Lexember, Day 02: cembra

Part of the problem with jumping into these kinds of things at the last minute is that I’ve already changed my mind about yesterday’s word. I think it should be voqua instead of vaqua. But that gives me something to ruminate over. In the meantime, for day 2: 

cembra ‘to change’

Lexember, Day 01: vaqua

I didn’t even think about Lexember this year until today, so I haven’t really thought out my plan. My “main” language for a few years now has been Valthungian, but I’d like to focus on something else for this month. For a few years now, I’ve been playing around with another a posteriori language, Gothic Romance, which is kind of what I wanted Valthungian to be before it became what it is. I haven’t spent much time on it, though, partly because there are some very complex sound changes operating on both Romance and Germanic languages in tandem, so please take all of this month’s words with a large grain of diachronically-fortified salt.

For Lexember this month, I’m mostly just going to work my way through the Swadesh and other word lists to try to build up a good “base” vocabulary where I can ponder the diachronics for another year or so… Maybe next year I’ll do a reprisal!

Just to give a little background before I start: Valthungian was originally supposed to be, “What if the Goths who sacked Rome in 410ᴀᴅ kept speaking Gothic instead of switching to Latin?” Valthungian isn’t really that, though, and became something much more Germanic and less Romancey than I intended. I love where it’s gone, though; I have no intention of trying to undo any of that. 

Gothic Romance tries to answer the same question, but in a very specific way in a very specific setting: Picture a small town somewhere in northern Italy where two 13th-century descendants of Gothic (or, rather, Griutungi) and Vulgar Latin (whatever that means) coexisted among a bilingual population for a few hundred years. The two languages (Italian Gothic and Bad Romance, respectively) develop a sort of common, synchronized phonology, and word games pop up spawning slang terms by applying affixes or inflections of one language to roots of the other, and after another five centuries or so, Gothic Romance is the result. I wouldn’t quite call it a creole, but perhaps a mixed language of sorts. A spicy mélange.

For illustrative purposes, here are a couple of examples from the vocabulary I’ve already established:

Latin decem /dekem/ → VL dece → deh → BR dê   ↘

Gothic taíhun /tɛhun/ → OV tehun → IG têju    →     GR têio /teːjo/

(For a while, têio probably coexisted with a Latinate dêio, but eventually the Germanic unvoiced version prevailed. The same kind of thing happens with a number of words with similar structures.)

Other words were merged or altered by word games that eventually became permanent, e.g.:

Latin aqua → BR aqua →

Gothic watō ~ Griutungi watōr → OV watour → IG vatur →

…but from aqua and vatur came vaqua and vaqur and aquor and vatua and atuor, and eventually vaqua becomes the accepted term, while vatuor remains as a term of art in plumbing and aqua- continues to be found in many derivations. (This may sound silly to some, but take a long look at variants in Middle English and tell me with a straight face that this is unreasonable!

So for Lexember Day 1, I’m going to start with the example above, most of which I invented as I was drafting this post:

[Lexember 2023, Day 01 - Gothic Romance

vaqua

n.neu. - /ˈva.kwa/

‘water’

In Bad Romance and Italian Gothic, there were any number of commonly accepted terms for ‘water’, including aqua, aquor, atuor, vaqua, vatua, vatuor, and vatur. They ultimately derive from Latin aqua and Gothic watō (or, more likely, Griutungi watōr).

‘I would like some water with ice, please.’ 

Ulirèu vaqua ambith glîs, mercjes.

A language by Jamin - lingufacture.com]

Valthungians in Spaaaaaaace!

I wanted to put together some fun Valthungian stuff about astronomy and other cosmological stuff, but I don’t really have a cohesive theme for it other than to just give you some sets of interesting words. So here you go:

(I’m including the dative form of these terms where applicable, because one of the interesting things about astronomy terms is that many of them are formed by turning normal a-stem nouns or adjectives into j- or u-stem neuters, giving them a little spin. Unfortunately the j-stem neuters look completely boring and ordinary in the nominative and accusative singular, but they can get pretty wild in the remaining cases.)

