Tyr's Day Color: Red Elements: Fire and Air Altar: Upon a red cloth lay swords, lined up in a row, a horn of mead, and a single glove. Offering: Agree to a promise that limits your convenience. Daily Meal: Red meat. Invocation to Tyr Honor is not comfortable. It demands all you have, All you are, all you can do. It wraps you like a chain That you may only shuffle where others run And yet that chain will bear you up When others trip and fall. It limits you, like the loss of a limb; You reach, and fall ever short, Brought up by honor's limitation, And yet this limiting hones you sharper, Like a tool that must be cut down to work, As every sharpening is removal of some of you. O Lord of Honor, you whose name Invoked, seals bargains without A thought of cheating, you whose Word is law and law is will, You who are never afraid To do what must needs be done Even when there is no question That there will be great loss, May we all have half the steel That lies in you, O warrior one-handed, In your spine, in your hand, And in your soul. (The mead is passed by one who has been chosen, and as they pass it they say, "May honor bind you." Each in turn replies, "May honor find you." The remainder is poured out as a libation.)