Guys, we are staring at the end of the line. We are almost done. One more chapter. One last time.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

The reinforcements sent to compensate for Sauron's fatal mistake are demolished by the untouchable army. Not even the towering oliphaunts can stand against them. The battlefield falls silent and still before your eyes. You hardly dare to breathe for fear of being too loud.

Slowly, like a jet engine revving, cries of victory rise into one. Those still standing thrust their spears and swords into the air and cheer to the sky. You beam at their enthusiasm.

"Thorin!" a familiar voice echoes across the plains. You both turn to see Dain, a little worse for the wear but still on his own two feet. Dain embraces Thorin, then you. "Hell of a fight!" he roars, eyes gleaming. "Glad we came!"

"Thank you, Dain," you say breathlessly. "Your support saved many lives today."

"Aye, that's a fine thing, but we were only after one! It's good to see you alive, lass. Thorin here was frantic, if his letter was any indication!"

"Thank you, Dain," Thorin says pointedly. "Aniel, we should return to the citadel and give report."

"Good idea."

With Dain and Theoden determined to carry out search and rescue, you and Thorin find one more horse and gallop back through the city. You're delighted to see on the ride up that the orcs only managed to penetrate two tiers, and that their bodies outnumber those of the Men.

One by one your friends return to the citadel in various states. Merry, supported by Pippin, is pale but conscious. Boromir and Faramir have really been through the mill, as they had directed the soldiers inside the city. You grin when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli find their way up.

"Not a moment too soon," you say to Aragorn.

Aragorn gives one of his rare real smiles. "So it seemed."

"That worked perfectly! I think we took out the full intended force with a fraction of the casualties! See, Thorin, you doubted me, but you should know by now - oh, Thorin!" You beam between him and Aragorn. "I wanted you to meet him! This is Thorin, Aragorn. Thorin, Aragorn son of Arathorn, who happens to be heir to the throne of Gondor."

Aragorn bows slightly. "Aniel spoke of you constantly on our travels. I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"And I, you, Son of Arathorn." Thorin inclines his head. "For looking after Aniel, I am in your debt."

"I believe she was the one looking after us."

"Oh, it was mutual. Gimli, you needn't hide, I'm not mad at you."

Gimli is sheepish as he bows to Thorin. "I did my best to look after her, my lord, as you asked," he says.

"And she is in one piece, likely in spite of her best efforts," Thorin replies, amused. "You have done well, and you have my thanks."

The greeting moves to the oldest of acquaintances. You look between Thorin and Legolas as the gaze at each other impassively. Legolas finally breaks into a soft smile and nods. You're thrilled when Thorin reciprocates.

Gandalf and Elrond arrive just then. Elrond seeks you wearing a blazing expression of victory. "It worked," he says.

You beam. "I know. And even though he figured it out, Aragorn came through just in time."

"Did you...?"

"Know? No, I just had way more faith than was probably wise."

"Regardless. This has been a great victory."

You don't want to burst anyone's bubble too soon, so you just respond casually. After helping with cleanup and attending to the wounded, finally find the time to sleep. Your bed just happens to be a cozy niche in a windowsill of the throne room. Low conversation rouses you slowly.

"I have sent him to his doom."

You roll groggily off the ledge; the fall, which was a bit further than you thought, effectively wakes you up. "Sorry, am I late? Are we leaving?" you ask blearily.

"Leaving?" Gandalf looks at you.

"To the Black Gates," Aragorn says, nodding at you. You nod back. "Frodo needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth."

"How?"

"Draw out Sauron's remaining armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Thorin muses, "We may not be able to achieve victory through strength of arms."

"May we not?" you sing, prancing over. "I think differently. My friends, this is *the* last obstacle. This war is almost over. We are only hours from victory."

"From victory?" Elrond looks at you. "You are absolutely certain?"

"I have been counting down the days!"

Gandalf nods. "Then so shall it be."

As they discuss the finer points of the attack, Thorin asks you in an undertone, "Is this how it's been? You've been calling the shots behind the scenes and everyone follows along?"

"Is that what this looks like?" You're surprised at the analysis. "No, it was more like they led the way and I interjected my coincidentally correct opinion from time to time. It was a group effort, and it's been mostly fun."

"Mostly fun?" He smiles fondly at you. "I believe that's what I missed most: your ability to see the bright side of everything."

"Well, if you're looking for a bright side, you're about to get the surface of the sun, because we are almost done! Then we can go home and relax into eternity."

"Then I will fight the armies of Mordor with my bare hands if it gets us home faster."

You smile and kiss him. "Don't be so dramatic. You'll at least get an axe."

