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Mellow Soulmate AU?  Maybe?  How Lalwen began her journey to become the single, independent woman that Aredhel admires so much.  All the names here are Quenya.  Lalwen is referred to as Lalwen and not Lalwendë (except when she uses her name formally) because that's apparently what she was "most well-known as".  Also, on the subject of father-names, I have decided to use Írien and not Írimë as her father-name (the second being an epessë in this case) because of the similarities between the latter and the word írima, which, in the most basic terms, is the elven version of "sexy" (not something a dad would be naming his daughter).  That being taken care of, I shall add that the spontaneous child is not an OC but is canon (and I'm not the only one who is speculative of his parentage in this manner).  Takes place in Valinor in the Years of the Trees.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or any related works

Pairings: unknown x Lalwen

Characters: Lalwen, Finwë (mentions Indis, Findis, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Finarfin, random other snobby elves and the unborn brat)

Warning: canon compliant AU, blatant sexism, modeled after historical fiction, arranged marriage, premarital sex and illegitimate children stuff, feminist themes, possible sheer stupidity, politics

Song: Wild Horses

Words: 1,585
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test (noun): a critical examination, observation, or evaluation: trial; an ordeal or oath required as proof of conformity with a set of beliefs; something (as a series of questions or exercises) for measuring the skill, knowledge, intelligence, capacities, or aptitudes of an individual or group
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/test

It was not in Lalwen's nature to be reined in tight.  Always she had been a free-spirited girl, spoiled in childhood and left to run wild when her older siblings were locked up in lectures and lessons on propriety and academia.  She had been her father's little angel, loved making him smile with her antics and cheeky humor.  And he had allowed her wildness--reveled in it, even--because there was far too much strife and stress in the royal household for any joy and happiness to be wasted.  Her childish fancies had been indulged and even appreciated.

But only to a point.

And that point on that line that read "forbidden" had been crossed irrevocably.  Not merely by a toe, but by a half-dozen or so leagues.

The whole matter, to Lalwen, was beyond ridiculous and unlucky.  It had been one night.  One night alone with a man who could hardly be considered more than a peasant farmer, whose name she didn't bother to remember when they tumbled in the hay.  It had been about fun and pleasure and a night of pure recklessness away from the stifling atmosphere of court.

One night of irresponsibility.

And she was pregnant.  With child and without a husband.

And not even her father would tolerate that.  It was a scandal waiting to pounce upon her and devour her whole.  If anyone outside the family discovered the truth before she was safely married and sharing a household with a man, she knew it would not end well for her or for her child.  She knew of the stigma that surrounded such women, the names they were called behind their backs by self-righteous ninnies too concerned with self-image and frippery to think for themselves.  She knew what they would say about her if they knew...

And maybe she was a rebellious, wild girl with an untamable heart.  But she hadn't meant to take it this far.  It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"You need to learn to think before you take action, daughter."  If he had been angry, she could have defiantly lifted her chin, clenched her jaw and stared him down to put her older brothers to shame, but Finwë had not been angry.  He had not even stared at her coldly in disdain for her shameful actions.  Rather, his ancient eyes were disappointed and saddened.  And it hurt so much to have that stare pierce through her.

"I can see that my trust in you was misplaced."

The way she saw it, her only chance to appease her family was to settle down with a stranger.  A man who was willing to take the compromised princess as wife, even if it meant raising a child that was not his own and staying with a woman more uncontrollable than the ocean and the wind combined--and she was certain it had little to do with any sort of compassion and everything to do with reputation and status garnered from gaining access to the royal family.  She also knew such personal misgivings shouldn't play a part in her duties as responsibilities to the royal House.

The problem was that Írien Lalwendë, Princess of the Noldor, had sworn upon her coming of age that she would never marry.  That she would be herself and no one else.  That no man would hold her reins and douse her spirit.  Not then and not now and not ever.

On the one hand, there was the image and clarity of freedom.  It was a dream firmly implanted into her mind at a young age, unburdened by the ugly truths of reality--by slandering and gossiping and social ostracism.  She had wanted to be able to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted without a man to cook for and clean for and stitch clothing for.  She wanted to be able to go to the beach for two whole days and swim in her underclothing and ride a horse bareback in the meadows and camp in the gentle silver glow of Telperion with only the stars for company.

No respectable princess or wife of a noble would be caught dead doing any of those things.  Horse riding and adventures and free time were for unmarried men without duties and wives, and certainly not for respectable women of any age.

"I do not care about being respectable!"

