Subject: Good thing most of them are dead, then.
Author:
Posted on: 2016-11-29 12:43:00 UTC
And that the ones dead aren't exactly prioritary for reincarnation, and that the living ones are far, far away...
Subject: Good thing most of them are dead, then.
Author:
Posted on: 2016-11-29 12:43:00 UTC
And that the ones dead aren't exactly prioritary for reincarnation, and that the living ones are far, far away...
But since the question was, "Can you spot the prescription drug names among Elf names from J.R.R. Tolkien's legendarium?" I’ll still pretend that I got them all.
HG
So it looks like I really should get around to reading the Silmarillion.
If you're worried you won't be able to get into the Silm itself, why not start with the standalone Children of Hurin novel, published in 2007? It's a version of one of Tolkien's three central tales - the one he actually managed to finish! - and lets you get a feel for Beleriand and the First Age without jumping straight into In The Beginning Was Eru That In Arda Is Called Iluvatar.
Of course, it's also depressing as all get-out, but you can't have everything.
hS
I've actually got the Silm at home and I've been wanting to get started on it for over a year now, I think, but always got sidetracked after a few chapters.
It might actually be a good idea to read Children of Hurin first. One of the main things that always kept me from finishing the Silm was the sheer load of characters, each of wich has three names at least three names that are all used regularly, and the fact that the names of different people all sound very similar.
Be aware that the Silmarillion as published is actually four books. Here's a summary of the first two (Ainulindale and Valaquenta):
In the beginning God and the Valar made the world. The Valar (~ angels) are pretty cool, except Melkor, who sucks and wants to destroy everything. He's a persuasive blighter, though.
Unfortunately I can't really summarise you past the beginning of the Quenta Silmarillion proper. You could try just skipping ahead (jump down to Chapter 18 for where the story starts getting some space to breathe instead of being 'and then two hundred years passed'), but you'll then probably need to poke around the index to find out what a Gondolin or a Thingol is.
One more option: next year the Estate is releasing a standalone version of the tale of Beren and Luthien, to go with the Children of Hurin one. Between them, they should actually do a decent job of orienting you in Beleriand and help you get through the denser parts of the Silm.
hS
First was Finwë, whose name doesn’t mean anything (though it can be interpreted as ‘Hairy man’. House of Finwë: werewolves? Worth considering.) He got married to a woman who was named Jewel by her father, and Weaver by her mother, elves tending to get one name from each.
The couple had a son, who Finwë called Finwë (as you do). Fortunately his mother named him Spirit of Fire, which he went by, so that makes things easier.
Finwë’s wife died, and Finwë got remarried (big drama there) to Indis, whose name pretty much means ‘woman’. Their first child was a daughter, who was called Findis, in the Meyer-honoured tradition of portmanteau names. It could mean ‘Hairy woman’. (House of Finwë werewolf theory: confirmed.)
Then they had a son, who Finwë named Finwë, because it worked once, so why not twice? Luckily Finwë the first had an attack of good sense and gave his sons add-on names: the older became Skilled Finwë, while the younger became Wise Finwë. His mother called him High Chief, which – given that Finwë was High King – was something of a slap in the face to the eldest son. (Hint: irritating someone named Spirit of Fire is not a good idea.)
Then there was another daughter, who Finwë called Sexy (all right, ‘desirable’), and her mother named Laughing Maiden. And then a third son, who was of course named Finwë. He got upgraded to Noble Finwë, while his mother continued her project of upsetting the previous son by calling him Wisdom.
Now, Skilled Finwë didn’t much like the fact that his mum was dead, and really hated his stepmother (possibly due to her malicious naming habits), and for that matter wasn’t too pleased with the implication that his half-brothers were wiser and nobler than him. When he got married, he decided to assert his position as his father’s son with a very large naming stick. He had seven(!) sons, all oh whom he named Finwë with various epithets.
First came Third Finwë (because Skilled Finwë and Original Finwë were the only other ones who count, you see). Then Chief Finwë, stealing the latter half of Wise Finwë’s mother-name. Then came Strong Finwë, Dark Finwë, and Skilled Finwë the second (who’s the only one who ended up using his father-name – surprise!). Finally we have the twins, Little Finwë and Last Finwë.
