The governor was beginning to have a hard time on the battlefield. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he could feel it. He could feel weariness taking hold of him. With every twist, every turn, every stroke of his sword, he could feel that he was not as young as he used to be.
He was getting. . . Old. Presently, he was fighting his way out of the midst of two soldiers. He kicked the first man in the chest, giving him the opportunity to stab the other man with his sword.
As he pulled the sword out of the enemy soldier to strike the second man, Faramir, a member of the elite scouts retinue appeared out of nowhere and finished him off. The governor took that moment to catch his breath.
"We must retreat at once, my lord!"Faramir said, pulling a dagger out of his boot and hurling it at a Median soldier who was dashing towards them at great speed. It got him in the neck.
