The House of §trange

Elros sits, watching his two child uncles. It's good having them here, it feels like he has children to take care of again.

They have taken to drawing like nothing else, Elurín, explaining in his garbled sindarin that drawing had been one of the few things they could do, using mud if nothing else to draw on the walls of the rooms in Menegroth they had sheltered in.

They look better now, happier and starting to build up some healthy weight to them. Their hair has started to regain it's shine and their smiles - their smiles make everything seem good.