Fortunately their mother was one of the few members of the house with a lick of sense. She named them (in order) Handsome, Gold-shaper, Swift to Anger, Red-faced, Little Father (this is Skilled Finwë the second; apparently it was really obvious), and then the twins, both of whom she called Redhead. Of course Skilled Finwë (the elder) objected to the duplicate name, so she called one of them Doomed; he didn’t like that much better.
At the same time, Wise Finwë was having his own kids, and it seems like his wife had a bit of a controlling hand over his naming tendencies (well, she was called Holy herself, so she had a vested interest). His first son came very near to being another Finwë, but ended up as Hairy Chief instead. On the other hand, remember that Wise Finwë’s mother-name was High Chief… yeah, there’s a lot of Chiefs in his line.
So his second son was called Mighty Chief. Then he had a daughter, whose name doesn’t seem to be translatable; probably a good thing, frankly. Then he had a third son, and decided this ‘partial self-naming’ thing wasn’t good enough, so he just straight-up called him High Chief. As you do. Then he stopped, because there was no point competing with Mr. Seven Sons, was there?
Noble Finwë was… pretty much as bad. He called his first son Champion, which is original, but his wife kept up the crazy by naming him Wisdom, which was also her husband’s mother-name, and another slap in the face for Wise Finwë. Then they had another son, who Noble Finwë named… Champion again. Hey, it worked for dad! He distinguished them by naming the eldest Hairy Champion (House of Finwë werewolf status: howling at the moon) and the younger Iron Champion.
The third son was another Champion, and may have been born after Skilled Finwë’s twins: he ended up as Champion of Doom. His mother’s contribution was to call him Fell Fire, riffing off Skilled Finwë’s preferred mother-name – look, these people really didn’t like each other, is what I’m saying.
Finally we have the daughter of the house: Noble Woman. Sounds good, but remember this is Noble Finwë’s daughter – he basically called her Girl Me. Her mother was even more baffled by having a daughter, and called her Tomboy.
At that point the sheer madcap naming ends; the following generation all have fairly sane names. But as a final capstone to the whole thing, when Wise Finwë became High King after Skilled Finwë’s death, he decided to add his father’s name to his own. The fact that it was already there didn’t bother him: he just stuck it on the front, becoming Finwë Wise Finwë.
This, naturally, the sons of Noble Finwë couldn’t stand (what with their father being High King back home now). So they did the same thing, retroactively renaming poor dad as Finwë Noble Finwë.
See? It all makes perfect sense!
(Conclusion one: Elves aren’t as imaginative about their names as we’d think. Conclusion two: House Finwë really hated each other. Conclusion three: they’re probably werewolves.)
hS
(Minor) case in point, Blizzard games.
The Warcraft RTS had characters called for instance Sylvanas Windrunner. Yes, boring in English, but in my opinion classier than the french translation 'Coursevent' that the MMORPG brought.
Heck, for all I now, english-speaking people could judge the latter classier, because that's not their tongue.
Now, the Noldorin royal line is really screwed up. No wonder Elrond or Galadriel never tried to claim a place in this duckfest when the place was open.
Last OT point: Out of (morbid) curiosity, what did you think of the game called The Shadow of Mordor, provided you heard about it?
She was the one I designated Girl Me/Tomboy. And she managed to work part of her own name into her daughter's - the 'Maiden Crowned with a Radiant Garland' gave birth to the girl 'Gifted with a Silver Crown'. Hmm... crowns, royalty... yeah, sounds about right for this family. (Come to think of it, CELEBorn and GaladRIel had CELEBRIan...)
Shadows of Mordor: I think book-canon could blow holes through it a mile wide, but I also thought it looked interesting as a way to explore (parts of) Middle-earth. I've not played it, though.
hS
Yeah, uh. Arwen's grandmother? Galadriel? Her original names were Artanis and Nerwen. ARtanis, NerWEN...ARWEN. Oh dear.
And then Celebrian and Elrond also have Elladan and Elrohir...though I'm of a mind to excuse that, since Elrond's brother was Elros and this mainly just looks like a nice way to remember him while also recycling name elements.
