Welcome To Valinor

Celeborn tapped his foot impatiently as the immigration official searched for the appropriate paperwork to deal with the Hobbit. Eventually he found the document labelled 'Ring-bearers' and waved Sam through.

Celeborn stepped up to the counter. "Welcome to Valinor," said the official, "Name?"

"Celeborn, son of Galadhon," said Celeborn.

"What is the purpose of your visit to Valinor?"

"Permanent residence."

"Have you ever attempted to overthrow Valarin government by any means?"

"No."

"Are you affiliated with any Fëanorian activist groups?"

"Definitely not."

"Have you ever attempted the theft of a Silmaril, or sworn any oaths relating to Silmarils?"

"No."

"May I see your passport and travel documents please?"

"I do not have any." said Celeborn, who had not realised that such things existed.

"That might be a problem, sir. Is there anyone here who can vouch for you?"

"My wife, Galadriel."

The official looked through his list of Valinorian residents. "I'm sorry sir, but no one of that name lives here."

"You might know her as Artanis, or Nerwen, or even Altariel."

"Ah yes, Princess Artanis. That's fine sir. We will send a message to her straight away. You can collect your luggage and go through customs while you are waiting for her."

A alarm sounded, startling Celeborn. "Ignore it," said the official, "it just means that some Avari have been detected stowed away in your ship. You won't be arrested for aiding and abetting illegal immigration - Avari have some very cunning ways of concealing themselves."

"What will you do with the Avari?" asked Celeborn.

"They'll be sent to the Formenos holding camp, and then dispatched back to Middle-earth." said the official, "Look, they're bringing them through now."

Two Elves were dragged in; both were handcuffed. "Wait a moment," cried Celeborn, "those are not Avari, they are my grandsons!"