CHAPTER III: THE END OF SEERS

Frerin was silent as he tried to wrap his head around what it was his saviour had told him.

It took the better part of an hour of explaining and retelling for the exiled prince to understand that he was no longer in Arda. That he was now in a world that was known as Sestavar, in a kingdom called Visal where the king was an "Earthborn Elf" - whatever in Mahal's name that was - who was protecting his saviour's kind from being hunted down by those that might use their abilities for malicious purposes. Granted, his saviour had also told him that in exchange for their safety, they must also serve the kingdom in a way that would use their gifts but from what he could read from her body language, she seemed to be quite content with the arrangement.

Yet despite her lengthy explanations, he still found himself quite lost.

'So...you are a Seer.' He tried again.

Once more, his saviour shook her head. 'Prophet.' She corrected calmly.

'What's the difference?'

Surprise flickered upon her face before his saviour bit her bottom lip as if she was weighing her words carefully.

'Prophets are trainees for Seers. We are still learning to improve our abilities and to no longer depend on our Touch alone for our Sight.' She explained, her tone hesitant. 'Seers are the ones who could already look at a being and see a path, they are able to untangle the many paths of the future into a single one and it would be the more probable outcome. They often help advise the Lesser Lords and Ladies while the Prophets are to keep to their lessons and improve themselves before they are even consulted.'

'And the Seers teach the Prophets?' Frerin tried again.

Once more, his saviour shook her head.

'Seers are not the tutors.' She told him. 'King Adanion had seen to it that the best of those with the Sight shall guide us, so he chose the Oracles to be our mentors.'

'I'm going to assume there is a difference there.' Frerin responded with a small smile.

His saviour nodded. 'Oracles are the highest rank. They can see things that are, things that have been and things that have yet to pass. They can glean your thoughts, know your desires, and they would have the advice they must tell you in just as quick a time as they had when they sensed it.'

Frerin raised a brow at the explanation of their highest rank. He recalled tales of an elf-witch that lived in the forest and thought of her being considered an Oracle of sorts. Unfortunately, Frerin had been raised never to rely on these things. Prophecies were never carved and set in stone. Things can always change along the way and he will not be the sort to rely on the Sight that his saviour claims to have.

'How many prophecies were fulfilled ever since your coming?' He asked.

His saviour shrugged. 'Nothing large but we managed to avert droughts, famines, plagues and had even forged alliances with neighbouring kingdoms.' She explained. 'Anything large and it would have the world of Sestavar in peril for such a vision of that magnitude.'

Frerin was silent for a moment as he allowed himself to comprehend what it was they had just told him. 'Your kind, those with the Sight, they...foresaw disasters?' He asked quietly.

'Well, some could glean it from short visions, some see the entire future that might happen. At the end of it all, they were able to save Visal from suffering.' She told him with a small shrug.

Frerin took in a sharp breath and nodded.

The fact that there was this world where seers existed, where they could prevent disasters before it happened. The fact that it seemed like its people could be saved from harm and not have to know pain and suffering. It stung him to know that they did not have to suffer through the uncertainty of his life.

But a part of him was also relieved.

For the Fall of Erebor was something he would not wish unto others. Not even his greatest enemies. The loss of a home, of security and safety, was something that would change one's outlook in life as well as change their very disposition towards others. Frerin had seen how it had changed his brother, his father and grandfather, he had seen how it had warped so many dwarrrows to become shells of themselves after the Fall and he did not wish to see another kingdom suffer through that.

'Stranger?'

Frerin smiled at the manner he was addressed by his saviour.

'Please, I am Frerin Thráinul, Prince of Erebor.' He introduced himself as he bowed his head. 'Now you know my name, I am no longer a stranger to you I pray.'

A shy smile came upon his saviour's lips and she nodded. 'In that case, I am Prophet Aelinor of Visal.'

His saviour then proceeded to put a hand to her chest as she bowed. Frerin recalled a gesture similar to that being done by the elves of Rivendell. Perhaps they had some similarities with the elves of Arda in some form or the other. Instead of remarking on it, Frerin bowed at his saviour.

'A charming name.'

~~oOoOoOoOo~~

'Your world confuses me.' Frerin confessed with a rueful smile.

It had been hours since he had woken and since he had become acquaintances with his saviour, he and Aelinor had taken to explaining both their worlds to one another to the best of their abilities. Though Frerin knew he would have doubted the young prophet at first in spite of their white hair that was green at the roots, he found himself more inclined to believe that he was no longer in Arda the moment she had pointed out that there were no such kingdoms such as Visal in his own world.

