Work Text:
Once upon a time, the Goddess Yavanna was wandering in the Valley of Anduin.
She walked the paths creating flowers from where she stepped, and stood as tall as the magnificent trees. She wandered for a long time, but was lonely.
She was away from her sister and her husband. The dwarves hid in the mountains, away from the woods and meadows. The elves looked upon the stars but not the grass or the mushrooms, nor the crickets or ants. The men cut down her trees and crushed her grass, not taking time to see her flowers. No one truly appreciated her creations. So decided to make her own.
She took clay from the banks of the creek, and sculpted her own creatures. She adorned them in flowers and leaves of Cinquefoil and Lucerene. She sung life into them, and called them hobbits.
They had the resilience, craftsmanship and height of dwarves, the curiosity, appreciation of nature, and ears to match that of the elves, and everything else of men.
She taught her hobbits to love nature and to appreciate everything from the blades of grass, to the ugliest of mushrooms, to the tallest of trees. She taught them to love all animals from the smallest of ants, to the sharpest of porcupines, to the largest of wolves.
She created hobbits, to appreciate and love what she created, and made them her children.
All faunts are told the story of how we came to be, so we know to love the bees making honey, the flowers adorning meadows, and ivy crawling up walls.
And now you know our story aswell.