PLEASE SOLVE MY RIDDLE

MY RIDDLE IS MIDDLE OF THE JISKHA HOMEWORK HELP FORUM PAGE. I POSTED TODAY BUT NOBODY SOLVED MY RIDDLE.

MY RIDDLE IS AFTER THE PERSON MADHURI POSTED
"ANYBODY IN THE WEBSITE"

MY IS:

NAME:SANJANA
SUBJECT:RIDDLE

PLEASE SOLVE MY RIDDLE!
THANK YOU!

Riddles should be posted in the RIDDLE link at the very bottom of the main message board page: http://www.jiskha.com

=)

I will be nice, if you see pics thrice.
I bear fruit of trees, sometimes in 3's.I am but an arm's length in front of you.

Jack’s cough had returned with the fog.
The fog was like a looming wall surrounding the Island, thick and seemingly impenetrable, until suddenly it enveloped them, suffocating the sun and wrapping their world in a drifting, somber gray. It crept into Jack’s throat and nettled the painful itch he had almost forgotten on the Island. He coughed to get rid of it, but coughing only made him need to cough more. He remembered the gutter he had collapsed into in the city, how the heat had made him sick, how he had wanted to give up. It was a painful memory, but one worth keeping close. He needed to remember why he couldn’t go back.
But the more he thought of the city, the worse his coughing became, until even Iron Bits began to cast him worried looks. Falco and Ricardo had been whispering intently since leaving the Island and had finally, after several irritated looks of their own, buried their heads beneath an old wool blanket the new ferry master, a rather short, jovial man clad in a simple brown robe who seemed content to laugh at his own jokes, kept in the keel of the boat. Apparently, Jack was interrupting their plans.
Their plans, as best as Jack could guess, revolved around discovering what sort of treasure lay hidden in the Island. Jack spat blood off the side of the boat and avoided Iron Bits’ drilling stare. She was giving him a headache again. His plans were to get to shore as quickly as possible and sleep this thing off. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. Or a good meal. He settled back into his corner, pulled his overcoat around his shoulders, and let the swish and creak of the ferry master’s rowing drown out the muffled whispering of Falco and Ricardo beneath their blanket. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.

Jack squinted into the light and waited for his eyes to adjust. He had slept. It was still day, but late in the afternoon judging by the sun’s deepening position in the sky. The fog had lifted revealing a different world than the one they had left that morning. Where the Island was lush and green, the brown, rocky hills that dipped and rose beyond the gentle waves seemed lifeless. No, not lifeless, but haggard like stunted beasts crouching from the sun. Jack looked around. They were pushing into a narrow bay, pinched by two bony fingers of land, upon which, when he looked closely, Jack noticed a pair of well camouflaged stone watchtowers perched at each point of the fingers. So there was life here.
“Inviting, isn’t it?” said Bits, who had appeared silently by Jack’s side, and now stood peering at the dark, approaching shoreline impassively. She was as strong woman, Jack realized. Where did she come from? Why was she here? And as always, his questions led to wondering where he came from and why he was here. He pushed the thoughts away. They led nowhere. He looked on in shared silence.
The bay narrowed into a darkening canyon, cliffs rising on either side to block the sun and leave the world in shadows. The sounds of breaking water echoed eerily from stone walls. Craggy, silent monoliths rose ominously from the water like ancient war-clad guardians, aloof but watchful as the boat slipped by, a whisper in the water.

