A sturdy traveler on two feet, it dances through puddles and marches through snow, shielding from wet and cold below.

First four: good or bad, latest updates Five more: pulp product, for towels or plates Used to visit each day, now most hide behind gates

In the shadowed halls of the arcane, a humble disc of fortune lies. With a flip, fate's path is decided; a twin-headed messenger in the palm of your hand.

I stand in the corner keeping secrets in rows, Holding what’s hidden beneath what you show. I hold what you slip into when moods start to shift, And I open wide for you with every little lift. What am I?

Ill loom in, where ate, but im off now, its late. Proudly drooped at your estate, over foyer or plate. Uplifted by links to the uppermost face, holding candlelight, great. Caught the drop? It was fate.