Łedu

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Grammar (Somwålldell/Somwåldel)

Grammatical Profile

Łedu is an agglutinative VSO language – in other words, head-initial and right-branching – that almost always places its predicate at the start of the sentence. It boasts a rigid noun case system with 9 cases (nominative, accusative, genitive, dative, ablative, postpositional, instrumental, evidential, and vocative), allowing for a malleable word order, although most sentences nonetheless tend to follow a relatively similar pattern. Despite this capability, nouns typically only appear prior to the verb with the help of fronting prefixes related to information structure, and the language is not a model Greenbergian specimen, as it employs postpositions while retaining a VSO structure. Morphologically, it makes extensive use of affixes for purposes ranging from inflection to derivation, quantification to qualification, and cliticization to compounding. Characteristics such as nominal case, gender, person, and number, and verbal tense, aspect, and mood, are discrete and reflected by a precise cast of morphemes.

In general, Łedu includes the following syntactic categories as individual words, each of which will be covered accordingly in its own section:

  1. Verbs
  2. Nouns
  3. Adjectives
  4. Adverbs
  5. Postpositions
  6. Quantifiers
  7. Numbers
  8. Sequentializers
  9. Coordinators (in some cases)
  10. Particles
  11. Interjections

Furthermore, it includes the following syntactic categories in enclitic fashion, which will be covered in their owns sections as well:

  1. Pronouns (in most cases)
  2. Copula
  3. Coordinators (in most cases)
  4. Complementizers
  5. Comparatives and Intensifiers
  6. Determiners (other than quantifiers)
  7. Semantic Affixes (Information Structure, Mereological, etc.)
  8. Culturonymous Suffixes (enclitic truncated nouns that relate to culturally salient categories)

In addition, this section will detail the argosy of other affixes compatible with each category, be they mood/aspect/voice modifiers, negation prefixes, derivational bits, relative head indices, entire words that happened to parasitize another word, or what have you. Do be prepared; it’s quite long. However, upon familiarizing oneself with the following parameters, one will have a comfortable guide at their disposable with which to construct sentences (and all higher forms of communication that follow from them) of the lexical roots and affix morphemes listed on the Vocabulary page. 

Furthermore, wherever relevant, we will remark upon register: as a rule of thumb, words containing a greater density of derivational elements come off as both more sophisticated and more pompous, even frivolous when overused, as opposed to predetermined word roots that haven’t been altered, which are perceived as more basal, but stronger and more humble.

Verbs

The Łedu verb blazes the trail for the rest of the sentence that follows, taking up the lead and preceding all nominal content (except in the case of fronted nouns). No basic verb root exceeds 2 syllables, although compound roots can be created or derived that achieve greater length. However, the verbal complex will typically reach at least 4 syllables once affixes are taken into consideration, and up to 10 syllables or so is not unheard of.

Verbs are categorized into 5 classes based on their semantic nature, and the verb’s class principally affects the consonants used in its tense marker, although classes are loosely associated with various other properties as well. As follows:

  1. Class 1 includes verbs typically associated with positivity, cooperation, gain, and fulfillment. Its tense markers follow the post-/alveolar series, and many of its verbs take dative arguments.
  2. Class 2 includes verbs typically associated with negativity, conflict, loss, and strife. Its tense markers follow the labial series, and many of its verbs take ablative arguments.
  3. Class 3 includes verbs from a wide breadth of semantic “neutrality,” including psychological verbs, and actions that are not inherently good or bad. Its tense markers follow the dent-/alveolar series, and verbs derived from nouns typically also fall into this class.
  4. Class 4 includes verbs of physicality, movement, and tangible action. Its tense markers follow the velar series, and many of its verbs are unergative and take postpositional arguments.
  5. Class 5 includes many empirical, stative, and existential verbs. Its tense markers follow the palatal series, and most verbs in the class are anagentive and often take, if not require, the dummy subject -än – in English, they would often be unaccusative.

At minimum, the verb must consist of two atoms: the root (whether simple or compound), and the tense morpheme. These are inalienable from one another; a verb must contain both, and even in dictionary form, verbs are depicted with the timeless tense morpheme by default. The vast majority of verbal constructions will also include either one or more enclitic pronominal suffixes, a “gateway” suffix that heralds further nominal arguments to follow, or both – the only instances in which this will not apply are those wherein all of the verb’s arguments are fronted. Notably, verbs in Łedu have no proper infinitive.

The general verbal template of Łedu is as follows. Mandatory elements are bolded, whereas optional elements are italicized.

complementizer

coordi- nation

Negation 1

modal modifier

Negation 2

mood(s)

intensifier/comparative

voice prefix

postpositional compound

verb root

tense

aspect

*clitic pro nouns

*gateway suffix

* At least one of the two asterisked elements is always necessary, unless all arguments have been fronted before the verb.

For the sake of order and clarity, we’ll detail the core of the verb first, before dealing with optional morphemes. We’ll adduce an example while discussing each segment: in this case, we’ll use qäłpôzh (to eat), a verb from Class 1.

The atoms of this basic verb are qäłpô- (the lexical root) and -zh (the tense morpheme, in timeless tense). The root is unique in form and meaning to this verb, and carries its semantic and phonological identity, as well as some of its implicit grammatical properties (like the number and type of arguments it shall take). Some verbs have roots consisting of only a single syllable, whereas others consist of two syllables – and verbs with roots of compound or derivational origin may be longer still. Otherwise, the root doesn’t partake of grammatical processes besides allowing affixes to adhere to it.

Tense

Four tenses are available for Łedu verbs: timeless, present, past, and future. These tenses provide a relative guideline as to when the action takes place, based on a temporal relationship between the time of speech and a chosen reference point. They don’t necessarily speak to the progress or completion of the event itself relative to the reference, which can be further elaborated using grammatical aspect if so desired, but the presence of a tense morpheme itself is vital to the Łedu verb, and the consonants involved are dictated by the verb’s class.

