but was much more influenced through the first millennium by Anglo-Saxon settlement and then Norse conquest during the Viking Age. The following is an example of late Old Borlish (ca. 1240):
…sovravnt il deft nostre saȝntaðesem eð atavalesem n iȝ atrevre golfhavn seȝ hamar dont y verb divin ismetre ac povre paian. peðiv soul ez font istovent por vn nov cliȝs d istroienz istablir… …uphold our most sacred and ancient duty to let Gulfhaven be the centre from which we will send the Word of God to pagan lands. We ask only for the necessary funds for a new teachinghouse…
The Modern Borlish language has undergone spelling standardisation (most recently deprecated some irregular spellings in 1870), and contains many more Latin and Greek loanwords, along with borrowings from languages across the world.
Y stal zajadau dy marcað nogtorn accis par lamp fumer eð y lun fragnt de mar receven cos equal party a domn pescour pevr jarras e fenogl gostant tan eð eç nobr robað n'ornament fluibond ant queldin raut frigsað ne papir cerous. The night market's various stalls lit by smoky lamps and the sea-shattered moon welcomed flocks of fishwives sampling paprika and fennel as well as notables in flowing finery carrying stir-fried suppers in wax papers.
In terms of sound changes and grammatical developments, the major points include:
Intervocalic lenition /p t k b d g/ > /v ð j ∅ ∅ ∅/: catēna > caðen "chain", dēbēre > deïr "must".
The use of ç (and c before e i y) for /ts/, and the use of g in coda to represent /j/. Along with some vowel shifts, this leads to things like cigl /tsajl/ "darling".
Total loss of final consonants in multisyllable words, including -s, which leads to:
Collapse of noun declension, including number; Borlish does not mark number on nouns, and if it wants to it uses demonstratives or simply relies of verb agreement: l'oc scuir pasc, l'ec scuir pascn "this boy eats, these boys eat".
58 notes · View notes
yvanspijk · 1 year ago
Text
The word tooth is a remnant of an ancient present participle meaning 'biting'. It is etymologically related to French dent, German Zahn, Irish déad, Ancient Greek odṓn, and Sanskrit dán. These words all stem from the same Proto-Indo-European ancestor.
Tumblr media
150 notes · View notes
ishparpuaqib · 1 month ago
Text
so, from what i understand:
after the split of proto-tocharian, late proto-indo-european seems to have continued functioning as a single dialect continuum for a very, very long time, with the remaining (historically attested) branches of indo-european separating from each other more or less simultaneously (with the possible exception of italo-celtic—note, ofc, the probably not-accidental fact italo-celtic represents the westernmost branch of indo-european proper)
there is no reason to believe the earliest attested languages grouped under indo-european proper (i.e. excluding anatolian and tocharian), cf. greek, actually separated from (late) proto-indo-european earlier than those attested relatively late in the historic record (like albanian, or the various germanic languages)
internal divisions within core indo-european ("northwest proto-indo-european", the whole satem phenomenon, etc.) are all presently understood to represent zones of convergence through areal contact, and are not considered to constitute proof of genetic closeness even when they involve common innovations in morphology and phonology (mostly because all such innovations exist on a clear geographic gradient—cf. the frustrating example of albanian sharing quite a few common innovations with greek, and greek sharing quite a few innovations with armenian... but albanian and armenian sharing no remarkable innovations at all)
there are some very curious lexical parallels between italic and indo-iranian—specifically relating to the semantic domains of kingship and statemanship—that can't be explained away as having been borrowed from a common substrate or preserved from an archaic stage of pie, as they don't appear to be shared by either anatolian or tocharian. ???
how maximally unsatisfying...
13 notes · View notes
the-hermit-at-midnight · 8 months ago
Text
Awen: The Spirit of Inspiration in Druidic Tradition
Tumblr media
The concept of Awen is a fundamental element in modern Druidry and Celtic spirituality. It represents a divine inspiration or creative spirit that flows through all things, fueling artistic expression, wisdom, and spiritual understanding. Rooted in ancient Welsh traditions and widely embraced by contemporary Druids, Awen encapsulates a profound connection between humanity and the natural world, the divine, and the realms of creativity and knowledge.
