Luyện nghe bài hát Song Of The Ancient

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

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

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

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

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

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

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