I’m forged for battle, yet fit in one hand, Shorter than swords that in sunlight stand. I’m meant for the thrust, not cleaving wide, Worn at the belt or hidden inside. Not made for work, nor carving bread, I serve where silence and closeness tread. What am I?

My voice may be deep, rough, or high In winter I signify a jolly time. Long ago I always knew the hour If I'm very large, I live in a tall tower.

In the sands where secrets sleep, A marvel of ingenuity rises steep. An ancient wonder, if you please-a, Some of the most famous are in Giza.

I have one tooth unlike the three of Lord Poseidon's weaponry. My name: An angelic instrument ended like a typhoon. Yet Ahab, I failed to kill the white whale, guess me for a boon.

Built by children near the shore Protected by knights in historical lore