Bird laughed. At least the wizard was an honest riddler, agreeing that a puzzler might have more than one answer. Much as life, in a way.
"But what answer would you prefer, my dear Gandalf? Branch? Brook? Burn? Rill? Race? Run? Or Ditch, perhaps?"
Gandalf took his pipe from his mouth and blew a stream of smoke, which flowed straight through the air, then suddenly dropped straight down, to boil into a smoky pool on the ground before dissipating.
"True enough, my good Bird, a riddle may have more than one face behind it's mask; as can other things in life", and here the Wizard raised one bushy eyebrow and peered keenly at the skin-changer, who dropped her eyes and gave a small fidget. "The wizard may know more than I know he knows," she thought.
"You apparently saw the whole picture, whereas I was thinking of a small detail. 'Waterfall', was my answer, though I will allow that the riddle could describe a river in flood and drought, as well. The next round goes to you."
Bird wondered just how long the Riddle Game might go on. She had once watched two merchants conduct a Riddle Game for 14 hours in a tavern near Dale. Of course, the riddles and answers had become more and more nonsensical as the game progressed, ending in a draw as the two combatants dropped to the table and answered riddles in drunken dreams. It was too bad, in a way, because now Bird would never know why a raven was like a writing desk.
Which reminded Bird of some of the hysterical conundrums that she had heard at the tavern. These new types of riddles were distained by the "purist", but some were fiendishly clever. She wondered if the Wizard was a traditionalist or not, and decided to throw one in just to see the reaction.
A Wizard and Goose sat in a High Tower.
On various subjects they talked by the hour.
When suddenly the Wizard leaped up with a bound.
"By Eru!" he said "How will I get down?"
[ August 28, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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