The troops are rallied for one last stand. How they were convinced, you're not sure, but it may have been due in part to the relative ease of the previous battle. You ride with the army like you're going on an exciting day trip. The wind that flows through your hair only increases your anticipation. You fancy yourself a war maiden with shining hair and armor, galloping to the next war. But the real war maiden is several feet in front of you.

You ride up to her. "Eowyn! I didn't get to talk to you earlier! How are you?"

She smiles at you. "Your words were fulfilled, my friend. I am grateful that you were there to witness it."

"So am I! I hoped I wouldn't miss it. You were so brave!"

"Bravery is a matter of circumstance. My uncle was in danger. Thank you, by the way, for staying with him. He might have otherwise been wounded while I was occupied."

You smile at the secret knowledge you don't feel is necessary to fully divulge. "That's what I came for."

"And this battle, you say it will be easy?"

"Yes," you say confidently. "It will be over in a blink."

The army gathers before the Black Gate. You're so ready to do a bit more fighting that it reminds you of your younger years, back when skirmishes had much lower stakes. But how can you not be raring? You are at the very end of a saga. Of an age, even. Most importantly, you'll soon be on your way back home to spend the rest of your life with your family and your love.

Aragorn urges his horse forward. You happily accompany him. He shouts to the imposing gates, "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

The taunt works. The Black Gates begin to move with an almighty groan. The forward party quickly rejoins the rest of the army. A fair number of orcs begin the march out of Mordor. You smirk, silently daring them to come get some.

You lean over to Aragorn and whisper, "Optional event coming up. You asked me to warn you."

"I appreciate it. What are my options?"

"To make a speech, or to not make a speech."

"Any suggestions?"

"Please make the speech. I've been waiting so long to hear it."

Aragorn rides up and down the line. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers and my friends! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down - but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

The collective war cry is deafening and even causes the advancing orcs to falter. You beam proudly at Aragorn. "I am honored to fight by your side," you tell him in a voice thick with emotion.

"I share the sentiment. Your counsel has been irreplaceable and has saved more lives than can be counted. Let us now end this evil once and for all."

You welcome the charge with a fire blazing in your soul. Each orc you cut down is a personal victory. The orcs do put up more of a fight than expected; you suppose it's because they're desperate and cornered. Still, they're not quite a match for the inspired soldiers.

Armored trolls barrel through the ranks. One knocks down Aragorn. Panicked, you pull your signature move: you climb the troll's back, yank off its helmet, and introduce its nervous system to your axe. The troll roars and staggers back, giving Aragorn time to right himself.

"Be back!" you call cheerfully. After all, it is your last chance to be the Troll Master.

You parade around trampling orcs until your ride is on the brink of death, at which point you abandon ship. Looking around, you notice that several others have followed your example, leading to trolls rampaging all over the place. It feels nice to be a role model.

There was never any doubt that you would win, but when the eagles show up is when everyone else becomes convinced of that fact. The eagles dogfight with the remaining Nazgul and mow down stripes of orcs and inspire the tiring soldiers to push on just a little longer.

Suddenly the ground jolts. Both you and the orc you're fighting almost lose your footing. A thin but potent shriek tears through the air. The trolls are the first to run scared. You turn just in time to watch Barad-Dur slowly implode and crumble from the bottom up. The great Eye of Sauron vanishes in a mighty shockwave that causes the entirety of the land of Mordor to sink. Orcs flee from the massive sinkhole, most of them unsuccessfully. Mount Doom shoots ash and fire into the air before breaking apart with the sheer force of the eruption.

"Take an eagle there," you say quickly to Gandalf, who paled at the sight of the explosion. "Frodo and Sam are waiting for you."

And for once, for possibly the last time, neither he nor anyone asks if you're certain. He simply whistles clearly and is scooped up by a great taloned foot. Gandalf, riding Gwahir, leads the flock towards Mount Doom.

"It's over," you say very quietly. The words hardly taste right on your tongue, but they're true. "It's all over."

Aragorn hears the pronouncement and proclaims victory. The men cheer as one, possibly even louder than their initial battle cry. You smile along; the implications of what has finally been done mean too much to you to express in sound.

"Is it over?" Thorin asks in a low voice.

"Yeah. Sauron is gone for good. It's over."

Thorin simply takes your hand.

The rest of the army returns to Minas Tirith to as much of a triumphant reception as can be managed under the circumstances. You enjoy the cheers and thrown flowers in a sort of daze. Despite always having known the outcome would be positive, it hardly seems real now that it's here. You realize that it's not necessarily the celebration, but the fact that nothing else this exciting will happen again. The idea of boredom makes you chuckle to yourself.