Sōgila (n.f, dat. sōgila): The Sun.

Early Germanic had two words for ‘sun’: *sōwilō (cognate with Latin sol) and *sunnǭ (cognate with English sun). In Valthungian, *sōwilō became sōgila, which kept the meaning of ‘sun’, while *sunnǭ became sutna and came to mean ‘sunlight’ or ‘sunshine’.

• Sōgilaris (adj): solar.
• Sutna (n.f, dat. sutnin): sunlight, sunshine, the light from the sun.

Mēna (n.m, dat. mēnin): The Moon.

• Mēnalis (adj): lunar.
• Baðmus Mēnalis (n.m. dat. baðmua mēnalitma): phase of the moon.
• Ǧunge (n.n, dat. ǧunǧa): Young Moon. (The phases of the moon from new to full.)
• Lēse (n.n, dat. lēša): New Moon (“Empty Moon”).
• Nio (n.n, dat. njuga): Waxing Crescent (“New Moon” – careful, false friends!)
• Tǣsue (n.n, dat. tǣsuja): Waxing/First Quarter (“Right Moon”).
• Saðe (n.n, dat. seþia): Gibbous Moon (“Sated Moon”).
• Laðe (n.n, dat. leþia): Old Moon  (The phases of the moon from full to new.)
• Futle (n.n, dat. fytlia): Full Moon (“Full Moon”).
• Flage (n.n, dat. fleǧa): Disseminating Moon  (“Fallow Moon”).
• Þlīðume (n.n, dat. þlīðumia): Waning/Last Quarter (“Left Moon”).
• Sigiðe (n.n, dat. sigiþia): Balsamic Moon (“Scythe Moon”).

Hreufs (n.m, dat. hreuva): Planet. While this readily translates to “planet” in our traditional understanding of it, there are small differences. Hreufs refers specifically to celestial objects which orbit a sun and have achieved hydrostatic equilibrium (i.e. they are round), so this includes the category of dwarf planets which do not clear their solar neighborhood. Pluto may not be a planet anymore, but it is definitely a hreuf, as is Ceres, and Eris, and others! Hreufs comes from the verb hreuvna ‘to bend’ or ‘to arc’, i.e. ‘to be round’, hence the additional importance placed on hydrostatic equilibrium.

The planets in Valthungian are generally named for the Germanic counterparts of the Roman and Greek deities they are named for in most languages, though most with a j- or u-stem suffix to distinguish them from the Gods themselves, and it doesn’t hurt that that obscures them a little from the mayonnaise people who get excited whenever someone says “Germanic” on the internet.

• Brekurio (n.n, dat. Brekuria): Mercury (from Latin Mercurius).
• Wōðe (n.n, dat. Wœuǧa): Mercury (from Wōðnas ‘Odin’, an archaic name, now mostly replaced by Brekurio).
• Frīðe (n.n, dat. Frīǧa): Venus (from Frīde ‘Frigg’).
• Miǧingraþs (n.f, dat. Miǧingraða) Earth (“Middle Area”). Not to be confused with reða, which just means ‘dirt’.
• Tījo (n.n, dat. Tījuga): Mars (from Tījus ‘Tiw, Týr’).
• Sive (n.n, dat. Sibia): Ceres (from Sifs ‘Sif’).
• Þundre (n.n, dat. Þyndria): Jupiter (from Þundra ‘Thor’).
• Boro (n.n, dat. Borua): Saturn (from Bor ‘Bor’).
• So Boris Greða (n.f, dat. þiža Boris Greða) Saturn’s Rings. (Literally, “Bur’s Belt”) – Note that it’s “Boris” and not “Borus,” so actually “Bur” and not the derived planetary name.
• Būre (n.n, dat. Bȳria): Uranus (from Bȳria ‘Búrr’).
• Dreðo (n.n, dat. Dreðua): Neptune (from Dreðus ‘Njǫrðr, Nerthuz’).
• Hale (n.n, dat. Helia): Pluto (from Helia ‘Hel, Hela, Hell’).
• Luke (n.n, dat. Lyča): Eris (from Luka ‘Loki’).

