Unknown (Riddle Genius) - Riddles From The Book Of Exeter "11-20" lyrics

11. My garb is ashen and in my garments bright j**els, garnet-coloured, gleam. I mislead muddlers, despatch the thoughtless on fool's errands, and thwart cautious men in their useful journeys. I can't think why, addled and led astray, robbed of their senses, men praise my ways to everyone. Woe betide addicts when they bring the dearest of hoards on high unless they've foregone their foolish habits. 12. I travel by foot, trample the ground, the green fields, for as long as I live Lifeless, I fetter dark Welshmen sometimes their betters too. At times I give a warrior liquor from within me, at times a stately bride steps on me; sometimes a slave-girl, raven-haired, brought far from Wales, cradles and presses me - some stupid, sozzled maidservant fills me with water on dark nights, warms me by the gleaming fire, on my breast she places a wanton hand and writhes about, then sweeps me against her dark declivity. What am I called who, alive, lay waste the land and, dead, serve humankind? 13. I saw ten in all, roaming the greensward, six brothers strutting with their sisters; they had living spirits. A garment of skin - there was no mistaking it - hung on the wall of each one's house. And none were worse off, nor their movements more painful, though they must gnaw at the grey-green shoots, robbed of their garments, roused by the might of the guardian of heaven. New clothing is furbished for those who before walked out naked; they scatter and roam over the land. 14. I was once a warrior's weapon. Now a noble young retainer dresses me in threads of twisted gold and silver. At time men kiss me, at times I summon close friends to do battle; a horse sometimes bears me over the earth, sea-horses sometimes sweep me, gleaming, over the ocean; now and then a maiden, ring-adorned, replenishes my paunch. I must lie on planks at times, plundered, hard and headless; often, gold-garbed, I hang on the wall above drinking warriors, a splendid sight, instrument of war. Covered in riches, I draw in breath from a brave man's lungs when retainers ride towards battle. At times I tell proud warriors that wine is served; at times rally them, save booty from hostile men, drive off the enemy. Now ask me my name. 15. Whereas my neck is white, my head and sides are brown; I move swiftly and bear a battle-weapon; hair covers my back and my cheeks as well; two ears tower high above my eyes. I step on my toes through the green gra**. Grief is ordained for me if any fierce creature should catch me in my hole where I have my house and children; should I stay there with my offspring after this guest comes knocking at my door, they are doomed to die. I must bravely carry my infants far from our house, save them by flight, if that creature still follows me. He advances on his breast. I dare not await him in my hole . . . that was not a wise plan at all. I must burrow through the steep hillside With my two forefeet as fast as I can. I can save the lives of my loved ones with ease, once I've guided them out by a secret way through a hole in the hill. Then, if it comes to blows and battle, I feel no fear of this murderous foe. If he still gives me chase through that narrow hole I've just made in the hill, I will not fail to fight him fiercely. Once I've tunnelled my way to the top, I will angrily batter my enemy, That hateful foe from whom I long fled. 16. I must fight with the waves whipped up by the wind, grapple alone with their force combined, when I dive to earth under the sea. My own country is unknown to me. If I can stay still, I'm strong in the fray; If not, their might is greater than mine, they'll break me in fragments and put me to flight, meaning to wreck what I must protect. I can foil them if my fins are not frail, and the rocks hold firm against my force. You know my nature, now guess my name. 17. Confined by a wire fence, and filled with princely treasures, I'm the bulwark of my people. Many is the morning I spew spear-terror; the more I'm fed, the greater my strength. My guardian watches how darts whistle out of my belly. At times I almost swallow the burnished dark bolts, the baleful weapons, searing poisoned spears, esteemed by warriors. Men remember what issues from my mouth. 18. This Riddle was Destroyed :( 19. This Riddle was Destroyed :( 20. I'm a strange creature, shaped for a scrap, dear to my lord, finely decorated. My clothing is motley and bright metal threads mount the deadly j**el my master gave me - the man who at times involves me in a fight. I carry treasure then, the handiwork of smiths, gold in the court, all the clear day. I often dispatch well-armed warriors. A king enriches me with silver and precious stones, honours me in the hall; he doesn't stint but sings my praises to the gathering - men swigging mead; at times he holds me in reserve, at times sets me free, travel-weary, eager in the fray. Often I put friend at the throats of friends; I'm widely reviled, the most accursed of weapons. If a cruel warrior should a**ault me in battle, I cannot hope for a son to avenge me on my slayer; nor will the family from which I sprang be increased through children of mine unless, lordless, I have to leave the guardian who once gave me rings. If I follow a warrior and fight on his behalf, as I done before for my master's satisfaction, I must forego, as fate wills, the chance to father children. I cannot lie with a woman, but the same man who once bound me with a belt denies me now the rapture of love play; I must enjoy the treasure of heroes single and celibate. Tricked out with metal threads, I often irritate and frustrate some woman; she insults me, smacks her hands and runs me down, yells abuses. This is not my kind of contest . . .