![]() ![]() “What about aerosol cans? Firearms? Fireworks? Lithium batteries?” “You don’t have any razors in those bags, do you?” The woman still had yet to blink, and Frodo was beginning to wonder if she had eyelids at all. The woman clacked her purple fingernails, then shifted her gaze to Sam. Underhill.” Gandalf, their travel agent, had insisted on secret names. “Underhill,” said Frodo, keeping his eyes down. The woman’s hand descended like a bird’s talon. Our flight is due to board any minute.” Frodo approached the woman at the kiosk, bowed his head, and presented his documents. “Have your passport and boarding parchment out and visible,” she growled at them. Each nail was painted a vivid purple, and they clacked like the bones of a skeleton as she rapped them upon her kiosk. ![]() One such TSA agent awaited behind a kiosk, an old crone with faded blonde highlights and fingernails the size of pairing knives. They were a brusque people, a grouchy people, and it was said that folk who displeased them were plucked from line and cavity searched, just for the hell of it. Though Rivendell was a haven of beauty and enlightenment, its airport security was staffed by the TSA. The security checkpoint.” He hurried onward, leaving Sam to hobble behind. He yelped, but Frodo didn’t notice-he was pointing ahead. “Look. “What’ll be next? Unfriendly toes?”Īs if on cue, an elf sped past and crushed Sam’s toes with a roller bag. “Unfriendly eyes, unfriendly ears.” Sam shook his head. ![]() Doom, retailing for $999.99 at Jared, the Galleria of Jewelry. It was the One Ring, the ultimate weapon of the Dark Lord Sauron, the bane of Isildur, forged in the fires of Mt. It was such a small thing, such a little thing, yet it heaved on the chain about his neck like a lead weight. Hey, did you pack the…you know?”įrodo touched his chest, feeling the solid metal between skin and shirt. “We’d never see them again.” He swept his gaze over the crowd, noting a dwarf slurping a pint at the airport bar, an elf enjoying a kingsfoil salad, and a hooded man reading a mystery novel. “Do you think we can fit this all in carry-on, Mr. Sam, weighed down by all their luggage, chugged along behind. Hurry!” Frodo, unencumbered by any bags, plunged into the fray. All of them stood between the hobbits and their flight. It was no less chaotic inside: men, elves, and dwarves jostled and bustled like soldiers preparing for battle. The drop-off zone outside had been a madhouse, packed with horses and ponies and passengers. If he was, they wouldn’t be late.įrodo and Sam found themselves in the lobby of Rivendell International Airport. A frequent flyer is never late, Frodo Baggins… But Gandalf wasn’t present. If Gandalf (their travel agent) had been present, he’d have some quick rejoinder prepared. It all started at RIA, better known as Rivendell International Airport… In this post, I’d like to give you my explanation. There are many explanations, the most likely of which being that J.R.R. They rowed down rivers, stumbled through bogs, and wandered into giant spider lairs, all while they could’ve hopped on an eagle and dropped the ring into Mt. Gandalf).Īccording to this Screen Rant article, cartographer Karen Wynn Fonstad calculated Frodo and Sam’s journey was 1,779 miles long, all on foot (hobbit feet, as it were). ![]() Nor am I talking about the band (though now that you mention it, I’m down for a little “Hotel California.”) I’m talking about the Great Eagles of Middle-Earth, also known as the Eagles of Manwë, also known as something else, I’m sure, because everybody has like 10 names in Middle-Earth (i.e. No, I’m not talking about the NFL’s Philadelphia Eagles (thank god). There’s a common question posed by readers of The Lord of the Rings trilogy: Is Tom Bombadil robotripping? ![]()
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