“Gather ’round, Ye drunken lads and lasses… Fill your cups And still your tongues. For I’ve wandered Creeks forgotten, Where old stones Remember names The maps never learned. Tonight I sing Of Rowan Bramblefoot… A halfling ranger Who walks where The water chooses, Whose only companions Are dragonflies… Or so they seem. For some swear They’ve seen those little wings Drive wolves away, Blind hungry goblins, And rise like a living storm When evil draws too near. Whether that’s truth… Or tavern talk… Well… I’ll leave that For you to decide. Now listen well…” I met him Where the creek ran black Beneath old sycamores A halfling No taller than my chest Yet the whole wood Watched him pass He carried Nothing fit for glory A slingshot Carved from ash A weathered knife And a smile Like he’d already Outlived trouble The river folk Would shake their heads Whenever He came through “Best leave him be,” The ferryman said, “The dragonflies Already know.” For every summer wing That found his shoulder Became a hundred more And every hungry thing That stalked his trail Forgot What it was hunting for Dragonflies Know his name They rise Before the danger comes Blue and green Like living stars Beneath The forest sun Whether luck Or woodland spirits None can truly say But every soul Who’s walked beside him Lived To tell the tale I’ve heard he faced A blighted maiden Deep beneath The willow shade Where flowers bled And roots reached out To drag the living down Some say He fought her Some say He freed her Some swear Neither tale is true But every telling Ends the same… The dragonflies Were there. Dragonflies Know his name They rise Before the danger comes Blue and green Like living stars Beneath The forest sun Whether luck Or woodland spirits None can truly say But every soul Who’s walked beside him Lived To tell the tale So if you’re lost When daylight fades And hear no friendly sound Watch the reeds Watch the water Watch the quiet air If tiny wings Begin to gather Don’t be afraid… You’ve wandered close To Rowan Bramblefoot. Dragonflies Know his name From mountain spring To winding sea Children sing And old folk smile When they hear His memory Whether man Or woodland legend I cannot rightly say I only know I crossed his path… And lived To sing today.