It's every man for himself after arriving at Minas Tirith. The soldiers wind down or seek food or sleep, and civilians rush about administering to the wounded and cleaning up rubble. It's a chaos you're not interested in dealing with. You slip away and ascend back to your perch in the window of the throne room. The sun is still high enough in the sky for it to be a cozy spot. You lie down on the sill and close your eyes. Thorin joins you eventually; you know his presence when he strokes your hair. Neither of you speak. You simply stare into the coloring sky, lost in your respective thoughts.

Frodo wakes up two days later. You're sure to be there to greet him. The scene is one of pure joy as each of the members of the Fellowship enter to pay their respects. You're content with watching it all from the corner, but that does not bring you less happiness than pouncing on poor Frodo like Merry and Pippin do. Sam also hangs back by the door. You move to his side.

"You're a hero, Samwise Gamgee," you murmur to him.

"A hero? No, not me, Miss Aniel. Mr. Frodo was the ringbearer. He's the hero."

"Oh Sam," you sigh affectionately. "Don't forget, my brave hobbit, that I know everything. And that means I know that Frodo would never have made it to Mount Doom without you. You're just as much a hero as he is."

Sam gets flustered at the compliments. "Miss Aniel, you're making me blush! Please don't say such things. It was hard going for us all."

"That's true, but that's why I'm so impressed. I just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you."

Having everyone alive and back together is like a family reunion. You only stop smiling when you sleep. The whole city is abuzz with plans for the coronation, which only adds to the excitement. You wrangle a job helping with decorations and intend to bring the beautification apocalypse. You skip into the throne room to examine your canvas and find Aragorn standing alone, surveying the throne.

"Aragorn?" you call softly.

"Aniel." He half-turns and smiles slightly. "I was just thinking."

"If you're worried you won't be a good king, you couldn't be more wrong."

"It certainly is more responsibility than being a Ranger."

"You won't be alone. You'll have support. But you'll do a legendary job."

"Legendary?" He chuckles and completely turns. "That may be an exaggeration."

"Nope. I don't exaggerate - except on decorations!"

The day finally comes. Visitors from far and wide and all the townspeople flock to the citadel for the ceremony. You and Thorin have the perfect spot to witness the crowning. Before the time comes, you scan the crowd for the epilogues of your friends. You glimpse Arwen behind a banner, as it should be. Faramir and Eowyn stand close together along with Theoden. The hobbits are in a line, all alive and well. And Boromir is to the left of Gandalf, ready to assume his place as steward. It's the perfect conclusion to a long, hard journey.

The crowd quiets when Aragorn emerges in armor and a cape. You smile proudly when he kneels in front of Gandalf. Gandalf is similarly proud as he announces, "Now come the days of the king. May they be blessed."

Now crowned, Aragorn rises to face his people. The cheers are deafening. Aragorn says, "This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace."

He passes his people, who bow before him. You're glad to do the same, but raise your head slightly to see him discover Arwen. Thorin silently takes your hand when they kiss.

The banquet after the ceremony is merry and well-deserved, but you're more content to watch on the fringe of things. Just this once you have trusted Thorin to handle his own diplomacy; he was invited along with Theoden to sit with Aragorn. You were also invited, but you slipped away after the main course. You notice a small figure also lingering in the shadows and go to sit by him.

"Not in a party mood?" you ask Frodo, gazing over the revelry.

"No, not quite," he responds softly.

"It's okay. I understand why. You've done magnificently, Frodo. You've more than earned a rest."

"You were right."

"About what? I've been right about a lot of things."

"Before we parted, you told me I would succeed. There were times I did not believe it, but your words never fully left my heart. You were right. Thank you."

"You needn't thank me, dear. You had it in you even without me spoiling the ending. I'm so proud of you."

You and Frodo sit together for a long time after that, speaking only occasionally, enjoying the celebration in a different way than everyone else. You figured Frodo would be removed, but you didn't expect to feel the same. Perhaps it's that you can commiserate; both you and Frodo had unique roles to play in the quest that no one else can quite understand.

"How did it go?" Frodo asks suddenly.

"All things considered, it was fantastic. Almost easy. I just wish there was more I could have done to help you."

Frodo smiles. "You did plenty. Faramir was not going to release us, but Boromir came and convinced him to let us go. He also asked my forgiveness. I could not hold it against him - I had long since felt the pull of the ring. But now the ring is gone, and Sauron is gone, forever."

"Forever..." The thought is reassuring. "And what do you plan on doing forever?"

"Nothing," Frodo says pensively. "I'm going to follow Bilbo's lead and return to Bag End to live quietly. I believe I have had enough adventures for one lifetime. What will you do?"

You look up at the table where Thorin sits with the other kings. He's deep in conversation with Aragorn and looking just as majestic as the day you met him. "I have a pretty good idea," you murmur.