Arafinwë had been able to bear the thought of poor children losing their mother. But now they were older, he knew why it had to be done. In an attempt to make peace (with them, or himself?) he came to their new home, where they were cared for by other maiar. Not as a king, but as a friend. Or so he hoped. He knocked three times.
A gold eyes was all that was seen at first through the door, then it was promptly shut, the house was a bit of a mess as the twins clashed without their mother's style guidance and neither was giving an inch on how they wanted it to look, they probably needed their own homes apart but they would not be asking for anything. Some more ruckus as it sounded like stuff being moved and the girl yelling she didn't have her hair down. A few locks were released and the door opened, Netinule standing there while his sister was running around in the background in a flurry of fiery curls and white organza.