Twisted metal; a sweet bounty I release. Friend of pairs, in kitchens many, where plenty toasts begin.

I hide no ink, yet my creases tell stories. I need no color, just triangles and glory. Flat as a whisper, I rise into form, One paper, one hand, and a fold is born. What am I?

Add an s and I'll hold it together. Remove c and I let a dog drink. Replace p with d and I'll cover you. All together I'm thunderous. What am I?

guardian of down stuffed bundles. a sleepers drool catcher a silk or satin sack for a soft sewn soft sack

Strong and sturdy the Smith pounds me, Each strike makes me want to be forge anew. Thus I ask you want am I to thee.