Much less, elves that have indentations in their flesh that looked almost like the markings of a tree.

And though Frerin was expecting doubt from Aelinor, the young prophet had told him of her vision and how she learned of his life before she explained that no such records in history had shown the fall of a kingdom from a dragon named Smaug.

'There is no record or illustrations of your people either.' She told him with a slight shrug. 'And commonly, dwarfs, gwyllions and gnomes live under the earth more than above it.'

Frerin wanted to ask about what in Mahal's name were gnomes or gwyllions but the dwarf prince held his tongue. He had been out of his depth enough and if his hunch was correct, he may be forced to live the rest of his life in this world seeing as he was dead already in Arda. The thought of never seeing his sister, brother or nephew again shot through him like a lance but Frerin still managed to maintain the calm mask he had managed to build up to stop Aelinor from fearing him or growing uncomfortable in his presence.

He would have time to adapt and learn.

For now, he could make friends with this odd elf.

They conversed with one another until another elf came in. This time, she had darker flesh than Aelinor and her clothes were different as well. Her hair was a greenish-white with a large yellow topaz was embedded upon a white gold circlet. Her clothes were of rich red colours and he noted the lack of a veil or slippers of any sort being worn by her in comparison to the young prophet.

'Aelinor, it is time for dinner.' She called out to his companion, her gaze coming upon him as she spoke. A small smile graced her lips as she bobbed a curtsey of sorts. 'Hello, sir. It is a relief to see you conscious.'

From the familiarity the exiled prince witnessed, he jumped to the easy conclusion that this was the oracle training Aelinor. His companion had been rather tight-lipped about the names of her fellow prophets, seers and oracles but he did not begrudge her the privacy of their identities. He was grateful enough not to have to cope with the world alone and lost in a world not his own.

Frerin bowed his head in greeting to the oracle's presence. 'Aye, if it weren't for your student, I would surely have perished from my injuries.'

The woman smiled and nodded. 'You had made a rather interesting night for the healers and my ward.' She replied as she held out a hand for Aelinor to take as the prophet rose from the seat she was occupying. Frerin noted how she did not hold Aelinor's hand so much as hold onto her sleeve as she gently manoeuvred her student towards the door. 'Unfortunately, I will have to steal my pupil away from you for their evening meal.'

'Am I to expect her company after?' Frerin asked, meeting Aelinor's concerned gaze before the prophet left the room.

The oracle smiled. 'My pupil shall most likely make that choice without my guidance.' Bringing her hand upon her breast, the oracle bowed. 'For now, rest.'

~~oOoOoOoOo~~

Frerin was entertaining himself by recounting the history lessons he had been taught by Balin when he sensed a new presence entering the Healing Halls.

'Back already, Earth-Child?' He called out, turning his head to greet the young prophet only for him to freeze.

This was not Aelinor.

Instead, it was a dignified looking man who looked to be far taller than any of the other elves he had encountered by far. - Which was already considerably tall seeing as Aelinor appeared to be taller than even Thranduil while her oracle appeared taller than her - Upon his head was a circlet of bronze and silver branches with emerald leaves, his hair and beard was a glistening silver that shimmered in the light of the lamps as he approached Frerin. From what the dwarf prince could recall from his afternoon conversation with the prophet, their people seemed to have hair that echoes colours of specific plants or flowers. When he asked how to figure out which plant it is seeing as he had always seen the flora of Arda to practically be one and the same, the young prophet leant forward and allowed him to catch a whiff of her scent.

He recognised the white jasmine's scent immediately and her white hair made sense to him afterwards.

When the newcomer stopped by his bedside, he waited until the stranger sat himself before Frerin cleared his throat.

'Well met.' He bowed his head once more as he had done to the first two sophonts he had met.

He heard a chuckle. 'Indeed?' A voice deeper than even his elder brother's answered and when Frerin met the gaze of the stranger, he saw kind green eyes. 'I pray you are no longer hearing the Kind Lady's calls?'

Mandos. Frerin thought to himself. Who else could it be? Smiling, Frerin nodded. 'Aye, as I'd told the oracle that fetched the young prophet that had saved me, I would be with my forefathers had she not found me when she did.'

'Ah yes, the very same things my healers had told them.' The stranger said with a small smile, though it did not escape Frerin's attention that there was a flash of something in this stranger's eyes when he spoke of Aelinor. 'Though I must confess, I find myself curious as to how you had gotten past my walls and guards and into the private gardens for the prophets and such.'