The tense morpheme consists of one to two consonants affixed to the end of the verbal root, prior to the places where aspect, pronominal, or gateway morphemes would adhere. It transforms phonologically, along the axes of voicing and manner, to indicate the tense of the verb. The general rules are as follows:

In review, the table below demonstrates examples of one verb from each class in each of its tense forms:

Timeless Present Past Future Meaning
Class 1 Qäłpôzh- Qäłpôd- Qäłpôt- Qäłpôtsh- To eat
Class 2 Côv- Côb- Côp- Côpf- To kill
Class 3 Njôrhyz- Njôrhydh- Njôrhyth- Njôrhyths- To see
Class 4 Slãgėgh- Slãgėg- Slãgėk- Slãgėkkh- To run
Class 5 Sprrixhaqh- Sprrixhaq- Sprrixhac- Sprrixhacch- To burn

As discussed above, one shall then add further morphemes following the tense consonants to suit the needs of the sentence; typically that will include tacking on pronominal clitics and/or a gateway morpheme if non-pronominal arguments are coming, but could optionally include one or more aspect morphemes to better specify the verb’s timeframe, which would intercede between the tense and pronoun portions. These will be discussed below.

Aspect

Per the speaker’s interest, one may affix aspect morphemes that further specify the temporal parameters of the verb. These fall between the tense morpheme and the first pronominal clitic or the gateway suffix. Whereas tense indicates the verb’s placement on a timeline using an assumed reference point relative to the time of speech, aspect narrows the understood perspective down by indicating the verbal event’s relation with this reference point: is it completed, in progress, or yet to start at that time? Therefore, interpreting aspect is not an independent affair, but its meaning is contextualized by its partnership with the tense in question.

Łedu morphology entertains a total of 13 aspects that the speaker or composer may employ at their disposal. Some of these aspects may even compound upon each other, allowing under select circumstances for verbs to exhibit 2 or more aspects at once. The three aspects that most influentially interact with tense are the perfect, antiperfect, and progressive aspects, so these will be discussed first. Observe the table below for a full view of the aspect morphemes:

Perfect Progressive Antiperfect Habitual Gnomic Iterative Inchoative Continuative Cessative Short Prospective Short Retrospective Long Prospective Long Retrospective
r / rr hh ł / łh * rrh nx pp / bb m nh n rh l / ** łł j w

* The habitual aspect is generally only needed in the past or future tenses – the timeless tense is generally sufficient to convey this meaning otherwise.

** The short retrospective aspect uses [l] for all verbs, and [ʎ] for the copular suffix in a special position. This will be discussed in the Copula section, but for now, pay heed only to the realization [l].

The perfect aspect is the most common in Łedu (as in many languages), whereas the antiperfect is comparatively very uncommon, but functions as the perfect’s obverse counterpart, so we shall elaborate it here as well. The perfect aspect describes an event that has already happened by the time of reference described by the tense. Contrarily, the antiperfect aspect describes an event that is yet to happen at the time of reference described by the tense. 

The table and paradigms below explore a perfect, simple (or in other words, aspectless), and antiperfect view of the past, present, and future tenses: the first table explains each using clear and standardized terminology, the second table illustrates how they would (or might) look in English, and the third table depicts how they each appear in Łedu, using the same verb qäłpôzh as above. The three tenses are in the leftmost column (from top to bottom: past, present, future), and the three aspects are in the top row (from left to right: perfect, simple, antiperfect). The table abbreviates the three timepoints as follows: S = time of speech (when the speaker is speaking; always assumed to be their present), R = time of reference (the reference point on the event, cited by tense), and E = time of event (when the event happened relative to the reference, cited by aspect). 

(to eat)

Past event (E<R)

Present event (E=R)

Future event (E>R)

Past reference (R<S)

Right now, we know that before some past juncture, it was eaten.

Right now, we know that at some past juncture, it’s being eaten.

Right now, we know that after some past juncture, it will be eaten.

Present reference (R=S)

Right now, we know that before this juncture, it was eaten.

Right now, we know that at this juncture, it’s being eaten.

Right now, we know that after this juncture, it will be eaten.

Future reference (R>S)

Right now, we know that before some forthcoming juncture, it was eaten.

Right now, we know that at some forthcoming juncture, it’s being eaten.

Right now, we know that after some forthcoming juncture, it will be eaten.

(to eat)

Past event (E<R)

Present event (E=R)

Future event (E>R)

Past reference (R<S)

had eaten

ate

would (after that point) eat

Present reference (R=S)

has eaten

eats

will after this point eat

Future reference (R>S)

will have eaten

will eat

will after some point eat

Qäłpôzh (to eat)

Past event (E<R)

Present event (E=R)

Future event (E>R)

Past reference (R<S)

Qäłpôtr- (one had eaten)

Qäłpôt- (one ate)

Qäłpôtł- (one would (after that point) eat)

Present reference (R=S)

Qäłpôdrr- (one has eaten)

Qäłpôd- (one eats)

Qäłpôdłh- (one will after this point eat)

Future reference (R>S)

Qäłpôtshr- (one will have eaten)

Qäłpôtsh- (one will eat)

Qäłpôtshł- (one will after some point eat)

The following example sentences demonstrate each aspect in use:

Simple:

Perfect ([r̥/r], <r/rr>):

Antiperfect ([ɬ/ɮ], <ł/łh>):

The need to specify the order or completion of events in the future, in such a way that requires the antiperfect, occurs quite seldom – the future tense will often suffice on its own, because the events have often not happened yet, and there is little need to discriminate between them. By contrast, events that are rendered in the perfect aspect have either already happened or will have happened within a known timeframe, so addressing whether they were completed and how that has affected the current state of affairs will often prove more useful, hence the aspect being more common.

All aspects may occur in tandem with the timeless tense as well, although their meanings will be rather atypical, and the associated intent is often better communicated by the gnomic aspect, as will be described below. 

