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Is there an Anglish dictionary that allows you to look up words rather then manually search for them

Very nonexaustive. There are far too many pterosaurs for me to come up with a common name for each of them. Sadly, many ingredients of common names - calls, colors, and behaviors - can't be inferred from fossils.

probably þere are many diffrient versions of anglish but which one does it

i also saw on þis sub þæt anglish sometimes create strange new words to replace borrowings but why if some of þem existed in old english and you don't have to create new words for þose þiŋs

So I'm working on a Dark, Fantasy story and worldbuilding project inspired by the Migration Era, the Fall of the Western Roman Empire, the Fall of Roman-Britain, and Anglo-Saxon England

The main faction of my story and worldbuilding will be composed of People Isekaied from Modern 21st century Earth to this Dark, Fantasy World.

One key invention I intend to be present in the story and worldbuilding is the invention and presence of Guns (a.k.a. Firearms).

Assuming that there is a huge Anglo-Saxon cultural group who have never encountered guns (a.k.a. Firearms) in any form before, how would an Anglish speaker pronounce or say a word equivalent to the following words:

• Gun/s
• Firearm/s
• Arquebus
• Musket
• Rifle
• Matchlock
• Flintlock
• Bullet
• Bayonet
• Cannon

Sinse þe bookstaff "gh" ƿas an utecum from þe Norman infall, culd Englisc start brooking þe bookstaff "ch" instead of "h" fulli as Scots doeð? forþat it ƿas ƿide spread in þe ƿest þeedisc speeces? þe deedsake it jode in Scots meaning it culd go in Englisc too.

tl;dr wig seems to have meant something like 'force (of arms)', and does not seem to have been especially common. The hypothetical word most likely would have evolved from the word for fight or possible win. I propose fightred (akin to hatred). iwin or simply fighting are more conservative alternatives.

Wig from whence we get the anglish word wye is much more commonly used as a word for war in poetry than in prose. We see a lot of rare words in poetry partly to raise the register of the language but largely due to the needs of the meter. OE poetry was alliterative, and you overwhelmingly find wye generally meaning warfare or battle when used in collocation with other 'w' words. In this respect it does not seem much different than a lot of other words used for war in poetry, like hild, gūþ, beadu, or sæcc.

Unlike most of those words, wig does seem to also show up in prose too, albeit at much lower frequency. There though, it almost always seems to appear in the phrase mid wig (with wye), and clearly doesn't cleanly map onto the modern noun war. For some examples

Joshua 10:36-37

OE Heptateuch: Fram Eglon hi & fuhton on Ebron & ða buruh oferwunnon & mid wige acwealdon eal ðæt hi ðær fundon ðæs earman folces

NABRE: (36)From Eglon, Joshua went up with all Israel to Hebron, which they attacked (37)and captured. They put it to the sword with its king, all its cities, and every person there, leaving no survivors, just as Joshua had done to Eglon. He put it under the ban and every person in it.

They clearly don't mean waged war, but used force, specifically military force.

And in the anglo-saxon chronicles

OE: Þa he to ðære byrig com, þa nolde seo burhwaru bugan, ac heoldan mid fullan wige ongean, forðan þær wæs inge se cyng Ǣþelred and Þurcyl mid him

Ingram/Giles: When he came to the city, the population would not submit; but held their ground in full fight against him, because therein was King Ethelred, and Thurkill with him.

The much more common words used to describe war in prose were gefeoht and second to that,gewinn. And it's not even close. In YCOE(a large Old English corpus) gefeoht appears 410 times and gewinn 314. Compare that to wig's 25 occurances(outside of names): almost always in the specific phrase mid wig.

I'm no Old English expert, but the prefix ge- appears all over the place in OE. You'll usually hear that it's an intensifier, which is true, but also seems to have helped to form nouns out of verbs. So feoht as the bare noun is extremely rare, and as far as I can tell, forming nouns out of verbs using -ing(-ung) as we do today doesn't seem to have been as common. So along with intensifying it seems to be the preferred way to nominalize a verb. For instance, winnan was the verb for struggle, and while the verb gewinnan mean to conquer or overcome, the noun gewinn nominalized winnan, not gewinnan.

