Welcome to the presentation for the 2024 Most Epic Heroine Silmaril Award. To find out who will receive this year’s rose blush silmaril, please join us as we travel to Middle-earth, in South Ithilien, in the hills of Emyn Arnen, across the river Anduin and to the south of Minas Tirith…

A tortured screech startled Eowyn so badly the needle pricked her finger.
“Ah!” she sucked away the dot of blood. A pumpkin-colored blaze of fur shot through the folds of her dress. “Merry! You rascal, what’s gotten into you?”
The striped cat collected itself across the room, away from the candlelight, but the light pouring in from the window told Eowyn the story well enough and she regretted her harsh tone. The lithe cat licked his tail in a wounded manner, attempting to tease something out of it.
Eowyn had precious little time to attend to him, but it couldn’t be helped. She laid aside the white sash and her needle and thread. Only then did she notice the dribble of wax over the edge of the candelabra and from there past the threshold of the table and onto the floor—right where Merry had been lounging.
An unexpected guest
“Oh, you poor thing. You’ve got wax in your tail.” But before Eowyn could properly console the slighted feline, Merry’s head gave a twitch. And then another blaze of fur—this time blindingly white—rushed over the flagstones of the chamber. Merry, forgetting all about his wounded tail, took off after the white blaze faster than if a storm of wax had been raining down from the ceiling.
The two firebrands of fur disappeared before Eowyn could scarcely take a breath.
“Well, happy hunting,” Eowyn said and returned to her needle. “Honestly, I should never have allowed Faramir to let him into the house. He’s a little too much like his namesake.” But she only half meant it. If she wasn’t so pressed to finish the sash, she would not have minded Merry’s morning antics at all.

A pine breeze and the oiled whish of the outside door alerted her to the arrival of another visitor, this one, though, was not unexpected.
Comings and goings
“My love? Have you returned?” Eowyn said, cocking her head toward the entryway. Still, after all these years, her insides gave a flutter at the thought of him. Perhaps it was less a flutter now, though, and more like the relief of a quiet ache she had hitherto been unaware of.
“What in wide wood?” Faramir cried out as he pranced into the room, dodging the furry train underfoot.
“You saw Merry go past?” Eowyn said, rising and bestowing a swift kiss upon her lord. He was dressed in dark, moss green, an even darker cloak draped upon his shoulders.
“Yes, and he was chasing a rabbit. How ever did it get in the house?”
“My lord’s table is known to be open to all who would seek refuge here.”
“Well, that is the first rabbit to take me up on my offer of hospitality.” He leaned down to observe her work on the table, lightly touching her hair. “You’re nearly finished, I see.”
Eowyn nursed her finer prick with the tip of her tongue, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Yes. I have no gift for sewing, but I couldn’t entrust this to anyone else.”
“Nor would I.”
“You know that’s not true what you said about the rabbit. That was not the first time our home has been visited by one.”
How fast the seasons turn
Faramir stroked his chin. “It wasn’t?”
“You’re forgetting lady Heather.”
“Heather…Ah, yes, of course, how could I have forgotten? She told such lovely stories. Everyone was quite taken by her. But she was not a rabbit in the strictest sense of the word. And that was several years ago. Much has happened since then. You presented that silmaril what, nine years ago? It was a lovely ceremony.”
Eowyn stopped her sewing and stroked the sash. She only had a few more stitches left to complete the last details. “Yes, much has happened since then, and more changes are coming. How fast the seasons turn, my love.” She pressed her hand into her husband’s. “The autumn leaves change too quickly in Ithilien this year for my liking.”
Faramir wrapped her one hand in his two. “Yet, how lovely the leaves are to gaze upon when they do.” He met her eyes and then the old flutter returned in full for a moment.
But she had stitching to do. And the appointed time was swiftly approaching.

