Chapter 56: Faramir

The battle ended quickly, not even as laboriously as expected. The light soon pierced the dark clouds in the sky, and the sun finally shone on the faces of the four warriors on the ground again, and under the shroud of light, the disadvantaged Ringwraith quickly chose to retreat - perhaps it was a decision from their superiors, or maybe it was just the result of not wanting to get entangled too much, but in any case, in front of the many inhabitants and soldiers of Minas Tirith, the knight on the dragon's back was deeply reflected in their hearts, and the light he held high in his hand was probably enough for them to remember for a lifetime.

It's the same for the fighters on the ground. Leaving the forests and valleys that sheltered them, they were under the sights of the Ringwraith as they rode across the vast plains of Paliano. It is not surprising that they have been hindering the assembly of Mordor's army through harassment, and they have never thought about how much the enemy will hate them when they fall to the ground, because it is not necessary to imagine that in order to deal with them, who are extremely weak compared to Mordor's army, but extremely annoying, the king of Mordor has even dispatched the Ring Spirit riding demon beasts many times, but the successful raid is only this one-only one, but it is probably the last. They galloped wildly, and the ranks of more than ten horsemen scattered, but the enemy's gaze was far sharper than they had imagined, as if they had identified the leading general, and the scattered decoys became the lucky ones who survived, and those who remained were attacked by danger from above. They lost many of their companions along the way, and the ringwraiths swooped down from the sky, the sharp claws of the beasts pierced through the armor of the warriors like a fragile and rotten parchment, piercing deep into their flesh, and then clung to them away from the ground, and the wounded warriors drew their swords from their waists, but the blood took away their strength, until they were thrown from the air again, lost their master's horses, and ran wildly into the darkness under the terror of the monsters. They may rely on their memories to find the stables they once stayed in, but in a place where the dawn has long since been lost, they are more likely to be reduced to rations for some of the creatures.

The Ringwraith didn't even intend to kill them directly with brute force, the warriors who were still alive couldn't stop their tracks, whether it was the fear of their hearts or their trembling hands that drove them to rush forward, they just followed their own leader in a daze, the general who rushed to the front of the ranks. Fear invaded their minds little by little, and the horrible screams of the Ringwraiths had put their minds in jeopardy, and madness was on the verge of triumphing over reason—but until then, their horses could not bear such fierce fear, and they rose to their feet, shook off their riders from their backs as if they had broken free, and then rushed headlong into the distant darkness and lost a trace.

But the walls of Minas Tirith have also come into view. In the darkness, the outline of the White City seemed to give them courage in the little light, and the warriors ran towards the walls not far away, and the only rider still on horseback took out his horn - put it in his mouth and blew it.

At this very moment, a huge dragon appeared above their heads, in the dim light seemed to glow scales and unusually strong body, the huge body even made the leading general feel the trembling soul of the horse under his crotch - and then the light lit up from the dragon's back, and this light covered the entire plain in an instant, and the ringwraiths riding on the demon beasts let out a piercing scream, and even a trace of black smoke evaporated from their armor, and then disappeared in the light.

There were bursts of cheers from the direction of the White City, and the gates of the White City slowly opened at this time, and some knights with the family crest of Prince Inrahil rode out to meet them. The leading general waved his hand, and the three surviving warriors took their own steps and rushed towards Baicheng with the last of their strength—the general on horseback raised his head, and his gray pupils looked at the clean sky that he hadn't seen for a long time, and above that high in the sky, the dragon, which looked much smaller than just now, hovered and flew above their heads, escorting them.

Soon after, there was a deafening commotion on the avenue leading to the outer wall, and the people cheered and shouted the names of Faramir and Sarsdom, for the name of the knight on the dragon's back was unknown. The cheers lasted only a little while, and the welcoming procession marched again, still some distance from the gates of the White City, though the road that usually seemed not far away seemed extremely difficult in this dark hour.

They stopped at the gate of Minas Tirith, not because they were stopped outside, but because their horses were in place, and the strong wind was blowing their hair and cheeks—the dragon flapped its wings and landed on the left side of the gate, and he leaned down, so that Faramor, who was sitting on horseback, finally saw the dragon, and for the first time found a knight shrouded in steel on the dragon's back.

At the moment when Faramir saw Zhao Mian, Zhao Mian also saw Faramir as a matter of course, and at first glance, Zhao Mian even mistook it for Boromo, the same black hair and gray hair, and a similar face, but apart from these elements of appearance, this man is actually not difficult to distinguish from Boromo - Boromo always has a clear purpose, but acts cautiously and politely. And the man in front of Zhao Mian, his temperament is actually closer to that of Aragorn, who has shed the skin of the Freelander - only it doesn't seem so noble, but this more intimate feeling may allow him to get more support from the people. His face was pale, and from that face, Zhao Mian could see that he had endured traces of incomparable fear or pain, and those mental tortures easily left their own marks on his cheeks. This may be a general that people can trust—and that people feel in their hearts that he can trust, even at this moment when darkness is about to envelop the whole world, people are willing to follow him, and be born and die with him.

Zhao Mian jumped off Sardom's back, leaving two deep depressions in the ground, and he frowned and pulled his feet out of the mud. And seeing Zhao Mian fall from the dragon's body to the ground, all the knights who were still riding on horseback also turned over and dismounted, and the soldiers who were already waiting on the side hurriedly led Faramor's war horse, and his attendant quietly helped Faramo, the general in green leather armor was obviously a little unsteady when he dismounted, and in the chase just now, he must have exhausted his energy. But despite this, he still pushed his squire away, and then stood up straight, looking directly at Zhao Mian who was walking towards them.

"Thank you very much for your assistance, knight of the dragon. Although his face was still pale, although he had been out of shape in terms of body shape and other aspects, Faramir still puffed up his chest, although he was a little out of strength, but he still controlled his actions, so that the soldiers around him saw this kind of dignity from the family of Prime Minister Gondor, "I don't know your honorable name?"

"Zhao Mian - or as you call it, Mian Zhao. Zhao Mian said this, he took off his helmet and let his face appear in front of everyone.