Fragment: The Grove-Weaver's Song

Collected from eleven Sanctuaries in nine variants; this is the oldest. It is sung slowly, in time with the loom. The weavers say the Grove works better for it. The order has stopped arguing with them.

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The Grove-Weaver’s Song

Thread from the Well and the shuttle goes over, over and under and home.

First I will weave you the shape of the stone, patience and shoulder and root and bone, last from the field when the field is done — stand, my Ancient one, stand.

Thread from the Well and the shuttle goes over, over and under and home.

Next I will weave you the shape of the rain, light in the reeds and away again, what can’t be caught can’t feel the pain — run, my Sprite, my lantern, run.

Thread from the Well and the shuttle goes over, over and under and home.

Last I will weave you the shape of the flame, hunger that answers no whistle or name, quick to the wound and quick to the claim — strike, my Stalker, strike.

Thread from the Well and the shuttle goes over, over and under and home.

And when you are frayed on a far green field, and the wall has held and the snarl has yielded, down to the Font on the shoulders of friends — over and under and home again, over and under and home.

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A weaver at the southern seams, asked why the song never mentions the soldiers’ return to the loom when their lending ends, is recorded to have said: “It does. Every line of it. You’re just not listening in Grove.”