I pierce through a forest of midnight and brown, to anchor a fortress that sits on a crown. I turn on a dime to keep things in place, and hide in the shadows of beauty and grace. What am I?

A simple word for cask, it helps to proof hard liquor. Some people ride them, notoriously in water, sometimes over a waterfall called Niagara.

One waits beneath a faucet’s flow, another pulls ships to the depths below. Though little else is quite the same, Both answers share a common name.

Green on the outside, red on the inside, I look like a football, but roll on my side. Filled with black raindrops and juice that is sweet, On hot summer days, I am your favorite treat.

Where hidden secrets often rest, In wooden homes of tidy jest, Slide me out for what you seek, Where treasure lies, silent and meek.