A/N: Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. I am having such a great time writing this, and I hope you like it. Many thanks to my Beta CrackinAndProudOfIt. Please let me know what you think!
Pulling into the garage, Emma took a deep breath. "Boys, I want you to unload the groceries, I'll start making dinner and-" Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw the two elves waiting patiently while the third squirmed and muttered in Quenya. "I'm sure that the three of you can handle yourselves."
Opening the door, she went to help her sons unload the produce and frozen goods. Grabbing the eggs, milk, and other dairy items, she opened the door to be welcomed by Thranduil's incessant squawking. "Good to see you, Thrandy." She echoed the parrots sentiments.
Setting the items on the counter, she opened the fridge and began to put away the groceries as her sons continued to bring them in from the van. Placing the Oreos in the cupboard, she turned around to see Finarfin standing behind the counter, head bowed as though he were a child awaiting a scolding.
"Can I help you?" Emma asked.
"Would you happen to have a wrap or some brace, so that my brother and I may tend Fëanáro's leg?"
"Oh yes, one moment." Turning away, she opened the cupboard near the fridge and pulled out her first aid kit. "Here, these should work." Handing him the splint and wrap, she closed the box and continued working her way around the kitchen.
"What are we having for dinner?" Zane chirped as he sat at the counter, iPod in hand.
Opening the fridge, Emma shifted the milk to see the back. "How does lasagna sound?"
"It sounds good to me. I'll grab the pans." Setting his iPod down, he jumped off the barstool in search of the lasagna pans. "Can we have ice cream too?" he asked as he pulled a stool down to grab the trays from the top shelf of the pantry.
"Why not?" Emma muttered as she pulled various ingredients out of the pantry. "Let me see; we need ricotta, mozzarella, eggs, and parmesan." Setting the items on the counter, she walked to the pantry to grab a bowl. "Zane, will you grab me a spatula and the salt?" she said as she bent over in search of a metal bowl. Standing up, she was startled to see Finarfin standing near the counter.
"May I be of assistance?" he asked, looking at the various ingredients.
"No, we don't need-" Cutting Zane off, Emma brushed some hair out of her face.
"Yes. That would be very helpful. Would you please fetch me some fresh parsley? It's outside." She spoke pointing out the door. "Here are some scissors."
Taking the scissors from Emma, the elf nodded his head towards Zane, who stood with eyes narrowed as the Finwion exited the kitchen.
"I don't like them," Zane muttered as he began mixing ingredients together.
"I thought that you did not mind Fingolfin. You were speaking with him the other morn," she pointed out.
Rolling his eyes, Zane looked up at his mom. "See, you're even starting to talk like them," he grumbled. "Besides, we were talking about something different," he whispered as he began stirring the ricotta with renewed vigor. Narrowing her eyes, Emma decided not to press the subject any further.
"Is this the parsley?" Finarfin asked, holding up a rather large bunch of parsley.
"Yes, thank you," she said, taking the herbs from the elven lord, all while focusing on her cookbook.
"Is there anything else that I can-" Cutting him off, Emma pushed the book over to Zane. "Honey, would you mind taking over for a while? I need to talk with Fin over there." Grabbing Finarfin by the wrist, she stalked to the glass door and pulled it open to effectively drag him outside. After the door had closed, she placed both hands on her hips and stared up at the elvish prince.
"Spill it," she ordered. "You're the most sensible of your brothers. What is going on?" She glared at the elf. "What is wrong with my son? He is usually quiet, but not this quiet."
Finarfin looked at the young mother, who was clearly in distress; he had seen this look on Eärwen's face when his children had announced they would follow their uncles across the sea. It was the look of a mother who was losing her children.
"I have taken him to several doctors, okay it was only three, but you get the point." Shaking her head she continued, "They all say that he is not sick. He is only unmotivated. They even gave me these pills to give him." Pulling out a container, she rattled it in his face. "Of course, I did not give them to him; I know that he is not depressed. It's different. It's more than that." Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she looked at the wise lord. "You have lived a lot longer than I, surely you have come across something like this," she said as she waved her hands frantically.
