Within moments, all of Kristin's siblings were on the staircase with her, all very excited and curious, and only just wary enough that they didn't dare to down the stairs any further. It was really a rather interesting situation, but unfortunately it resulted in there not being quite enough room on the stairs for everyone. To keep away he complaints of someone or other not being able to see or hear what was going on, Kristin found herself hesitantly leaving the safety of the stairs and entering the basement, which all of a sudden seemed filled to the brim with potential conflict. How exactly did one deal with three honest-to-goodness Elves appearing in one's basement, especially in a house that was already full of people?

With the forced smile of someone desperately trying to keep from panicking, she looked between the newcomers and her family. "Okay, everyone, if you didn't hear them introduce themselves, these are Amrod, Amras, and Caranthir. They're...Elves, who may or may not be from The Silmarillion and also may or may not be, in fact, fictional. I don't know what they're doing in the basement or how they got here - how did you get here?"

"By mail," one of the twins replied with the faintest hint of a smirk. And although it may be extraordinary in some ways, your system of mail delivery is also quite bumpy."

Kristin's face reddened and she ran a hand through her hair, as she often did when nervous. "I'm sorry about that," she said quietly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and still trying to come to grips with this unusual situation. "We live on a county road, though, so it might be tarred but it isn't smooth."

"On the way home from school, Dad drives really fast over the bumps sometimes and we nearly hit the van ceiling!" Tucker chimed in, strangely oblivious to the oddity of suddenly having three new guests in the house.

"Well, I suppose you don't really have anywhere to go, do you?" It was Kristin's mother who said this, a kind-looking woman of medium height. "If you're really who Kristin says you are, and you were…sent here, then I can't really turn you away. We'll make room somehow."

Kristin decided against pointing out that if these really were the three they claimed to be, turning them away would probably not have been a great choice. They didn't seem to be entirely familiar with everything the modern world had to offer, but as far as she could tell, they had a good idea about how some essential parts worked. "Would you guys like to come upstairs and have supper?" she asked, attempting a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. Whether this was because of anticipation of what might happen, or simply because the shock of this all was starting to hit, she wasn't sure. There were questions springing to her mind, too – the first and foremost being exactly how they knew these guests were telling the truth – but as her family seemed mostly okay with all of this, she stayed quiet on the subject. There was no need to be that one person who was always pointing out the potential pitfalls of a situation. Well, perhaps there was a need, but she wasn't going to respond to it. Response would require explanation, and she had learned a while ago that any of her explanations regarding Elves and especially the First Age tended to be rather long-winded. This inevitably led to someone not understanding a part, which would lead to tangents upon tangents until the listeners eventually got bored or Kristin gave up. No, it was better that she stay quiet about this in front of her family.

Due to this desire to avoid long-windedness, she managed to sneak away to her room while the three guests were being brought upstairs. Even without her around to explain, she reasoned, everyone involved knew how to take care of themselves – guests and family members alike. For now, it was far more important to see if there was any sort of explanation as to why this had happened, and it seemed that this explanation was to be found in the cardboard box still sitting in the middle of the floor. With a faint sigh, she sat down beside this, taking out a slightly bent envelope from inside. When she opened it, the first thing she noticed was a rather odd smell. The reason for this, however, remained unknown – perhaps it was simply an effect of having been written in what could be an entirely different dimension. Pushing away the questions, she shook out the contents of the envelope with slightly shaking hands.

Oddly enough, what fell out was not so much a letter as a greeting card. "How bizarre," she remarked quietly, seeing that the front of this was completely covered in what appeared to be an intricate, hand-drawn design. Upon opening said card, she found the inside to be written in smooth, elegant handwriting, which was surprisingly in English. "I expected this to be somewhat more difficult," the teenager added, sparing a moment so she could sit on her bed rather than the floor. "Now, let's see what sort of an explanation is offered…"

The explanation was simple enough: Greetings once again. Obviously you have at this point received my package. Whether my sons are awake or still appear to be made of cloth and stuffed, I trust that you realize what I have done. There is, of course, no returning possible until I deem it necessary, as I am thus far the only one who knows how to do this properly and I am not there to lend my aid. I did give them what you might call a "briefing," as I shall not have them looking like fools, astonished by every mortal invention. Be thankful that I did this, as well as that I chose not to send them all. Maitimo was particularly interested, but he really is needed here. Farewell.