Rikuže (n.n, dat. rikuža): eclipse (of any sort).

• Tunglarikuže (n.n, dat. tunglarikuža): eclipse (pretty much a synonym of rikuže, though the latter has some metaphorical applications that are lost once you add tungla- to the word.)
• Rikuže sōgilare (n.n, dat. rikuža sōgilaritma): solar eclipse.
• Rikuže mēnale (n.n, dat. rikuža mēnalitma): lunar eclipse.
• Blōðe (n.n, dat. blœuþia): lunar eclipse (informal).

Tungla (n.n, dat. tungla): planet, star, asteroid, sun, moon, natural satellite, or any other large celestial body. This is a nice old word that has sadly fallen out of use in English, though it would probably be a modern “**tungle,” rhyming with “jungle,”  meaning basically anything in the sky that isn’t a bird or a cloud. Any “heavenly sphere,” if you will, but the modern Valthungian word also extends to celestial objects that are not spherical, like asteroids.

• Tangle (n.n, dat. tenglia): comet. This word has some mysterious etymology, but the consensus is usually that it was an early portmanteau of tungla (see above) and tagla ‘ponytail’ with a j-stem suffix added.
• Tunglasproþs (n.f, dat. tunglasproða) orbit. Literally, “racetrack for celestial objects.”
• Strǣna (n.f, dat. strǣna): asteroid.

In English, an asteroid is any small rocky object which orbits the sun, but the definition of strǣna in Valthungian is both broader and narrower. Any asteroid which is round is considered to be a hreuf (‘planet’), while similar rocky bodies orbiting or caught in the orbit of planets – which we would call moons or satellites in English – are also strǣna in Valthungian.

• Sa Strǣnaþrinǧ (n.m, dat. þam Strǣnaþringa) The Asteroid Belt
• Strǣnahuīn (n.n, dat. strǣnahuīna): meteor, shooting star, falling star.
• Tunglamēna (n.m, dat. tunglamēnin) moon (not Earth’s), planetary moon.

Tunglamēna is a specialized word which specifically means any object orbiting a planet (or dwarf planet) which is round in shape (i.e. large enough to have reached hydrostatic equilibrium). Smaller planetary satellites which are not round are considered to be asteroids (“strǣna”), though if it needs to be specified that they orbit a planet or another satellite as opposed to the Sun, they can be called Tunglastrǣna. 

Þos Strenasiglis (n.f.pl, dat. þem strenasiglim): The Zodiac.

• Widrus (n.m, dat. wiðrua): Aries.
• Ǭsus (n.m, dat. ǭsua): Taurus.
• Tuinulingas (n.m.pl, dat. tuinulingma): Gemini.
• Krāba (n.m, dat. krābin): Cancer.
• Ljuga (n.m, dat. ljugin): Leo.
• Magaþs (n.f, dat. magaða): Virgo.
• Wēga (n.f, dat. wēgin): Libra.
• Skrœpia (n.m, dat. skrœpin): Scorpio.
• Šutaris (n.m, dat. šutaria): Sagittarius.
• Havra (n.m, dat. havra): Capricorn.
• Ǧutaris (n.m, dat. ǧutaria): Aquarius.
• Fiškas (n.m.pl, dat. fiškma): Pisces.

Þo mēla þiža Strenasigliro (n.n.pl, dat. þem mēlma þiža Strenasigliro): The Zodiacal Periods. Valthungian has different terms for the zodiac periods themselves, which make up part of the Valthungian calendar. This isn’t so much an astrology thing as a measurement of the seasons, lining up with the Chinese “Solar Terms” or 節氣 (jiéqì).

