Luyện nghe bài hát Song Of The Ancient

The song I perceive as I wander the woods through the
dim light of dawn, lilts as it?s carried on soft shifting
through the stillness of this morn.

"Upon the hill, of the woods, the old man stood rapt in
thought; gazing, contemplative and in himself. His old hands,
fingers long and thin, but rugged, the wooden staff. It
was familiar in his crooked yet strong. How many times?
How often had he before this on this very place, lost within
rapt in reflection? A light breeze swelled about him
ruffling his hair and wisps of beard, with age and wisdom of
years. He had seen much, experienced much and friends
in the Lands. But that was before; before the Fall.
Glancing downward, a sea of activity, the forest with life
and lives. But lives are a doorway wherethrough can be
the nature of the Ancient; the one who abides within
the Lands. The old man thinks 'I am become not what
was intended but through intent am become.' And so, in
to human heart, he made forfeit which was his; the intangible
for the tangible, the for the mortal."

By now I am by the surreality of the tale, viewing
myself in the old man, and at last it dawns and I the very
nature of mankind, and of myself, and I lay to cry.

"In his youth, the Old man the Garensword, but not now.
And yet, the holds that one day, Man shall wield the
two-edged blade once to the conquest of nations and
strongholds and powers this realm."

I raise my eyes as the song comes to an end and a
approaches as though she's a friend. her hand I accept
it and rise. Standing, she into my eyes. "De-nyl, we have a
long way to go. There is so much, too much, that I to show you."

"If the truth is what you seek, it is only the Ancient whose
is never seen. He remains within the Hidden Lands and may
only be reached with the Garensword in hand. Let us depart this place."

I was relieved to that I would not be alone in my quest. For
day, Destiny became my guide. I released my falcon, the bird
soaring and free above the forest canopy. And yet there
remained within my heart the lingering memory of that tragic
the nature of mankind and of myself. Am I who I think I am?
Am I alive?