I’m a puddle that peaked in medieval times, I go around houses like property lines. I don’t wave hello, I just sit and float What am I?

A two-wheeled transport from the past, To add two more, remove my last. Different beasts can steer my course, But don’t put me before the horse.

Among the four, I represent West. But I am king of the East, Engaged in eternal conflict with the dragon.

I arrive with the moon, but I bring the storm. Pain is my harbinger; gore is my form. I sometimes wear wings and sometimes a cup. In fifty or sixty years my time’s up.

Attached to a clock, it tolls for the time. Attached to a church, it rings for the dead. In a coffin, you make this ring with a strong hope someone is listening. What is this four-letter word that you hope does not toll for you?