Turning his head, he saw his elder brother Fingolfin who stood near the door, shake his head in a stern manner. Swallowing back his words, he looked down at Emma. "I am truly sorry; I am unable to help you."
"But, you're an elf!" she said, balling her hands into a fist. "I'm sure you can do some elf voodoo and snap him out of it."
Holding up his hand to calm her, he spoke. "I will talk to Ian."
Exhaling, Emma visibly relaxed. "Thank you." Smiling, she opened the door and walked over to help Zane place the lasagna into the oven. "Dinner will be ready in one hour. Zane, do your homework, remind Ian to do his as well." Looking over at Finarfin, she nodded, relief written quite plainly on her face.
"Eru forgive me," Finarfin muttered. "One lie too many."
Emma sighed as she fumbled through her notes. "Psychosis is a severe mental disorder in which-" Frowning, she reached for another page. "Ah, there it is." She smiled at having found the correct page. "Psychosis is a severe mental disorder in which a person's mind begins to play tricks. In other words, they create for themselves an alternate reality."
Looking up, she noticed Fëanor was staring unblinkingly at her notes. "What?" she snapped.
"You seem tense," he remarked. "The term 'psychosis' sounds rather familiar."
Rolling her eyes, Emma glowered at the elf. "I suppose I suffer from psychosis?" Glancing at her notes, she decided to ignore the rather impertinent former King of the Noldor.
"You judge far too quickly," he mused, still watching the woman. "Though I do suppose it fits you as well." Ignoring the clenched fist that Emma was sporting, he continued, "You may not believe it, but I used to suffer from this 'psychosis'."
Clenching her teeth, the young woman compared her student's notes with the podcast that they had been assigned. Choosing to disregard her earlier decision, she opened her mouth to throw a quip back at Fëanor.
"That is a beautiful ring," he commented. "Where did you get it?"
Surprised at his comment, she looked down at her ring. "It's a family heirloom. Why?"
"It is finely crafted." Turning away from Emma, he picked up Tolstoy's War and Peace. "Now please stop your prattling. I wish to finish this book before we are recalled."
"Fine-" Emma glared as Fëanor shushed her. Muttering in Italian, she began grading her students' notes and essays. "Psychosis," she mumbled. "Psychosis, psychosis, Ian" Standing up quickly, she set her pencil down and walked out of the living room.
As she approached her son's bedroom, she knelt by the door handle, listening for any sounds of distress. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked over to where her son lay reading.
"Ian-" She paused. "I am sorry."
Setting his book down, Ian looked at his mother "Why?" He raised an eyebrow.
Pulling a chair over, Emma sat down. "I let these people into our house and it hurt you. It hurt both you and your brother."
"It didn't. It helped me," he remarked quietly.
Emma slouched as he spoke. "You are always so cryptic," she mused. "How did it help?"
"I see more clearly now," he whispered. His gray eyes were shining brightly, causing a stark contrast against his sickly skin.
"Me too." Emma jumped as she heard a voice from the top bunk above Ian's. "Hi, Mom!" Zane chirped as he looked over the bed.
"I decided to sleep here tonight; I was wondering if you could read us a story?" he asked.
"What story?" Emma asked with a smile. "I thought you were too old for bedtime stories."
Zane pulled a book from under his pillow. Tossing it down to Ian, he looked at his brother and nodded with a smile.
"Mom-" Ian started, "will you read us the tale of Beren and Luthien?"
Emma looked down to see her tattered copy of The Silmarillion.
"Please?" Her sons spoke together.
"Alright." Emma smiled as Ian made space for his mother on the bed; sitting next to him, she smiled as Zane climbed down from his bed and joined them. As her boys held onto her, she opened the story.
"'Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures...'"