Frerin stilled when he heard the stranger's speech and he looked at him carefully. 'You are the King Adanion the Earth-Child speaks of.' He breathed out.

A smile was his answer. 'You may need to change Aelinor's epithet,' the King told him, 'for almost all of Visal's population is that of the Earthborn with only a smattering of centauroi and fauns completing the census.'

'I'm afraid I do not understand this.' Frerin told the King, careful not to offend him. 'You speak of "Earthborn" and "centauroi" and "fauns" but I find myself quite lost for all I understand is that you are a form of elf with longer ears than common that points down like it is drooping.'

The King only looked at him, amused, when Frerin finished his speech. Dragging his chair closer to Frerin's cot, the King held out an expectant hand to Frerin. Though he was wary of what the King is capable of, Frerin placed his hand in the elf-king's hand and watched as his hand was inspected for something the exiled prince did not know.

'You have the hands of a gwyllion but you are shorter than them, you are taller than a gnome or dwarf but shorter than a fairshee.' The King told him with a raised brow. 'What are you?'

'I barely even know any of these creatures you had named!' Frerin threw his hands up in frustration before falling back against the pillows behind him. 'From the moment I had woken, I have heard of creatures I do not even comprehend or know of!'

'You do not belong here.' The King told him as if stating a simple fact he had known from the very beginning. 'Whatever world you had come from, I will not pry but know that the Lords and Ladies of Creation had seen you in your time of need and had reached through the Sapphire Bridge to bring you to Sestavar.'

'And that is a normal occurrence?' Frerin asked sarcastically.

King Adanion paused before meeting the dwarf prince's gaze. 'No.' The King told him. 'These were the bedtime stories my mother had told me. The Sapphire Bridge is a constellation that is a constant to us even at daytime and it is said to take you to worlds if it feels your need for it.' At that, he chuckled. 'Would it be true, I would have stolen my people away at night to take them somewhere safe.'

Frerin frowned in concern as the King's words registered in Frerin's mind. 'Is something the matter, Your Majesty?'

All too soon, the King rose and shook his head. 'This is a matter I believe you do not have the right to know of.' He told Frerin, his tone firm. 'Just know that if we tell you to flee, then you must do so. The Kind Lady spared your life, I shall do all I can to ensure you and all within this palace survives.'

Bowing, the King excused himself just as three equally tall beings with varying hair colours and garbs approached him, each saying something too fast and hushed for the exiled prince to understand.

Left alone once more, Frerin kept himself distracted until a healer came with a hot stew and bread for his dinner.

~~oOoOoOoOo~~

His saviour came to him when it was the dead of night.

Frerin was not sleeping after attempting to do so and waking up with tears streaming down his face as he recalled his death with the horrified shout of his elder brother ringing in his ears. That was how he was found by Aelinor, awake and humming the song he and his brother had made to remember their home.

'That's a beautiful melody.' She complimented him politely.

Frerin smiled though it lacked the warmth he managed to dredge up prior that nightmare. 'Thank you, child.' He mumbled before he returned to his humming.

'I apologise for taking so long.' Aelinor told him, her voice hushed. 'My mentor refused to have me visit when I had yet to sleep in my bed properly.'

'Your mentor is wise.'

'Unfortunately, I had decided that no sleep shall come to me until I ensure to it that you are alright.' She added with a small smile. 'How are you faring, Sir Thráinul?' She asked him.

'Homesick.' He replied, his tone dulling slightly.

'I'm sorry.'

Looking at the young prophet, Frerin gave her a sombre smile. 'You had done nothing.' He told her as he looked outside of the stained glass windows of the Healing Hall. 'I see no reason for you to apologise.'

He knew he may have caused the child to have grown uncomfortable in his presence and he felt guilt well up within him. He was just about to apologise when she spoke in a rush.

'Do you wish to be alone?' The young prophet blurted out. 'I would understand if you do and I will not be upset over such a thing.'

'No, please stay.' Frerin rushed to speak and when he realised what he asked of the prophet, he grimaced. 'I am simply unsure where to proceed with this life I now have.'

'You can always begin again.' His companion told him. 'Find a home, start a trade, make new friends, start a family...'

'I'm afraid I was in the process of that before I fell.' Frerin replied with a bitter smile.

Another silence.

'I'm sorry.' Was the hushed reply. 'Do you wish to talk about it?' She asked quietly.

