A lot of people pay to see me, even though they only see the tip. I'm shredded, cut, and good with dressing, not too much, just a bit. Lastly, I'm known for a movie with a ship, turned out to be a great big hit.

I look like ground but act like glue, each struggle only pulls you through. In mud or plans, I slow desire, step once in me, and you may tire.

I have a square base and rise to a single point, but I'm not a party hat. I was built by ancient hands, but I'm not a ruin in the traditional sense. I hold secrets within, but I'm not a diary. What am I?

In the green garment of the earth, I rise with a gentle grace, a natural knoll nudging the sky, where wanderers rest and winds whisper tales.

The waves of land are what I be, A smaller mountain, as you can see. I might have been in your childhood, Where you might have rolled down me, like wood.