The progressive aspect, which is also quite common, describes an event that is in-progress at the time of reference – its event time includes its reference time, whatever that may be relative to the speech time. For that, we use the morpheme spelled <hh>.

Progressive ([ʀ̥/ʀ], <hh>):

Accounting for the progressive, we can also see for the first time how we might stack aspects. If we wished to say “He had been eating the bread,” for example – a phrase in the past perfect progressive – we would use both the perfect and progressive morphemes: Qäłpôtręhhanu’ mbôhhfekh. Both the morphemes are visibly present, but in this particular case, there is also an extra <ę> present between them. That has been added because both [r̥/r] and [ʀ̥/ʀ] occupy the same place on the sonority hierarchy, so including both in the same onset is phonologically unfeasible, thus a buffer [ə] was added in between – it serves no grammatical purpose, but is simply there to save the pronunciation from crashing. When stacking aspects, if the morphemes play nicely together phonologically, no buffer vowel is needed.

Next, the habitual aspect expresses a long-term recurring event relative to either the past or future tense – something that usually or always occurs. As mentioned above, it is typically unnecessary when addressing an event happening in the present, but also that happens in the future or past, as the timeless tense spans all three of these. It is more useful for describing that which used to happen regularly but does not anymore, or that which one expects will happen regularly going forward. However, it can still be used in the present, to describe something that usually happens, on a nonetheless extremely local timescale to the present – or considerably more rarely, in the timeless tense, to emphasize how firm, recurrent, or eternal a habit might be.

Habitual ([χ/ʁ], <rrh>):

The gnomic and iterative aspects represent the broader poles of the habitual spectrum: gnomic aspect is a macrocosm across time; that which is known almost immutably to be the case at any point in history or the future, whereas iterative aspect is a microcosm; a series of events that occurs more than once within an extremely local point in time. As a result, the gnomic aspect, which uses morpheme <nx>, is used almost exclusively paired with timeless tense, and carries a semantics such that a verb so inflected takes on the air of an old, respected adage or well-known axiom. On the other hand, the iterative aspect, which uses morpheme <pp/bb>, can be paired with any tense but is used generally only for verbs that are done repeatedly in quick succession, like knocking, chiming, or flapping. For example:

Inchoative, continuative, and cessative form a trio of aspects. They address the starting point, continuation, and stopping point of events, and employ the morphemes <m>, <nh>, and <n> respectively. Note that they are only applicable to events that begin, continue, or cease organically – separate verbs and constructions exist for events that are made to start, continue, or stop by an external force.

Finally, the short and long retrospective and prospective aspects specify, by arbitrary but pragmatically-agreed upon amounts, how far in the future or past an event occurrs relative to a particular reference point. The short retrospective uses <l>, the short prospective uses <rh>, the long retrospective uses <w>, and the long prospective uses <j>.

As one can see, the examples of these aspects are given in the present tense, despite describing events that are technically in the past and future. This is because they are generally used relative to the reference point of the present tense, even if the events they describe are some ways in the past or future. They can be used with other tenses too, but pairing them that way results in other meanings: the short retrospective in past tense would mean “one had just done something,” and in the future, “one will have just done something,” whereas the short prospective in past tense would mean “one was about to do something,” and in the future, “one will be about to do something.” The long retrospective in the past tense would mean “one had at some point done something a while ago,” and in the future, “one will have done something a while ago,” whereas the long prospective in the past tense would mean “one would do something eventually,” and in the future, “one will eventually do something eventually.” In practice, this allows these aspects to overlap with the perfect and antiperfect to a limited degree.

All of the aspects aforedetailed are stackable (although at times one must insert [ə] if the combination doesn’t respect the phonology), and can be combined so long as the result makes sense. Certain aspects that clash with each other, such as the perfect and antiperfect, are not stackable with each other for obvious reasons, but others, such as the short retrospective and prospective, indeed are stackable despite being opposites: “one was just about to do something,” or “one is about to have just done something.” In such instances, the order of the morphemes matters, and must reflect scope: that aspect which is closer to the reference time must reflect that by being closer to the tense morpheme.

Lastly, on the rare occasion that all of a verb’s arguments are fronted, leaving no need for pronominal clitics or gateway suffixes on the verb, most potential aspect morphemes would be stranded – they would otherwise be in onset position had those suffixes been there, but cannot now be in coda position, thanks to Łedu’s sonority hierarchy. On such an occasion, one may add an <ę’> after the aspect (pronounced [ə(ʔ)]), such that the aspect may comfortably resume its onset role once more – one should not mistake this for a gateway suffix despite including <’>, as gateways do not include <ę>, nor should one mistake it for 2nd-person pronoun <ę> in the feminine accusative, which would sound identical save for the optional [ʔ], but would not be spelled with <’>. Here are contrasting examples of this treatment employed for an aspect-inflected verb in a sentences with and without a single fronted argument:

As a final note, aspects are always used at the speaker/composer’s discretion. Many sentences could make use of them, but are nonetheless interpretable in context without them. Sentences that use perfect aspect could often convey the same point using the simple past, and the antiperfect, the simple future, or present progressive sentences, the simple present, and so forth. Overt aspects are most appropriate when specifying the relationship between event time and reference time contextualizes information in a particular way helpful to the discourse, although the fastidious individual, or one who fancies oneself articulate, might prefer to use aspect morphemes at every possible opportunity. As long as one can communicate effectively, one is at perfect liberty to decide on one’s own agency.

Pronominal Clitics

For verbs with pronominal arguments, all pronouns cliticize to the verb as suffixes after the tense morpheme (or aspect morpheme, if present), and before a gateway suffix if the verb also has non-pronominal arguments. All pronominal clitics stack upon each other post-verbally, their identities and grammatical roles marked by their cases and agreement features such that one can easily keep track of their referents and relationships. They tend to adhere in the casewise order (Nom-Acc-Dat/Abl-Instr-Evd-Postp), although that sequence is variable by the very nature of Łedu’s flexible word order via case-marking. Genitive case was not included in the hierarchy because genitive clitics never appear independently, while postpositional clitics are most frequently last in the order (though not mandatorily so) for ease of placing them local to their associated postpositions thereafter.

