Riddles Page 12

When it is born, it has gray hairs

Many small shellfish, one large shellfish

My man that cannot be cut.

My little canoe house that has one post and two gates.

My canoes, going day and night,
ten bowspirits, two sterns.

My red cave, white soldiers standing in line.

When you get up in the morning and go,
how many are there?

I am a strong as ten men
yet ten men cannot stand me up.
What am I?

Above all things
have I been placed
thus have I
a man disgraced.
I describe
sunlight or lock
but after all
I'm just a rock.

I cost no money to use,
Or conscious effort to take part of.
And as far as you can see,
there is nothing to me.
But without me, you are dead.

Sturdy, strong stable, still
Some live in me some live on
And some find me to live upon.
I rarely leave my native land.
Until my death I always stand.
Sturdy Strong Stable Still
Often shaken, but not at will.
High and low I may be found
both above and under ground.

At the sound of me I can make women weep.
At the sound of me men may clap or stamp their feet.
What am I?

Old King Ghorn had forged his kingdom from the war-wracked lands of Arndor not by the strength of his sword but by the sharpness of mind. It was his cleverness that tricked the goblins into leaving; it was trickiness that made the dragon wing to better hunting grounds; it was his wisdom that kept the barons from feuding amongst themselves and the horsemen from attacking. Peace had reigned in Ghornia for 35 years, and the king's sword became rusty as he raised his family. Alas, the old king was on his deathbed before he could sire any sons; his only heir was his daughter Triella. Now Good King Ghorn knew that for peace to continue in Ghornia the next king would have to be as clever, and so he devised the following test for his daughter's suitors. He who could pass it would become king; all others would die.
The test was thus:

The princess was put in the center of a huge 50 foot by 50 foot carpet. Whomsoever could touch her hand would get the princess, and the throne besides. However, the rules of the test were that the contestants could not walk over the carpet, cross the plane of the carpet, or hang from anything; nor could they use anything but their body and wits (i.e. no magic or psionics, nor any items such as ladders, block and tackles etc). Furthermore, only normal humans could be applicants (i.e. no deformed guys with 50 foot arms, or shapechangers). Ghornia now stands; it has a king whose wisdom is unsurpassed.

How did the king touch Triella's hand?

Wounded I am, and weary with fighting;
Gashed by iron, gored by the point of it,
Sick of battle-work, battered and scarred.
Many a fearful fight have I seen, when
Hope there was none, or helping the thick of it,
Ere I was down and fordone in the fray.
Offspring of hammers, hardest of battle-blades,
Smithied in forges, fell on me savagely,
Doomed to bear the brunt and shock of it,
Fierce encounter of clashing foes,
Leech cannot heal my hurts with his simples,
Salves and sores have I sought in vain.
Blade cuts dolorous, deep in the side of me,
Daily and nightly redouble my wounds.

I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten;
That is a strange thing, I thought, weird
That a man's song be swallowed by a worm,
His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by
Rustled in the night - and the robber-guest
Not one wit the wiser for the words he had mumbled.

The wave, over the wave, a weird thing I saw,
Through-wrought, and wonderful ornate:
A wonder on the waves--water become bone.

I war with the wind, with the waves I wrestle;
I must battle with both when the bottom I seek,
My strange habitation by surges o'er-roofed.
I am strong in strife, while I still remain;
As soon as I stir, they are stronger than I.
They wrench and they wrest, till I run from my foes;
What was put in my keeping they carry away.
If my back be not broken, I baffle them still;
The rocks are my helpers, when hard I am pressed;
Grimly I grip them. Guess what I'm called.

My beak is below, I burrow and nose
Under the ground, I go as I'm guided
By my master the farmer, old foe of the forest;
Bent and bowed, and my back he walks,
Forward pushing me over the field;
Sows on my path where I've passed along.
I come from the wood, a wagon carried me;
I was fitted with skill, I am full of wonders.
As grubbing I go, there's green on one side,
But black on the other my path is seen.
A curious prong pierces my back;
Beneath me in front, another grows down
And forward pointing is fixed to my head.
I tear and gash the ground with my teeth,
If my master steer me with skill from behind.

I am puff-breasted, proud crested,
As head I have, and a high tail,
Eyes & ears and one foot,
Both my sides, a back that's hollow,
A very stout beak, a steeple neck
And a home above men. Harsh are my sufferings
When that which makes the forest tremble takes and shakes me.
Here I stand under steaming rain
And blinding sleet, stoned by hail;
Freezes the frost and falls the snow
On me stuck-bellied. And I stick it all out
For I cannot change the change that made me.

A painting, I have no frame,
No gallery exhibits me;
Here today, tomorrow I move;
Yet I am as permanent as life itself.
A painting, I use no canvas,
Yet my canvas is the essence of life;
No brush was used in my creation,
But colors are mine to display.
A painting; who am I?