I have no sword, I have no spear,
Yet rule a horde that many fear,
My soldiers fight with a wicked sting,
I rule with might, yet I'm no king.
What am I?
This was Gollum's final riddle from The Hobbit:
"This thing all things devours;
Bird, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slay king, ruins town,
and beats a mountain down."
A dozen Royals gathered round, Entertained by two who clowned. Each King there had servants ten, Though none of them were also men. The lowest servant sometimes might, Defeat the King in a fair fight. A weapon stout, a priceless jewel, The beat of life, a farmer's tool. What is it?
The cost of making only the maker knows,
Valueless if bought, but sometimes traded.
A poor man may give one as easily as a king.
When one is broken pain and deceit are assured.
What am I?
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