And don't get me started on Arwen's son Eldarion. First of all, that's both a cool and an awful name to give someone. And secondly...EL again, coupled with "oh, hey, so my mom was half-elven? So she and my dad named me 'Elf-son', or 'son of Elves', or something? Yeah, I'm going to just change my name as soon as I can, and seriously, my parents can't complain, my dad has like twenty names by now."
Seriously. Eldarion really got the short end of the stick there.
~DF
... 'Arwen' is... basically the same name as 'Artanis'. They both mean 'Noble Lady'.
I don't think we can forgive Elladan being named 'Elf-Man', honestly. Elrohir, maybe, the 'rider' component isn't something I recognise.
Elsewhere in the later generations we have Orodreth, who I probably confused someone by not listing as a son of Finarfin (Tolkien ended up with him as Angrod's son). His name in Quenya was Artaresto, which means High Climber; clearly Angrod had a better grip on reality than his parents. Orodreth's children were Finduilas (no Quenya name, but there's that Fin(d)- element again; hilariously, one Wiki parses it as 'hair like spring leaves'. Green-haired House Finwe: confirmed?) and Gil-Galad, whose father-name was High Flame. So, uh... that's 'better at being Feanor than Feanor', then? Stay classy, Orodreth.
Elsewhere, Idril (Itarillë, 'Sparkling Radiance') escapes most of the madness by being female, though she may have been given the end of Galadriel's nickname. Her son was Eärendil Ardamírë - his father name means sea-lover (pretty obvious, given Tuor was sent to Gondolin by Ulmo), and his mother-name means 'Jewel of the World'. Well, we always knew Idril was a seer; she even managed to work in a reference to Miriel there. Quite charming, actually.
Meanwhile over in crazyland... Curufin (aka Little Father) called his son... Silver Fist. Huh. Would not have pegged Curufin as the least crazy/pretentious parent among the grandchildren of Finwe.
hS
And despite all of them sounding like a drunk New Age druid with a lisp and an accent from up near Rhyl trying to sell you some lucky heather outside Oddbins, woe betide you should you mix them up. =]
... but it's a pretty wide range. ^_~
hS
And that the ones dead aren't exactly prioritary for reincarnation, and that the living ones are far, far away...
Because I was thinking of New Age types, the Welsh, various travelling folk (I think lucky heather is usually Romany gypsies, but I could be wrong), and of course Tolkien fans.
I was the one insulting an entire dead royal line. ^_^
hS
I tend to get New Age-y types trying to sell me bits of dying plant matter in Canterbury a lot more than Roma or other travellers; I realize and accept that this may be an anomaly peculiar to my circumstances. However, my point was that I don't find the various Tolkien languages particularly pleasant to read or hear, especially Sindarin, because it sounds so forced and trite. Lest you think I'm just dumping on Tolkien for the sake of contrarianism, I have exactly the same problem when imagining Marain from the Culture series; I just get the impression that everyone involved is trying way, way too hard.
Serious question, hS: how do the elves of Rivendell talk about bowel movements? Or athlete's foot? Or dysentery, or ringworm, or any one of a hundred other awful and/or embarrassing medical complaints? I mean, I know the answer is something akin to "leaf-ears don't get sick", but that always felt like a handwave to me. It makes Quenya and Sindarin sound fake, as though they were designed solely for the purpose of sounding pretty. As languages, they ring hollow.
However, I apologise for being offensive to the groups in my previous post; while it was not my intent to be so, that's not an excuse. This apology does, however, exclude Tolkien fans. I'm not about to lie, it was intended to be snarky about the tongues of the elves and written in a deliberately dismissive way. I could have phrased my points better, but chose not to; to suggest otherwise would be disingenuous.
... but I have to throw in a thirteenth-hour link:
Twenty-Two Words You Never Thought Tolkien Would Provide, including terms in both Qenya and Gnomish (ie, the early forms of what he developed into Quenya and Sindarin) for multiple bodily fluids (and one bodily solid). And also balfaug, a delightful Gnomish word meaning pretty much literally 'rascally drunk'.
It's Tolkien; there's always an answer. ;)
hS
My day is made. Tolkien, you genius, you.
