Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘riddle’

Who am I?

Anglo-Saxon riddle

My mother and father forsook me,
While I was not yet breathing.
A kind mother covered me with clothes,
Kept me and looked after me,
Cuddled me as close as if I had been her offspring.
Under that covering I grew and grew.
I was cruel to my adopted brothers and sisters.
This loving mother fed me
Until I could set out on my own.
Because she befriended me,

Few of her sons and daughters survived.

This is tough.

Cuckoo.

A cuckoo will lay eggs in another bird’s nest. The cuckoo hatches and pushes the other eggs out of the nest.

Read Full Post »

REALLY TRICKY RIDDLE

Anglo-Saxon riddle

My home is not silent, but I am not blaring.
The lord means for us to travel together.
I am quicker than he and sometimes stronger,
However, he keeps on going for longer.
Often, I rest, but he runs on.
For as long as I do live, I live in him.
If we part from one another
It is I who must die.

Hint: home is the river, lord is the current        

Rough one: river fish, trout perhaps

Read Full Post »

Outsmart the Anglo-Saxons!

Anglo-Saxon riddle.

Even when alive I do not speak.
Anyone who wishes to, takes me captive, cuts off my head.
Folks bite my bare body,
I harm no one lest they cut me first.
Then I quickly make them cry.

Figure it out?

Onion

Read Full Post »

An Anglo-Saxon riddle:

A wonderful warrior dwells on this land.
Two dumb things make him grow bright between them.
Foes use him against one another.
His strength is fierce though a woman may tame him.
He will humbly serve both men and women
If they but know the knack of tending to him
And feeding him well.
He makes folks happy.
He makes their lives better.

But if they let him grow proud
This rude friend soon turns against them.

[2 hints: sticks and stone may…]

You didn’t solve it? Fire.

Read Full Post »

A riddle from Beowulf

Who am I?

I am all on my own,
Wounded by iron weapons and scarred by swords.
I see battle so often.
I weary of war.
I do not believe I will be allowed to retire from warfare
Before I am utterly done in.
At the city walls, I am knocked to and fro
And mauled again and again.
Keen-edged things made by the blacksmith’s hammer hound me.
Each time I wait for something harsher.
I have never been able to find a surgeon who could heal me
Or give me medicine made of herbs.
Instead, the sword gashes all over me wax larger day and night.

Must I give you the answer?

A shield.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: