The Winner of the Most Wayward Soul Silmaril 2023!

Gollum made his way along the gloomy cobblestone street of London, the smog dimming the late afternoon light nicely around him. You’d almost think it was night. Yes, precious, how lovely! But, ugh, precious–it was difficult to breathe in this place! He half coughed, half gagged to clear his airway. Why was he doing this, again? Coming all this way to such a foreign land to hand over some make-you-feel-better-about-yourself award?

He finally came to a row of houses and nicely painted doors. He checked the number on one of them, and knocked. “One moment, please!” Gollum heard a voice inside, and he listened as footsteps bustled about and then came to the door. It opened, revealing an older man with wispy gray hair and bookworm glasses.

Gollum regarded him and sniffed. “Tall for a Hobbitses, aren’t you?”

“Hobbi–? Oh, you must be Gollum,” said Uncle Andrew. “The…erm, person I was informed would be dropping by today.”

Gollum nodded and pushed his way in through the door without a care, moving about on his crouched legs and hands, not unlike a prowling spider. “Yes, yes, that’s me. Hehehe.”

“Ah, I see.” Uncle Andrew rubbed his hands together nervously. “You…have something for me, I take it?”

Gollum paused his sniffing about the old, fancy furniture and turned, reaching into his rag’s pocket. He pulled out a Silmaril Award, gave it a glance, and tossed it at the elder man. “There you go, for ugly Hobbits man who gets honorary award for Most Wayward Soul.”

“I’m not a Hobbit, I’m a human.” Uncle Andrew cleared his throat. He inspected the award, adjusting his glasses, and gasped in awe. He began fawning over it, oohing and aahing to the point that Gollum frowned in disgust and wanted to leave.

“Here is stupid invitation to award ceremony for this year’s Wayward Soul Award.” He threw the paper at the man.

“What? But, didn’t I just win?” Andrew asked, confused. Gollum gave him a look as if he were thick-headed.

“What you got is just honorary mention award, to get you out of the way so that other peoples can win.”

“Oh…well, that’s rather a mean way to put it. But I understand what you’re getting at. My Narnia series is so popular that I would win every award each year if allowed!” He nodded with pride to himself.

Gollum looked at him flatly. “Yes, sure, whatevers.”

Gollum felt a sudden twitch in his chest and tried to resist. But it was no use fighting it–Smeagol, the other half of his split personality, wanted to come out, and he forced Gollum aside.

“Oh! What lovely place this is!” Smeagol said brightly, staring about the antique room and its embroidered cushions. “Oh yes, we be very comfortable here, precious!” He ran his hand along a sofa. “Except for that nasty smelling smog. We don’t like that, precious.”

In a mirror, Gollum agreed. “No, not at all, precious.”

“That’s why we have the big ceremony at our place!” Smeagol said with a bright-eyed beam, turning to Uncle Andrew, who’d been watching the exchange with a disturbed expression.

“Oh, really? Is that so?” the man asked faintly.

“Yes, yes!” Smeagol said, then he gave a loud gasp and leaped forward, nearly scaring the socks off Andrew’s feet as he came up and grabbed his hand. “Ring? You have ring, like precious!”

“Precious? What is that?” Andrew asked with growing unease.

Smeagol pulled out the ring from his pocket and displayed it on his palm. Andrew adjusted his glasses to better inspect it. “Is the most precious of all precious rings, it is! Most powerful, most beautiful… Much better than stupid gemstones.” Smeagol waved at the Silmaril.

“Oh, you don’t say?” Andrew’s lips twitched and a light glinted in his eyes. “Powerful? More than my green one, here?”

“Oh, yes. Nothing is better than precious!” Gollum came out and gave the man a glare. “Your dirty little green thing is petty trinket compared to precious!”

Uncle Andrew straightened. “I see… Well, I have a gold version of the ring, too, but I don’t suppose that would interest you?”

Gollum turned his nose up. “Not the least little bit.”

Andrew nodded. “I shall see you at your abode, then, for the award ceremony.”

“Yes.” Gollum turned, head held high, and crab-walked towards the door.

“Take care on your way out.” Andrew waved him off.

