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The Riddle Of The Horn
A riddle told in scripture, a secret now lost.
The following riddle was written in a book of prayers in the library of Lloleyn, now lost forever since the destruction of the city. There are very few who knew the answer of the riddle or its secret purpose.

Time was when I was weapon and warrior;
Now the young hero hoods me with gold, and twisted silver.
At times men kiss me. At times I speak and summon to battle Loyal companions. At times a courser, Bears me o'er marchland. At times a ship Bears me o'er the billows, brightly adorned. At times a fair maiden fills me with breath; At times hard and headless I lie on the board, Bereft of beauty.
At times I hang Winsome on wall, richly embellished, Where my call might be misplaced and scorned, yet I was placed there.
At times a warrior Bears me on a horse, a battle adornment, And I swallow, bright-shining, the breath from his bosom. At times with my strains I summon the heroes, Proudly to wine.
At times I win back Spoil from the spoiler, with sounding voice, Put foemen to flight.
Now ask what I'm called and let me speak.



Related Articles: The Riddle of the Horn, Reality Is The Greatest Illusion, Drachenhorn, A Half-Elf Without A Country, My Brother must be from Another Mother, Dark Times, Dark Thoughts.

Contributor: Shawn Nicolen