"The old world will burn in the fires of industry. The forests will fall. A new order will arise. We will drive the machine of war with the sword and the spear and the iron fist of the orc. We have only to remove those who oppose us."
These words, spoken by a fallen Maiar in an ancient time long forgotten, would echo throughout history in the deeds of conquerors and colonizers. Now, thousands of years and trillions of miles away, their original context was reflected with uncanny similarity.
A great round expanse of desolate land; every scrap of vegetation burned away; adamantine stone walls erected in a great ring. Within the ring, the fires of industry burned; producing all manner of weapons to make war upon the land and its people. No longer were trees needed to fuel the forges - so they were simply destroyed to make room, their ancient lives entirely wasted.
Yavanna watched as a new breed of warrior, born of unholy arts, rode out from the gates to make war upon her people. Taller, stronger, faster and more deadly than any other soldiers of the enemy. Able to move with impunity through her lands, unrecognized as hostile by her creatures.
Yavanna remembered the orcs long ago assaulting her forests with fire and axe; scorching and maiming her children the Ents when they came to drive them away. The humans here thought that by removing the plant life, they could keep her away from this place. They were wrong. She may have come perilously close to binding herself to this world as Morgoth had to Earth, but she had not. Her spirit moved through and over the land, the air, the water.
To be more accurate, the humans did not expect to keep Yavanna away. They knew nothing of her. They knew vaguely of Eywa, and thought to keep her away with the ring of barren land. They did not See. But she did. She knew their deeds, their intent, and the dire consequences awaiting them. She had seen it all before. But that knowledge did not make their behavior seem any less insane.
How, she wondered, could any living thing desire this? What kind of madness drove them? They fled a world rendered desolate by industry run amok. They came to an unspoiled paradise, and immediately begin transforming it into the same kind of hell they fled from.
They planned to house two million people on this barren patch of land. More than the whole population of Gondor and Arnor at their height. Even knowing of the conditions on Earth, such a thing was inconceivable to Yavanna. Why would they flee a ruined place, travel so far, only to continue living the same way that destroyed their first home? Was their perspective truly so warped? Was this unnatural way of life so deeply entrenched in their minds, in their cultural memory, that it was all they knew?
Aule was with her. His unease was no less than hers. He still visited Earth, and he had seen the desolation there. Even he, the Father of Smithcraft, was disturbed by how recklessly Men practiced his arts; and appalled by the consequences. Just as Yavanna could see the value in industry practiced wisely, he knew the value of a healthy ecosystem. He had always counseled his students to be careful of his wife's domain, to not abuse it - for all life depended on it. He loved his wife, and he appreciated her works, even if they were sometimes at odds with each other. The elves had followed his advice well, balancing wisely their use of the forge and their love for the trees and the land. Sadly, most Men lacked that wisdom.
He remembered when Men still lived among the trees. He remembered fondly their joy at finding a shiny rock in a stream, and their excitement at learning it could be made into a better knife or arrowhead. But metal was no longer a special thing to them. They no longer appreciated it; they simply expected it to be there. Most did not know or care where their metal and their machines came from, or who made them. Few took pride in their craft anymore. It was a mindless chore done mostly by machines. No longer did craftsmen labor to make tools for the good of their community; now they labored for profit, for advantage over others, or merely to survive in a hell of their own making. Some humans held onto lofty ideas about their purpose for doing the things they did, but their ideas, for the most part, were foolish and vapid; far removed from any true foundation of meaning or value.
It did not please Aule to see his craft thus perverted; to see it become so meaningless and destructive. To think that mankind had caused such ruin with the crafts his students had taught them - it brought the mighty Valar a measure of guilt. Over the ages, he had been an unwitting partner in Morgoth's defiling of Arda. When he and Yavanna had shaped this new world together, they had hoped it would remain a sanctuary from the Enemy's shadow. An echo of what Earth could have been, what humanity could have been, had they not been so thoroughly corrupted.
He was loathe to admit it, but Aule had begun to think his wife was right to forbid the Na'vi from industry. He would never lose his love for his craft and his desire to teach it. But if total desolation was the inevitable result of that craft practiced by mortals in a corrupted world… perhaps it would be better if they did not practice it at all. The thought did not sit well with him. But he could not dismiss it.