***

The day of the Silmaril Award ceremony had arrived. Gollum finished up the final touches of decoration in his underground cave–tying necklaces of fish bones from wall to wall, and positioning fish heads just so on top of all the stalagmites. “Yes, very well done, precious! Very pretty, if I do say so myself!” He giggled with satisfaction.

The guests began to arrive, pouring in through the narrow passageway and into the cavern home, one by one. Among them were the five nominees for the award. Draco Malfoy stumbled over the loose rocks along the cave floor, holding a handkerchief to his nose and making gagging noises. “What is this awful place? Ew, and that awful stench!” he griped.

Moash of the Stormlight Archives trudged through, with an expression darker than the cave itself, and a cruel sword at his belt. Athelas followed behind him, an average looking gentleman in a suit, except for the eyes, which seemed to pierce through Gollum’s soul when they met.

Gollum stared back, refusing to be cowed, even though inwardly he shuddered. He really didn’t like that stare, nor the disgusting cup of liquid (tea) the man was carrying about with him. Gollum stuck his tongue out at him and moved on.

“Are those…fish heads?” Draco exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, pretty decorations! Only the best for special occasion.” Smeagol grinned at him. For some reason, that made Draco gag all the more.

Then came Dustfinger, with a strange, long furry creature on his shoulder. Ooh, it looks tasty, precious, thought Smeagol. It does, precious. But the man looks dangerous, wielding fire, replied Gollum, eyeing the flames the man was playing with in his hands.

“Yes, yes. Best not to eat guests,” said Smeagol, with a sigh.

“I beg your pardon?” Uncle Andrew was standing there, just a few feet away, having heard him.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Gollum waved his hand and smiled innocently. “It’s time to go up!” He ushered the nominees toward the rock slab stage.

And then Kyle from Green Ember hopped up. It was a bunny–a bunny, precious! Oh, such a delicious, furry, meaty, and juicy little…

“Whatever you’re thinking,” said the rabbit, giving the sword belted at his side a tap, “I suggest you stop it right now, and wipe the drool off your face, good sir.”

Smeagol blinked, and wiped at his face with the back of a hand. He gave an embarrassed giggle. “I must have frozen and dozed into sleep, dreaming. Haha, yes, precious. I drool when sleeping, that’s all it is.” He smiled and slinked over to the stage, Kyle watching him warily.

All the guests were taking their seats–or rather, their chosen rock to sit upon. Fireflies in cages and glowing fungus gave a haunting light to the cavern stage.

Uncle Andrew paused beside Smeagol and gave his bare shoulder a pat. “Quite an…interesting place you have here. Very unique!” He lowered his hand. “Here it is, my other special ring, the gold one. Perfect for the occasion, wouldn’t you say?”

Gollum gave it a sniff. “Meh, not so special, precious. But not bad. Odd goldy color, it is.”

“Yes.” Andrew chewed his lip anxiously. “And what color was your precious ring, again? I can’t quite remember how yellow it was.”

“Yellow?” Gollum gave him an incredulous look. “It not yellow at all! Yuck, ugh, how can you say such terrible things?” He fished the precious One ring out and held it. “It gold–pure, loveliest gold! Can you not see? You blind?” He shook it at him. “Stupid not-Hobbitses. The precious is all solid gold, most beautiful of all!”

“Ah, yes.” Andrew tweaked his glasses and smirked. “My mistake. Oh, are they calling for you?” He gestured at the podium rock on the stage.

Gollum looked away briefly. “Yes, precious.” He tucked the ring back into his pocket, and made his way to the podium. It was low enough so that he could remain crouched and not stand–like other stupid two-legs always did. Why stand? It was so uncomfortable and uncouth!

Smeagol took over and cleared his throat. “Welcome all, oh most wayward guests…and rabbitses.” He glanced back at Kyle with a hungry look. The rabbit kept a hand on his sword hilt. “Today we are gathered to honor those among us who have…should we say, hehehe…lost their way in life.” He cast them a dark, toothy grin. “Souls who have nowhere else to go but to drown in their own dark misery and failures, again and again making bad choices… Thankfully that isn’t me!”

“Yes, it is, precious. Shut up,” said Gollum to Smeagol.

Smeagol pouted. “Anyway. We now present to you the winner of Most Wayward Soul. But first, we must congratulate the four losers on their losing. Step forward, loser number four.” He waved his hand to Moash.