• Wynimēnaþs (n.m, dat. Wynimēnaða): Period of Aries (the pre-Gregorian month of April).
• Milukimēnaþs (n.m, dat. Milukimēnaða): Period of Taurus (pre-Gregorian May).
• Sutnamēnaþs (n.m, dat. Sutnamēnaða): Period of Gemini (pre-Gregorian June).
• Linþis (n.m, dat. Linþia): Period of Cancer (pre-Gregorian July).
• Haugimēnaþs (n.m, dat. Haugimēnaða): Period of Leo (pre-Gregorian August).
• Wiðumēnaþs (n.m, dat. Wiðumēnaða): Period of Virgo (pre-Gregorian September).
• Wīnamenaþs (n.m, dat. Wīnamēnaða): Period of Libra (pre-Gregorian October).
• Blōtamenaþs (n.m, dat. Blōtamēnaða): Period of Scorpio (pre-Gregorian November).
• Wintrumēnaþs (n.m, dat. Wintrumēnaða): Period of Sagittarius (pre-Gregorian December).
• Ǧulis (n.m, dat. Ǧulia): Period of Capricorn (pre-Gregorian January).
• Langistmēnaþs (n.m, dat. Langistmēnaða): Period of Aquarius (pre-Gregorian February).
• Blatimēnaþs (n.m, dat. Blatimēnaða): Period of Pisces (pre-Gregorian March).

Rūme (n.n, dat. rȳmia) Space, outer space.

• Þa Gaskējo Sōgilare (n.n, dat. þam gaskējuga sōgilaritma): The Solar System (our own).
• Gaskējo tunglare (n.n, dat. gaskējuga tunglaritma): solar system, planetary system (someone else’s).
• Gamíluke (n.f, dat. gamíluča) galaxy.
• Þa Rǭmarūm (n.n, dat. þam Rǭmarūma) the Milky Way. (Fun fact: If you want to get literal about it, Rǭmarūm could be translated as “Creamy Space.”)
• Rūminǭst (n.m, dat. rūminǭsta) space ship, starship.
• Rūmiberia (n.m, dat. rūmiberin) space shuttle.

“Live shamed, and die empty.” – Camina Drummer

 I felt like this needed to be translated into Valthungian for some reason:

“Live shamed, and die empty.” – Camina Drummer 

“Kuiži skamiða, sljutu lēsa.” – Kamina Ǧamma

29 Ǧulis, 1612

Another journal blurb. It’s got some slightly personal stuff in there, so you’re gonna have to learn Valthungian if you want to read it, but tl;dr I applied for a new job yesterday and I hope it sucks a lot less than the rest of the jobs I’ve been dealing with for the past eight years. At least it’s not for an Evil Corporation (galīkaduþs blaugawīsa) this time, though, so that’s nice.

18 Ǧanismēnaðis 2022 (1612.01.29)

Gistradagis mik frolágiðik tō drava froðu ravaǧin miðiža Skōla Ravaðis Gamǣnduǧižas Skœučis Njužižas swā hlipi·ambātalis. Suējuga nīsua vližik tō drav·ambātalitma af 8 unþ 5 aftralīðna, wēsitma fā, skātakuam forkuíðamǣtiko ǧukuna tat ǣgna, jā nī ta ravaǧin uf galīkaduða blaugawīsatma. Ik wēnia þīk it gita, þā ik mag tō birœuǧina fraðatma drava mīnin aftrakuímna instáða birœuǧins fraðatma gǣðua mīnin ǣnis dravis!

28 Ǧulis, 1612

I’ve been trying to make myself practice writing in Valthungian a little more, so I started keeping a journal with just a few lines a day. Here’s today, where I found myself very excited to have to make a distinction between thermometer and thermostat, and invent words for various types of gauges!