That is what she had said once upon a time.  But was it true?

Because looking ahead at the two branches of a forked road stretching into the distance, she felt fear bubble in the center of her chest, reaching outwards, scalding fingers closing about her slender neck and squeezing until her throat closed around a sob.

There was the path of marriage.

And there was the path of ruin.

In her heart she longed to take both, or a road in between that was now blocked and overgrown beyond use.  She longed for the safety of the former; she would never have to face those vicious women with their wagging tongues and scathing comments branding beneath her skin.  But she also wished to take the latter, if only to keep the promise to herself in her girlhood and remain true to the woman she wished to become.

Foolish, some might have called it.  Her sister.  Her mother.  Her brothers.  And her father.

But it was as though... as though her resilience and determination to keep hold of that precious bit of freedom and self-respect, her careless words and oaths sung high to the sky in her years of innocence and naivety, were now being tested.  Either she could be brave enough to venture down the path of ruin and face the consequences of her actions--and an uncertain future that could end in either blissful joy or terrible unhappiness--or she could take the coward's way out and give in to the pressure of her traditionalist family.  Throw in the towel and marry the nobleman who was so kindly (at this thought, she always snorted in disgust) offering her his hand in marriage--power in exchange for salvation from utter destruction of her social status.

Could she face ruin and scorn--possibly for as long as she lived?  For the sake of a silly promise?

Lalwen had been told many times that she was a strong, stubborn girl.

But was she that strong?

Was she strong enough to stand up at the altar and stare into the groom's eyes as she jilted him?  Was she rebellious enough to replace the words "I do" with "No" like an ungrateful, selfish young girl whose head was filled with fluff and useless daydreams?

If she did, there would be many trials afterwards.  Many days where she would not want to rise from bed and face the hostility from all sides and the derision with which her family would surely look upon her and her illegitimate child.  There would be whispers and rumors and name-calling, some of which would be fallacy and some of which might even be twisted truth.  And she would be raising her son or daughter completely on her own, probably without the help of her parents or siblings or friends, and certainly without the help of a husband and mate!

But then, would she not be raising the child alone anyway?

After all, the route of marriage offered protection, but it also offered its own obstacles.  Offered day after day of tedious woman's work without a single say in the direction her life was taking.  Offered an empty love life in which her only purpose was to lie still, conceive like breeding stock, and then care for a plethora of babies all day while her husband did whatever suited his fancy.  Offered nothing but a thin wall of protection and endless years of unpleasantness and dreariness wrapped up in salt-rubbed bandages of disappointment.

No matter how disappointed Finwë might be in her if she went against all tradition and wisdom in a final devastating blow to her reputation, would it compare to how disappointed she would be in herself if she merely gave up?

She had come this far, was leagues past the point of no return.

Was there a point in looking over her shoulder now?

Maybe... maybe the first test was to take another step forward instead of a dozen steps back.  To truly be the brave and reckless woman she had always claimed to be.

And maybe passing this test wasn't about doing right or wrong by society's standards or the Valar's standards or even the One's standards.

Maybe it was about doing right or wrong by her own standards.

After all, she had once sworn never to be underneath a man's thumb as long as she lived.  And Lalwen was not the type of woman who went back on any promise.  Even if it was one she only made to herself in the dark and quiet without a witness to write down her oath in everlasting ink for the entire world to see.

No matter what she chose, she did not want to regret forever.

And, with that, she closed her eyes and smiled hesitantly.  Her decision was made.  And there would be no going back now.
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Forgive me for the long rant on naming traditions in the opening AN.  I get a little carried away sometimes, if you know what I mean LOL.  Anyway, I wanted to add that this story is closely connected with "Rhythm" and most other stories where Aredhel appears (such as "Wrong").  As I'm sure I've stated before (possibly even within the last few days... or yesterday?) the whole feminism, sexism thing has been nagging at the back of my mind, just in case you're wondering why it suddenly made a random appearance once again.

Actually, today's song is also partially to blame for that.  Wild Horses is an amazing song, even if I don't think that much of Natasha Bedingfield's voice.  And if you listen to the lyrics, you can tell that they heavily influenced the content of the piece.  Originally I had planned for Lalwen to be much more confident in her decision, but then I listened to this song and it changed on me, as usual.

Nevertheless, I am quite pleased with how this one turned out.  And I get to finally write down my ridiculous theories on some canon characters and their random-ass appearances in the upper echelons of elven society in Beleriand.  Think Gondolin LOL.

That is all for today.  Happy reading :3.