Chapter 3: Elves Cannot Multitask
In the delightful house of Elrond in Rivendell, Elven voices resonated along every corridor, dry leaves blew in through the vastly attractive yet glassless windows, and a rather embarrassed-looking Erestor entered the bedchamber of one Boromir of Gondor.
Boromir looked up from his horn, which he had been fondling on his lap. "How can I help you?"
"Um, this is a little awkward," said Erestor. "I was supposed to hand these out last week but I forgot. Would you mind filling this in now, as quickly as you can? Just so you can give them back to me before you set off tonight?" He proffered a bundle of parchments.
Boromir frowned, bewildered. "What is it?"
"Oh, just the evaluation form. So we can monitor the effectiveness of our services."
"What do you mean – oh, never mind, pass it here." He grabbed the parchments and flung them on the tastefully carved desk.
"Thank you so much. And my apologies for the delay."
"Yeah, no problem."
Erestor shut the door behind him in silence.
With a sigh, Boromir picked up the parchments and glanced over them. On the sheets were drawn a number of large boxes, each with a heading at the top. He scanned them quickly. Then he let he parchments sink. "Are they mad? How accessible did I find – what does that even mean?" He put his feet up on the desk and began to attack his molars with a toothpick. After a while, he picked up the parchments again and considered them with a friendlier eye. Perhaps it wasn't the worst thing that he was asked for his opinion. Frankly, he had a whole lot of sticky points which somehow he had been too polite to mention and which therefore were slowly choking him up. For a start, why couldn't the fricking Elves multitask? Sending out scouts and waiting weeks and weeks for them to come back and only after all the scouts return does it occur to them to reforge that sword of Aragorn's? Actually, during that entire time, his designated companions were behaving as if they were on holiday with not a care in the world. And then, after the return of the scouts, they suddenly run around like headless chickens, looking for backpacks, checking out maps, scrabbling for supplies. That would have all been done weeks ago, if anyone had listened to him. But no, "All in good time," Gandalf had said, and the good time seemed to be the very last minute when everyone just grabbed what they could. He'd seen that hobbit Samwise pack pipeweed and salt, but no rope! He, Boromir, had a rope in his pack, as one should never travel without, but he intended not to advertise the fact. Anyway, here was a chance to let those fancy-pants Elves have a piece of his mind.
How effectively has your stay in Imladris prepared you for your upcoming journey?
Well, I'm quite an experienced traveller and warrior, wrote Boromir, so I was already pretty well prepared before I arrived here. But given the quest we are facing, it would have made sense to discuss a few questions in more detail, for example: Which route are we going to take? Will we attempt to cross the Misty Mountains and if so, where and how? What alternative route will we take if crossing the mountains should prove impossible? Are there any allies along our way who might render assistance? From which direction will the fellowship approach Mordor and how might the Black Gate be overcome? I pointed out these and many other questions, but Gandalf's reply was that we should "not look too far ahead." This does not strike me as effective forward planning. Also, some weapons practice for those young hobbits and a First Aid refresher course for us all would have been useful.
Ah, it felt good to get that off his chest. He turned the page and read the next question.
How do you rate the overall effectiveness of the presentations given at the council?
Effectiveness? He wasn't sure what would count as effectiveness in this context, but what had shocked him and still made him shake his head all these weeks later was the utter incompetence of just about everybody that had come to light at the Council. The dwarves had waited a whole year before they decided to warn Bilbo that Sauron was after him. The Mirkwod Elves had let the creature Gollum escape, because they could not watch a prisoner and fend off an attack at the same time – no multitasking, remember? Gandalf had seen that there was a narrow stair leading off the tower of Orthanc but instead of taking this obvious route of escape he had sat down on the pinnacle twiddling his thumbs in the hope some obliging eagle would pass by. Aragorn had led the hobbits to every single bottleneck at which the servants of the Enemy could have waylaid them – it was just as well that these Ringwraiths were so easily scared off and apparently totally incapacitated by the loss of their horses and robes. And Elrond, what about Elrond's story of the distant past? If Elrond and his fellow Elves knew that the Ring had to be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, why in Middle-earth did they let Isildur get away with keeping it?
Boromir's quill was poised for a mighty rant, but he reined himself in at the last moment. It would not do to insult his host and all his companions. He would have to get on with these people for goodness knew how long. So instead he wrote: The presentations by Elrond and Gandalf were bit too long and not all the details were relevant. Some visual aids, for example maps, would have been useful.
The next box was headed: How fully were your objectives met?
How fully were his objectives met? Well, this at least was easy. He had found the sword that was broken, seen the Halfling and Isildur's Bane. With hindsight, he might ask whether it had been worth this whole long journey just to solve some riddle, but that was his own problem. The answer to the question on the sheet was clear: Fully. He turned another page and read:
How accessible did you find the materials provided by your host?
What materials were they? There had been no agenda circulated prior to the Council of Elrond and there had been no hand-outs. Or did they mean the supplies for the journey which had been so haphazardly thrown together during the last few days? But the word "accessible" could hardly be applied here. After some deliberation Boromir decided to put three question marks into the box. On to the next question:
How will you implement what you have learned in Imladris in your professional practice?
Would it be possible to answer this question without resorting to sarcasm? Boromir reckoned that he had been very restrained so far and might be allowed to indulge himself a little. He wrote:
In my future professional practice, I will trust in courage and chance rather than strategic planning and rational preparation. I will always take my time, no matter how urgent my errand. Then, when it is almost too late, I will make great haste. I will reject any prudent course of action with some vague hints about potential dangers and then pursue a much more dangerous option instead, claiming that it just cannot be helped. I will discuss highly confidential matters behind closed doors but with open windows. I will rely on gut feeling rather than logical deduction. For key positions, I will pick the least qualified candidates, working on the assumption that they have hidden qualities which even the wise cannot tell. I will –
He hesitated and read over what he had written. Hastily, he scribbled out the last box and wrote into the margin: With discretion. Now onto the last page.
How suitable did you find the accommodation? He looked at the piles of leaves that had accumulated just that day in every corner of the room. If you had rectangular windows instead of fancy curly ones, he wrote, you'd be able to fit window panes. This would also cut down on your heating bills.
That seemed to be pretty much it. He considered briefly commenting on the lack of security. After all, they had allowed him into the house and even into the Council without any kind of proof that he actually was who he claimed to be. But he felt he had been critical enough and should probably close on a more positive note. He pondered.
The catering was very good, he wrote at long last into the box for general comments, especially the little pink cakes with the almonds on top.
Two hours later, the company was finally ready to start their journey. They were supposed to leave Imladris secretly, so just to mark his disapproval of the general ineffectiveness, Boromir blew a mighty note on his horn. Back in the Last Homely Home, having taken only seventy-seven years to not quite finish his first book, Bilbo decided to start another one.