Occasionally, additional morphemes (such as personal emphasizers, differentiators, or reflexive pronouns) may affix to the pronominal clitics attached to verbs, for various reasons. The only circumstances in which a verb will lack any pronominal clitics are those in which all pronominal arguments have been fronted before the verb, those in which the verb lacks pronominal arguments entirely, and a few exceedingly rare circumstances that may detach pronouns from the verb to clear up semantic or syntactic ambiguity.

See the full section on Pronouns below for the complete portrait of the Łedu pronoun’s form, function, and meaning.

Gateway Suffixes

Gateways are an extremely simple morphemes that attach in the final slot of a verb’s basic morphological profile. They are only needed when non-pronominal arguments will follow the verb, so they do not appear on verbs that either have only pronominal arguments, or in which all non-pronominal arguments are fronted before the verb. However, when they do appear, they attach at the end of the verbal complex, adhering to either the tense morpheme, an aspect morpheme, a pronominal clitic, or some related morpheme affixed to the pronouns – whatever comes last before it. The sole purpose of the gateway suffix is to herald nominal arguments to come. This function might not be overtly useful, but it does provide the listener/reader a sense of what to anticipate for the rest of the sentence.

The gateway suffix varies, from one of five vowel options, depending on the verb’s class. Orthographically, it is always followed by a <’>, which some speakers pronounce as a [ʔ] in coda position, and some others do not pronounce at all. The gateway morphemes are depicted in the table below:

Verb Class

Gateway Suffix

Class 1

[u] <u’>

Class 2

[e] <e’>

Class 3

[i] <i’>

Class 4

[ɔ] <ô’>

Class 5

[ɑ] <a’>

To illustrate using our stock verb of choice (and one other, for a better view of ditransitivity), here are several example sentences that depict scenarios with or without gateway suffixes:

Ultimately, all verbs adhere to these patterns. The copular suffix, which affixes to nominal or adjectival predicates in order to treat them like verbs grammatically, also makes use of the gateway suffix <i’>.

Mood

Mood – a grammatical feature that expresses how a given predicate corresponds with reality itself from the speaker’s perspective – is conveyed in Łedu by way of a large set of modal vowel prefixes. These affix to the beginning of a verbal root when they appear, taking precedence to this positon over all other prefixes besides modifiers and comparatives. They sometimes “fill out” the space within other verbal prefixes that would otherwise include an [ə], and are easily identified by the fact that no verb begins with a vowel in any other circumstance than when it takes a modal prefix. 

To communicate more complex relationships with reality, verbs may even take on multiple moods, in which case prefixes are stackable by way of another affix, discussed below. The default verbal mood is the indicative mood, which indicates that a particular verb has definitively happened within the reality in question, be that our reality or a reality contextualized by a narrative within the discourse. A verb in the indicative mood thus results in a simple, bare statement. Thereby, the indicative mood lacks a specific prefix because its presence is assumed. For example, the verbal construction “Qäłpôdan” (“They eat”) is already in the indicative mood. It is occasionally called the realis mood, purely to contrast with the other moods, which are irrealis insofar as they relate actuality to hypothetical worlds and their events in various ways. Łedu distinguishes 18 irrealis moods, some far more common in everyday conversation than others.

The irrealis moods and their Łedu prefixes are laid out below:

Interrogative Imperative Predicative Conditional Subjunctive Optative Necessitative Deontic Capacitative
[i] [e] [ø] [ɑ] [æ] [ɑi] [oi] [ɪ] [u]

Epistemic Permissive Counterfactual Potentive Dubitative Presumptive Inferential Deductive Mirative
[ɛ] [o] [y] [ʊ] [œ] [æ̝] [ɔ] [ɑu] [ɒ]

Among these moods, the interrogative (which is used for all yes/no-questions) is undoubtedly the most common, while others such as the predicative, deontic, capacitative, and optative moods also see extremely frequent use. By contrast, moods like the counterfactual or mirative are relatively rare. We shall now expound on the circumstances in which each are used, before covering more complex modal combinations, and how modal morphemes interact with other affixes, such as negation and intensifiers.

Of import for the reader’s consideration forthcoming is the following tactic: it is perhaps advantageous in the context of Łedu to frame each mood as some variation of the statement “It is the case that ___,” which in this instance represents the base indicative mood. Although it may not presently seem apparent how this sentential lens behooves us, it will become clearer when discussing modal interplay with other morphemes. Furthermore, imagining modal constructions in this manner helps clarify the appropriate tense for the Łedu verb: the choice of tense ought to correspond to the tense of the English phrase “It is/was/will be the case that…” in that scenario (strictly as it applies to the innermost nested tier of mood, where applicable).

Interrogative Mood: [i]

The function of the interrogative mood is to inquire as to whether something is the reality or not – in other words, to ask a yes-or-no question. In English, it generally corresponds to constructions such as “Is/Does ___?” Most sentences involving the interrogative mood generally end in question marks orthographically, and are one of the two main ways of forming questions in Łedu, along with using interrogative pronouns. That said, the interrogative mood may be used in subordinate clauses to indicate “whether,” as in, “I asked whether they eat,” in which case, the sentence ends in a period orthographically.

Imperative Mood: [e]

The imperative mood delivers commands or exhortations, depending on the context, and thus urges directly that something become the reality. It is the equivalent of demanding someone to “Do ___!” in English, or of proclaiming “Let’s ___!” to one’s companions. Imperative mood is generally only directed toward subjects in the 2nd person (singular or plural), in which case it carries a semantics of command, or toward subjects in the 1st person plural inclusive, in which case it carries a semantics of exhortation.

