I do not own The Hobbit.
I do not own pets. Not as of now.
Radagast the Nutter
If he listened, if he paid any attention at all, he would have heard the whispers, the sniggers, the laughter.
But he didn't. So he didn't.
What outsiders didn't understand was that every gentle, innocent creature of the forest, of the land, of the water, of the air, had value.
Deep, meaningful, lasting value.
They had names.
Feelings.
Thoughts.
And value.
Their offspring, their mates.
They were absolutely pure of avarice, pride, ambition, or human cruelty.
They were, in their entirety of their existence, simply them.
That was why he chose to make his home with them.
To tend for them.
To be, in a light bit, a part of their lives.
One who cared for them, mourned their loss.
As did . . .
"Oh, Sebastian. No."
. . . Radgast himself.
Honestly, he was bizarre.
But he was who he chose to be.
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