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Rangers
by Emyris Foggcloud
He wiggled his ears and
pulled down his cap
He closed his eyes for a short summer nap
The ranger smiled slightly as he drifted off to sleep
Quickly he drifted into slumber so deep
His clothes blended into the bushes and trees
His breathing quieter than the buzzing of bees
For he was a Ranger, master of the wood
And even in sleep he was hiding, as a good Ranger should
And when he awoke, for a second I could see
Then the ranger blended back again, into the trees.
And suddenly a shape appears far away
Growing larger with each second Time takes
I sense someone behind me, but no one is there
I draw my sword, remove my shield with care
For on the horizon, five trolls do come
I gulp, and for a moment I am struck dumb
Then, as they approach, I hear a great call
And the ranger leaps from hiding, sword and all
Bringing it down upon a troll’s head
Then back into the shadows, to the other trolls’ dread
He disappears and reappears, with skill of his kind
He changes the picture I have of rangers in my mind
I realize they are masters of their lands
They keep camouflage at their command
I thank the ranger, and continue my path
Grateful to the master of nature for his help in this clash.
At Ebon
Gate
By Ruach Rouan
His eyes close gently, slumbering
The birds soften their sweet sound.
His light like painted mosaics
Lies scattered on the ground.
Animals flee unto their
houses
In earth and tree and lake.
He rests in full contentment
And lies by Ebon Gate.
He waits there for his sister
Fleeting though the moment be.
She comes on cushioned footsteps
To set the lost ones free.
She glances at her brother
He smiles and with the sun.
Walks off into the twilight
His day's work being done.
Then softly there comes
riding
Upon his blackened steed.
The last of these three children
Who nurture Elanthia's need.
He stands with full attention
A guardian of the realm.
His clerics stand beside him
Lest an enemy be found.
Then with silent steps a'walking
Her slippers barely mark the ground.
She reaches in her cloak and finds
The keys that keep souls bound.
With purposeful, gentle
movement
She reaches to set free
For one short eve of every year
Those lives for revelry.