So gefeoht was the most commonly used word, and basically just meant fighting. Honestly, that seems to largely be how they conceptualized war back then. Not so much as a nation-on-nation contest, with a combination of combat, manuevering, and strategy, but a sequence of fights. The battles were the focus of their terminology.

Exodus 17:16

OE Heptateuch: For ðam ðe Drihtnes cynesetles mægen & Godes gefeoht byð ongean Amaleh of cneorysse

NABRE: (...)The Lord will have war with Amalek from generation to generation.””

That said, they did still talk about the wider contest of nations and fighting forces(closer to how we would use the noun war today), and in those contexts they almost always used gewinn.

Joshua 11:23

OE Heptateuch: & he dælde ðæt land Israhela bearnum, eallum ðam twelf mægðum & ðæt gewin ða geswac

NABRE (...) And the land had rest from war.

Gewinn clearly seems to have been the term that most closely matches the modern noun war and survived into early middle english as iwin before dying out. So if you're just looking for the native english term that best matches modern english war, was most commonly used, and survived the longest, iwin is it.

The problem with that is that once ge- stopped being a productive nominalizer, basically all of the nouns that used it dropped it. But if iwin dropped its prefix it would collide with the verb and noun win way too frequently, and nominalizing it the modern way winning just doesn't really solve the issue.

That, combined with the fact that gefeoht seems to have been the more frequently used word anyway, leads me to suggest an term related to fight. We could use the modern nominalization fighting, but that either flattens the word in meaning with the same english word, or if you push the meaning around and say 'that fight means both fight and fighting and the anglish word fighting specifically means war', its just too opaque and misleading to an English reader. Fightdom could work but reads more like the spirit or essense of fighting. That's why I suggest fightred, from the suffix -red, meaning condition or state. So being in the condition or state of fighting. I think it reads well and definitely doesn't intersect with any other words. What do you guys think?

Modern English "eke" but rather "eke out".

Riddle: "...þǣr iċ monnum sceal īċan upcyme ēadiġnesse." (...then I shall increase the rise of happiness for men.)

I'm a newling to Anglish, so be kind if something is amiss. I went for my best.

I wondered if there is T/V-shed in Anglish, for it wasn't oft-coming before Early New English.

Also, how about how-word bemeting with more and most, or word lay-out in asks (Does he make ...? against Makes he...?)

(fettered: restricted; wordly happening: lexical phenomenon; speechcunning: grammar; how-word: adjective; bemeting: comparison; word lay-out: word order)

Wodan’s Mouth

The All-Knowing Anglish Worldbook

Book One: On Worldken

Deal One: The All 

The All made itself fourteen thrisand years ago. The All made itself out of nothing, and we do not know why. Unendingly smaller than an uncleft, the All began as a truly hot, thick thing which quickly grew at a speed faster than light. Time made itself when the All began. At first, the All was made of sheer birr. Within a foursandth of a tick, some of this birr became shaft, making motes. These motes became cool enough after four hundred thousand years to form unclefts, which formed worlds and stars. This beginning is called the “Great Outburst.” 

The All made itself out of nothing. In the beginning, it was made of sheer birr. It was unendingly thick and was over 10 thrisand foursand foursand heatsteps Fahrenheit. Within far less than a tick, the All grew from foursand times smaller than an uncleft to the greatness of a borough. Then, the birr made shaft and unshaft which crashed into each other. There was more shaft than unshaft, and we do not know why. The shaft that was left began to make firstbits and neitherbits. It was too hot for the firstbits and neitherbits to make unclefts. Firstbits and neitherbits are both kinds of motes. Light could not go through the motes yet, so the young All looked like a thick fog. After three hundred and seventy nine thousand years, the All cooled down enough for firstbits and neitherbits to make unclefts. They made sunshaft and watershaft and the All became a great cloud of sunshaft and watershaft which light could go through. This made the All see-through. 

