The Gothic language is a real challenge for me, especially since I am not a linguist and have no background in Germanic languages. Still, I think the judicious use of Gothic adds a certain flavor to the writing, especially when describing concepts of cultural significance or when use of an English-language term feels especially anachronistic. Of course, the use of Gothic as the language of the Gepids is not without its own issues to take into consideration–a topic I’ve addressed elsewhere.

I am currently working on a scene in which Rosamund witnesses the “blooming of the the Tisza”–a natural spectacle which sees millions of long-tailed mayflies (Palingenia longicauda) emerge from their larval phase, mate, and die, all in a matter of hours. But as I prepared to write, I faced a quandary: what would Rosamund call a mayfly?

In English, “mayfly” comes from “may” + “fly, ” presumably because mayflies hatch during the late-spring or early-summer. Our month of May is derived from the third month of the Roman calendar, “Maius.” Rosamund, however, would not use the Roman calendar, and there is no attested word in Gothic for mayfly. The use of our English word for this insect struck me as enough of an anachronism that I decided to reverse engineer a Gothic term for them instead.

My first step was to figure out whether this insect is also called a “mayfly” in modern German. To my relief, it is not. A mayfly in German is an “eintagsfliege”– a “one-day fly.” Very literal! I decided to use this as my template for a Gothic reconstruction.

The next thing to consider was whether a Gothic word similar to “eintags” would exist in Gothic. We have an attested Gothic word “ahtaudogs”–“ahtau” + “dogs” (eight+days old) and “fidurdogs” (four+days old), so there is precedent for this sort of temporal adjective. My best guess for “one-day” is, therefore, “ainsdogs,” which should be roughly cognate with German “eintags”. That’s the first hurdle cleared.

Unfortunately, there is also no attested word for “fly” in Gothic. In German, “fly” is “fliege.” I assume that, similar to English, it is derived from the verb “to fly,” which in German is “fliegen.” Lo and behold, we do have a Gothic verb “to fly”–“fliugan.” So I simply had to figure out how to turn this verb into a noun.

This was easier said than done. I started by considering the past participle. “Fliugan” is a strong ii verb, which means that its vowels change in the past tense. We have similar verbs in English, for example “I fall /I fell” In the case of “fliugan,” the “iu” shifts to a “u” in the past tense. So presumably, the first element of the Gothic “fly” would be “flug.”

Now to figure out an ending. To change a verb into a noun in Gothic, the general rule is to add “Þs” in place of the normal verb ending. However, when “Þs” follows a “g” (as in “flug”) it becomes “hts.” At last, I had a Gothic word for fly–“flughts.” There was much rejoicing in my office.

Then, I took a second-look at this new word I’d created. “Flughts” didn’t feel much like “fliege.” It actually reminded me of the English word “flight,” which is also a noun derived from the verb “to fly.” Had I accidentally created a word better suited to the tarmac than a riverbank? A quick look at the German confirmed my suspicions. If you’re running late to the airport in Berlin, you might miss your “flug.” It was back to the drawing board.

I decided to really dig down into some of my resources to see if I could find any etymological comparisons. And there, deep in the bowels of G.H. Balg’s 1887 Comparative Glossary of the Gothic Language with Particular Attention to English and German, I found this entry:

O. E. fleoje {without uml., Goth. *fliugo), f, Mdl. E. fleoje, fle^e, O. H. G. flioga, /., M. H. G. vliege, N. H. G. fliege, f, fly, and 0. E. fly^e {with uml., Goth, fliugjo), f, Mdl. E. flis, Mdn. E. fly, O. H. G. fliuga, M. H. G. vliuge, f, fly

Balg, 1887

Just like that, I had my answer. Balg had apparently reverse-engineered “fly” over 130 years ago. His guess was “fliugo,” and unlike me, he was a philologist with a PhD (it says so right on the cover!) Even an ignoramus like me can see that fliugan/fliugo is much closer to fliegen/fliege.

When Rosamund goes to the river, she witnesses the dance of the ainsdogs-fliugons. And as for mayflies? Never heard of ’em.

n.b. I am not an expert in the Gothic language or comparative linguistics. If you are either of these things, let me know what you think.