![]() Their faces express grief and pain, for this may well be the last time they see them. All involved fear what awaits them and all know their fear is soon to be realized. There is a sense of imminent defeat in the air. ![]() The people of Minas Tirith look on at their men, their husbands, sons, fathers, friends passing by. They cannot but do what they are told, but still, their self-preservation mechanisms are rebelling against what is obviously going to be a one-way quest. Their expressions are not that of sadness for their own fates, but rather an unemotional detachment from their own inner rebel. And as faithful servants of the Lord and Steward of Gondor, they are obliged to follow his orders. They understand the sacrifice this mission will take. The men themselves have resigned themselves to their fate. They are aware of what peril they now march. It is eerie how it makes it seem as if the flowers were strewn onto their graves. With every step they take, a flower marks its path. The scene resembles a funeral, with people throwing flowers at the men’s feet. ![]() The White City in all its glory and all its inhabitants standing by, watching the procession. ![]() The cavalry moves through the stone-paved streets of Minas Tirith. Denethor, in all this stubbornness and lunacy, has decided to send his men on a suicide mission. The order has been given: the army of Minas Tirith is to depart for Osgiliath and reclaim it for Gondor. ![]()
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