Chapter Text
Many things of old are long forgotten, and too many are left without much thought or high regard to. They are as lost to time as the granules of sand that number the shore, but one should never hasten away from hearing of them. For though they are old as time itself, they hold a greater meaning. And you may see, that not all things that happen perchance, were truly chance at all.
We will begin our tale here, where the sands of time stood still for both Dwarrow and Elf, during the great sleep of Yavanna. As it were, the Awakening was drawing closer and closer, and the children of Illuvatar would soon inhabit the world she had grown and nurtured back to life after Melkor had strove to destroy it all in his greed. All of her beautiful creations, save for the mighty tree herders, would fall victim to them, and it gripped her heart in worry and woe.
Aule, her husband, had seen her grief, and upon her lamentations in the light of the moon, prayed to Eru that peace come to his bride. Eru found pity on her, and upon her cries and tears that fell to the earth, he allowed one final creation to bloom from her care.
These children of Yavanna, though not borne of her hand, opened their eyes many years after the Awakening of Dwarrow and Elves, but in them they bore the innocence of the earth she had created. They grew no taller than the waist of an elf, just shy of the height of a dwarf, and they went for many, many years without notice by even the other Valar.
However, the one to find them was well interested in the safekeeping of these little ones. He was a Maiar, a guardian of sorts sent by the Valar to aid in the fight against Sauron, and he went by many a name. But the one he grew so very fond of, chimed from the fauntlings of the beautiful rolling hills of the Shire.
"GANDALF!" One fauntling cried, running to greet him, wide eyes shining in the light of the sun as he took off from the gates of a great hall that would be Bag-End by the end of the season.
And so, one small part of our great story comes to pass in the fields of the Shire, and for now we must part. For another thread to this grand tapestry is nearing it's time to pass, and it would not do well to leave it out of the grand design.