Frodo was marching through Ithilien, determined to find a way into Mordor. Above him, a screeching voice filled the air, xausing Him and Sam both to cover their earrs. Circling lower and lower, the flying creature finally touched ground as its rider slid off its back. "Frodo, my most excellent hobbit!" cried a merry voice. Hardly beliving his eyes, Frodo joyfully exclaimed, "Gandalf! I thought you were dead!"
"So did I, my dear chap, but that's not important right now. This most wondrous fellow—" he poited to the eagle "—has offered to take you to Mount Doom. I suggest you take him up on his offer, and quickly."
Sam waved at Frodo as he soared off. "Good luck Mr. Frodo! Have a nice time destroying the Ring!"
Not that much longer, Frodo found himself hovering over the mouth of Mount Doom. Dropping the Ring quickly, he and the eagle flew off as Mount Doom exploded, and Barad-dur fell.
And the Ring was no more.