#sindarin
I recently wondered if there was a way to visualise some aspects of the phonological character of Quenya and Sindarin, and the differences between them. The following charts are based on the Namárië poem for Quenya and The King’s Letter for Sindarin. I did a broad phonological transcription for both, then ran frequency counts and relative frequencies on the phonemes. And here are some of the results!
1. Tolkien liked his alveolar stops! And whilst Quenya shows a preference for voiceless stops over voiced stops, the reverse is true of Sindarin.
Part of the reason why the Sindarin voiced stops are so prevalent is due to the extensive consonant mutation system of Sindarin. In the case of stop consonants, the soft mutation turns voiceless stops into voiced stops in certain phonological and/or grammatical environments.
2. Both Quenya and Sindarin prefer front vowels over back vowels, i.e. /i/ and /e/ are preferred over /u/ and /o/ (the Sindarin text happened not to have /u/ at all). The low vowel /ɑ/ is the most frequent vowel in both languages.
Tolkien wrote that in Quenya, the vowel sign for /ɑ/ was often left out in writing, e.g. calma ‘lamp’ could be written as clm (using the equivalent Elvish characters, of course!).
3. Quenya seems to be more vowel-heavy than Sindarin, but Sindarin’s consonants seem to have a larger proportion of liquids, nasals and fricatives … and Sindarin /n/ and /r/ are super-popular!
Almost half of the phonemes shown for Quenya are vowels, compared with two-fifths in Sindarin. As Tolkien wrote, Quenya words more often ended in a vowel, whilst those in Sindarin more often ended in a consonant.
In Sindarin, about two in seven phonemes (of those shown in the chart) is either /r/ or /n/! In Quenya, /n/ appears about twice as often as /m/, but in Sindarin, /n/ appears about seven times more often than /m/!
A secret vice - this was how J.R.R. Tolkien described his love of creating, crafting and changing his invented languages. With the popularity of his books and the modern film adaptations, the product of this vice is no longer as ‘secret’ as it once was – almost everyone will have heard of Elvish by now; some will have heard of Quenya and Sindarin; and a small number will have heard of more besides …
I started thinking about the theme of this post having read this article from the Guardian on constructed languages (or ‘conlangs’):
Conlangs can be used to add depth, character, culture, history among many other things, but I think that Tolkien’s invented languages are in a class apart from other famous invented languages, e.g. Klingon, Na’vi, Dothraki, Esperanto, etc.
What many people don’t know is that Tolkien’s Elvish languages weren’t ‘invented for’ the Lord of the Rings, or the Hobbit or even what was to become the Silmarillion. In fact, in many ways it is more accurate to say that these stories and legends were invented for the Elvish languages!
Tolkien’s Elvish languages began to grow at about the time of the First World War, and they continued to grow for the rest of Tolkien’s life. Tolkien gave to two of these languages, Sindarin and Quenya, the aesthetic of two of his favourite languages, Welsh and Finnish respectively. However, rather than develop comprehensive dictionaries and grammars of the Elvish languages, Tolkien approached their invention from a primarily historical and philological perspective – something that the other famous conlangs do not do to anywhere near the same extent.
Sindarin and Quenya were designed to be natural languages, i.e. languages with their own irregularities, quirks and oddities (like real-world languages) but whose peculiarities would make sense when looked at from a historical linguistic perspective. Furthermore, Sindarin and Quenya are related languages, i.e. they share a common (and invented!) ancestor. Whenever Tolkien compiled anything like a dictionary, it was more akin to an etymological dictionary or a list of primitive roots and affixes. He would build up a vocabulary using these roots and affixes then submit the results to various phonological changes (as well as language contact effects, borrowings, reanalyses, etc thrown in for good measure! Did you know that the Sindarin word heledh ‘glass’ was borrowed from Khuzdul (Dwarvish) kheled?). The result is a family of related languages and dialects.
But these languages and dialects needed speakers, and their speakers needed a history and a world in which this history could play out. Tolkien believed that language and myth were intimately related – the words of our language reflect the way we perceive the world and myths embody these perceptions and are couched in language, yielding a rich melting pot of associations. To appreciate something of what Tolkien might have felt consider the English names for the days of the week or the months of the year. Why do they have the names they do? What does this tell us about our heritage and cultural history? What does it say about what we used to think and feel about the world? Now imagine thinking like this about other words … I found out earlier this week that English lobster is from Old English lobbe+stre ‘spider(y) creature’ (incidentally, lobbe ‘spider’ provided Tolkien with the inspiration for Shelob, the giant spider from The Two Towers (or, if you’re more familiar with the films, The Return of the King)). That is the kind of philological delight Tolkien wanted Sindarin and Quenya to have, and they do (nai elyë hiruva)!