Predicative Mood: [ø]

The predicative mood illustrates a hypothetical reality on which further developments are predicated. It corresponds quite solidly to the English construction “If ___…”, whether that pertains to present possibilities such as “If ___ is the case,” or those divorced from our reality, such as “If ___ were the case…” Using the predicative mood on its own typically indicates the former, whereas the latter is achieved via coordination with the subjunctive or counterfactual moods, a process which we shall discuss comprehensively later. Likewise, the former construction will generally pattern with a resolution in the basic indicative mood, as opposed to the latter constructions, which tend to yield resolutions in the conditional mood. Finally, when coordinated additionally with the interrogative mood (in the prefix ijø-), it indicates the term “whether,” as in “Whether or not they eat, …”

Furthermore, as will be discussed again in the section on relative clauses, the predicative mood prefix can take the place of the <ę> in a relative clause prefix to index a meaning like “if and __,” or alternatively, “___ever” or “no matter ___,” from a timeless perspective, where ___ is the key complementizer of the relative clause. Any further moods will likely be nested beneath this modal tier.

Thøqäłpôzhanåtth ygvedhę/thrabidhę…

(If and when they eat…/Whenever they eat…/No matter when they eat… – If and when it is the case that they eat…)

Conditional Mood: [ɑ]

The conditional mood, in turn, illustrates realities achieved in consequence of having met a prior condition. It corresponds most accurately in English to clausal constructions using the word “would” within “if/then”-statements, demonstrating that something “would ___” if a known condition were hypothetically fulfilled. As such, in Łedu, conditional clauses are often paired with clauses incorporating both the predicative and subjunctive or counterfactual moods, the two clauses separated by a sequentializer. Such structure is not required, though, and conditional clauses may stand on their own by implying their conditions.

Subjunctive Mood: [æ]

The subjunctive mood is rather common, but its broad application can be tricky for the mind to bridle: it represents events that are in some fashion subjective or hypothetical, belonging to worlds hinging on human interpretation or stipulation. It’s most commonly found in subordinate clauses following certain psychological verbs, i.e. “think that ___” or “worry that ___,” as well as opinions such as “is fitting that ___.” Specific verbs or constructions that elicit the subjunctive in subordinate clauses are marked in the Vocabulary section. In English, subjunctive verbs are expressed as bare infinitives (occasionally preceded by “should,” in the antiquated, non-deontic sense), and often feature in if-clauses exploring hypothetical situations. Łedu reflects this latter usage by coordinating the predicative and subjunctive morphemes in the prefix “øwä-” that appears in such situations, as depicted above.

Optative: [ɑi]

The optative mood expresses wishes and desires, but also contextually issues requests, expressing favor toward a world in which a particular event occurs. It is something like an equivalent to the archaic English construction “Would that ___,” used to beseech the addressee, or even some abstract arbiter of reality, in the hopes that the predicate plays out. In Łedu, it serves a couple additional purposes. Grammatically, it also appears in subordinate clauses after the equivalents of “want” or “wish that,” whereas other languages might ordain the subjunctive mood for a verb in such a position. Those verbs that elicit this usage will be marked so in the Vocabulary section. Pragmatically, the optative mood further serves as the equivalent of English “please” when asking or requesting, if the sentence is directed at a 2nd person subject.

Necessitative Mood: [oi]

The necessitative mood remarks on that which must happen, by indexing an urgent disconnect between one’s reality and the world in which a certain event happens. Whether that incongruity will be reconciled by fate, or if some agent must do so themselves, is a function of context. As such, the necessitative mood corresponds to constructions including “must ___,” “has to ___,” “needs to ___,” or “has gotta ___” in English. It is the strongest of the class of moods known as deontic moods, which deal with obligation, and thereby, possible worlds in which events occur that should or must also occur in the world relevant to the discourse.

Deontic Mood: [ɪ]

The generalized deontic mood is essentially the necessitative mood’s weaker but more common counterpart, remarking on that which should happen, but isn’t mandatory. In other words, the speaker expresses favor that the discourse world align with the world in which the event happens, but not to the extent of necessity. In that sense, the deontic mood is more heavily reliant on the speaker’s opinion than is the necessitative mood, since some necessitative junctions are dictated by empirical reality itself, whereas in deontic circumstances, reality demands nothing, and the onus of favor is left to the speaker (or to systems the speaker acknowledges). English deontic constructions are composed using “should ___” or “ought to ___” for the most part.

Capacitative Mood: [u]

As its name suggests, the capacitative mood indicates capability. Its use holds that possible worlds exist in which the event happens, and depending on context, may or may not also speak implicitly to their probability. In English, these constructions are formed using “can ___,” “could ___,” “may ___,” or “is able to ___,” among other phrases.

Epistemic Mood: [ɛ]

The generalized epistemic mood (eponymous to a broader class of moods relating to the perceived certainty of a situation) reflects possibility – that our world might currently align with a reality where the event in question occurs. Therein, it is much like the capacitative mood, but more precise, as well as the potentive and dubitative moods, but furnishes less commentary about the speaker’s attitude. Epistemic constructions of this sort generally assume the forms “might ___,” “may ___,” or “could ___” in English.

Permissive Mood: [o]

The permissive mood professes the speaker’s tolerance of, or even favor toward, the events of a possible world if they were to occur in the real/discourse world. Therefore, in English, one expresses this mood using “may ___” or “is allowed to ___,” for example. It overlaps to some degree with other epistemic moods, like the capacitative – the crucial difference being whether the permitting force is reality itself, or the speaker/some system acknowledged by the speaker, such as the law.

Counterfactual Mood: [y]

The counterfactual mood describes an event that could hypothetically happen/have happened, while implying that it doesn’t, didn’t, or won’t happen – it expresses a possible world contrary to reality. Due to the increased circumstantial awareness required to employ this mood, it finds most of its use in the past tense, when retrospect illuminates missed opportunities or alternate courses of events, but can also be used to remark upon current matters, future predictions, or trends across time. In English, it is typically expressed by the phrases “could ___” or “could have ___,” and combined with the deontic mood, in the dismissive expression “should’ve but didn’t.” This mood frequently coordinates with the predicative mood in the Łedu prefix “øwy-,” in which case it poses a hypothetical event that is not the case but could be in an alternate reality, in order to evaluate what-if scenarios.