~Neshomeh
Perhaps something akin to the nature-based language used in traditional Chinese medicine, which I'm learning about lately due to working as a receptionist at an acupuncture clinic. {= ) TCM talks about conditions/symptoms like "heart fire," "yin deficiency," "wet cold," "stagnation of the chi," "wind," and so forth. It's not exactly anatomy and physiology as we know it in the West, but it's worked pretty darn well for thousands of years, just with a different sort of vocabulary that doesn't translate particularly well to Western terms.
I could see Elves approaching the subject in much the same way, is my point. Lots of reference to things observed in the natural world.Also you try inventing a whole language from scratch and see how you do AHEM, sorry. Go back in the corner, Inner Tolkien Nut. Personally, I've never understood why people think French is so beautiful, so, y'know. De gustibus non disputandem or however that goes. {= )
~Neshomeh
... there is a 'poetic' Elvish word for having sex. ^_^ Yes, they not only have the noun puhta, but also a poetic verb púcë. One assumes they also had non-poetic words, but this is Tolkien we're talking about.
In general, Tolkien obviously didn't talk about bodily functions himself, but we know from LaCE that the Eldar celebrate begetting-days, not birth-days. That implies a lack of taboos about at least one bodily function, which we can probably extrapolate to others.
So while the actual answer to Scapegrace's question is 'dunno', a likely answer is close to Nesh's: they would have spoken as openly about them as seemed reasonable, probably using poetic terms that nevertheless convey their meaning very nicely.
If we want to extrapolate a little further, bear in mind that Quenya is Tolkien's 'elf-latin'; in Middle-earth, maybe they used Quenya borrowings to discuss technical (including medical) issues. Hmm... I think I might sit down and write out a dialogue about (say) blood poisoning at some point, just to see how it works out.
Scape, I think your question comes from a very English viewpoint. What you really mean is 'where's the Germanic?'. Quenya and Sindarin are like the Latin and French roots of the 'noble' half of English, but they don't encapsulate the Anglo-Saxon everyday vocab that you instinctively feel should be there.
I'd be interested to hear from Hardric on this point, actually (and anyone else who comes from somewhere with a non-mongrel language): do you feel like Tolkien's languages lack the tone for earthy discussions?
(And finally: if they really want to be crass, I bet they borrow from Mannish tongues. Mortals have a lot to swear about, and there's nothing better than giving your idiotic subordinate a proper tongue-lashing in Beorian to get some anger off your chest.)
hS, rambling
With in-line translations, since this is a demonstration, not fiction per se. Given the context, these two are probably Feanorians in northern Beleriand. Their names mean Sharp Sheath and Red-Gold Autumn, for no particular reason. I've also used a few words in quite strange ways, and a couple which are probably obsolete, but again, it's a demo, not strict canon.
Aicavainë: "Cullanta!" Cullanta!
Cullanta: "Ai... elen síla lumann' omentielvo, Aicavainë." Oh no… a star shines on the hour of our meeting, Aicavainë.
Aicavainë: "I eleni úmanyuval. Úsavin cardarlya!" The stars won’t help you now. I can’t believe you did that!
Cullanta: "Nanven colë quettar restallor; hlarnen yarra urquilion." I had to bring a report from the fields; I heard Orcs snarling.“
Aicavanië: "Equë harwelya i aháryiel maurë melmë, la hestolya!” Your wound says you needed care, not your captain!
Cullanta: “Nan lúsina; suncen míruvórë-“ I was fine; I drank some miruvor-
Aicavanië: “Cullanta, súcal sangwa sercellolya! Qui lemyas úpoica, hyaruvaltë telcol!” Cullanta, you’re drinking poison from your blood! If it doesn’t get cleaned, they’ll take your leg!
Cullanta: “Ui, nas faica. Appien lil olca.” No, it’s nothing. I’ve had worse.
Aicavanië: “I sangwa ná úmëa i rottor hroavassel. Rato helmal queruva mórin. Yulmë quatuvalyë.” The poison is swarming in the caves of your body. Soon your skin will turn black. Heat will fill you.
Cullanta: “Yulmë? Nas mara nin.” Drinking? Sounds good to me.
Aicavanië: “Úrë. Ar firuval.” Heat. And then you’ll die.
