It started with a snake.

Nerdanel nearly stepped on it coming back inside from attempting to do some sculpting, and yelped in horrified surprise, recoiling for a moment before she realized that it was quite dead, belly up on the tiles and twisted in its death throes. She turned it over with her toe, frowning a little now that she had recovered from the shock, and looked toward the next room, where she could hear raised, shrill voices arguing back and forth in a language that was neither Quenya nor any other known to the Eldar.

"Ambarussa?" She called, not quite cautiously. "You wouldn't have anything to do with the serpent on the threshold, would you?"

"N- wait, serpent? Oh-!" And a moment later they both dashed out, looking a touch rumpled, Pityo with a few thistles in his hair. "I forgot – Telvo was supposed to-"

"I was not," Telvo said, over his twin, "He was hurt, mama, and we though you could make it better, but then Pityo-"

"I carried him! You were going to find her-"

Nerdanel sighed, and reached up to run a hand through her hair before realizing that it was braided back. "…well, I'm sorry, my boys, but it appears that it's been too long."

They looked up at her, big eyed. "What do you mean?" They looked down at the snake, seeming puzzled. "He hasn't run away."

Nerdanel struggled with how to answer that question. She did not, particularly, want to spend the afternoon engaged in a discussion of what happened when animals died. "…never mind. There are no snakes in my house, boys. You had better take him back outside. Where he belongs."

They hung their heads, expressions identically shamefaced. "Yes, mother." A pause. "Are you sure-?"

"No," she said, firmly. "No snakes."

She realized later that she should have drawn the line far more firmly the first time. Next it was a bird, though this one at least was alive when they brought it to her, dragging a tattered and bleeding wing, beady eyes glazed with shock. "We got it from the cat," Telvo chirped. "It was going to eat it but we saved it."

Privately, Nerdanel thought, the bird was doomed. "Good job, boys," she said, and took the bird, bundled up in Pityo's tunic, firmly from them. "I'll take care of him. But I'd like you to know that this isn't an animal sanctuary, is that clear?"

They were all choruses of 'yes mother!' and 'thank you mother!' so she almost felt guilty when she set out the box to let nature take its course. However, to her astonishment and dismay, when the boys remembered to check back, the wounded bird was gone, undoubtedly into the jaws of another cat, and Nerdanel found herself squarely in the position of "animal-saver-miracle-worker" in her youngest sons' eyes.

When this first came up at supper, she could have sworn she heard her husband, Fëanaro Curufinwë, snort into his soup.

It only escalated from there. A few more birds in various states of disarray. A worm Telvo had stepped on. A cat with a crushed paw. When Tyelko helped them carry home a fawn with a broken leg, she nearly lost it.

Some of her patients recovered, though without much actual help from Nerdanel herself. Some of them 'vanished' which was without fail attributed to recovery. Most of them, if they recovered, promptly refused to leave. The cat limped awkwardly three-legged underfoot, purring and rubbing against Nerdanel's legs whenever the opportunity arose, and hissing at Huan, who seemed unperturbed. The fawn – whose leg she had in a moment of weakness splinted – was in a few days staggering around the house as well, and seemed to form an alarming attachment to the cat. None of them looked as though they were going anywhere, and Nerdanel was beginning to wonder just who this house belonged to.

The twins seemed especially fond of bring home creatures that even a mother could not find endearing, whether it was an especially large beetle with clearly visible pincers or a bald tailed rodent with thin, patchy fur. Nerdanel did her valiant best to turn them away, but there was only so much she found herself able to do in the face of her youngest sons' determination.

It was just her luck that she ended up with a pair of the most compassionate boys in Valinor, but only toward the most unfortunate of creatures.

And then they brought home a bat.

Pityo cradled the thing against his chest, looking defiantly up at his mother. "He's hurt! Why won't you help him?"

"It's a bat!" Nerdanel cried. "A bat – I am not going to – there are limits, Pityo, and a bat is mine!"

"I think he's cute," Telvo contributed. Nerdanel shot him a deadly look and poked a finger accusingly at Pityo's chest.

"Take it out of my house," she demanded, "This instant."

"At least look at him," Pityo said, just as firmly. She'd never noticed before how he had his father's stubborn jaw. It was only grudgingly that he added, "Please."

"What's the matter with it?" Nerdanel asked, crossing her arms. And why, she didn't add, do you two insist on carrying home every creature you see?

Telvo stepped forward. "We think it's sick. Please, mama, he needs your help." They were both looking up at her now, with identical big grey eyes, pleading.

"No."

"Please?"

If she gave in on this now, she knew, she would never have a moment's peace. It would be one animal after another, probably in increasing degrees of disgusting. A bat. How could she possibly be considering taking care of a bat?

She took a step closer and looked at the little bundle in Pityo's arms. It had a small, pointed face and disproportionately huge ears (rather like the twins themselves, really). Maybe it wasn't so ugly after all.

Nerdanel sighed, and surrendered. "All right," she said, finally. "But this one stays in the toolshed."