Potentive Mood: [ʊ]

The potentive mood attests to an event’s probability, according to the speaker – how likely a given possible world is to align with ours. The key English terms to express this mood are “probably ___” or “is likely to ___,” among other variations. In timeless tense, it could articulate something along the lines “has a tendency to ___.” It overlaps significantly with the generalized epistemic mood on that account, but takes a stronger attitude toward the event’s likelihood, as opposed to the curious uncertainty of the other.

Dubitative Mood: [œ]

The dubitative mood instills a statement with the general notion that the speaker is either unsure of, uninvested in, or perhaps even doubts the truth of what they’re saying – they are somewhat detached from whether their testimony belongs to the relevant world, or just a possible world. English imposes a similar attitude using qualifies such as “I guess,” “I suppose,” “possibly,” or “perhaps,” depending on the level of uncertainty or apathy involved. Essentially, the interpreter understands that the speaker does not have a large stake in the truth of the event, for one reason or another. At times, it may be used as a softener, if the speaker doubts that their contribution is relevant. It overlaps partially with the generalized epistemic mood, but confers to a greater degree the speaker’s cognitive stance.

Presumptive Mood: [æ̝]

The presumptive mood allows for the speaker to express an assumption or presumption (the degree of which may be qualified with modifiers), a predicate from a possible world that they also believe to be true to the relevant reality based on prior experience, but for which they lack definitive proof. Expressed in English, it would involve words such as “presumably” or “I assume,” although one may express these sentiments via their own verbs in Łedu as well. On that note, relating a presumptive-headed clause to another clause via a sequentializer can provide such meanings as “Given ___,” “Provided ___,” “Supposing ___” or “Assuming ___.” Although the presumptive and deductive moods overlap semantically, the presumptive embodies background information from which conclusions are drawn, whereas the deductive voices conclusions drawn from background information.

Inferential Mood: [ɔ]

Using the inferential mood, one may report events that are apparently true but not witnessed directly, that are inferred, or for which the source isn’t wholeheartedly trusted – they are perhaps true in another person’s world, but whether that world overlaps with the real or discourse-relevant world is questionable. In English, phrases like “It’s said that ___,” “I heard that ___,” “It’s supposed to ___,” or “apparently” convey the approximate nature of this mood. The occasional use of the inferential mood does not imply that all events in the indicative mood must have been witnessed directly, but simply that the speaker has reasonable faith in the source of the information; it is often contextually clear anyhow whether they witnessed it. To that effect, the inferential mood incurs considerable overlap with both the dubitative mood (which expresses uncertainty) and with the expletive pronoun in evidentive case, “-ähh,” which argues that information is known by inference. However, it is indeed possible to use all three at once (by nesting the two moods rather than coordinating them, although the latter is feasible as well, if less so), resulting in a phrase something like “I guess it’s evidently said that ___.”

Deductive Mood: [ɑu]

The deductive mood is a tool to ascertain, synthesize, posit, and at its loosest, speculate robustly (or bullheadedly). One uses it for new conclusions drawn from background information they know, especially those they don’t treat as definitive statements of objective fact (for which they might use the indicative mood), but are confident enough to assert nonetheless – as to demonstrate that their thought process has brought a new possible world into view of the reference world. English might exemplify such an attitude with a phrase like “must (therefore) be ___” or “certainly ___.” Abusing the deductive mood, withal, may pragmatically paint the speaker as obnoxious.

Mirative Mood: [ɒ]

The only other mood that might be argued to bear realis standing, the mirative mood declares the contrary-to-belief nature of a true or hypothetical event, hence its irrealis treatment in any case: it professes of the speaker the existence of a possible world in which the event does not occur, which was viewed as the world more likely to align with reality. The mirative is thus the inverse mirror of the counterfactual mood, which speaks to an event that could have occurred but didn’t. Any English equivalent would most likely be expressed through tone, via interjections such as “Wow!” or “Oh my goodness!,” in roundabout ways like “But I thought ___,” or directly but nonetheless non-modally, as in “I can’t believe ___.”

The mirative mood can also be used to levy a reality check unto another person, by using it to highlight that reality contradicts their beliefs or expectations. In this case, it is still typically used in the standard way grammatically, but tone or context shall indicate that it was not the speaker’s beliefs that were contravened, but the listeners or another party’s. If one wishes to make this explicit, one may attribute the mirative mood to said other party by way of the postposition -tėtsęll-, as described in its own section below.

Compound Moods: Coordinating & Nesting

Occasionally, in order to express complex dynamics of unreality in Łedu, a verb will need to take on multiple moods at once. In some cases, two (or more, if desired) moods may operate on the same “tier,” coordinated with one another to convey a plurality of possible-world relationships. In other instances, one may nest a mood on one tier within a mood on a “higher” tier, demonstrating that one possible world relationship applies only within the scope of another. Keeping track of so many modal states can be confounding territory, even for the hypothetical native speaker of Łedu, but even the most complex constructions seldom require more than 3 moods anyhow. Whether coordinating moods or nesting them, one must adhere to specific morphological constructions, as depicted here:

Modal coordination separates mood morphemes with a consonant, either [j] or [w], depending on which vowel prefix is tacked on first. If the first mood uses a rounded vowel, the separating consonant will be [w]. If they first mood uses an unrounded vowel, the separating consonant will be [j]. Observe the following examples:

Note that both of these sentences ultimately say the same thing, but their moods are coordinated in a different order. Ultimately, the first is probably the more natural way to communicate this idea, as in terms of information structure, it stands to reason that one should know someone can eat before one knows they should eat, but neither order is grammatically incorrect. However, obtaining different degrees of conversational salience does not qualify these modal prefixes for nesting in this example, as that particular sentence is not intended to express that one mood only obtains if the other does. If the speaker wished to express “it’s able to be the case that it should be the case that they eat,” nesting would be the appropriate option.