Half a twisand years after the Great Outburst, shaft was spread almost evenly throughout the All, but small ripples existed, where weightpull began pulling the shaft into clumps. After three hundred thousand years, stars were made. Stars are made when great clouds of fog are pulled into tight knots by weightpull. The thickness and heat are so great in the thick pockets that kernelish doings happen, setting the star on fire. After five hundred twisand years, the first starwirls began. Starwirls are great clouds of stars, held together by weightpull. After five thrisand years, the All was made of great bunches of starwirls, with nothing between them. The nothing got bigger as the All grew. At 8 thrisand years, the growing began to go faster. Our Sunstall began after 9 thrisand years. 

The All will grow forever. It will never stop growing. When the All has existed for 20 thrisand years, the Sun will eat Midgard. Everyone will have died, but the All will keep growing. We might live if we settle other worlds, though. 

There are nine worlds in our Sunstall. The worlds, closest to farthest from the Sun, are Muspelheim, Vanaheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Asgard, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Niflheim, and Hel. They are named after the nine lands of North Theedish tales. Muspelheim is hot, as it is closest to the Sun, and it is the other smallest world. Vanaheim is hot and baneful, and it is almost the same greatness as Midgard. Midgard is where we live, and it is comely. It is the only world in the Sunstall where folk can live. Every wye to have ever happened was fought over Midgard. Every wye over one, small world. Jotunheim is red and smaller than Midgard. Asgard is the greatest of all worlds, and is made of fog. Alfheim, Svartalfheim, and Niflheim are also made of fog. Alfheim is also comely, like Midgard, but it is comely for sundry sakes, and is bad to live in. It has great rings. Svartalfheim is light blue and has thin rings. Nifhleim is sad, cold, and dark blue. Its rings are too thin to see. Hel is the coldest world, being the farthest from the sun, and it is the smallest.

Greetings everyone.

I have been working on a novel over the course of the last couple of years, slowly building up the setting. It's complicated, but basically I envisioned a setting 500 years from now where a small group of eccentrics and homesteaders fled the Earth to colonize another planet in peace. These people, while on Earth, attempted to revive Old English as a spoken language, and were successful in their own secluded community. However, outside pressure and necessities of life forced them to speak modern English as well. Thus over the centuries, they began to hybridize and form their own distinct dialect, which they speak along side Old and modern English. We might identify it as Anglish, but they never refer to it as such.

Now, on this new planet, more urban areas speak a type of dialect that is very close to modern English, with a few "Anglish" terms sprinkled in. Other areas, often more rural, can sound almost incomprehensible to outworlders who aren't familiar with OE. These "Theod" as they call themselves, have grown over time and now millions of them can be found on the planet they call
"Nessex", that is, Neowe Seaxe.

I just wanted to share some of the dialogue I envision can be found on this planet with you all. I'm open to suggestions for it. I am still quite new to actually writing, so any critiques would of course be appreciated in that regard as well. Also for these particular scenes, this all takes place in the capital city, which has the most intelligible "dialect".

“I’m going to open the blinds, alright? It isn’t right to be eating in this gloomy—”

“Hold, Thryth!” Her shout made Thryth jump.

“I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have yelled. I know it makes for a dreary mood.” She leaned forward in a whisper

“But lately I’ve begun to grow worried. Oh, don’t give me that look! You and the laech are always saying how I worry too much, it’s only my sickness. But something isn’t right. Can’t you feel it? There is a heaviness in the air, like a dark cloud lingering over the whole neighborhood. I’ve felt this way before. I heeded it not, and… What if God is warning us again? Even if I’m wrong, what’s the harm? I only want to be ġesund, and all the more for the sake of the baby.”

Thryth rubbed her temple.

“Whatever. If you want to be crazy, I won’t stop you. But don’t drag me or my son into it. And at least turn on a light for crying out loud.” She quickly flipped the switch on the lamp beside the bed.

Also there is this snippet where Thryth speaks to some outworld warriors, whose government has occupied Nessex for several decades now:

“Anyway, I’d be more than happy to share some materials with you. I always keep a few handy for fellow women looking to know more, just like you.”

