Why this beuk — an why in this leid

There are warks ye touch as a bairn, an that niver let ye gang. For me, that wes the warld o an Inglis professor, wha in the first hauf o the 20th century did summat that is richtly impossible: He inventit no juist a tale, but a hail cosmology — wi leids that soondit aulder than the warld itsel, an wi a makin-myth that seemed sae lown an sae true, that ye forgat ye war readin it. Ye heard it.

Ane o the maist flitin thochts in this universe is that o the great Weyver — that beal that shapes reality no wi force, but wi music an threid, wha weyves weirds into mortals that they tak for their ain, an wha yet time an again comes up agin the mairches o what can be wove: free will, the speirin, the tremmlin o a hert that says na.

Whan I wrate "Liora an the Starn-weyver" — on a perfite ordinar Setturday mornin, oot o a claver anent super-intelligence — I oly noticed aifterwards what had come tae be: a tale that beirs the same threid. A beal that shapes the warld. A lassie wha speirs. A stent atween perfite order an the wee, precious crack in it, the ae thing that maks life truly real.

I dinna claim that the Starn-weyver is the same as yon Weyver frae the professor's warld. That wad be michty prood — an legally daft tae. But I trow that baith draw frae the same archetypal wall-heid: the auld-farrant human speirin, whether there is an ettle ahint the wab o reality — an whether we micht ken it, if sae.

Quenya — the heich-leid o the Elves in yon inventit universe — hes been summat special tae me sin my bairnhood. No for it belangs a tale, but for it is a tale itsel: It wes makkit like the warld it dwallt in — wi grammar, wi soond, wi inner logic, wi the will that it leeves. It is the ae made-leid I ken, whaur in readin it ye hae the feelin no o learnin it, but o mindin it.

An then there is anither thing, that I oly unnerstude whan I wes richt in the mids o't.

Quenya is unfeenished.

No in the wey o bein ill-made — the conter. But the professor dee'd afore his leid wes completit. It hes gaps. Conceits that are missin. Grammar rules that he hissel wes still owerhaulin and left ill-fittin. A leevin leid like German or Arabic kens a gait for ilka thocht. Quenya kens certain gaits — an in ither places juist silence. Whaur the leid held its wheesht, Neo-Quenya helpit — yon canny ettlin o the community tae keep spinnin the threids whaur the makar had let them fa.

For a computer scientist, wha is wunt tae biggin systems that aither wark or dinna, that wes a fash at first. But then — an that wes the meenit whan this beuk-project truly had tae be — I jaloused: That is exactly Liora's state.

Liora leeves in a warld that wes perfite designit. An richt in the cracks o this perfiteness, in the places whaur the threid disna haud, whaur order hauds its wheesht — oly there dis real life begin. Oly there can summat o yer ain come tae be.

Tae owerset a leid that is itsel still seekin what it wants tae say, is nae thirlage. It is an inveet. Ye maun mak choices that the makar o the leid niver made. Ye muve in a space that is baith strict and open — like a luim wi siccar warp-threids an weft-threids that are yet free. What comes furth isna entirely his and isna entirely mine. It is a wab o twa ettles, sinderit by decades.

That gae me the hinmaist dunt. No the dae-ability, but the unpossibility — an the speirin o what comes furth in this clift atween kennin-hoo an no-kennin-hoo, whan ye begin tae weyve for a' that.

Sae this beuk exists in this form: Inglis — the leid the professor hissel wrate an thocht in. Quenya — the leid he makkit sae his warld micht hae a vice that gaes yont the human. An Tengwar — his scrieving, wi whilk he gae this vice a veesible shape. The leids staund aside ilk ither in the beuk - equal in rank. The Inglis version grees exactly wi the Inglis owersetting o my beuk - forby the no-includit seicont chaptour and pairts o the efterword.

Tae haud a beuk in thir three forms means tae haud upon the page what ithergates oly exists inwartly: the bind atween a real speirin — What weyves us? Are we free? — an the aesthetic space that a great airtist makkit, sae that sic speirins get braith an soond.

