Exception

Mellow Soulmate AU.  In which Finwë explains how the world is not a perfect place full of rainbows and butterflies and fairness--Valar forbid!  Quenya names used, so Curufinwë is actually Fëanor (not Curufin) in this story, and Nolofinwë is Fingolfin.  This is almost an essay or a theory about my AU and doesn't really have a lot of "story" going on; in other words, it's mostly introspection and reflection from Finwë's POV.  Takes place stretching from the Years of the Trees into at least the Second Age.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the Silmarillion

Pairings: Finwë x Míriel, Finwë x Indis

Characters: Finwë, Míriel, Indis, Fëanor (the Valar, Fingolfin and Ingwë mentioned)

Warning: canon-compliant AU, canon character death, allusions to a polyamorous relationship, mentions mass murder, violence, exile and war

Song: Across the Universe of Time

Words: 1,310
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exception (noun): exclusion; a case to which a rule does not apply
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/exception

Finwë was the exception to the law.

Married twice for love against the edict of the Valar when a soul was only ever supposed to join wholly and completely with One.  It was the way of the world, the Powers rationalized to the Eldar.  Each elf was born for one other and only one other--the other half of their soul, the other piece of their broken, frayed edges that fit perfectly with all their dips and cracks and faults.  That was how the song had intended to shape the world before the beginning of time.

But Arda was marred, and none knew that better than Finwë Noldóran.

Who could understand if they had never experienced the situation in which the King had found himself entrapped?  Even before the birth of his firstborn, there had been a dark gap, something important and essential missing in the intricate framework of the bridge connecting their souls.  Míriel had been his One--they had felt it the very first time they had gazed into the other's starry eyes--but the completeness promised had never followed.  Their pieces did not match as they were supposed to, but left small cracks and flaws behind where they should have melded into one being in mind and soul.  They had loved passionately, but unspoken between them there always rested a strange tension, a sense of wrongness, of coldness.

When his beautiful queen had faded, his love had not been enough to anchor her to the world of the living, had not been enough to restore her vibrancy and zeal.

And then he had been alone, with not only that emptiness sitting somewhere in the back of his mind, unfulfilled, but a gaping pit of sorrow and longing where Míriel's fire had once filled his spirit with zest for life and burning love, where her unspoken words had once touched the walls of his mind as gentle fingers stroking across his thoughts.

Finwë had a son, but he had not a soulmate, had not a wife, had not the large family that had always lingered in his hopes and daydreams.  Everything was lacking, somehow not right.  No amount of adoration from his firstborn could sate the ravenous desire that burst to life in the most secret part of his being, the part of him that resented that his spirit had not been enough to rejuvenate his beloved wife, had not been enough to nurture the brilliant child within her, within the circle of their joining.  Part of him resented that she had passed on and left him alone to raise a son without a mother to soothe that wild, restless spirit and croon lullabies into wanting ears.

Part of him resented that Eä was not as it should be.  For no matter what the Valar claimed, there was no symmetry to be found here, not in the land or the seas or the skies--or the hearts.  He resented their callous dismissal of the very idea that they might be wrong.  That the world wasn't fair and equal.

It was many years later, after Curufinwë was grown, that Finwë met Indis of the House of Ingwë.

Immediately, she knew he was her One.

And that was when everything went terribly wrong.

It was greed and selfishness that led him to go against the edict of the Valar, many said, their voices bitter and as resentful as the blackest part of the King's heart had always been.  He wanted another woman to replace the first, they said, wanted her so that he could have the children he longed for so terribly.  Some wondered if he even loved her.

But they did not understand.

They did not understand that when he was with her that empty part of him which had always been bereft and jagged was suddenly filled and soothed and warmed.  It was as if all that had once been missing from his existence was packed into the young maiden with her sweet cornflower blue eyes and her endless golden locks and her smile brighter than all the light of the Trees.  They could not understand, for Finwë had never heard of another soul born with two mates--three parts that wove and entwined to create something perfect and beautiful that transcended the evil that lay waiting in every heart, preying off pain and suffering.

