What time is it?

Not yet dawn.

I dreamed I saw a great wave, climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet.

A light shone behind me but I could not turn. I could only stand there, waiting.

Night changes many thoughts. Sleep, Éowyn.

Sleep… while you can.

The stars are veiled. Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice. The Eye of the enemy is moving.

What are you doing? Pippin! Pippin?

Pippin! Are you mad?

I just want to look at it! Just one more time.

Put it back!

Pippin. No! Pippin!

He is here!

I see you!

Pippin! Help! Gandalf Help him! Someone help him!

Pippin!

Fool of a Took!

Look at me.

Gandalf! Forgive me!

Look at me. What did you see?

A tree… there was a white tree in a courtyard of stone… it was dead. The city was burning.

Minas Tirith? Is that what you saw?

I saw… I saw Him! I could hear His voice in my head!

And what did you tell Him? Speak!"

He asked me my name. I didn't answer.

He hurt me!

What did you tell Him about Frodo and the Ring?

There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool… but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring.

We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the Palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith.

His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing: he knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed; there is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner.

He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men. If the Beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war.

Tell me… why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?

What do we owe Gondor?

I will go.

No!

They must be warned!

They will be. You must come to Minas Tirith by another road.

Follow the river and look to the black ships.

Understand this: things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith.

And I won't be going alone.

Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst! Hurry! Hurry!

Where are we going?

Why did you look? Why do you always have to look!

I don't know. I can't help it!

You never can.

I'm sorry, all right! I won't do it again.

Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the Ring! He's going to be looking for you, Pip. They have to get you out of here.

And y-you're coming with me?

Merry?

Come on!

How far is Minas Tirith?

Three day's ride, as the Nazgûl flies. And we better hope we don't have one of those on our tail.

Here. Something for the road.

Last of the Longbottom Leaf?

I know you've run out. You smoke too much, Pip.

But we'll see each other soon, won't we?

I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen.

"Run, Shadowfax. Show us the meaning of haste.

Merry!

Merry!

He's always followed me. Everywhere I went, since before we were were tweens. I would get him into the worst sort of trouble. But I was always there to get him out. And now he's gone.

Just like Frodo, and Sam.

One thing I've learned about hobbits: they are most hardy folk.

Foolhardy maybe. He's a Took.

Take her by the safest road. A ship lays anchored in the Grey Havens. It waits to carry her across the Sea… The last journey of Arwen Undómiel.

There is nothing for you here, only death.

Lady Arwen, we cannot delay.

My lady!

Tell me what you have seen!

Arwen!

You have the gift of foresight, what did you see?

But there was also life. You saw there was a child. You saw my son.

But that future is almost gone.

But it is not lost!

Nothing is certain.

Some things are certain! If I leave him now, I will regret it forever.

It is time.

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken

a light from the shadows shall spring

renewed shall be Blade that was broken

The crownless again shall be King."

Reforge this Sword… Ada.

Your hands are cold. The life of the Eldar is leaving you.

This was my choice. Adar, whether by your will or not, there is no ship now that can bear me hence.

We have just passed into the realm of Gondor!

Minas Tirith, City of Kings.

Make way!

It's the tree, Gandalf. Gandalf!

Yes, the White Tree of Gondor, the tree of the King. Lord Denethor however is not the king. He is a steward only. A caretaker of the throne.

Listen carefully: Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise.

And do not mention about Frodo or the Ring.

And say nothing of Aragorn either.

In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took.

Hail, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor. I come with tidings in this dark hour… and with counsel.

Perhaps you've come to explain this. Perhaps you've come to tell me why my son is dead.

Boromir died to save us, my kinsmen and me. He fell defending us from many foes.

Pippin!

I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of this debt.

This is my first command to you: how did you escape and my son did not? So mighty a man as he was.

The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and Boromir was pierced by many.

Get up!

My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep! As Steward, you're charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies?

You still have friends. You're not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons.

You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Towers are blind? I have seen more than you know.

With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor. And, with your right, you seek to supplant me!

I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh, yes. Words have reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now: I will not bow to this Ranger from the north. Last of a ragged house long bereft of Lordship!

Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward!

The whole rule of Gondor is mine! And no other's!

Come!

All has turned to vain ambition!

He would even use his grief as a cloak.

A thousand years this city has stood. Now, at the whim of a madman it will fall. The White Tree, the tree of the king, will never bloom again.

Why are they still guarding it?

They guard it because they have hope. A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. A King will come, and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay.

The old wisdom borne out of the west was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons.

Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on herladry, or in high cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into run. The line of kings failed. The white tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men.

Mordor.

Yes, there it lies. This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."

A storm is coming."

This is not the weather of the world. This is the device of of Sauron's making. A broil of fumes he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight. So he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches this city, it will begin."

Well… Minas Tirith. Very impressive. So where are we off to next?"

Oh it's too late for that, Peregrin. There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."