The afternoon is cold and snowy, and the wind is blowing loudly. Fëanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin are walking home from school, their school shoes damp with snow. None of their school uniforms are made for snowy weather, and even Finarfin is shivering.

Finarfin: "...M'cold... And I don't feel good... My hands hurt... I want Father..."

Fëanor: "Why don't you get Fingolfin to carry you, sweetie? I'm sorry that I can't today, but we're almost home..."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they walk through the front door of the large house that they live in with their Father. As soon as the door shuts, all three sigh in relief due to the difference in temperature, and start to get out of their cold, soaking, school clothes. As they do this, Finwë wheels himself into the room, and smiles gently at the sight of them...

Finwë: "Hello, my dears... How was school today?"