There is a legend in the forest, of trees standing tall. Yet one by one their noble breed was cut down to feed the need and greed and progress of men. For this the woods could only cry, as their brethren were brought to their knees by blade of axes. River's were born from their tears, streams and mere's formed by their sorrow. Until that fateful day.

A pixy upon rose peddles midst high spring took pity upon the unmoving kindred. She flew far and wide to find the strongest to still stand tall and painted upon its bark a face of magic dusts. A body followed, sturdy and small winter's belly. She drew the features of her mind's eye, resembling the only men she had ever laid eyes upon, those whom came with axe and fire. 

"Stay here till ill men doest come, forest's guardian, Thou shalt be known to some." The pixy exclaimed when all was well. The tree stood vigil for a week, when a man came to fell.

Woe was him, for from tree did spawn, a sturdy man strong of arm. Frightened the tree-feller fled in terror, leaving behind the axe he brought. Our sturdy fellow whom with a laugh, as befitting of a pixy child, took the tool and wandered into the wild. 

Singing, chanting, dancing around, till no longer a tree-feller is to be found!

This some say is how Tiny Telm Longtail came to be, A pixy mother the source of his glee. But some tell a different tale, of a man, a woman, a tavern and ale.

Whatever you may chose to belief, rejoice as it comes to some relief, a pixies son or son of men, you should not focus on how it all began.