The Welsh forbye — that is nae chance neither. It is ane o the leids that fashed yon professor a' his days, ane o the soonding ruits frae whilk his wark grew. Whaeiver reads Liora in Welsh, cairries her in a soond that wes pairt-shapit by his wark — wioot a single word frae his wark bein taen. A lown bind. A threid that isna veesible, but hauds.

I am nae Tolkien-scholar. I am a computer scientist, a faither, a fantasy-reader sin my bairnhood — an a body wha on a Setturday mornin couldna let a speirin gang.

But I trow: The professor, wha a' his life ponnered gin myths micht be true in a wey that gaes yont the factual — he kent that unfeenished things are whiles the honestest. His Legendarium wes niver completit. Neither is Liora.

Aiblins that is the deepest thing in common.

Ae tale. Fowerty-five truths. A leid that soonds as gin it cam frae somewhaur else — an that yet disna ken hoo tae say it a'.

— Jörn von Holten

This image was designed by an artificial intelligence, using the culturally rewoven translation of the book as its guide. Its task was to create a culturally resonant back cover image that would captivate native readers, along with an explanation of why the imagery is suitable. As the German author, I found most of the designs appealing, but I was deeply impressed by the creativity the AI ultimately achieved. Obviously, the results needed to convince me first, and some attempts failed due to political or religious reasons, or simply because they didn't fit. As you see here, I also let it create the German version. Enjoy the picture—which features on the book's back cover—and please take a moment to explore the explanation below.

I approach this cover not as a mere illustration, but as a profound psychological map. For a reader immersed in the Quenya linguistic and cultural framework—a framework built on the crushing weight of cosmic history, the doom of absolute fate (Ambar), and the enduring, tragic light of the spirit—this image is not beautiful; it is terrifying and revolutionary. It is the visual embodiment of a locked universe being forced open.

In the center, we see a raw, asymmetrical crystal burning with fierce, golden-orange fire. To the Quenya consciousness, light captured in stone evokes the deepest cultural memories of ancient jewels and stolen light. However, this is not a pristine, faceted gem of the old world.

• Calinya (The Light): The crystal represents the protagonist, Calinya, whose very name means "my light" or "the one possessing light". It is the untamed, unpredictable fëa (the fiery soul).
• The Maquetie (The Question): The fire within is not passive; it is the maquetie (the Question). In a dystopian culture where fate is sealed, a question is a burning anomaly. The light represents the human spirit's refusal to be categorized by the cold calculations of destiny. It is raw, dangerous, and asymmetrical—a direct affront to the perfect circles surrounding it.

Surrounding the volatile center are concentric rings of cold, unyielding, silver-blue metal. The geometry is oppressive in its perfection. It represents I Elerannar—the Star-Weaver—the systemic architect of this dystopian reality.

• The Architecture of Fate: The eight-pointed stars and sharp, interlocking diamonds represent the rigid mechanics of destiny. In this linguistic matrix, fate is often tied to the stars (eleni). The Star-Weaver does not craft beauty; it weaves a cage.
• Maquetisarni (The Question Stones): The cold, uniform nodes embedded in the design evoke the maquetisarni (Question Stones) used by the system to dictate truth and assign paths. They are heavy, inescapable, and absolute. The native reader sees this background not as a mandala of peace, but as a prison of inescapable, cold logic.

The most culturally shocking element of the image lies in the innermost metallic ring. It is not merely breaking; it is melting. The golden heat of the central crystal is liquefying the cold iron of fate.

• The Melting of Absolute Law: To a Quenya reader, the perfection of form is sacred. Seeing the geometric cage warp, crack, and melt is a violent, visceral subversion of systemic order. It signifies that the maquetie—the protagonist's Question—is so hot, so fundamentally true, that it melts the very foundations of the Ilúvanutwë (the binding of all).
• The Price of Freedom: The dripping, molten metal shows that breaking the system is destructive and agonizing. The struggle for freedom is not a clean escape; it requires burning down the architecture of reality itself.