28 Ǧulis, 1612

Itma ist avrave klaþ hisdagis, ekiðo nī swē klaþ līka gistradag, þenis anstœuðins hehláþ -17°. Hisdagis sō hǭðuremi skal rǣkna 6°, eki sā winǧ, sā snǣjus, sā slǭta, þat rignu dōnþ þet·itm·avrava klaðiža þynča. Sā winǧ gœ̄žiþ! Itma ist windahuœuti:

‹ Windas avra, ižis magun gaslīðinins dōn, gitnaþ usbíðna, ǣða ǧuðan skegunþ.

Hǭðagustas: sunþǭstra 80 unsta 100 km/h.

Gastáþs: Skōte Njuge.

Huīlins: His undranis hitm·anþanǣča.

Inmēlinis: Windagustas avrista gitnaþ in gœ̄žim hǭðižam jā anþatma sǣjubanka usbíðna. Itma gitiþ usbíðna, þeti windas minǧnan hižis nātis fram wista ǭsta tō. Gaslīðins gatímbrinaro mag skegun, frisātis þrōvaskīvnaro ǭgadoraru. Gustas avra magun wǣtins lǭsans vrepna, ǣða astnas brečin. ›

Ik ǧukua þō vremin inþatm·ambǣča mīnin gā, eki gitnik tuismitan þī s·uremisčurins þatǣn þrjuþ siža. Ǭðagins ǣðik hātuskrœčin!

The original:

Rough translation:

January 17, 2022
It is very cold today, though not as cold as yesterday, which started out at -17°. The high today will be 6°, but the wind and snow/sleet/rain makes it seem much colder. The wind is wailing! There is a wind warning:

“Strong winds that may cause damage are expected or occurring.
Maximum gusts: southeasterly 80 to 100 km/h.
Locations: Nova Scotia.
Time span: this afternoon and this evening.
Remarks: Strongest wind gusts are expected over higher terrain and along the coast. Winds are expected to diminish from west to east tonight. Damage to buildings, such as to roof shingles and windows, may occur. High winds may toss loose objects or cause tree branches to break.”

I have turned up the heat in my office, but I suspect that the thermostat may be merely decorative. Fortunately I have a hoodie!

The Valthungian Alphabet (videos & playlist)

 Over the past few months, as I’ve had time, I’ve created three videos about the Valthungian Alphabet and pronunciation. The first one is short and sweet: Names of the letters and what they mean. Not even three minutes out of your day! The second and third are quite a bit more involved: The second goes into detail about each letter and its pronunciation, Romanisation, and various quirks. The third does the same for the seven “non-alphabetic long vowels,” and then goes on a deep dive into orthography and phonology.

You can watch all three in order with this playlist: 

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKJsXZMSZ0JnEropqhRAZtrnNfl_zqL-l

Or you can watch them individually below:

Part 1: The Alphabet, Short and Sweet

Part 2: The Alphabet: Deep Dive into Individual Letters

Part 3: The Non-Alphabetic Letters and Deep Dive into Phonology and Orthography

What’s in a Name? Behind the Origin of the Ox-Yew Language

The real story: When I first started working on the language, E, O, W, X, and Y were the only Latin letters I didn’t use in its orthography, so I thought it would be funny to make the name of the language out of those overlooked letters. (I’ve since started using W, X, and Y in the orthography as well, but that’s a different story.)

Those of you who know me know that I am not much in the way of a con-worlder. I create language, and sometimes just enough detail to make the language work, or make it funny, or make it strange. In this case, the in-world explanation for the name is that a team of linguists sent to study the language inquired about its speakers at a village near where they supposedly lived. This is maybe, vaguely, somewhere in China or Mongolia or eastern Russia (because that's how precise a con-worlder I am), and the linguists were only passably proficient in the local official language; furthermore, the inhabitants of the village they visited spoke a minority language that the researchers didn’t speak at all. So, through garbled second and third languages on both sides, they managed to communicate who they were looking for and find directions. The precise conversation is lost to history, but the researchers’ interpretation was this:

“Oh, yes, the people who live past that mountain. Go there [points]. They are called the Ox-Yew people.”

