[Tar-Palantir]

From 'HoME XIII: Forgotten Lore of ME'
Subtitled 'Illegible Notes From The Pub'

To my chagrin a particularly ill advised yet tantalizingly obscure reference to the sister of Yavanna has arisen loudly from the sub-culture known as 'Tolkienites'. The utter idea of such an obtuse moniker would undoubtedly send me flying at once in the most opposite of directions. However, since I dearly relish the opportunity to embelish finished material I will oblige the rogueish assemblage of 'Tolkienites', or as the unabashedly uppity among them prefer answering to, 'Tolkien Scholars'. Odd to these obvious heathens would it be to know that my wife has laid as much lead to parchment as have I. Conveniently, her name spells out plainly enough with the selfsame letters I use. Aside from dry humor added for naught but the satisfaction of my contigent of readers the Mrs. and I, were we to choose, enjoy hearing the more inclusive and editorially correct label of 'Mr. and Mrs. Tolkien-ites' if you please.

Now on to the subject of the ideally forgotten yet painstakingly dredged piece of Pub fodder, the true tale of the late blooming sister of the Vala Yavanna Kementári. Widely observed, though brief in content is the tale of the relationship between Yavanna and Aulë. Little known even amidst the Mr. and Mrs. Tolkienites Yavanna and Aulë were not long in romance, a consequence truly unbefitting the immeasureable stature an observant sort might rightfully expect. Playing the role of absentee spouse Aulë wrought what he did not expect; the Melkor derived, and fiendishly so, ire of Yavanna. She devised a plan to bring a people of her own device into Arda corrupting the glory of Aulë.

Quite expectedly Ilúvatar was not unaware of these matters and began a new verse in his glorius Song. A verse embodying Yavanna's loneliness and her misguided placement of energy by delivering Töbáccëànyä Kementári, a Vala embodying Yavanna's love of nature with Aulë creationary sensibilities, and unfotunately the stain of Melkor inspired mischievousness. For long ages the sisters danced, sung and conversed in glorious Arda strengthening and protecting all things green and growing.

As is the way of Melkor's shadow and stain a day of reckoning arrived. At the beginning of the third age of the Sun and Moon Töbáccëànyä danced in the presence of a growing thing previously unheard in song. She sang an exquisite chorus of all her songs of nature learned through the ages, yet was caught unknowing which wrought a feeling of distress in Töbáccëànyä of such wild proportion as to deserve it's own ballad. Knowing the nearby grove of trees by their names she called to them each in turn "Bârléy, Höps, Opìumë, Cöcaínna, Cânnabís! What plant is this not to be found in song?" Whispered the trees in concert "Beloved sister of Yavanna listen to our wisdom, it is a plant of unkown origin brought in Elder days a nomadic tribe of men. They died out long ago, many sing the tale of their being the first failed attempt of Melkor to bring men under his sway. This plant they cherished as gold and would sell their lives in it's defense. These men spoke spoke not in the elegant word of the Eldar, nor in the harsh tones of the Khazâd, they spoke in hacks and wheezes as if the mere task of speaking ripped the very breath from their lungs. Quite disturbing. Do not allow this plant to flourish oh twice blessed sister of Yavanna."

These things she dwelled on in the years to come singing always to the trees seeking their counsel. She dared not reveal her discovery to Yavanna who was jealous of her single lifestyle bereft of responsibility. Rather than give the glory away, glory her sister would (as she falsely believed) lord over her. The die had been cast and the plant must be destroyed to prevent such an occurence. Had she decided to seek her own fame with the discovery, inevitably the blessings of the Valar would fall to Yavanna believing blindly that all green things result from the love of Yavanna's bosom. Armed with decisiveness Töbáccëànyä harvested all of the plant save one patch which she missed just North of Hollin (she never travelled North in the winter) and burned the lot. Caught at unawares the swiftly burning leaves choked up her lungs with a strangely pleasurable result. "This is no bad thing" she screamed to the trees "this is a precious gift." Shortly the pile was in ashes and Töbáccëànyä felt ashamed at what she had done. Running to Yavanna she spilled forth sadness, taking pity on her foolish younger sister Yavanna begged Manwë's council.

Manwë's decree was that Töbáccëànyä be sent to the forges of Aulë to repent her destructiveness with labors of creation. This turned out to be a culmination of the design of Ilúvatar by which a new race would be created. A people which would embody the characteristics of all the other speaking races, in this way was the prophecy of no new races after the dawning of the Sun and Moon maintained. But this race would be unique as Töbáccëànyä (as she is now known) herself was. This race she vowed would embody and perfect her own joys of living carefree, for as she devised there were already enough fighting peoples in Arda. Here is an abbreviated version of her recipe.

Humans for their speech, family habits, and generalities.

Dwarves for their love of food and mead, height, hairyness, resistance to magic, and propensity to live in holes in the ground.

Elves for their long fingers, ears, stealthiness of footstep, love of song, love of the land, and gift-giving.

Dwarves and Common men together for their middling life-span.

This people were to be known as Holbytlan, desiring in their lives naught but that which brings comfort, being embued as they were with the skills for such a life. By some ironic turn of events or perhaps one last gift of Töbáccëànyä the Holbytlan found the Shire, the last remaining location of the burning weed. They and all other life sang with joyous wonder when educated of the joys of Nicotiana with which the Shire folk enjoyed a special relationship and pride.

But that is not the end of this tale. Melkor's shadow is not so easily swayed. Adding to Töbáccëànyä's recipe at the last crucial second, Melkor had triumphantly tainted the Holbytlan so that they, like all others, would never outlive the dark horror of Morgoth - he added just a pinch of dragon claw to the mix, fiendishly mutating the poor Holbytlan, he gave them - Big Hairy Feet!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Now aren't you sorry you asked to be shown the dark forgotten tales? [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: Tar-Palantir ]