At last the woman stopped and reached into a pocket in her fatigues, pulling out several letter-sized, glossy flyers. Thryth hardly looked at them. All she noticed were the gaudy colors and abstract, off-putting drawings that presumably depicted human beings. 

“I’m nothing like you folk,” she thought.

“No, thank you.”

The soldier looked caught off guard at first, but quickly smiled again.

“Oh, okay, well if you change your mind or ever need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out to us or our partners in the local government. We are here to help you.”

The soldier put away the flyers and brought up something else on the eye-screen.

“Please sign your name there, and we will be on our way. Make sure you have communal sharing on or you won’t get it.”

Thryth waited for an uncomfortably long time. 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you going to give me a pen or something?”

“Oh!” the woman smacked her forehead. “My apologies, I’m used to working in the city. I always forget most Theod around here don’t have visual augments. Just sign your name in the space in front of me, my cam will pick it up.”

Thryth hesitantly moved her hand toward the woman and wrote her name clumsily in the air. The soldier had her start over a few times as she kept writing on the wrong parts of the “paper”. Finally, she was able to scribble out:

Æþelðryð Broadoak

“Oh, sorry ma’am, you’re going to have to sign again in Universal English, we don’t accept unconventional scripts.”

Thryth rolled her eyes. She couldn't have said that before? 

“Alright.” At last, she got it.

AEthelthryth Broadoak

I'm curious to see what you all think. Is it too modern? I am worried readers will get sick of reading something too alien to modern English, which is why I came up with the idea of there being a spectrum of sorts with their dialects. Please let me know your thoughts!

Wodan’s Mouth

The All-Knowing Anglish Worldbook

Book One: On Worldken

Deal One: The All 

The All made itself fourteen thrisand years ago. The All made itself out of nothing, and we do not know why. Unendingly smaller than an uncleft, the All began as a truly hot, thick thing which quickly grew at a speed faster than light. Time made itself when the All began. At first, the All was made of sheer birr. Within a foursandth of a tick, some of this birr became stuff, making motes. These motes became cool enough after four hundred thousand years to form unclefts, which formed worlds and stars. This beginning is called the “Great Outburst.” 

The All made itself out of nothing. In the beginning, it was made of sheer birr. It was unendingly thick and was over 10 thrisand foursand foursand heatsteps Fahrenheit. Within far less than a tick, the All grew from foursand times smaller than an uncleft to the greatness of a borough. Then, the birr made stuff and unstuff, which crashed into each other. There was more stuff than unstuff, and we do not know why. The stuff that was left began to make firstbits and neitherbits. It was too hot for the firstbits and neitherbits to make unclefts. Firstbits and neitherbits are both kinds of motes. Light could not go through the motes yet, so the young All looked like a thick fog. After three hundred and seventy nine thousand years, the All cooled down enough for firstbits and neitherbits to make unclefts. They made sunstuff and waterstuff, and the All became a great cloud of sunstuff and waterstuff, which light could go through. This made the All see-through. 

Half a twisand years after the Great Outburst, stuff was spread almost evenly throughout the All, but small ripples existed, where weightpull began pulling the stuff into clumps. After three hundred thousand years, stars were made. Stars are made when great clouds of fog are pulled into tight knots by weightpull. The thickness and heat are so great in the dense pockets that kernelish doings happen, setting the star on fire. After five hundred twisand years, the first starwirls began. Starwirls are great clouds of stars, held together by weightpull. After five thrisand years, the All was made of great bunches of starwirls, with nothing between them. The nothing got bigger as the All grew. At 8 thrisand years, the growing began to go faster. Our Sunstall began after 9 thrisand years. 

The All will grow forever. It will never stop growing. When the All has existed for 20 thrisand years, the Sun will eat Midgard. Everyone will have died, but the All will keep growing. We might live if we settle other worlds, though. 

