I’m born where wandering waters slow, A many fingered hand where rivers meet the sea. In numbers I’m the change you come to know, In letters I’m the fourth, but you still call me, me. What am I?

I rise and fall as boats stall over mountain ridges and trolls fidges stone by stone built up in rome just to fall back down in london

We travel together, not alone, Across long roads we make our home. One may lead, but many follow. What are we called?

Red lines cross on blue, framed in white. Built from older flags, stitched into one. Raised on ships and over castles. Say 'together' first, then a common bird, then captain’s first name.

Amidst the vast ocean blue, a tiny friend in view. Not a mountain, not a plain, just a dot in the nautical domain.