I can be a fruit or shot or vine Now say my name, don't whine

In ocean's tale, javelin takes flight, Slaying giants in the night. With rope in tow, I strike pain and fear, A hunter's tool, a sailor's spear.

I’m green and crunchy, I grow in the ground. You eat me in salads, But I’m not a bean.

A heavy gray haze, Obstructing the dawn's bright hue. Of smoke and fog, I'm a portmanteau.

Bright as a blush in the morning sun, I hide my seeds where most have none. Sweet on the tongue, in gardens I grow. Name me, the berry with freckles in rows. What am I?