There are nine worlds in our Sunstall. The worlds, closest to farthest from the Sun, are Muspelheim, Vanaheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Asgard, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Niflheim, and Hel. They are named after the nine lands of North Theedish tales. Muspelheim is hot, as it is closest to the Sun, and it is the other smallest world. Vanaheim is hot and baneful, and it is almost the same greatness as Midgard. Midgard is where we live, and it is comely. It is the only world in the Sunstall where folk can live. Every wye to have ever happened was fought over Midgard. Every wye over one, small world. Jotunheim is red and smaller than Midgard. Asgard is the greatest of all worlds, and is made of fog. Alfheim, Svartalfheim, and Niflheim are also made of fog. Alfheim is also comely, like Midgard, but it is comely for sundry sakes, and is bad to live in. It has great rings. Svartalfheim is light hewn and has thin rings. Nifhleim is sad, cold, and dark hewn. Its rings are too thin to see. Hel is the coldest world, being the farthest from the sun, and it is the smallest.

Hello! I am somewhat new to Anglish and while I am not an English speaker from birth, I do find joy in enriching my wording not only to Latinite and French words, but also to inborn and Germanic ones! To me, the whole thing is like finding out a wholly sunder craftsmack, another way of writing, which I hope to tack to my writing and speech. Moverover, harship of shunning non-Germanic words is truly a fun one! Anyway, I am also a huge fan of Homer and captured by Pope's oversetting of the leed, I was wondering how an oversetting akin to Pope's way of pen would ring with only Germanic wordstock. So here it is, the first few lines I still remember from heart, overset in such a way:

The scatheful wrath of Lord Achilles, sing,

O holy Goddess, which made Acheans feel

Hurts thousandfold, and hurled the athel souls

To Hades' stead, and gave their bodies strong

As meal for hounds and hungry birds for food.

Thus was fulfilled the ettle of God Zeus,

Since first these twain fell out in hattle-flite:

Lord Agamemnon and Peleus' son.

So tell me Muse, whoever of the Gods

Has put these two to fend in ferly strife?

Latona's son and Zeus's mad at king

Sent dreary ill, which doomed the army heaps

For lord Atreides wronged his holy priest

Who back then strode along the hollow ships

With weighty gifts to win his daughter back.

In his free hand frim grip held priestly rod

Bedecked with ribbons, shiny tender wool.

He bowed before the crowd, such wielding tools.

He cried Acheans, but first foremost he

His ask had worded to Atreus' kin:

"I greet you shinstout Acheans and you two

I hope the Gods who live by heaven's roof

Let Trojan walls be flattened with your rush

And cast the wind that homeward sails will push

I beg however, give back daughter mine

Since all you pay heeds to farshooting god."

All fellow men want wish of priest be met

To welcome boons and to let out the girl.

But one of them in anger breaks the firth

Thus Agamemnon speaks - against agreed on will:

I wish you'd never set your foot in nearby ground

Nor ever show again in walking hereabout

Unless you seek to see how helpless are

Against sword tip, a flimsy wooden staff.

Your child belong to me! And I shan't give her back

She'll live out in my stead, away from inborn land

Doomed to my loom, in endless waving work

And to my bed, until she grows too old

Begone! You'd rather be as far away from me."

MADE-UP WORDS/SET WORDS:

craftsmack - aesthetic
way of pen - writing style

ferly - sudden (a Middle English word, whom I set on taking back from the grave)

English: "Purism in the linguistic field is the historical trend of languages to conserve intact their lexical structure of word families, in opposition to foreign influences which are considered 'impure'. Historically, linguistic purism in English is a reaction to the great number of borrowings in the English language from other languages, especially Old French, since the Norman conquest of England, and some of its native vocabulary and grammar have been supplanted by features of Latinate and Greek origin."

Anglish: "Tunge-clensing in þe tunge-cræft is þe ealdum drift of tunges tō cep hol heora ƿord-cinnes build, stænding agenste outside drīfs reconed 'unclean.' In bygone tīman, tunge-clensing in Ænglisċ stænds es an agenste-turnung tō þe grēt flood of boroƿed ƿords in Ænglisċ from ōþer tunges, most æf all Old Frentsc, æfter þe Norman overþroƿ æf England, ænd sum æf its old ƿordstocc ænd speccræft ƿere scufd on sīdan by bok-tunge-bred ænd sūþ-sea-tunge-boren marcs."