“You always know just what to say to lift the heaviness of my heart,” Eowyn said.
“I fear I come bearing news that will not make your heart any lighter.”
Ill tidings
“Nothing has happened to him, has it?”
“Oh, no, it’s Herewena. I fear she will not make it in time for the ceremony. A fell storm has washed out the road between Gondor and Rohan.”
“This is terrible news. Who will be my sword maiden then?”
“Perhaps one of the maids of Ithilien?”
“They are fine ladies, yet none of them are of the proper lineage for such a high occasion.”
“We could delay the ceremony.”
“That would go against tradition also. Oh, these are ill-tidings brought by such a fair messenger.”
“The important thing is that we are there for him.”
“That is true.” She touched his arm before returning to her needlework.
Reminisces
“Who else came to the ceremony with Heather that year? Let me think,” Faramir said, hoping to draw his wife’s mind away from the troubling news. He stood up and strolled about the room while Eowyn pressed on with her needlework. “There was that nice young girl with the strange cap. It made her look more like a bandit or a pirate than a heroine. What did she call it?”
“A bandanna, I believe. Yes, Antigone was quite in awe of Ithilien, I think. I did not get to speak with her as much as I should have wished.”
“As I recall that was because you were so taken with Princess Eilonwy. I think she might have convinced you to ride off with her to Minas Morgul if you’d spent any longer in her company. She had the same spark of fire in her that often shines in the eyes of my own dear wife.”
“She was a most spirited young lady, to be sure. I remember her well and wish our visit had not been so brief. But I think if we had the ceremony today, I might have chosen to speak more with—”
Eowyn was just tying off the final stitch when a strange bluish light burst upon them from the wardrobe across the room. She and Faramir both turned in time to see the light fade and two figures come tumbling out from within.
More unexpected guests
“Whatever in the wide wood it this?” Eowyn exclaimed. She and Faramir rushed over to pick the two ladies who had somehow mysteriously fallen out of the wardrobe up off the floor.
The younger one had dark hair and keen eyes and was bundled up in strange, almost hobbitish clothes, like the kind Antigone wore. The older one was dressed in a plain, yet elegant dress in dire need of darning, but which suited her soft beauty and gentle eyes quite well. The two ladies rose quickly, dusting themselves off and apologizing profusely for the sudden interruption.
The younger girl was a stranger to Eowyn, but the older, she knew at once.

“Nia Wingfeather, what a surprise to see you. And stepping out of my wardrobe, no less,” Eowyn said.
“Yes, it’s quite unexpected, isn’t it? I never imagined I would return to these lands since I have already won a silmaril.”
“It’s probably my fault,” the young girl piped up. “I’m rather new to this whole time-jumping thing. Nia tried to explain to me that the ceremony had already taken place, but I thought maybe if I timed it right, I could make everything work out. My name’s Glory, by the way,” she added with a nod of her head.
“Pleased to meet you, Glory. And this is my husband, Prince Faramir,” the Lord of Ithilien opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Never fear. We’ll set things right. Only, I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time,” Eowyn said.
“Figures,” Glory said.
“My son, Elboron, is to be made a squire today of the White Company. In fact, he’s awaits us down in the Glen as we speak.”
Time is a tricky thing
All haste was made to gather up the sash and retire to the Cresent Glen, where the squire-making ceremony was to take place. On the way, Glory explained how she’d been tasked with bringing all of the nominees to this year’s Silmaril Awards, but that Nia had been the only one she could find. Nia had tried to tell her that the ceremony had already taken place several years ago, and that Jill Pole, using the Wood Between the Worlds, had brought all of the heroines to Middle-earth when Glory failed to collect them.
No one knew what had happened to Glory that day, so, sadly, the ceremony had been held without her. Nia had received the silmaril, but she could not prove this to Glory as her silmaril had been stolen by the Fangs of Dang, shortly before Glory arrived.
“Fangs have a fondness for jewels,” Nia put in.

