Rivendell International Airport

by Primula


Off at the side station, Gimli stood truculantly by a slowly growing pile of metal that now equaled half his mass. 

The guard stood over him with crossed arms.  "Keep going."

The dwarf grimly unbuckled more belts and accessories as his layers were removed. "This is ridiculous."   Grumbling, he handed over his small throwing axe and yanked at his hauberk until it finally crashed to the floor.

The guard took the small axe between the tips of his fingers and quickly dropped it onto the pile.  He wiped his hands on his tunic. "Three axes?" his eyebrows quirked.

"Four," Gimli growled, extracting a hidden one from the pile of chain-mail at his feet. "And if I were not constrained by my need to reach Gondor in this manner, I might say what I am thinking would be a prime use for them."

He began unlacing his metal-studded undershirt.  "And I don't mean for chopping wood…" he continued, muttering to himself.

Boromir looked back at Gandalf, who gestured him forward. He squared his shoulders and proudly stepped up the the guards, handing them his ticket.


"No, that's SIR Rimorob," he corrected.

The Elves met his gaze.  One of them raised his brows. "Well, SIR Rimorob, you still have to hand over any weapons, and remove your shoes."

Boromir unbuckled his broadsword and handed it over, smiling slightly as the guard had to momentarily struggle to lift it up into the bin.  He knelt and removed his boots, handing them over with dignity.

"What about that shield?"

"It isn't a weapon," he pointed out.

"It has metal."

"But it isn't a weapon."

"Take it off," the guard said with some annoyance, "if you want to go forward."

Boromir seemed to weigh that thought in his mind a moment. 

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "He better just hand it over."

Pippin looked up at Aragorn and then at Merry.  The two of them immediately began jumping up and down, waving their arms and pantomiming handing over the shield.

Boromir, his eye caught by their motion, had to grant them a small smile.  He slowly unstrapped his shield and let them take it from his hands.  "I'm only letting you take that because my friends think I should," he clarified.  "It is only for their sake, and not for my own…"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," the guard said. "Is that it? Any loose change?  Daggers? Jewelry? Belt buckles?"

Boromir, interrupted in his speech, gave a frown but held his tongue.  He silently emptied his pockets and lifted his head, stalking through the gate.


"Now what?" he snapped at them.

"Your horn," the guard pointed. "It has metal on it."

"It's a HORN!  For pity's sake, give it a rest!  What do you think I'm going to do, honk someone to death?"

"Maybe," the guard said with a straight face. "We've seen stranger things."

Boromir looked like he was seriously considering turning the horn into a weapon after all, but instead he slowly unhooked it and gave it over, then walked through the gate again.  This time there was no sound.  No sound except that of his horn being added to the bin of weapons behind him.

"Men!" commented the guards, shaking their heads.