| [00:56] |
This sword of steel that I hold in my hand |
| [01:02] |
Ore of this mountain. A sword of this land. |
| [01:07] |
Made for a king when the elders were young. |
| [01:13] |
To guard us and to guide us in an age since long gone. |
| [01:24] |
A sword to protect the peace in troubled times. |
| [01:26] |
A sword made to battle and to take a life. |
| [01:29] |
This sword is the backbone of the life that I know. |
| [01:32] |
Here among the mountains and snow. |
| [01:35] |
This sword will be one with me. Body and soul. |
| [01:40] |
All of me will be delivering each blow. |
| [01:46] |
Slung on my back. Oh its powers I feel. |
| [01:51] |
I can hardly wait to try its steel. |
| [02:02] |
A sword to protect the peace in troubled times. |
| [02:05] |
A sword made to battle and to take a life. |
| [02:08] |
This sword is the backbone of the life that I know. |
| [02:11] |
Here among the mountains and snow. |
| [02:13] |
Behold its sharp beauty. Just look at its shine. |
| [02:16] |
This sword was forged in fire and ice. |
| [02:19] |
This sword is the backbone of the life that I know. |
| [02:21] |
Here among the mountains and snow. |
| [02:25] |
Now I am ready |
| [02:31] |
To let this old sword sing again. |
| [02:46] |
Atop a snowcovered hill... |
| [02:50] |
Just before sunset... |
| [02:55] |
"Waiting atop a snowcovered hill, the two standing silent, facing the |
| [03:00] |
sunset in the west. The one eyed old man mumbling strange words into the |
| [03:05] |
cold air. The haze spreading fast across the purple and blue vault. The |
| [03:10] |
winds taking up speed, bending the trees down the valley, throwing the snow |
| [03:15] |
crystals up and against the mountainside into gigantic sparkling clouds |
| [03:20] |
high in the sky. The voice of the one eyed old man becoming stronger. The |
| [03:25] |
words now spoken with increased intensity as if he was calling someone or |
| [03:30] |
something. And so a hazy white figure appears on the horizon, blazing |
| [03:35] |
across the sky with the speed of the winds... a part of the wind. A horse |
| [03:40] |
as white as snow, galopping across the mist, its eight hooves blistering |
| [03:45] |
like bolts of lightning. The one eyed old man crying out loud in the blaze |
| [03:50] |
to him, to take its reins and not to let go. |
| [03:55] |
And thus he had been given The Stallion..." |