What the villager actually said:

“Why would you want to go see those people, past that mountain? [gestures] There’s nothing there but cows and trees.”

https://linguifex.com/wiki/Ox-Yew

Large Magical Creatures

Sometime around two millennia ago, word reached the East Germanic people of a mysterious giant magical creature from the south which they called ulbanduz. By the time Gothic rolled around a few hundred years later, the Goths decided this must refer to the only large animal from the south they had encountered at that point, and ulbandus was the name they gave to the lowly camel (specifically to the dromedary, as they had never seen a bactrian camel at this point). 

 After “immigrating” to Rome, where they saw all sorts of things they had never imagined back in the forests of Eastern Europe, they quickly realized that there was another kind of ulbandus which had two humps instead of just the one, and they called this one kamilus after the Greek fashion. 

 Gradually it became clear that neither the dromedary nor the bactrian camel were actually representative of the mysterious ulbandus, and that it must necessarily be some other giant creature from the south. But because the language was changing quite rapidly at this point, a division emerged, and we end up with two words: uvlandus ‘rhinocerus’ and luvandus ‘dromedary’. 

 As the soon-to-be-former Goths were exposed to words like Latin elephantus and Greek ἐλέφᾱς, it was evident that ulbandus was actually an elephant, but by the time that became clear, that semantic ship had sailed, so they just stole the word fíll from the Vikings (because the Vikings had so very many elephants!) and from Late Old Valthungian times, ‘elephant’ has been fīls. Well, the African elephant, at least, though the Vikings’ word fíll was taken from Arabic فِيل‎ (fīl), which in turn came from Persian پیل‎ (pīl), and did specifically refer to the Asian elephant. Later they learned about the existence of the Asian elephant as well, so the Early Middle Valthungians called this smaller-eared variety aabvus (later āvus), from… well, we don’t really know how they came upon this word, but it’s most likely borrowed from Egyptian abu. Which is obviously an African elephant. Because the universe loves balance, especially when it’s funny. 

 The semantic space of luvandus later expanded and came to cover most camelid species, though the bactrian camel continues to be known as kamilus. 

 And this is how the Valthungian people came to think of llamas as a type of elephant, because the ancient world was truly terrifying and confusing. 

• āvus n.st.m.u Asian elephant. 
• fīls n.st.m.a African elephant. 
• kamilus n.st.m.u Bactrian (“two-humped”) camel. 
• luvandus n.st.m.u Camel, camelid, dromedary. 
• uvlandus n.st.m.u Rhinocerus.

R-stem nouns

A few days ago, I wrote a Word-of-the-Hrmm blurb about the r-stem noun tǣkra, and in it I had mentioned that the r-stems are a very rare noun class consisting of only eleven nouns in Valthungian. In Gothic, only four are attested: fadar ‘father’, swistar ‘sister’, brōþar ‘brother’, and dauhtar ‘daughter’. English has five, adding ‘mother’ to the list (which all attested Gothic had replaced with aiþei), but these aren’t a particularly special class, since noun stem classes don’t really exist in English anymore, though the irregular plural brethren is at least a hat-tip toward its r-stem past.

The r-stems as a class are unique in that they are, in a way, an actual noun class, consisting exclusively of close family members, rather than just a grammatical class based on stem configuration like the a-, i-, and u-stems. 

In Proto-Germanic there are seven nouns reconstructed as r-stems, though one of them, *aihtǣr, is not a family member, but means ‘owner’. The others are: *fadǣr, *mōdǣr, *brōþǣr, *swestǣr, *duhtǣr, and *þeuhtǣr, the last meaning ‘grandson’.