Moash took a step forward, looking bored and as if he’d rather be hacking away at stones and rocks all day than be at this ceremony.

“Loser number three, Kyle the bunny!”

Kyle approached hesitantly, keeping to the other side of Moash and away from Gollum. “Bunny? Did he seriously call me a bunny?”

“Loser number two, Dustfinger of Inkheart! A very strange name to have, precious.” Gollum eyed the man and his furry animal pet-friend thing. He tried to spot if there was any dust on the man’s finger.

“Loser number one, Athelas from Between Cities, or Cities Between, or…something!”

Athelas approached, sipping from his tea cup, and gave Gollum a most disapproving stare. “It’s City Between. I must say, you could use a few lessons in how to host a proper ceremony. In particular, how to provide your guests with adequate refreshments, such as tea. I had to bring my own.”

Gollum gestured to a trickling dribble of water coming down one of the cave walls. “Freshest water is right there. Much better than dirty, ugly liquid.”

Gollum continued on, “That leaves us now with the winner. The whiny brat boy, Draco Malfoy!”

Draco’s lips curled upwards into a confident and boastful smile. “But of course! We all knew how this was going to turn out.” He waved at the other nominees. “As if someone as great as me would ever lose to the likes of these people!”

“Here, the ugly gemstone.” Gollum tossed the Silmaril Award at Draco. “Cover it with mud and it won’t be so ugly shiny.”

Draco took the award, grinning proudly,  and held it high, his chest puffed out.

The audience applauded half heartedly, and Gollum made his way off the stage. Good, it was all over! Now he could go back to spending his days speaking with the precious and catching fish. He needed to replenish his rotten fish supply for the coming winter, after all.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the precious, and… “Ah! What is this?” he exclaimed. The precious–it did not look the same.

“Precious! Precious? What’s happened to you?” he screamed. The audience and nominees were quickly making their way out of the cavern behind him.

The precious didn’t respond. And it looked so…yellowy.

Yellow… Gollum turned his eye toward Uncle Andrew, where the man had been standing. But he was no longer there.

“He took it. He took the precious!” Gollum dove into a galloping run on all fours. “Grahhhh!” he screamed after the man, who was already far ahead. “He tricks me! Wickeds man tricks me!”

Uncle Andrew ran for all he was worth. He reached the tunnel exit, coming out into daylight and the field beyond. He spoke to the ring, quickly, trying to activate its power. He rubbed it, he spat on it, he yelled at it…but the thing refused to respond.

“Listen to me, you stupid ring. Obey me! I am your master now! And with your power, I will be able to rule all the worlds, finally!”

Suddenly an image flashed before Andrew, stopping him in his tracks. A giant, burning eye, an all-consuming fire. And it was pulling his soul, drawing him forward towards the flames. The heat of it burned, it seared, crumbling his body to ashes, making him scream in pain. A voice boomed, speaking in a language he didn’t know. Drawing him closer, closer…

With a final scream, Andrew ripped the ring off his finger and flung it away from him. He gasped for air, chest heaving, and bent over. His body was fine, he realized, blinking. He wasn’t in ashes. “What…what in the heavens was that?”

A chuckling giggle echoed behind him. He turned. Out from the shadows of the cave tunnel Gollum crept, prowling towards him. “The precious does not belong to anyone, stupid man.” Gollum picked up the ring, stroking it, caressing it. “Instead, you belong to it.”

Andrew backed away, stumbling. “F-fine, you can have it. D-do whatever you want with it. Just keep whatever that burning eye is away from me!”

Gollum watched as the man half stumbled, half ran away across the field. Smeagol laughed uncontrollably, slapping the ground with his hands. “Away he goes, away he goes, stupid not-Hobbit! Heeheehee!”

Uncle Andrew learned a valuable lesson that day: To control his bad wayward-soul habits and not go looking to steal power ever again.

The end…for now. 😉

Tomorrow’s Silmaril Award will be the Most Silver Tongue over at The Grim Writer! You can find all the links to awards posts here: www.silmarilawards.com/this-years-awards

Looking for an autumn read this season? This Beauty and the Beast retelling has all the autumn feels and an Austrian Mountains setting!

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