Historical Origins and Etymology
The term "Awen" originates from the Welsh language, where it literally means "inspiration" or "muse." Its earliest recorded usage appears in the medieval Welsh literature of the 6th century, notably in the works of the bards and poets. The concept of Awen is closely tied to the figure of the bard in Celtic society—those who were the keepers of history, lore, and cultural wisdom through their poetry and music.
In the Welsh Triads and the works of Taliesin, one of the most renowned bards of the medieval period, Awen is depicted as a divine force that grants poets their insight and creativity. The word itself likely derives from Proto-Celtic *aweno-, which means "inspiration."
Awen in Druidic Tradition
Modern Druidry, which saw a revival in the 18th and 19th centuries and continues to evolve today, places Awen at the heart of its spiritual practice. Druids view Awen as a sacred flow of inspiration that comes from the divine and permeates the universe. It is not only a source of artistic creativity but also a spiritual force that brings wisdom, clarity, and a deep connection to nature.
The Three Rays of Awen
A common symbol associated with Awen in Druidic tradition is the three rays of light. This symbol typically consists of three parallel lines or rays, often depicted radiating from a single source. Each ray represents different aspects of inspiration and spiritual illumination:
1. **The First Ray:** This ray symbolizes the spark of inspiration or the initial creative impulse. It represents the beginning of an idea or the seed of wisdom.
2. **The Second Ray:** This ray stands for the process of development and growth. It is the journey of bringing an idea to fruition, the unfolding of creative and spiritual insight.
3. **The Third Ray:** This final ray signifies completion and manifestation. It is the realization and expression of inspiration in the material world, whether through art, writing, or acts of wisdom.
The Invocation of Awen
Druids often invoke Awen through rituals and ceremonies to seek inspiration and guidance. The chant "Awen" is commonly used, either sung or spoken, to open oneself to the flow of divine inspiration. This practice serves as a meditative and spiritual exercise, aligning the practitioner with the forces of creativity and insight.
The chant of Awen is said to attune the mind and spirit to the deeper currents of the universe, allowing for a clearer reception of inspiration. It can be a solitary practice or part of communal rituals, and it often accompanies other elements of Druidic ceremonies, such as the celebration of seasonal festivals and rites of passage.
Awen and the Arts
In the realm of the arts, Awen is seen as the driving force behind all forms of creative expression. From poetry and music to visual arts and storytelling, artists in the Druidic tradition seek to channel Awen in their work. This creative process is not merely about personal expression but is viewed as a way to connect with the divine and contribute to the cultural and spiritual enrichment of the community.
Awen and Nature
For Druids, nature is a primary source of Awen. The natural world, with its cycles, beauty, and mystery, is a wellspring of inspiration and wisdom. By observing and interacting with nature, Druids believe they can tap into the flow of Awen, gaining insights and understanding that transcend ordinary perception. This deep connection to nature is reflected in the reverence for sacred groves, stones, and other natural sites that are often central to Druidic practice.
Awen remains a central and inspiring concept in modern Druidry and Celtic spirituality. It embodies the divine spark of inspiration that fuels creativity, wisdom, and a profound connection to the world around us. Whether through the arts, nature, or spiritual practice, the pursuit of Awen is a journey toward deeper understanding and harmonious existence with the universe. As Druids continue to celebrate and invoke Awen, they keep alive an ancient tradition that enriches the mind, spirit, and culture, connecting them to a timeless source of inspiration.
Tumblr media
38 notes · View notes
catt-nuevenor · 2 years ago
Text
Take this how you will:
Tumblr media
From the Etymological Dictionary of Proto-Celtic 2017
This will mean more to folks in the UK, so don't worry if it seems a bit random.
20 notes · View notes