PGmc.	Gothic	Griutungi	O.Val.	M.Val.	Val.
*brōþǣr	brōþar	*brōþar	*brouðar	brôðʀ	brōðra	‘brother’
*duhtǣr	dauhtar	*dohtar	*dohtar	dꜵtʀ	dǭtra	‘daughter’
*fadǣr	fadar	*fadar	faðar	faðʀ	faðra	‘father’
*mōdǣr	-	*mōdar	*mouðar	môðʀ	mōðra	‘mother’
*swestǣr	swistar	*swistar	*swistar	swistʀ	swistra	‘sister’
*þeuhtǣr	-	*diuhtar	*divhtar	dzjûtʀ	ǧūtra	‘grandchild’
	-	*þiuhtar	*þivhtar	þjûtʀ	þjūtra	‘grandson’
	-			þjustʀ	þjustra	‘granddaughter’
*taikuraz	-	*tǣkur	*taekur	tækʀ	tǣkra	‘brother-in-law’
*swegrō	swaihrō	*swehrō	*swehrou	swæro	swǣra	‘mother-in-law’
*swehuraz, *swegraz	swaihra	*swehra	*swehra	swæra	swǣra	‘father-in-law’

The first anomaly on the winding path to Valthungian’s eleven r-stems: *þeuhtǣr ‘grandson’ came to have a parallel form of *deuhtǣr, probably a dialectal variant somewhere within East Germanic, or possibly even an early borrowing from West Germanic, but more likely an analogy with *duhtǣr ‘daughter’, as this latter form came to mean explicitly ‘granddaughter’. Around 1300ᴀᴅ, however, a new form of þjustʀ for ‘granddaughter’ was innovated in Middle Valthungian, likely an analogy with swistʀ ‘sister’, and *deuhtǣr – by this time dzjûtʀ - underwent an interesting change, being converted to a neuter noun and referring broadly to ‘grandchild’ of either sex. Nouns changing gender is very unusual – though not completely unheard-of in East Germanic – but in this case the change was logical and fairly unremarkable, as the masculine and feminine r-stem nouns had exactly the same declension, and the neuter pronoun was regularly used for plurals containing more than one gender. The only really odd thing about it is that it retains the nominative and accusative plural endings where we would normally expect no ending for the neuter. In modern Valthungian, this word may be found in any gender, as applicable.

Around the same time that Middle Valthungian þjūtʀ was giving rise to þjustʀ and dzjûtʀ was boldly defying the binary, the a-stem tækur ‘brother-in-law’ was being reanalyzed as an r-stem as well, speeding up the dropping of its unstressed vowel.

Finally, well into the age of Early Modern Valthungian, the other in-laws, now merged as swǣra, but initially with slightly different declensions, started losing some of their weak declensions to r-stem endings, possibly initially to avoid confusion during the era of “syllabic unpacking,” during which pretty much all Middle Valthungian endings containing a sonorant (m, n, r, or l) were suddenly bursting out in a flourish of vowels in occasionally unexpected places.

Structurally, the r-stems are distinguished by a few unique features. The nominative, dative, and accusative are all identical in the singular. The nominative plural shows i-umlaut in those which contain a vowel which can be umlauted. (NB: The vowels of þjūtris, þjustris, and ǧūtris are not umlauted, because they originally all come from the /iu/ diphthong which was not subject to umlaut.) The dative and accusative plurals are those of the u-stems. Finally the genitive plural shows a final –o (in Middle Valthungian –u), consistent with other genitive plurals bedecked with their new-found Latin affix, but rather than the full –aro (from –ārum) ending, only the –o carries through, perhaps because the r-stem made the rest feel redundant.