Modal coordination, in addition to simple combinatory tactics that would use the word and in English as above, is used in several “fixed” modal prefixes that incorporate the predicative mood. We shed some light on them in the individual mood discussions above, but a more comprehensive review is in order here:

Here, prefix “øwä-,” which coordinates the predicative mood and the subjunctive mood, signifies a hypothetical contingency that isn’t necessarily relevant to the real world, but one is speculating on its outcome based on known trends or tendencies – this outcome is expressed in the conditional mood (hence the a- at the beginning of the final word) to square it against the completely hypothetical nature of the predicative clause. Contrast this against constructions that are purely predicative without a subjunctive coordinate, in which case they are assumed likely to come up/relevant to reality, and the outcome is expressed in the realis indicative mood:

Another construction that is quite easy to confuse with the predicative-subjunctive coordination is the predicative-counterfactual coordination, using “øwy-.” When incorporating the counterfactual mood, the speaker has weighed the scenario such that it surely will not be relevant to reality, because to them, it cannot or will not happen – but evidently, they still regard it as worthy of acknowledgement if they bring it up. The counterfactual element signifies that although the scenario perhaps could have occurred, it didn’t or won’t. The outcome is still marked with conditional mood, as its own likelihood of happening beyond meeting the condition set by the predicative clause is not a consideration.

One more prominent set prefix makes use of modal coordination, which is used for certain constructions that would incorporate the word “whether” in English. In this case, the prefix’s composition is a tad more opaque and idiosyncratic compared to other coordinated examples. It combines the interrogative and predicative moods into prefix “ijø-,” and means something akin to “whether or not ___.”

In such a case where one of the coordinated moods is either negated or modified, and it is the second morpheme in the pair, the negation or modifying prefix may take the place of the coordinating consonant [w] or [j]. However, if it is the first morpheme in the pair, it will clearly not intercede between the two, hence the coordinating consonant will remain in place. This is not a present concern; it will be illustrated more clearly in the respective sections on Negation and Verbal Modifiers as they apply to mood, but examples are nonetheless furnished below:

By contrast, nesting moods implies a similar degree of containment to subordinating a clause: in the sense that “(x be the case that (y be the case that (z is))),” a nested mood functions similarly to a subordinate clause, just as the verb itself does in any modal construction. This is crucial to the frame of thought involved with understanding a modal nest – a nested mood only obtains in reference to the possible world expressed by the mood with greater scope; in other words, the farthest left mood takes precedence over the next mood to the right, providing the semanticscape in which it must apply.

Morphologically, the affix for nested moods is <-’l->, or in phonological terms, [(ʔ).l], which is inserted between the moods that operate on different tiers. Whether the [ʔ] is pronounced or not, the <’> serves as a helpful orthographic marker for non-native readers to aid in distinguishing this morpheme from the beginning consonant of a verb that might begin with <l>. Behold the examples below:

As one observes, unlike the case of modal coordination in which either order is permissible to convey the same meaning (although they may emphasize the salience of each mood differently), only one order will correctly convey the intended meaning when nesting moods. The other order will likely yield an entirely different interpretation.

Importantly, although the predicative mood coordinates with a variety of other moods in fixed expressions, its most common interplays will occur via nesting, insofar as it is relatively difficult to coordinate other possible worlds with the idea of a possible world on which an event is predicated, and often comes off as clunky or heavyhanded, but quite smooth and easy to pose the scenario that a possible world applies within the possible world on which an event is predicated. For example:

When a nested mood is either negated or modified, and thus another affix is added between the two moods, the morpheme <-’l-> changes slightly. In the case of a negation, it becomes <-’łh->, or [(ʔ)ɮ.]. In the case of an intensifier, it is simply written as <-’ll-> (in C-Łedu, of course) and pronounced [(ʔ)ɫ], as it is now in coda position relative to the consonant that begins the modifier (a new onset). Once more, we shall discuss this more thoroughly in the sections on Negation and Verbal Modifiers, but a visual example is illustrated here:

Ultimately, coordinating and nesting moods can be fairly complicated business, in character with Łedu’s grammatically byzantine nature. Overdoing either, despite the temptation of the range of possible worlds implicit in its many moods, may easily confuse the composer or interpreter alike, but three or even four moods in one sentence are not unheard of when trying to express complex hypotheticals. Below is an example sentence of rare modal intricacy, which we shan’t gloss until much later, at risk of confusing the reader – note the coordinated optative and counterfactual moods nesting a further negated capacitative mood on the first verb, and the mirative mood on the subordinated verb:

Mood & Other Syntactic Categories

Grammatical mood, on occasion, affects or applies to other parts of speech besides the verb: it can be appended to nominalized verbs or adjectivalized verbs (participles), and is also integral to the postposition -tėtsęll- and the nominal root -rhynt-. We shall explore the former two further in the respective sections on deriving nouns and adjectives from verbs, but one shall note here that they operate essentially the same way as if one were to affix a modal morpheme to a regular verb:

When applying a participle to a noun that is not the direct object of the verb that has been adjectivalized, and thereby employing a case prefix on the adjective, any potential moods on the adjective assume the place of the <ę> in said prefix (once again, this will be detailed to a greater extent later):

As for the root -tėtsęll-, the presence of modal morphemes is vital to its use, and it cannot be implemented in a sentence without a mood attached. This is because it is a postposition used to attribute a given mood on the clausal verb to a specified party (often, but not always, someone other than the speaker), so the postposition must agree with the desired mood in order to indicate which one it is attributing – this is especially necessary for clauses containing multiple moods:

This differs from a sentences that incorporate nouns in evidentive case or use subordinate clauses to express opinion, such as the following two – these do not necessarily attribute a specific mood on the verb to a named party or other angle, but instead reveal either where the net information of the sentence came from or who thought it. However, all three sentences are similar enough in what they describe that for pragmatic purposes, they can be taken to mean approximately the same thing.