The emptiness of the loss of Míriel did not dissipate, but was it truly so selfish for Finwë to be drawn to his One and she to him?  And how could he deny her, when without him she would live out the rest of her long years alone and childless, always knowing the man she was fated to be with but not able to touch him because of the Valar's laws?  No, he could not do that to her, not when he knew what that rejection felt like, how it painfully sliced through all happiness and color in life until everything seemed a shade of gray and sadness.  Was it truly, then, selfish of him to fight for their togetherness against the Powers?

Except, they made him choose.

And how was it justice, that one part of three--incomplete as a pair, contradiction to the perfection of the false reality of the delusional idealists--was made to choose only one of the two thirds that would complete him in mind and spirit?  That he was made to condemn the other to death until he himself passed into the Halls of the Waiting?

That he was made to condemn them to never be whole.

Choosing the promise of a family and many golden years of children and grandchildren laughing in his halls and sitting on his knees over the woman who had abandoned him to raise his firstborn alone in a cold, dark existence had been both an easy and difficult choice.  There would be no going back after all was said and done, but even should he deny Indis her love, Míriel could not come back, could not fill the void she had left in his life, in their son's life.

Was it any wonder, then, that he married his fair, golden vanya?  That he chose bliss rather than an eternity of regret and wistful nostalgia to keep him company in silent, lonely halls?

"Selfish", his jealous firstborn called him. "Foolish", some whispered behind his back.  Still some others laid upon his shoulders all the woes that had befallen his people, all of his son's unspeakable deeds of evil, and all of the sins of his grandchildren, and all of the horror and destruction that followed in the wake of his death.

Perhaps it had been a heavy price to pay for selfishness, and perhaps it was selfish to place the happiness of his soulmate over the laws of the Powers.  But in the end, could they truly put blame upon his actions?  It was not he who had driven a wedge between the House of Curufinwë and the House of Nolofinwë.  It was not he who had asked his son to seek revenge for his willing sacrifice.  His being excepted of the law of mates may have catalyzed Curufinwë's resentment, but that was all.  And for all his supposed selfishness, still he suffered.

He was the exception to the convention, to the rules, but also the exception to the justice.  The exception to the harmony in the theme which had woven time into the vision of Eä.  Perhaps, one day, the Valar would understand.  Perhaps, one day, his sons would understand.

But that day had not yet come, and Finwë carried on with all the scars and chips and flaws lining his soul.  There was naught else to be done but wait and pray and hope for better days.
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I'm not actually sure I'm satisfied with this, but nevertheless there it is.  It was an idea that came up when I was reading Sing Me a Lullaby by rachel4revenge on AO3, which is an offshoot of Made and Remade the Necklace of Songs by littleblackdog in which Dwalin's original "heartsong" has died and he doesn't realize that he is also Ori's heartsong, thus they were sort of all three fated to be together but Ori is hiding it because he believes that there's something wrong with him, because dwarrows are only ever supposed to have one heartsong. (Read it if you have time; it's a good one.)

In this case, of course, it's elves.  I think it's a little unfair to blame Finwë's actions for all the of the problems that arose and caused the Kinslayings and that enormous mess with the exile and the War of Wrath.  Let's be honest here, Morgoth had a very large part to play in the orchestration of that disaster, and to say that Finwë caused it because he married twice is a stretch, even if it did cause strife between Fëanor and Fingolfin, which later led to betrayal between their Houses.

Thus, this story was born.  I was listening to Across the Universe of Time by Hayley Westenra, which may or may not be relevant to the situation at hand.  But it's pretty and has some of that bittersweetness to it that characterizes this piece, and that should be enough of a reason to listen to it.  Also, I have a picture of Míriel.  Let it not be said that I'm stealing artwork, because this artist went spazzy about it on her dA.  Probably have my head if she found this blog, but hey, it's not like I claimed it or even reposted it: A Tapestry of Sorrows by =Gold-Seven on dA.  There, gave credit.  No dead kittens (if you want to know visit her gallery LOL).

vanya = one of the Vanyar (if you don't know about them, look them up on the Gateway)