The walls of Caras Neldorath.
Would you stand before these gates as a friend, or as an enemy?
It is an immense team effort by the Lager der Elben construction team to put this stockade into place for each Epic Empires. The modules have to be carried to the location and assembled there, and after the event, they are again disassembled and carried to their storage location. My part in this was very small: During the original planning phase I gave feedback and Ideas to how it looks from the outside and what it should support gameplay-wise: Limited cover for defending archers and plenty of space where enemies can try to climb the wall.
The photo was taken by The Kelric View
It’s the season to listen to Mornienna’s cozy elven winter song again.
On this day in 1977, Orlando Bloom was born. He made his breakthrough as Legolas Greenleaf in Peter Jackson’s the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
For writing a request that asks for “Thranduil + fluent Sindarin eloquence”, I am back in the cesspit of Sindarin linguistics.
Lenition.
Soft mutation.
Nasal mutation.
Liquid mutation.
Prepositions without any mutation.
*whispers* No… nooooo, actually, it does not… *sigh*
update on elf practice:
decided to start with Sindarin because i know way less about it than i do about Quenya, which i’m finding out is par for the course for everyone else on Earth. i’ve been enjoying Fiona Jalling’s A Fan’s Guide to Neo-Sindarin(First Edition) for my starting book, which has been a nice explanation as to why i knew so little about it in the first place, just in the first chapters alone.
also surprise, i like having structure, so I’ve been regularly answering review questions as part of my reading. doing the review questions was fine pretty much up until i had to start typing with IPA notation??? i may shift my notes over to physical ones just so i don’t have to type out this extremely helpful but still accursed homework. there’s uhhhhh a lot of stuff in this book involving IPA and no sign of either Certhas or Tengwar, which is a crying shame.
for my shelf, with my wonderful stimmies, i have added in David Salo’s A Gateway To Sindarin(which is Exceptionally Dense), to have a second modern perspective on Sindarin. this one works better as a comprehensive reference than a textbook, especially if you have no linguistic experience. in its favor, it actually covers the use of the Tengwar and Certhas– just, briefly, over the course of maybe six pages, with some clarifications for the variable modes.
and of course, since i spaced and forgot i’d probably get a dictionary in both of these books, i also picked up J-M Carpenter’s Sindarin-English & English-Sindarin Dictionary (4th Edition). this is absolutely the most comprehensive and up-to-date standalone dictionary I could find; the update to 4th Edition was in late 2019 and has a number of words I’d been missing, as I’d been working from a dictionary from 2008. it is not thick; there’s just not enough words in the language to merit more than two hundred pages, and I doubt there ever will be. however, the size is very -pleasant and it looks like there’s plenty of space in the margins for sticky notes and annotations over the years.
Elvish Months of the Year:August
In the High-Elven tongue, the eighth month of the year was named Úrimë(Urui being its Sindarin equivalent). Now, the root úr— comes from the Quenya word úrë, meaning ‘heat’. From this, we can conclude that Úrimë was the month of hot weather.
July—another month gone by, and with that comes a new Elvish Lesson. So in the High-elven tongue, the seventh month of the year was named Cermië(Cerveth being its Sindarin equivalent). As to the meaning of that name, there are actually surprisingly few references. However, in my research I did discover that one of the meanings of the Quenya root ‘cerm’ is ‘to give’. By this, I’m assuming that Cermië was the month of harvest or plenty (though don’t take my word for it).
As for the above picture, July always reminds me of Lothlórien somehow.
June at last, which means summer is finally here! To celebrate (and because it has become a bit of a tradition on this blog) let’s do a bit of Elvish, shall we?
So, in the High-elven tongue, the sixth month of the year was named Nárië. (Nórui was its Sindarin equivalent.)
Now, the root nár—is a direct reference to the Quenya word for ‘fire’. In fact, one of the Three Elven Rings that Gandalf bore was named Narya (The Ring of Fire).
In this context, however, nár is most likely a reference to the heat of the Sun (which was named Anar in Quenya).
ThusNárië was the month that signified the coming of summer.
Thus May comes to an end …
Speaking of May, did you know that the fifth month of the year was named Lótessë in the High-elven tongue? Lothron was its Sindarin equivalent. Both were derived from the Elvish root loth, meaning ‘flower’, in reference to the blossoming typically associated with this time of year.
As Samwise Gamgee once put it:
In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring