Magical languages are appealing because they have an in-world, story-based connection between their words and the things they name. There is a reason for their existence. A magical reason. Unlike real-world languages with an arbitrary connection between the words and the things they name, Magical languages make that connection very real and tangible. Let me illustrate what I mean.
Try to call some fire to your hand.
Say “fire.”
Did it work?
No? Try another word.
“Flame!”
Not even a spark.
“Conflagration!”
If you’re not smoldering, you’re doing it wrong.
Maybe saying it in French or Spanish or German would make the spell work? Let’s try.
“Fuego!”
Nothing.
“Feu!”
Still nothing.
“Feuer!”
Damn, I was sure German would be the kicker.
I’ll keep trying and I invite you not to give up either, but it is not likely that any primary-world language is going to operate like a magical language, no matter what words you use. But, supposing that you were the Dragonborn living in Skyrim, and you shouted out
Yor Toor Shul
You would not at all be surprised to see a fiery inferno physically escape your lips. That’s just what happens when you speak a dragon shout. The character’s ability to spew forth flames is justified in-world by the existence of the Draconic language, and the Draconic language acquires interest and mystery by virtue of its magical effects.
But even though a magical language like Draconic is appealing because of the direct, tangible connection between words and things, there is ever an element of mystery present in it. After all, the question of the connection between the words and the things is just pushed a step back. Why does Yor Toor Shul create a fiery vortex and not other shouts? What reasons are there behind the magic? The mere appearance of an unknown language in a fantasy setting is a story-telling maneuver because it gets the audience to ask that vital question--what does it mean?
Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and where there’s language, there will be people to speak it. The appearance of a fantasy language assumes the existence of a group of speakers. Speakers with their own history, their own culture. Of course the language is invented and the community it assumes is imaginary. Nevertheless the mere appearance of a language, even if it is inaccessible at first to the audience, tells them that such a community must exist. We know that there is a meaning behind the magical words, even if we don’t know what it is. And that mystery informs the second question of engagement with a fantasy language--who speaks it.
Thus, the appeal of fantasy languages has to do with their ability to provoke questions that engage with specific aspects of the world-building, namely questions about the deep structure of magic (language), and questions about the users (speakers) of such magic. In a well-developed world the answers to these questions will be precise, detailed, and internally consistent. This is because the engagement with the world that they provoke is rigorous and probing.
In my next post, I will develop in more detail how these two aspects of language-/world-building ( the people and their language) can be expressed in a convincing manner.