Uncertain just what had happened and hoping to make things right, Glory convinced Nia to return with her to Middle-earth to sort everything out.
“That is horrible news about the silmaril, and a thing we will have to address as soon as the ceremony is over. But I do think, Glory, that your coming at this time has not been wholly in vain, for I am in need of someone to assist me in the ceremony for my son. It is tradition for the squire’s sword to be carried by someone of noble blood, but unrelated to the son’s family. My dear childhood friend, Herewena, was supposed to be here, but she has been delayed. As a Queen in your own lands, would you consider standing in her place, Nia? It would mean a great deal to Faramir and me.”
Nia gave a graceful bow. “I do not know that I am worthy, but it would be an honor, Eowyn. Indeed, I cannot help but think that perhaps the Maker sent me here for just such a time as this.”
The two clasped hands and Faramir offered a grateful smile.
A very different kind of ceremony
Eowyn dawned a lovely shawl and circlet brought to her by her maids just before entering the Crescent Glen. As its name suggested, it was a wide swath of summery green grass in roughly the shape of a hooked moon. The thickest portion rose in a swell on the outer edge and it was there that the White Company stood at attention. A half dozen members of the company were decked in full armor bearing the tree of Gondor emblazoned on their breastplates. Unlike the soldiers of Minas Tirith, they were mantled in white cloaks and bore white shields as well. The rest of the company was dressed in green, in a fashion similar to Faramir, bearing bows and short blades at their sides.
A quiet throng of woodsmen, tradesfolk, maids, and servants given leave for the morning to attend the ceremony rimmed the edge of the swollen rise. Glory, watching Eowyn and Nia take their places for the ceremony, drifted into the crowd, feeling not a little out of place surrounded by so many honest, but unknown faces.
Faramir stepped before the armored men, took up the refashioned horn of Gondor, and sounded it. The rising note filled the Glen and filled the hearts of those within, and not a few of them gazed northward toward where King Elessar now sat upon his thrown, and not a few more gazed farther still, to the clear and unconquered sky above, and their hearts were drawn to the West, to an unfaded glory of which they knew not.
The horn sounds
Six young squires marched into the Glen through the gathered crowd. Of the six, Elboron surpassed them all in height and bearing. He scarcely looked the boy of fourteen that he was, so full and fair he appeared.
“That’s your son, isn’t it?” Nia whispered in Eowyn’s ear. “He was barely to my waist the last time I saw him.”
“I marvel that you could know him at this distance, and after so many years, so much that he’s changed.”
“The glimmer in your eye would have told me, though he and I had never met.”
The horn faded and the ceremony began. Beregond, leader of the White Company, spoke words of wisdom and challenge to the young men, enjoining them to be vigilant against enemies both without and within. “For it is the battle of the heart and mind that a man must win first, lest he be defeated before he ever steps into the fray.”
Faramir spoke as well, telling them of the pride Gondor had of its sons, and of their duty not just to their King, but to all the free peoples of Middle-earth.
Eowyn’s turn
The mothers of the six boys came forth, along with their mothers and their attendant sword-maidens. Nia bore young Elboron’s sword with even more heaviness than the blade seemed to merit. She was lost in her own thoughts, though she managed well enough when it came time to hand the sword to Eowyn.
Each mother in turn spoke words of love and gratitude over her son as the sword was bestowed, the boy rose, and those gathered offered warm and hopeful applause. It fell to Eowyn to address her son last.
She paused and took a deep breath, staring into the forest-green eyes of her son, the picture of his father in all respects save the eyes, which in form and hue mirrored hers. She placed the white sash with her newly worked embroidery upon his shoulders. He bowed his head and knelt before her.
She touched the sword to either side of his stout frame and bid him to rise.
How fast they fly away
“I entrust you, Elboron, my son, to the White Company, as a squire of Gondor.” They were the words she was meant to speak, the words tradition required. But they were some of the hardest she had ever had to speak. They were words of letting go, of surrendering something infinitely precious to her.
Then she added:

Amidst the rain, the new spring leaves, under a bright swift sky
A tender hawk, so small, so slight, set forth at last to try
The young bird ventured eagerly out from the lofty nest
So sharp of eye, so keen to fly, and put his wings to test
The winds they called, the sky it gleamed, the sun put forth its might
And he arose, spread wide his wings, and took at last to flight
On currents high and glorious, he mounted up the day
How swift they grow and soon take wing, how fast they fly away
Elboron nodded, bright eyes glistening in the white rays of the Ithilien sun. He held his tears, but Eowyn could not do the same. She placed the sword in his outstretched hand.
“Take courage. May it guard you well,” she said. “This day you are a child no more. Yet you will always be…my son.”
She withdrew beside Nia, who hooked her arm in hers. Nia’s eyes were wet as well. “How fast they fly away indeed,” she whispered, wiping away a tear from her own eye.
Lost and found
The squires raised their swords at Beregond’s command. And oaths they took that day, to King Elessar and the people of Gondor. Then they marched off into cheers from the rest of the White Company. And a great shout rang out upon the Glen and into the surrounding hills.
Faramir came alongside Eowyn. “You did well, my love. The poem spoke what was on my heart as well. But when did you write it? You did not tell me of it.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It was very lovely. Both the poem and the ceremony itself. It was a true honor, my lady.” Nia gave another bow. “Will you join Elboron now? I’m sure Glory and I will be quite fine on our own. If…I can find her.”
“Yes, where has she gone?” Eowyn said. “I would like to invite both of you to our home for a meal. Elboron will go with the company today. We will not see him for some days. And I wish to speak of this lost silmaril of yours.”
For the second time that morning, a strange light shone upon Eowyn and Faramir from behind. But this time, it was not bluish but rose blush in color. It warmed Nia’s face and sparkled in her widened eyes.
“Did someone say, ‘silmaril’?” Glory said.
“Glory, you found it!” Nia said.
A long story short
Eowyn and Faramir turned to see a disheveled Glory parting the crowd around her. Her hair was a whirlwind of disorder, her clothes ripped in several places, and a dark gash marred her forehead. But her alarming appearance was all but forgotten in the light she held in her cupped hands. It radiated as though it were the living heart of a thousand dawns, drawn together and concentrated into the space of a single stone.
“The silmaril,” Eowyn said. “How did you get it back?”
“Well, let’s just say it took me a few tries…It’s a long story,” Glory said, blowing several flopping strands of hair from her face. “But did I hear you say something about a meal? I could use a bite about now. I’ll tell you how I got it back while we eat. But first. Mrs. Wingfeather, I believe this belongs to you.”
The second time?
Glory handed the ribboned gem to Nia, who draped it around her neck. The splendor of the light now resting below her neck seemed to drain all cares and sorrow from her and she walked as one eternally young, ageless and no longer wholly of this world. And yet, her soft sweet eyes remained as simple and honest as ever and in all outward ways, nothing truly changed about her dress or appearance. Only it was as if a special grace covered her now, and all who saw her that day marveled that they should have caught the sight of one so favored at least once in their life.

Eowyn loaned Nia her shawl and they covered the gem’s light, at least partially, so as not to cause more of a stir as they retired to the house just up the hill.
“You may be the only heroine to ever receive this award twice,” Eowyn remarked, walking with Faramir’s arm around her shoulder. Her tears had dried and joy shone in her eyes now, though still touched on the edges with sorrow.
Glory gave a little chuckle. “She may actually have gotten it more than twice,” she confessed. “But who’s counting?”
The end?
I hope you enjoyed the rather unconventional presentation of this year’s silmaril. Whenever time travel is involved, it tends to muck things up a bit and I apologize for the mess.
A big thank you to everyone who nominated and voted. You are the ones who truly make these awards what they are. Be sure to check silmarilawards.com each day to find out who receives each award. One is awarded each day through September 26th.
And with that, this presentation has now officially ended. Or…has it just begun? With Glory involved, we may never truly know.
Stats
Addendum: For those interested, this was actually quite a close vote, with Nia winning by a single vote over Elionwy and Heather at only 4 votes from the lead as well.
Voting Results
Nia Wingfeather – 29%
Elionwy – 28%
Heather Longtreader – 26%
Glory – 12%
Antigone – 5%

Ooooh that was a unique take on the ceremony! Congratulations to Nia!
Thanks, Sarah. The inclusion of a Time Travel character seemed to present some fun possibilities so I thought I’d try something different!
This was cool! I’m curious though: will we ever know who the second, third, fourth and fifth place winners were, unless I totally missed something? 🙂
Sure thing. I have updated the post with the voting results at the end.