Colorful dancers in the sky, tethered by invisible strings, they paint the clouds with whimsy and play with the wind's gentle breath.

Ships that fly through the cosmos-we once began afloat on oceans, in ages gone by. Businesses use me as a name for small, for-profit entities; the same word as the ships apply. Stolen by a rental agency-one far too large for my name to justify.

Crafted from trees, their strings sing tales of great concertos and whisper in orchestras, yet never utter a single word.

The first word is the end-something every living thing must face. The second is high in the sky-we see one by day, and countless by night. Put them together, and only two were made: monstrous things built to destroy, both great and small.

Time's running out... Okay, stop! Just wait a minute... Hold on... A bit longer... Okay, you may proceed! Go ahead, solve the riddle... Time's running out...