The nominal root -rhynt-, meanwhile, is unique in that one equips it with various modal prefixes to express abstract nouns related to those moods. Generally, in order to translate these nouns into English, one might frame them by extracting the element of the “___ case that…” phrase unique to each respective mood, and appending it to the word “___-do” as a noun, then extrapolating a suitably synonymous term. One may also use this root bare, without any prefix, in which case it is taken to possess the indicative mood. A short list of some examples is provided here, but the root will be covered in more detail in the glossary of the Vocabulary section.

Some definitions here may ultimately overlap on a broad scale and come down to semantic nuance; for example, urhyntoll (capacitative: a “can-do”) and ėrhyntoll (epistemic: a “might-do”) would both generally be translated as “a possibility,” although the latter offers a stronger commentary on whether the event may happen, whereas the former states only that it’s possible within the laws of reality. Nevertheless, the two words would likely be interchangeable in most conversational contexts, and due to the occasionally imprecise nature of possible-world semantics, these overlaps may occur across the board among nouns formed from -rhynt-, depending on the situation.

Negation

The basis of most negation in Łedu is the word vau (“no”), from which are derived the morphemes that negate various parts of speech: from verbs to adjectives, quantifiers, modifier prefixes, and so forth. In the particular case of verbs, negation manifests as a series of prefixes that not only serve that apparent semantic purpose, but may also index an argument (or implied argument) as the cause of the negation. These prefixes take the form vau+_ę, wherein the blank space is occupied by a consonant specifying the negator, whether direct or indirect. That consonant, most generally, corresponds to the consonants in the case suffixes of neuter-gender nouns, although it may index a noun of any gender, and will not change forms to agree with gender, only case. It is not a perfect system, and its explicit indexing power is extremely limited, but speakers can usually infer any further nuance from context or elaboration.

The negation prefix series is as follows:

Note that, if a predicate should share two or more arguments in the same case, and the speaker wishes to index the negation to only one of them, a morpheme -’f- or -’v- (phonological form [((ə)ʔ)v]) may be added before the gender/number vowel of the argument one wishes to index, in order to highlight it as the negator. This morpheme accommodates to the voicing of an adjacent consonant, or remains as -’v- if it sits between two vowels, nullifying the need for an appended <w>, <j>, or <x̂> on stems that end in vowels. Additionally, if the imposition of this morpheme would violate the sonority hierarchy, an <ę> appears justifiably before it to separate it from the offending consonant.

Typically, the most common verbal negation prefixes are vaunę- and vaushę- – the core cases – since these are the most frequent arguments that one may find in a sentence, as opposed to the oblique cases. Vaugę- is also very common, arguably more so than the prior two, for it lends itself to a vast miscellany of negated situations that aren’t tied directly to a specific nominal argument, and vaucę- shows up relatively often as well, particularly in emphatic constructions, those that describe uncontrollable circumstances, or especially those that lack a conscious agent and incorporate the expletive subject pronoun -än, as in the example above. 

One may note, per that very same entry, that grammatical mood interacts with negation in a few distinct ways. A modal morpheme is capable of assuming 3 positions with respect to a negation prefix, as illustrated below (where __Cis the negation prefix’s case-agreement consonant, and __M is the modal vowel(s)):

In the first scenario, the modal vowel(s) replace the <ę> inherent to the negation prefix, and are therefore pronounced in place of [ə], which effectively functions as an indicative mood marker itself. The negation takes scope over the mood in this configuration, negating it. In order to parse this dynamic more easily, one may imagine negation as the phrase “is not the case that ___,” rendering it compatible with the framework we’ve been using for mood thus far.

It is prudent not to conflate this arrangement with one that can negate all moods and convey the same semantics expected of English. For example, the construction vaunıqäłpôdan does NOT mean *“they should not eat.” When mapped as we have been doing – “it is not the case that it should be the case that they eat” – this reveals a much more passive interpretation: nobody imposed the idea that they should eat, nor has anyone explicitly condemned the prospect as in “shouldn’t.”

In the second scenario, the modal morpheme affixes immediately before the negation prefix. This is a means of coordinating that mood with one that follows the negation. Those moods unaffected by the negation precede it, and those affected follow it, but they coexist in coordination. As a result, they still sit on the same tier – this is not an instance of nesting, but the negation still merely scopes over the latter moods.

The final scenario, which incorporates the modal nesting morpheme as it appears before the negation prefix, <-’łh->, is used for that precise purpose – nesting! A mood that precedes this morpheme affects and takes scope over the whole negated structure following it. As a result, this is the means by which one would express such a phrase as “shouldn’t,” mentioned two passages back:

One may recombine and coordinate moods in any or all of these positions surrounding a negation prefix as they so wish, or even add negation prefixes to further tiers, although it will certainly complicate the sentence to magnitudes perhaps unreasonable. One may even add modifiers (which we shall discuss in their forthcoming section), although these may trigger phonological assimilation depending on their positions. Notably, although moods take all other modifier prefixes, they do not take vau- – instead, they are negated using the host of prefixes we’ve been discussing in this section.

Onto pragmatic concerns, one salient difference between Łedu and English is where the negation sits in opinion sentences containing subordinate clauses. In English, it is often customary to cast doubt on a situation by negating the verb of the matrix clause, i.e. “I don’t think he wants it,” perhaps to soften the tone of the sentence while actually implying “I think he doesn’t want it.” In Łedu, by contrast, the latter is the more sensible option in most cases:

As opposed to the alternative:

If one truly wished to hedge the sentence and soften its tone in a manner equivalent to that of the English construction, it would be more advisable to do so by way of affixing the dubitative modal morpheme ö- to the matrix verb, as in ödôdhin.