Cullanta: “Nan Elda, lá Engwa.” I’m Elvish, not a Sickly One.
Aicavanië: “Firuval. Nwalmenen.” You’ll die. Horribly.
Cullanta: “… ná i melissë hare?” … is the doctor [lit. carer, lover] around?
Aicavanië: “Náto. Ar nan sissë sinen caituval caimassë, ar únauval caimassëa.” Yes. And I’m here so you say in bed, instead of being bedridden.
But I don't find either sort of Elvish lacking. Foreign yes, but not lacking. After all, I'm used to discussing earthy things in the original language of the Bible.
Hebrew is a spoken language which used to be almost a ceremonial one. Latin is a ceremonial language (particularly in Catholicism, but I think I count academia too) which used to be a spoken one. I can't really get my head around people chatting about their bedsores in the language of alea iacta est or... well, it turns out I don't know any Bible quotes in Hebrew, but the point stands. ;) So why should Scape be able to imagine it in the language of elen sila lumenn' ormentielvo?
It's not about what you're speaking. It's all about what's written with it.
hS
To be fair, we never learned how to say "Where is the bathroom?" in Latin, mostly because there aren't really any situations that demand it, and naturally most textbooks stay away from the cruder side of language. Even still, there were often passages to translate that described everyday life for Romans. I believe the Oxford Latin books frequently had sections involving Quintus finding his friend Marcus drinking in the pub, to the point where it bordered on implying Marcus had a bit of a drinking problem (or at least, was the kind of student who preferred partying to actually studying). And that's before you get into translating classical poetry, which the instructors did not always screen for content...
First of all--no, hold on. Pre-first of all: your thing with the names I *can't* I was actually laughing so hard I had to take breaks to look away and *breathe*.
Okay. Now. First of all: Unless I'm gravely mistaken, Biblical Hebrew actually does involve some discussions of more earthly matters--wars and rape and begetting children and leprosy and so on. I doubt it's so extensive (from what we know, anyway; doubtless there are many words that we just don't know) that you could have a complete conversation about day to day matters or sickness--that's what happened when Modern Hebrew was being created, from what I heard, they eventually had to make up new words so that they could ask someone to put the kettle on--but I believe there's enough to start with.
My second point is just an addition--for some centuries in Europe (idk if this applied to speakers of Ladino and every other Jewish language that isn't Yiddish or not) Yiddish was used as the spoken language--the day to day language--and Hebrew was only used as a written language and even then primarily for religious purposes (though there is this great thing about the Rothschilds communicating in Hebrew letters so that no one else could read it). Basically, it was a diglossic situation. Nowadays, of course, Modern Hebrew exists and is in use--but it had to be developed quite a bit to become an all-purpose language again.
And now I'm out of things to talk about (apart from 'say, speaking of parallels, I have one about German and Yiddish!') so I should probably do the sensible thing and go back to my essay. But yeah. Those are my points. And thank you so, so much for the naming thing, and if a werewolf!sons of Feanor ficlet appears...you know where it came from.
~DF
I blame a number of years of medical school and the ability to correctly identify pharmaceuticals. Admittedly there were a few I was shaky on, hence my score, but I think I did pretty well.
Or my prescription drugs. Either will do.
I gave it to a friend who has never read Lord of the Rings, and he managed to get it that well.
—doctorlit only did as well as he did from all the pratcie at reading Elvish grammar conventions in oh-so-many PPC missions.
I'm not even kidding.
So, first of all, that should've been 27/30--I only caught Imin because I happened to read the Board thread first and saw the comments. Saeros also tripped me up--I'd been trying to think in basically anything but that particular dialect of Sindarin, which was probably a mistake. Though it has also been kind of a while since I was strongly involved in naming Elves, so I guess that's my other excuse :)
And, as mentioned, the saga! The exciting Tale of an Elf Named Xeljanz began life as a somewhat sarcastic aside, and will now be copied in here for your potential entertainment:
Me: /takes quiz/ Ah, yes, Xeljanz. What a spectacular Elf. No one could even pronounce his name, much less figure out how he'd gotten it--and how he was able to pronounce it to begin with--and so he eventually went to live with the Numenoreans, who spoke Adûnaic with all its strange sounds.
