Disclaimer: I don't Hobbits. I am, however, a leprechaun, so ha. Behold my jig of victory.
Author's Notes: In the beginning of The Hobbit, the text runs as such:
"But what is a Hobbit? I suppose they need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People… the ordinary, everyday sort [of magic] which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like us come blundering along…"
Whereas in the Prologue of the Lord of the Rings it says,
"Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerous formerly than they are today…"
So then of course, the Hobbits are still with us. But where? Where would they be? The Shire is a land of green rolling hills… where the Wee Folk play…
This poem is lovingly and utterly dedicated to Amarth, who nurtured and cared for this plot bunny and gently reminded me of its' existence until I finally wrote it. Sorry, girl; I tried to get it out by St. Patrick's Day, but I was too busy playing pranks on me little brothers. So, Amarth, this one's for you!
Land of the Wee Folk
In Ireland, the grass grows green
And the hills roll long and proud
In grassy knells; the pealing bells
Are rich and strong and loud
One sunny day, a lad set out
He felt himself a rover
Beneath his feet, there was no street
But only grass and clover
His mind began a'wanderin'
And so he started talking
"Oh, what if I should chance to spy
A leprechaun out walking?"
His journey led him to the wood
'Twas no path, so he beat one
And still he spoke of those wee folk
And how he'd like to meet one
Through branches and through murky trees
He walked the forest floor
Along he went, till was spent
And he could go no more
So sat he down beside a tree
In hopes to catch his breath
Lost he was here, and full of fear
That he should meet his death
When at this very moment came
A most peculiar sound
He would have run, but he was done
Exhausted on the ground
Laughter, it was! How very odd
That in this lonely wood
He did not hear a fox or deer
But someone laughing good
The bushes parted, the lad fell back
Out came a little fellow!
His feet were bare, and on them, hair
His snappy vest was yellow
He cocked his head and scratched his chin
And said, "Well, ain't that a sight!"
The lad felt numb; he was struck dumb
His mouth closed up in fright
The fellow did not notice
Or at least, that's how it seemed
The lad thought on; a leprechaun!
'Twas more than he had dreamed
"Excuse me, sir," the lad choked out
The fellow tipped his head
"But, be you one… er, leprechaun?"
And that was all he said
The fellow laughed again and smiled
"My lad, you be mistaken!
That be our name when Big Folk came
But not the one we've taken!"
"Then what are you?" the lad was dazed
"If not a leprechaun?"
"Ah, once our name was known with fame
But now it's nearly gone…"
"How old be you?" the fellow asked
The lad said "I am nine."
"Not even a Tween!" What did that mean?
The lad could not divine
"You're harmless, then." This must be good
The fellow seemed to feel
The lad smiled once, but felt a dunce
This simply wasn't real
"Yes, a leprechaun am I,
If that's what you would call me
But truth be told, that term is old
It's starting appall me
Not always 'leprechauns' were we
But always we're the Wee Folk…"
The lad tried his best to all digest
These funny words that he spoke
"Hobbits, we were! In days long past
Not 'little leprechaun'
Yes, Hobbit's a name we wore without shame
But now those days are gone."
"But sir," said the lad, "What mean you, 'we'?
You mean that there are more?"
"Of course, my lad, there's more to be had
Just like the days of yore."
The fellow paused and thought a bit
A twinkle filled his eyes
"Well lad, I've thought, and you have got
The faith, which is a surprise.
Not many people still believe
That Little Folk exist
And so we'll pass, swallowed by grass
But worse, we won't be missed."
"But I believe!" the lad cried out
"I've always known it's true!"
The fellow slapped his hands and clapped
"You know lad, I like you!
Your faith deserves reward, I think
That you should know us real
Come with me, and you will see
And hear and think and feel
Things you've never felt before
Just follow, or take my hand."
And so the boy was filled with joy
As they walked across the land
The tiredness that he had known
Had passed beyond recall
Now all he felt, and saw, and smelt
Were green things, fresh and tall
Through the trees unnaturally green
And on a little while
They came at last, the dazed lad gasped
The fellow cracked a smile
A party went on in the wood!
And leprechauns were all!
Or, Hobbits, the name, but all the same
The Little People, he'd call
The lad stepped back and blinked his eyes
Another Hobbit came
He made a bow, and straightening now
Said Merry was his name
Not Merry the first, of course, of course
But from a long and noble line
The first, he went by Magnificent
And he'd had adventures fine
The party wore its' way along
The music wove a spell
The Hobbits danced, the lad entranced
Joined in and did it well
They told him tales of worlds gone by
Of all things Hobbits had done
Two Hobbits brave, the world they saved
Quenched darkness, woke the Sun
The hours passed like wind in spring
And still they talked and told
How the Land of Ire was once the Shire
In happy days of old
At last the sun began to set
The lad jumped up and cried,
"I shouldn't roam! I must get home!"
Then he felt odd inside
The vision of Hobbits before him swirled
His vision wavered fleetly
They smiled and waved, so happy and brave
Then disappeared completely
At last the lad came to his senses
The sun was high in the sky
He stood on the road, not a mile from his home
And not an hour had gone by
Had it been real? Had he been there?
With the Wee Folk of the land?
His blinked eyes, and in surprise
Saw a shamrock in his hand
The grand green space of Ireland
Hides Little People in its' hills
If we believe, then they won't leave
And always stay they will
So next time you see Ireland
Or think of leprechauns
For every heart that has faith on their part
The Little Folk live on
~ The End