- Fëanáro Curufinwë

Kristin lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Well, that was enlightening," she groused. "Gave them a briefing, indeed. Hmph." At the same time, however, she did know that this all was most likely her own fault, at least partly. She had been the one to issue a challenge, even if she hadn't meant it at the time. Still…if it was a challenge that had been issued, she was not about to back away from it. It was fortunate, certainly, that he had chosen not to send all his sons, but at the same time he had send three of them – almost half, and all potential troublemakers, if her estimation of them was correct. "I might have started this, but he's continuing it," she mused. "Very well, then. If that's what he wants, then so be it."

Having said this, she sat up again, closed the card, and moved over to the desk, taking out a pen and a few sheets of paper. Everything made more sense when it was written down, after all, and if she simply wrote her way through this situation, perhaps she could plan more effectively. Plans were key in her mind, even when said plans didn't always work out quite the way they should have. Life in a large family had taught her, at the very least, how to adapt a plan after unintended consequences or unforeseen actions arose.

Upstairs, things were not going quite so well. Although this might have been a case of ensuing hilarity had this been a show or movie of some sort, in real life it was simply frustrating. Whatever it was that Fëanor had briefed his sons on, Mexican food (or at least Americanized Mexican food) had apparently not been a topic of discussion. As such, it was becoming difficult to answer the questions that were coming up, especially when two or three people would speak up at the same time with completely different answers. Amrod and Amras had ended up just ignoring almost everything, simply glancing over at the half-finished meals on the table and mimicking how those appeared to have been made, but Caranthir was a bit more inquisitive and seemed quite unable to just let the subject drop. "But how is it," he was asking, "that if you are not at all Mexican, nor do you live or have ever lived in or near Mexico, you are still cooking and eating Mexican food? Is the traditional food of your own culture inferior? Are you attempting to make a statement about how you are different than everyone else? Where did you find out how to make this, if none of you knows anyone who is from or has been to Mexico?"

There was a half-stifled sort of snicker from Luke, who was greatly enjoying this whole situation. Other than that, though, there was really very little sound, aside from the quiet noises of eating. These came from the twins, who had finished making their meals and were now determining how best to eat them, as well as from most of Kristin's younger siblings – or at least the ones who had not yet finished their supper.

At last, it was Katharine who broke the long pause. Chances are that, had this been one of her siblings, she would have told them to shut up and eat their food. As it was, though, this was a guest and she was much more likely to at least try to be polite. "We…really aren't trying to make a statement," she said quickly, pushing her food around the bowl with a fork. "Lots of people here eat food that started out in other countries, and we adapt food, too – like pizza. If I remember correctly, traditional Italian pizza was pretty much just a flat bread with herbs and tomato sauce, but in the U.S., it's evolved into something almost completely different. We don't really have much for traditional foods here…I think it's because this country was mostly made up of immigrants, so we pretty much eat a lot of food that started out in a variety of places. We just happened to be eating Mexican food tonight because it's not that expensive to make, and we first ate these in South Dakota – that's the state west of here, by the way. Is that satisfactory?"

Caranthir stared at her for a moment or two, seeming a little confused. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, presumably to ask another question, there was a sudden crashing sound from the other end of the table, followed by a yell claiming that Tucker had purposefully bumped into Joe and spilled down his shirt, and Tucker yelling that it was all Joe's fault, which meant that the whole conversation got dropped altogether as people either took sides or tried to break up the argument. Katherine breathed a sigh of relief, Caranthir one of exasperation. At last, however, he gave up on questions and simply made his food as he had been going to do in the first place – probably fortunate, as more questions would most likely have been a rather unfortunate occurrence.

Note: Okay, so I'm really sorry for dropping off the earth for more than a year. I'm not going to offer excuses, just say that this story sort of took a back seat to a bunch of school activities and personal experiences. Just in case there's anyone still reading this, please know that I will attempt to update more frequently, especially now that school has ended for the summer.