Finding my way Home

When Eyes Meet

Melora looked to Bard, and her hand tightened on Tildas. This elf seemed to recognize her, and he insisted she stay here until the King returned. Her heartbeat quickened; why must she wait for the King? What kind of great importance? She wasn't even sure she knew who this elf was; while her mind screamed at her that he was familiar, she still couldn't place him. She only knew his name because Bard had uttered it. Tilda blessed her soul and was the first to speak, "Why must Melora wait for the king?" Tilda asked Feren suspiciously. She stared at the elf before glancing back at Melora.

"Melora," Feren asked. He looked down at Tilda, and it was clear he was confused.

"Well, that settles it," Bain chimed in. If you do not know who Melora is, she must not need to stay." Bain came up behind Melora and Tilda and started pushing them forward.

"We are rather busy," Sigrid chimed in. All of Bard's children had grown attached to Melora in the months she had been with them, and none of them liked that this elf was instant that she stayed and waited for the King.
Melora looked at all three children and then returned her gaze to the elf that Bard had called Feren. She started to say something and then closed her mouth; she didn't know what to say. In all the years that she had hoped that someone would show up who knew her, it never happened. Now that someone seemed to know her possibly, it was improbable. There was no way someone in the world she had fallen into knew her; she didn't belong there. Bard also started at Feren, "Do you know her?" He asked Feren, and his gaze then went to Melora, his eyes soft. Melora had been with his family for months, and he had also grown close to her. He was suspicious of the situation. Melora had come to them from another world, and the probability of this elf knowing her even though she looked like an elf was almost impossible.
Feren looked at Melora again, confident that it was her. She had the same facial shape and eyes. He could see scaring on her face, which wasn't there before, and she was dirty from the toils of war. He knew he would never forgive himself if she disappeared into the sea of humans. Thranduil had been closed off for so long, and this was a chance that he may have happiness again. Feren looked to Bard, "Yes, but" He looked at Melora, "When we last knew each other, it was under a different name."
Tilda squeezed Melora's hand, and Melora looked down at her. She could see on her face she wanted Melora to walk away from these elves with her. Melora looked to Bard, her eyes questioning what he thought about the issue. "Melora, if these elves know you," Bard started.

"They do not," Bain cut in. He said himself it was a different name. Melora, have you ever had a different name?"

Feren, Bard, and the children all looked at Melora. "Not that I remember," Melora said softly. Feren gave her a quizzical look.

"That you remember?" Feren asked. He felt a hope bubble in his chest.

"I," She started but then glanced at the children, "I had an accident some time ago," Melora told him honestly, "I lost my memories," She added sheepishly.

Feren let a smile touch his lips, "This makes sense," he said softly, "Do not worry; when the King gets here, he will help to make sense of everything."

Melora looked unsure; she bit her lip. She had waited for so long for someone to recognize her. She had spent months in the hospital hoping someone would show up, anyone who could shed light on who she was. She had dreamed of a silken voice, the word Mel—a small child with blonde hair and each day another disappointment. No one came for her; she was alone. She rebuilt her life and woke up in this strange world. Bard and his family helped her. She looked much to her confusion like an elf and once again wanted to return to the familiar. Melora had built another life here with Bard and his children, and once again, she was being thrown into the unknown. Did she even want to wait to meet this King who could, if Feren was right, make sense of it all? Suddenly, she felt panic rise in her chest; she could not do this. It was all too much. She was not ready. "I can't," She whispered. Her breathing was getting quicker.

"Nin rís (My Queen)," Feren started and went to step closer to her.

Bard moved Tilda out of the way and stood in front of Melora. "Breathe, Melora," he told her softly. He took her hand and brought it to his chest, "Feel my breaths. Can you follow them?" Bard had been through this with Melora in the months she had been with them. She had explained after the first panic attack she had after falling into his world how to calm her best down, the techniques that could bring her back from her panic. "Everything is alright," he continued softly.
The children moved around Melora, all of them speaking softly to Melora. Feren looked on, concerned that he missed that Thranduil had strode back to the square. "What is going on here?" he asks Feren softly.

"My Lord," Feren greets. He looks at Thranduil and notices he is alone; Legolas is not with him. "Where is Prince Legolas?" Feren asks, worried that the reunion will not be as sweet as he had hoped.

"He said he could not stay. I sent him north to find the Rangers, to meet Strider," Thranduil informed, unsure about the display before him. A human woman was surrounded by her children and Bard.
Tilda noticed that the King of the Elves had returned. She looked at him, and her face turned into a frown. "You cannot take her," Tilda said as she stepped back from Melora and crossed her arms, staring at the King. Bard was still focusing on trying to get Melora to breathe.

"What is the child talking about?" Thranduil asks Feren, staring at the angry child before him.

"My Lord," Feren started, but Tilda was not done.

"Melora is our family, and you cannot have her," Tilda told him; she was young, and the scowl and pointed look from Thranduil, the King of elves, did not deter her.

"And what pray tell child would lead you to believe I am trying to steal your family," Thranduil asked, his voice a hiss as he bent his face closer to the child.

"My Lord," Feren tried to distract his King. He knew he could sometimes be quick to anger and did not necessarily understand human children, as he had kept the kingdom to himself for many centuries.
In her panic, Melora heard Tilda's voice and the angry hiss. That hiss caused her brain to itch. It was familiar, even in anger. The other part of her realized that it was directed at Tilda, and she would allow no one to direct their anger at any of these children. They were her family. She pulled away from Bard and turned to observe the scene behind her. A tall elf with a circlet bent down his face a scowl, and Tilda did not seem to back down. She moved between Tilda and the Elf, causing him to step back. She put her arm behind her, pulling her closer to her back. With more bravado than she felt, she said, "That is enough; you will not speak to her in that tone."

Thranduil raised to stare down the person who interrupted him; he was ready to give them a piece of his mind when his eyes met hers. How he had missed those eyes; his eyes roved over her face, cataloging every feature. He noticed that she was dirty; a cut was on her cheek. Her dress was torn, and she had burn marks on her face. "Nin Mel," He whispered, stepping closer to her and raising his hand to rest it on her cheek.