Built to break what can’t be killed, I face the rage, you feel the still. Neither sea nor land I stand, A fist of stone with open hand.

Raising a child takes me, or so they say. That sounds about right, because it's a 'G I V E A L L' job.

In a land where rings hold power, a small hero with hairy feet carries burdens across mountains, avoiding a fiery demise.

I rise beside a place of prayer, Tall and slender in the air. From me, a call may once be heard, Inviting people with spoken word. What am I?

I am a deep, man-made hole in the earth, created by tearing away rock, stone, or sand. I hold secrets of the ground below, yet when I am filled with water, I become a place for a swim. What am I?