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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Hypersmurf" data-source="post: 386485" data-attributes="member: 1656">Some guesses :I am, in truth, a yellow forkFrom tables in the skyBy inadventant fingers droppedThe awful cutlery.Of mansions never quite disclosedAnd never quite concealed,The apparatus of the darkTo ignorance revealed.-- Unknown.  I can't quite make it fit, but I want to say "Lightning"...My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face,Careering along, yet always in place,The thought has often come into my mindIf I ever shall see thy glorious behind.-- Unknown.The Moon.Old King Ghorn had forged his kingdom from the war-wrackedlands of Arndor not by the strength of his sword but by thesharpness of mind. It was his cleverness that tricked thegoblins into leaving; it was trickiness that made the dragonwing to better hunting grounds; it was his wisdom that keptthe barons from feuding amongst themselves and the horsemenfrom 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 sireany sons; his only heir was his daughter Triella. Now GoodKing Ghorn knew that for peace to continue in Ghornia thenext king would have to be as clever, and so he devised thefollowing test for his daughter's suitors. He who could passit would become king; all others would die.The test was thus:The princess was put in the center of a huge 50 foot by 50foot carpet. Whomsoever could touch her hand would get theprincess, and the throne besides. However, the rules of thetest were that the contestants could not walk over thecarpet, cross the plane of the carpet, or hang fromanything; nor could they use anything but their body andwits (i.e. no magic or psionics, nor any items such asladders, block and tackles etc). Furthermore, only normalhumans could be applicants (i.e. no deformed guys with 50foot arms, or shapechangers).Ghornia now stands; it has a king whose wisdom isunsurpassed. How did the king touch Triella's hand?-- Unknown.He asked Triella to walk to the edge of the carpet.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, whenHope 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.-- Unknown.A shield.My beak is below, I burrow and noseUnder the ground, I go as I'm guidedBy 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 downAnd 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.-- Unknown.A plow.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?-- Unknown.A rainbow.-Hyp.</blockquote>

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