He ended up marrying a Numenorean named Xalkori, and they were very happy.
The happy couple eventually had a half-elven son named Vfend and a lovely half-elven daughter named, surprisingly normally, Idebenone. As with the other names, hers was of course nonsensical in any elvish language, but at least (as Xeljanz's kin would have concluded had they by this point been not only willing but able to ask after his well-being from travelers) it was composed of sounds capable of being uttered by the average elvish tongue.
(I mean, I guess they could just go 'hey, do you know anything about this crazy Elf with an unpronounceable name who went to live with the Numenoreans?' but if they didn't know where he'd gone, it'd get more difficult)
And now some story notes! Aka, behold le meta!
...pfahaha, I sent an anti-arthritis medication to go live with the Numenoreans, who can actually get old
And he sort of provides a cure by renewing the Elf in their bloodline, especially if his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren marry within the Numenoreans
This is hilarious
Hm. Xalkori...treats non-small cell lung cancer. Maybe she's a healer
And Idebenone treats Alzheimers, which makes some sense since her father in this story also treats a disease generally associated with old age...
And Vfend is...an antifungal medication. Well then
Guess he's not too serious about going into the family healing business!
And another thing:
Interestingly, you can get 21/30 just by alternating your answers (ie, every odd numbered question is drug, every even numbered one is elf).
If you do it with odd numbered questions being elf and even numbered questions being drug...well, apart from guessing that Oropher is a drug and Xeljanz is actually an Elf (as is the apparent Star Wars fan Anakinra--no surprise, as, like Xeljanz, Anakinra is into treating arthritis!), you get the much lower score of 7/30. And the moral of the story is...if you're going to guess, start with drugs?? That's a terrible moral. Stick to Elves, kids!
~DF
PS: Actually, Xeljanz's entire made-up family ends up getting the Elf option in the second experiment. I suppose that's my hint as to which way they choose, assuming they're given the same choice as Earendil's family?
Not surprised, was kinda thinking I may set an new low score. I have to agree with hS it was easy to tell some of the drugs apart from the elves because of the letter X.
For someone whose only source of Toliien knowledge was reading the TOS, though, I did well enough I guess.
I missed Imin (thanks to never reading all of the History of Middle-earth series) and Galathil (in a sad double-negative "I think it's an Elf but I think my guess is wrong").
A bit surprised I managed to do so good, with me keeping postponing reading all the books, and a long time since the Silmarion.
Not quite as good as I would have liked, but considering my terrible memory and how long it's been since I last read the Silmarillion (or any of the books for that matter) not too shabby.
^_~ Yes, 30.
They did a good job of picking most of the drug names. A lot of them look like one Elvish or another to even a non-casual glance. Their main problem was liking the letter X too much (it's actually not used at all in late-stage Elvish, though it's usually retained in Helcaraxe), and in thinking Tolkien used some straaaange consonant clusters. I remember a Vf, and a Qv, neither of which look plausible even in early Qenya.
The two that gave me trouble were Imin - until I remembered the fairytale he's from - and Galathil, which I could tell was an Elvish name but couldn't actually remember running into. Which is moderately embarrassing, since his brother is Lord of Lorien, and his daughter was Queen of Doriath.
hS
Frankly, I'm surprised I did that well.
Not bad, considering I'm not exactly a Tolkien nut. :P
I thought about posting that quiz, but I forgot, so I'm glad you've done it. I got 28 out of 30, myself, and only had an excuse for missing one of them. I fully expect hS to get them all. {= )
~Neshomeh
Did you create immortal drugs, or seriously drugged-up mini-Balrogs? :D
hS
I missed Imin (who I should have remembered from that ridiculous Gaia-avatar comic if nothing else) and one that I can't recall right now, but he was apparently one of Tolkien's very first characters, and I'd never heard of him.
A couple of them were lucky guesses, too, I admit. Some of the more vowel-heavy ones, like Daonil and Saeros, could've gone either way to my ear. The former actually sounds more Elvish to me than the latter, except that I don't think the dipthong ao is very common. As for the latter, I guess I had a vague memory of having come across it before. Basically, though, pure luck. {= )
~Neshomeh