The sapling planted in the Citadel courtyard a few days ago is already heavy with blossoms—assuring Aragorn that he will be fruitful and produce a line of kings. ‘The sign has been given, and the day is not far off.’ Expecting his bride, he sets watchmen on the city walls.

Having tarried in Lórien for a week, Elrond and Arwen and the Elves of their household continue their journey south towards Minas Tirith. Both the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn join their riding, along with many of the folk of Lórien.

Before dawn, Gandalf leads Aragorn up the mountain behind Minas Tirith to a high ancient hallow. The rising sun lights Gondor from Rauros to the Sea. At the edge of the snow, they find a sapling of the White Tree. Aragorn gently carries it down to plant in the Citadel courtyard.

Elrond, Arwen, and the Elves of the household of Rivendell reach Lórien after twenty days of travel.

Éomer and Éowyn ride out from Minas Tirith, leading the Rohirrim home to Rohan. Cheering crowds line the road from the city gates to the Rammas, where the Riders leave behind the fields of the Pelennor and take the road into Anórien. The sons of Elrond ride north with them.

Elrond Halfelven—who decreed 39 years ago that his daughter Arwen ‘shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor’—now departs Rivendell with Arwen for the two-month journey to Minas Tirith.

The return of the King: Aragorn son of Arathorn reaches the topmost level of Minas Tirith and enters the Citadel. His banner, of a white tree and seven stars upon sable, woven by Arwen and her maidens, is raised above Minas Tirith. At 88 years old, he begins his 122-year reign.

Aragorn kneels. Gandalf places the crown on Aragorn’s head, and proclaims: ‘Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!’ The streets are strewn with flowers as Aragorn enters the City and begins the climb up its seven levels.

The crown of King Eärnur is brought forth—who, without any heir, rode out to challenge the Nazgûl Lord 969 years ago and was never seen again. Faramir gives the crown to Aragorn. Instead of crowning himself, Aragorn hands it to Frodo. Frodo carries the crown to Gandalf.

Aragorn hands the white rod back to Faramir: ‘That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs’ as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!’ Faramir: ‘Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last.’

Crowds are thronging the gate of Minas Tirith as the army marches up from their pavilions and draws to a halt. Aragorn steps forward with his Dúnedain. He is met by Lord Faramir and the Warden of the Keys. Faramir: ‘The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office.’

It’s the first of May. The bells in Minas Tirith all start tolling as the bright morning Sun rises into the clear skies that now stand above the mountains of Mordor on the eastern horizon. The argent standard of the Stewards of Gondor is raised over the Citadel for the last time.

As evening fades to night on this Eve of May, Minas Tirith is bright with lights. Thousands of people have arrived from across Gondor and are waiting together for the dawn.

The army of the West approaches Minas Tirith. They halt before its walls and raise their pavilions one last time, to spend a final night outside the city before the Lord Aragorn enters tomorrow for the first time as its king.

The last day of April has arrived. The Lord Aragorn and the other Captains lead the army of the West from Osgiliath into the green fields of the Pelennor and toward Minas Tirith.

The Captains of the West reach Osgiliath with their armies and disembark from the ships. They plan to remain in Osgiliath all day tomorrow, preparing for their return across the Pelennor to Minas Tirith.

The armies that fought on after the downfall of Sauron are defeated, and over the past four weeks the fortresses of northern Mordor have all been levelled. The armies of the West, now ready to return home, take ship at Cair Andros and are carried south by the Anduin’s current.

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.’

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.’

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.

‘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?’

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.

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.’

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.

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 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!’

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.

Gandalf seizes the sword, coat, and cloak. ‘These we will take in memory of our friend. But as for your terms, we reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you.’ As the emissary rides back to the Gate, his men blow horns to start the attack.

After a long silence, the Captains turn to go. But drums roll and an emissary rides forth from the Black Gate. He displays Sam’s sword, Frodo’s mithril-coat, and an elven-cloak—promising long torment to ‘he that bore these things’ should they fail to yield to Sauron’s terms.

Aragorn rides toward the Gate with Gandalf, Éomer, Prince Imrahil, and a heavy guard. Gimli, Legolas, the sons of Elrond, and Pippin ride as witnesses for the other free peoples. ‘Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him.’ There is no answer.

Sam has carried Frodo far up the slope, but has to stop. They lie down so Sam’s back can rest. They wonder: how much further will they have to climb? Looking up the slope, they realize they have climbed nearly to a road that’s cut into the side of the mountain above them.

The wind turned to the north overnight. Now the morning shows the bleak land around the Morannon to be completely empty. Only the eight Nazgûl are visible, circling high above the Black Gate. Aragorn and the Captains prepare the army, arranging them on two hills of slag.

The morning of March 25 brings a dim light to Mordor. Sam wakes. ‘Now for it! Now for the last gasp!’ He’s able to stand, but Frodo with the Ring can only crawl. Sam lifts Frodo on to his back and starts climbing Orodruin, the Mountain of Fire in the heart of Sauron’s realm.

The army of the West enjoys little sleep through the long hours of the night. Wolves howl. Figures seem to be moving back and forth in the darkness beyond their firelight.

Riding into sight of the Black Gate, the army of the West makes its final camp. In the twilight they light fires around the camp’s edge.

The army of the West reaches the northern edge of Ithilien and enters the ruined lands west of the Black Gate. The Lord Aragorn allows the fainthearted to turn back, asking them to re-take the isle of Cair Andros from the Orcs who retreated there from Anórien.

Frodo and Sam leave the road. No longer needing any disguise, Frodo takes off his orc-gear. Sam drops his beloved cooking pans into a fissure. They carry only food, water, Sting, and the Lady’s gifts as they start hiking south across the plain of Gorgoroth toward the Mountain.

From the fortress of Dol Guldur in southern Mirkwood, a third and final attack is made across the Anduin against Lórien. The Orcs set fires on the edge of the forest, but cannot overcome Elven arms, or the power of Galadriel. The Orcs are driven back into the Anduin.

The army of the West settles into camp for the night. They sense the Nazgûl overhead, who begin following the army day and night, soaring high out of sight above them.

A combined force of Orcs and Easterlings is guarding the road in northern Ithilien—at the same narrow cutting where Faramir set his own ambush a fortnight ago. But the captains of the West are wary, send scouts forward, and are able to out-flank and destroy the ambush.