	Nom.Sg.	Gen.Sg.	Dat.Sg.	Acc.Sg.	Nom.Pl.	Gen.Pl.	Dat.Pl.	Acc.Pl.
‘brother’	brōðra	brōðris	brōðra	brōðra	brœuðris	brōðro	brōðrum	brōðruns
‘daughter’	dǭtra	dǭtris	dǭtra	dǭtra	dœ̄tris	dǭtro	dǭtrum	dǭtruns
‘father’	faðra	faðris	faðra	faðra	feðris	faðro	faðrum	faðruns
‘mother’	mōðra	mōðris	mōðra	mōðra	mœuðris	mōðro	mōðrum	mōðruns
‘sister’	swistra	swistris	swistra	swistra	swistris	swistro	swistrum	swistruns
‘grandchild’	ǧūtra	ǧūtris	ǧūtra	ǧūtra	ǧūtris	ǧūtro	ǧūtrum	ǧūtruns
‘grandson’	þjūtra	þjūtris	þjūtra	þjūtra	þjūtris	þjūtro	þjūtrum	þjūtruns
‘granddaughter’	þjustra	þjustris	þjustra	þjustra	þjustris	þjustro	þjustrum	þjustruns
‘brother-in-law’	tǣkra	tǣkris	tǣkra	tǣkra	tǣkris	tǣkro	tǣkrum	tǣkruns
‘mother-in-law’	swǣra	swǣris	swǣra	swǣra	swǣris	swǣro	swǣrum	swǣruns
‘father-in-law’	swǣra	swǣris	swǣra	swǣra	swǣris	swǣro	swǣrum	swǣruns

The r-stems – and, indeed, most familial nouns in Valthungian – tend to be more highly specialized than English, most having some sort of indication of patrilineage. Among the above terms, *þeuhtǣr and all of its descendants, while they do translate to ‘grandchild’, all refer specifically to children of the son. The daughter’s children are all variants of aninkliþ. Also tǣkra fails to cover the entire semantic space of ‘brother-in-law’, referring only to the brother of one’s spouse, while the husband of one’s sibling is ǣðums.

For reference, here are some of the family members beyond the r-stems:

• aunt, father’s sister: faða (ō-stem)
• aunt, mother’s sister: mœuðria (jǭ-stem)
• brother: brōðra (r-stem)
• brother-in-law, sibling’s husband: ǣðums (a-stem), swigra-brōðra (r-stem) 
• brother-in-law, spouse’s brother: tǣkra (r-stem), swigra-brōðra (r-stem) 
• daughter: dǭtra (r-stem)
• daughter-in-law: brūþs (i-stem), snuža (ō-stem) 
• father: faðra (r-stem), āta (ô-stem)
• father-in-law: swǣra (r-stem) 
• grandfather, mother’s father: auga (ô-stem)
• grandchild, daughter’s child: aninkliþ (a-stem, neuter)
• grandchild, son’s child: ǧūtra (r-stem, neuter)
• granddaughter, daughter’s daughter: aninkliði (į̄-stem)
• granddaughter, son’s daughter: þjustra (r-stem)
• grandfather, father’s father: ana (ô-stem)
• grandmother, father’s mother: atna (ǭ-stem)
• grandmother, mother’s mother: atma (ǭ-stem)
• grandson, daughter’s son: aninkliþs (a-stem)
• grandson, son’s son: þjūtra (r-stem)
• mother: mōðra (r-stem), ǣði (į̄-stem) 
• mother-in-law: swǣra (r-stem) 
• nephew, brother’s son: sūtruǧa (jô-stem)
• nephew, sister’s son: niva (ô-stem)
• niece, brother’s daughter: nift (i-stem)
• niece, sister’s daughter: nifča (jô-stem)
• sister: swistra (r-stem)
• sister-in-law, sibling’s wife: swigra-swistra (r-stem) 
• sister-in-law, spouse’s sister: swigra-swistra (r-stem) 
• son: sunus (u-stem)
• son-in-law: mēǧ (a-stem) 
• uncle, father’s brother: faðruǧa (jô-stem)
• uncle, mother’s brother: augahǣms (a-stem)

WotM Valthungian: þaðragi

Þaðragi [ˈθɑðrɑˌɡi] adv.rel. whence, from where.

WotM Brooding: uhspuhmaukooningee

Uhspuhmaukooningee [ʌ.spʌˈmau̯.kuˌnɪŋ.i] adj. lost.

WotM Valthungian: tǣkra

Tǣkra [ˈte̞ːkrɑ] n. brother-in-law; spouse’s brother.

Edit: The genitive plural in the image should be tǣkro. That’s what you get for automation!