The Ranger King
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The Ranger King

A tribute to a childhood hero, inspired by the works of J.R.R. Tolkien

The Ranger King

The forest calls.

On silent boots,

Among the trees

I walk alone.

I see him in front of me,

Footsteps falling without a sound,

Upturned hood revealing no features—

The Ranger King,

In his self-imposed exile.

In the dappled light

That pierces through the canopy

And barely caresses the ground,

Even in the misty gloom

Of the forest floor,

His aura still radiates

As one of royalty,

No matter how far

He runs from it,

And I wonder:

Does he, like me,

Let time stand still

With everything outside

These arborous walls

Absent from his awareness?—

A branch snaps,

A bird calls,

And he turns to face me.

In his eyes,

I see all I am

And all I could hope to become;

It brings me back

To days gone by—

Of fluorescent lights

And No. 2 pencils—

Kirillitsa and hanzi

Flowing across pages

And the blank stares

Of those who would never understand.

It felt isolating to flourish

And have no one to look up to,

Until I learned of his ability,

And it loosened the chain

To walk the path I tread.

I've seen him along this path

Many times before—

We've never spoken,

But if we could,

I hope he could hear my voice

And the gratitude behind it,

For inspiring me

To live a creative life,

With all the words and dreams

I could ever wish for.

The Ranger King before me

Says nothing, but nods his head

Towards the direction of the path

Leading further into the wilds.

On silent boots,

With the wind at our backs,

And the road going ever on and on before us,

Among the trees

We walk together.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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