A long, wooden wharf anchored into the deep, black water stretched toward them from a low shelf, against which the sea slapped and retreated, then rose again, only to retreat. A few gnarled trees with sharp, bristling needles huddled beyond the shelf, stretching awkwardly toward the thin patch of sky outlined by the canyon walls. Several crafts of varying sizes lined the wharf: some small fishing boats with nets and tackle, and even a couple large, obviously sea-going vessels sat darkly brooding in the water.
Despite the grim appearance of the place, many people bustled about, intent on various tasks. Jack noticed that many of the people were wearing a military uniform of sorts – gray pants cinched at the knee, blue shirts, collared and cuffed, and caps. A sprawling camp of huts and tents stretched from the water’s edge up a rocky slope and over the hill into the deepening shadows of the canyon where torches and fires began lighting up as the premature canyon evening set in.
Amidst the bustle, one man stood quietly watching the approaching ferry. He was of mid-height and stocky, with a barrel chest and thick arms. He wore a short gray beard and dressed in the same uniform Jack noticed on many of the others. His hands were clasped behind his back, his feet spread, and Jack had the sense that here was a man who brooked no nonsense. A crooked nose jutted from his impassive face and, as they drew close, Jack noticed a ragged scar running along the cheekbone to where an ear used to be, but where now only an ugly stump protruded from beneath his cap. A cross-like insignia decorated the front of his cap, and Jack guessed that it probably designated some authority observed here in camp.
Only when the boat was secured and all members on board were gathered with their gear on deck, did the bearded man speak. His voice was raspy, like scraping gravel.
“Welcome to Newb Camp,” he said. “My name is Captain Tips. I’m in charge here. It’s been some time since we’ve seen new recruits, but you’ll find us ready. The better questions is, are you ready?”
Ready for what?
“I’ll be needing your papers now.” Captain Tips extended a gloved hand and beckoned impatiently.
Jack, like the others, hurriedly reached into his duffel and retrieved the document he had been working on during their stay on the Island. He hoped it was good enough. The instructions had not been very specific. Captain Tips shuffled through the documents as he took them, nodding slightly at Jack’s and then Iron Bit’s. They had worked together on theirs and put a lot of effort into making them look respectable. He paused when he reached Falco’s and Ricardo’s papers. They were crumpled and messy and hurriedly arranged. Both now stood, slouching self-consciously and nervously looking at their feet. Captain Tips eyed one and then the other coldly. He sniffed, grunted and turned his back on them.
“Follow me,” he said gruffly.
He led them up a broad, rocky path into camp. Most of the tents seemed to be living quarters, although a few of the larger ones and most of the wooden huts, appeared to offer services of one type or another. Jack noticed a general goods tent within which the flicker of pots and pans danced behind the canvas flaps. A larger wooden structure on the right had a medical cross painted above the door.
Jack glanced upward and saw that the walls of the cliffs were also spotted with small fires. Likely more tents and huts. A zigzagging pattern of fixed lights against the cliff wall suggested the steep, switchback trails cut into the stone face which, higher up, turned into ladders connecting the numerous outcroppings. This place was bigger than he had originally thought. At ground level, the camp retreated around a wide, rising bend in the canyon. Jack caught his breath suddenly. A shaft from the invisible, setting sun somewhere above the rim pierced through the chasm and painted the entire place in magnificent red-gold light.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bits whispered next to him.
The column had stopped. Jack stared in silent awe. It was beautiful, this strange place to which they’d come. Only days before, he’d been on the verge of giving up, hopelessly lost, memory gone, sick someplace deep, and now . . . here. His memory was still gone, and his annoying cough kept lingering (although he hadn’t coughed since he’d awakened), but, for better or worse, he was wrapped up in this thing now, thrown into this quest for lost magic he wasn’t sure existed, by mysterious characters he didn’t quite trust. Part of him just wanted to wake up and discover it was all a bad dream. But he was beginning to recognize a growing part of himself that was curious and excited and needful of this adventure. Almost like a seed opening to discover life outside of itself.
He thrilled suddenly, a cold, exhilarating shiver that started low in his back and shot upward the length of his spine. Even as it started, Jack knew this was no normal sensation. It was more cold than death, hotter than fire, a stirring of something too deep to name. His began to shake, slowly at first like the barely perceptible shiver that raises the fine hairs on the arm, and then harder jerking unevenly at his joints and muscles. Something is wrong! he wanted to cry out, but his voice had seized. Colors, red, silver, blue, black, coursed through him like needles threaded with flame: burning anger, fear, and . . . hatred – yes, blackness, deep, unfathomable blackness. He could feel himself leaving his feet. Red, silver, hot, fire, cold, anger, hatred blackness...blackness...

“You think he’s ready?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never seen someone go like that before. Not like that anyway.”
“Tips says he is. Says he’s gotta be. He’s been talking to Them, you know. Or at least I think it’s Them.”
“Them? You mean–”
“Who else? Skriggs’ detail came in last month with three sightings, one right at the Rim. They must come in at night. And besides, no rowboat I know of crosses The Crow on its own. Pirates wouldn’t let it. They come from the Island; I’ll bet twenty dragons they did!
“The Island? Come on! I was weaned on the same crap growing up – a bunch of old fairytales to keep the kids in bed at night. There’s good reason noone’s seen or been to the Island; because it doesn’t exist. Who knows, maybe they got lucky crossing over. Maybe they came the same way we came, on assignment.
“Maybe, and then maybe not. Since when does old Tips meet the Newbs. I say something’s different here. I’ll give you Faencrow and the Keepers are garbage, but how else do explain the return of Them, to say nothing of a boat that size finding its way here through the fog?”
“All right, it’s a bit strange, I’ll agree. I’ve seen Tips’ tent lit up all night when I’m on watch, although I swear nobody come through I didn’t let in, and I didn’t let anybody in. So, yeah, something’s going on for sure. And I’ll admit that boy’s special if Tips has interest in him. He smuggled them all away pretty quick after – after –
“– those eyes. I know it. None of us have ever seen fire like that...”

look near a lively game
pointing to a path with a
rabbit in ti's name

what can you put in a mug that makes it lighter?

Look near a lively game pointing to a path with a rabbit in its name

People who have it don't want to lose it, and people who don't have it don't want it... What is it?

I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champane bubble.
If you sqeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Can you guess the riddle?



look near a lively game pointing to a path with a rabbit in its name

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