Orcs and Easterlings pour forth from the hills. In the first wave of the attack, Pippin stabs a troll, but is crushed beneath it. As Gandalf stands on the hilltop, Frodo and Sam both feel a call—‘Now, now, or it will be too late!’—and start crawling up toward the road.

Gollum attacks Frodo, who grasps the Ring and dooms Gollum with a curse: ‘If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.’ Sam draws Sting, but can’t bring himself to slay Gollum. One hundred miles away, Gandalf looks north. ‘The Eagles are coming!’

Frodo enters the Sammath Naur. ‘I have come. But…I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!’ He puts on the Ring and vanishes. Sauron’s forces suddenly waver. The Nazgûl turn and fly away south. Gandalf cries: ‘Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom.’

Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger. Holding both finger and Ring aloft, he squeals, ‘My Precious!’ Stepping back, he falls with the Ring into the chasm. Fire leaps up. Sam carries Frodo out. As they watch, the shadows around the distant Barad-dûr lift, then the tower crumbles.

Gandalf proclaims: ‘The realm of Sauron is ended! The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest.’ The Black Gate and its towers fall. Orcs turn and flee. Gandalf asks the great eagle Gwaihir to carry him south. ‘I would bear you whither you will, even were you made of stone.’

Standing with Éowyn on a wall of Minas Tirith, Faramir sees a shadow rise above Mordor. ‘It reminds me of Númenor…of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it.’ The Shadow departs. They kiss.

‘I am glad that you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.’ Frodo is himself again. ‘We are lost in ruin and downfall, and there is no escape.’ ‘Well, Master, we could at least go further from this dangerous place here, from this Crack of Doom. Now couldn’t we?’

Frodo and Sam reach the mountain’s foot. ‘What a tale we have been in, Mr. Frodo, haven’t we? I wish I could hear it! And I wonder how it will go on after our part.’ Molten rock flows past. Ash rains down. They fall, senseless, but are caught up by two great Eagles of the north.

An Eagle of the north reaches Minas Tirith. ‘Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever and the Dark Tower is thrown down. Sing and rejoice ye people of the Tower of Guard for your watch hath not been in vain and the Black Gate is broken.’

The Lord Aragorn calls not only Sam and Frodo back from the brink of death—they will sleep and recover for two more weeks before waking—but also Pippin: Gimli spotted his small Hobbit foot sticking out from beneath the troll on the battlefield.

Ten days ago King Brand and King Dáin died defending the gates of Erebor. Now their sons Bard and Thorin lead the men and dwarves out of the mountain to retake Dale. The Easterlings are soon in full retreat. They will rule as King Bard II of Dale and King Thorin III of Erebor.

The Lord Celeborn leads a host of the Elves of Lórien across the Anduin by boat and invades southern Mirkwood, determined to lift its shadows and rout its monsters.

The Lord Celeborn’s elven-host reaches the old fortress of Dol Guldur, whose Orcs made recent assaults on both Thranduil’s realm and Lórien. The Lady Galadriel begins the work of tearing down its walls and opening its dungeons.

It’s the Elven New Year. The Lord Celeborn and King Thranduil, having marched from opposite corners of the forest, meet near the centre of Mirkwood. Instead of returning Mirkwood to its ancient name, Greenwood the Great, they name it afresh ‘Eryn Lasgalen’—Wood of Greenleaves.

Frodo wakes early and finds himself lying on a soft bed in Ithilien, where a month and a day ago he ate stewed rabbits with herbs. The beech trees arching overhead are green with young leaves. Sam, beside him, is still asleep.

Sam wakes too. He sees that one of Frodo’s fingers is missing. ‘Where are we?’ ‘In the land of Ithilien and in the keeping of the King; and he awaits you.’ ‘Gandalf! I thought you were dead!’ Sam last saw the Grey Wizard 83 days ago, facing the Balrog. Now Gandalf wears white.

Gandalf dresses Frodo and Sam in their ragged travelling gear and leads them to the field of Cormallen. Thousands of knights and warriors stand cheering. ‘Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!’ Aragorn bows before the hobbits, then sets them on a high throne.

Silence falls over the host as a minstrel of Gondor steps forward. ‘I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.’ Sam laughs, then weeps: ‘O great glory and splendour! And all my wishes have come true!’ The minstrel sings. And their joy was like swords.

Frodo and Sam dress in clean linen, their elven-cloaks, and bright mail. Gandalf insists that Frodo wear Sting and his mithril-coat. At the feast they meet the friends they left 43 days ago: Legolas, Gimli, Merry (now a knight of Rohan), and Pippin (in the armour of the Citadel).

With the feast over, the Sun having set, and the Moon having risen, Frodo and Sam talk late into the night with their friends—listening to the adventures and journeys of the rest of the Company. Sam is amazed by Merry and Pippin: ‘You’re three inches taller than you ought to be.’