Pippin spotted Gandalf's gray head near the outer wall and scrambled down to him, frantically clawing at the wizard's cloak and shouting about Denethor.

The wizard, distracted by the constant tugging on his cloak, finally turned to see the panicked hobbit shouting and gesturing wildly to the citadel.

"Calm yourself!" Gandalf boomed and placed his hands on Pippins shaking shoulders, willing him to gather his senses.

As quickly as he could, Pippin poured out the story of Denethor's madness and Faramir's impending doom. "You must help them, Gandalf, please!" Begged the distraught hobbit.

With a nod of his head, Gandalf turned from the walls and followed Pippin to the tombs, hoping they were not too late to save the steward and his son.

Pippin's fears calmed slightly with Gandalf at his side. Gandalf would not let anything happen to Faramir. He would stop Denethor.

They reached the steward just as he was holding aloft a torch to set the funeral pyre alight. Pippin could see that both he and Faramir were covered in oil. What happened next was all confusion and shouting as Gandalf tried to save both Denethor and Faramir. But Denethor was too far gone in his madness, setting himself alight and was determinedly trying to light the pyre under Faramir when Pippin and Gandalf managed to wrestle the young warrior from the burning pyre.

Heedless of his own safety, Pippin frantically beat the flames taking hold of Faramir, finally succeeding in putting them out but not before sustaining several burns of his own.

Denethor, however, was too far gone mentally and fled from the scene, determined to end his life on his own terms. Pippin watched in horror as the man ran until he could run no more and crumbled into a flaming heap among the tombs of Gondor.

The enemy faced certain destruction and it became clear that if they were to extricate themselves from their hopeless predicament then they had no alternative but to retreat.

Soon they were fleeing in disarray, running hither and thither as they retreated across the river and back into the shadow of Mount Doom so that for miles nothing could be seen except for the fleeing mob.

Prince Imrahil's men swiftly pursued them and throughout the evening many men and animals in the rear guard fell victim to their arrows and swords. The enemy left behind an enormous number of dead, both men and animals. Eventually the sun sank low in the sky and the weary combatants withdrew into the White City to take rest and celebrate their victory.

The victorious army solemnly entered Minas Tirith to the cheers and applause of the defenders. Eomer was the first to enter, followed by Prince Imrahil and their men.

Aragorn refused to enter the city as the king, preferring to remain anonymous for the time being. The final battle had not yet been won and he would not claim his birthright until The Ring had been destroyed and Sauron completely vanquished.

But many already knew of his arrival and came to take a look at their king. They had seen the standard flying proudly in the harbor and it had kindled hope in all of them. Their king had returned and this gave them the hope they needed.

Aragorn wanted to visit the healing house to see how many of the wounded had been brought in. At sunrise they would have to issue forth and collect what wounded managed to survive the night. Those who could not reach the healing house on their own were brought in by comrades or left on the field. It was better than he feared but worse than he had hoped.

And then he saw her. Merry was standing over her, cradling his right arm and whispering something to the shield maiden that Aragorn could not make out. Instantly, he ran to Merry's side.

The startled hobbit looked up and let out a shout, throwing his good arm around Aragorn.

"Merry! What happened? How did Eowyn come to be here?" As he leaned over, he could see that, thankfully, the shield maiden was still alive although in some strange death like sleep.

Breathlessly, Merry recounted the tale from Dunharrow to the battle plain as all the while more wounded poured into the healing house.

Shortly after finishing his tale, the two of them turned to see Faramir being carried in followed by Gandalf and Pippin. Merry shouted joyfully and ran to Pippin's side as Gandalf smiled indulgently and made his way to Aragorn.

"Well, you are here," Gandalf smiled.

"Yes," admitted the ranger. "Has everyone been accounted for?"

"As you can see, Merry, Pippin and myself are here. Gimli is in the kitchen," the wizard paused as Aragorn chuckled and shook his head. The dwarf certainly had his priorities set. "Legolas was here but I fear he has gone in search of the naiad."

Aragorn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Legolas is out walking the battlefield alone? At this hour?"

"He's not alone," Gandalf murmured. "Not anymore."

With a nod of understanding, Aragorn smiled. No, the elf was not alone any more. He wondered how Arwen was faring and if she had left for the undying lands. At the thought of his Evenstar, he grew suddenly melancholy and felt very world-weary. He desired to see her again, if only for a few moments. But he had a duty now and could not return to her until it was completed.

He sighed and gazed toward the dying rays of the sun, feeling a slight pang of envy for Legolas. But the elf was happier than he had seen him in many years and could not grudge him that. Seeing the two of them together at Dunharrow had simply made him more conscious of how deeply he missed Arwen.

"Aragorn," Gandalf's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "You are needed here."

"Right," the ranger answered, scanning the room. There was much work to be done and he quickly set about organizing those who would help into rounding up all of the herbs, medicines and linens they could find.

Annowe quickly rose to her feet as she sensed his approach. She would know him in the blackest depth of Mordor.

"Legolas!" She breathed.

"Annowe?" His soft voice drifted to her ears and she ran in the direction of it, stumbling and cursing.

Suddenly he laughed. He could see her, tripping and staggering toward the sound of his voice like a blind man eagerly sensing home. He rushed to her, easily finding her in the dark and she squealed in fright as he caught her up in his arms.

"Oh, Legs!" She breathed as she relaxed in his arms, squeezing him tightly.

He held her close for the longest time, his cheek pressing against her hair. Annowe dug her fingers into his armor and nestled against his breastplate, wanting to rip the armor from him so she could touch his skin and hear his heartbeat in her ear.

"You didn't save me any," she finally murmured accusingly.

"What?" He tilted his head to look at her, confused by her words.

"I said 'you didn't save me any'. You didn't save me any Orcs and you said you would!" She pouted with a half smile.

With a sound between a laugh and a sigh, Legolas squeezed her even tighter, more determined than ever not to let any harm befall her.