Luyện nghe bài hát Song Of The Ancient

The song I perceive as I wander the woods through the
dim of dawn, lilts as it?s carried on soft shifting winds
through the stillness of early 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 light swelled about him
ruffling his hair and wisps of beard, grey with age and of
years. He had seen much, experienced and known 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 merely a 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 but through intent am become.' And so, in servitude
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
in the old man, and at last it dawns and I realise 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 legend holds that one day, Man wield the
two-edged blade more to the conquest of nations and
strongholds and beyond this realm."

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

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

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