Frerin shook his head. 'Not yet, perhaps someday. But not this moment.'

His companion nodded. 'Would you like me to distract you from those thoughts?' She asked instead.

Frerin looked at his companion and saw an earnestness in her dark eyes that he did not see in the presence of strangers. He was surprised at how she seemed to be so eager to try and speak with him when he read the opposite in her body language. Unsure of what answer she expected, Frerin just shrugged though he had a smile on his lips.

'By all means.'

He watched as his companion brought her chair closer to him, her expression was the awkward expression of one who was clearly unused to speaking and the prince understood her current difficulty. Granted, his elder brother had a more confident appearance in spite of his difficulty with speeches but Frerin knew of that obstacle of Thorin's nonetheless.

'Please tell me that night tales exist where you are from.' The prophet said with a nervous smile. 'Otherwise, I'm afraid I will be quite useless in this endeavour.'

Frerin chuckled and nodded. 'Oh aye, faerie stories exist in Arda.' He told her.

The prophet let out a sigh and nodded. 'There was a game I used to play with some prophets in my early days,' she started, her hands twisting the fabric of her gown as she spoke, 'it would involve one person starting the story and the tale would be passed to another for it to be continued. We can end it however we like.'

'And...you wish to play this game?' Frerin asked slowly. 'With me?'

'You and I are the only sophonts present, correct?'

Nodding, the dwarf prince gestured for her to begin.

'Once, in a land unexplored, a woodcutter lived atop a hill with his house forever bathed in moonlight. Every morning - though he is never sure if it was morning for himself - he would trek down the hill and into the forest where fireflies were the size of horses and elephants were as large as hunting dogs. He would brave through the strange forest for one treasure and one alone...' At that, Aelinor paused and looked at him expectantly.

Frerin nodded and tried to think of his continuation before he smiled. 'The treasure was simple for him. Every assumed morning he had, he wishes to see the Sun-Maiden that bathes the entire forest in her brilliant light. Granted, he needs to cover his eyes with cloth lest he be burnt by her light but he would walk through the dangers of this forest all to hear her sing.'

The prophet smiled widely and so, their game continued.

The two kept adding to the story of the woodcutter and sun-maiden. How the woodcutter had been listening to her songs for the better part of three years and had yearned to sing with her until he decided instead, to craft a magical violin from one of the forest's enchanted trees. Though he knew nothing of music, one slide from its bow and the violin would release the sweetest notes that flowers bloomed as if it were springtime. The woodcutter then proceeded to come to the forest just to play a tune that the sun-maiden had easily found words to turn it into a song. As the story progressed, Frerin found himself becoming more and more at ease with his companion and had even taken to attempting a few jokes with Aelinor as he waited for his turn. Though the prophet still had reservations about him, Frerin could see she was also starting to grow more at ease around his presence.

It was about to be Frerin's turn and he was about to begin explaining how the sun-maiden began seeking out the woodcutter when he froze at the sight of something coming to the window.

Moving on instinct, Frerin pushed Aelinor down to the floor and rolled off the cot as well, gritting his teeth as his body protested to the abuse it had taken.

The next thing he knew, a roaring blast struck the stained glass window before him and he felt the heat of fire as it entered the Healing Hall. Sitting up, Frerin hissed as he felt glass embedding his palm the moment he pushed himself up.

'Aelinor?' He called out, looking around the flames that were beginning to engulf the walls of the Healing Hall. Panicking when his companion did not answer, Frerin stood and looked around the fiery room as he called for her. 'Child, where are you!'

'Here.' Aelinor's meek voice sounded from the other side of his cot and Frerin held back a relieved laugh.

Rushing to the other side, he noted the wide-eyed look in Aelinor and knew he recognised it too well.

The Sacking of Erebor.

Shaking his head, Frerin grabbed Aelinor by the arm and pulled at her for her to rise.

'What's happening?' He hissed as Aelinor rose up, albeit shakily.

Looking at him for a brief moment, Aelinor ran to the window to look out for something the dwarf prince cannot see. Whatever it was she was searching for, she seemed to have found it for she blanched at the sight and stumbled back.

'Child?' The dwarf prince tried again.

He watched the prophet's unsteady breaths and Frerin worried she would hyperventilate. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, he almost jerked away as Aelinor looked at him with eyes that were welling up with frightened tears.

'They have come.'

Confusion ran through Frerin at her ominous words. 'Who, child? Who is your people's enemy?'

'Kholis.'