Author's Note: This is a story that has nothing to do with any of my other stories. It's written very differently, because I did my best to imitate the style of a very good Russian author, Peter Sis.
Peter Sis wrote and illustrated a very, very good book called Conference Of The Birds, and this is a story of mine inspired by his work, but featuring the Company. I think Conference Of The Birds is quite allegorical, and interesting, and I hope my (short) version of the tale isn't too bad. It doesn't...quite take place on Middle-Earth. Or anywhere, really.
This was all written for and is dedicated to Dunadanka, a very wonderful Hobbit fan, whom I owe a lot to. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to updated the stories she so thoughtfully helped me with for a while, and her encouragement means the world to me.
Disclaimer: Peter Sis owns Conference of the Birds, and an Arabian poet owns the idea, I believe. I don't own anything, especially not the Hobbit characters.
Somewhere, the jagged mountain rose up proudly above the pines and the mist, and somewhere a thrush was calling in the cool evening. But before the mountain and the thrush were the Seven Valleys, each one deep and lonely, and the Company needed to traverse them all before they could reach the mountain.
Thorin Oakenshield knew this, though he was the only one of the the fourteen companions who did. There had been fifteen, but very few people have the power to keep Gandalf the Grey when he believes that he needs to be elsewhere, and not one of them had seen him go.
"He's abandoned us," said the dwarves "He's gone, and how can we continue without his guidance?"
Bilbo Baggins said nothing, but he began to wonder if perhaps they were right.
"Enough," said Thorin, at last "We continue because we must. And we stand before the First Valley - how can we turn back?"
And the dwarves looked and saw that he was right, and they saw that the First Valley was The Valley of Quest, and so they continued on, and they did not mention Gandalf again, for the silence of the valley ate up all their words.
It ate up their power and their strength, and tugged at their thoughts, until they could barely stand to be inside their own minds.
And when they all lay down to rest in the First Valley, Thorin watched as Dori tried in vain to organize their supplies to his satisfaction.
"When you feel empty, that is not the way to give yourself peace," said Thorin, and though he smiled, it was lost in the shadows.
And when the sun burned the sky red with dawn, the Company travelled on, into the Second Valley. The Valley of Love, where the ground was cracked and burned, and there was no wind to help dull the pain in their hearts.
Even when night fell there was no relief from the burning agony, and several of the dwarves could bear it no longer, and snuck away, to wander in the darkness. It was Kili who noticed first that Fili had been one of those who left, and, realizing what it was to be alone, he wept.
"I'm scared," said Ori, as he watched Kili "I'm scared of love."
"Love can lift you to the top of the mountain, or drag you down to the deepest cavern," said Thorin.
Broken and beaten, and unsure what was truly in their hearts, the Company passed on into The Valley of Understanding, where even time didn't dare to go, and everyone had a different choice to make.
"Where are we?" demanded Gloin, for he had lost his brother, Oin, in the Valley of Love, and was unsure which way to turn.
"We are following a path," said Thorin "And we can't afford to lose it."
As the fourteen companions walked, they passed strange stone statues, many of which seemed to be half alive. The statues were all that was left of those who had lost their way, and when they cried, they cried little pebbles...
And the Company was so troubled by this, that they wished for relief from their own thoughts, and many of them were glad to reach the Fourth Valley - The Valley of Detachment.
They weren't glad for very long, however, because in The Valley of Detachment, all curiosity and desire vanished. The wind blew harsh and cold, and laid waste to entire kingdoms, but it was no more than a whisper, lost in the cold emptiness of the valley.
Thorin held his father's map in his hands, and the wind tore it into shreds and scattered it into dust. Nothing in the world can last forever, and who will really miss it?
"Don't even think about stopping here, my dwarves," said Thorin.
And so the Company journeyed on into the Fifth Valley, which was The Valley of Unity, where what they thought was many, was only a few, if any.
The songs of the elves were strong in that valley, and along the way, the dwarves lost their burglar, though they didn't know that they'd meet him again, in time.
Many of the dwarves fell asleep quickly that night, exhausted and worn, but Thorin stayed awake to watch the night as it gathered at the edges of the valley.
"Why are you not asleep?" Thorin asked Kili, who had also remained awake.
"I don't know what I am, anymore," said Kili "One moment, I'm confident. The next, I'm uncertain."
"You are what I think you are,' said Thorin "Trust in that, and clean your heart."
And Kili smiled, and it was well that he did, because the next valley was the Valley of Amazement. Some of the companions gasped in pain, and they all could feel the agony gnawing at their hearts. They didn't dare breathe, or even look at the valley as they walked through it.
And when, one by one, they began to risk looking up, they saw that the valley had disappeared and there was nothing left. Confused and uneasy, they waited.
"We've gone too far," said Balin, at last "We can't go back."
"There is no 'back'," said Thorin "There is only a circle, and we are going forward."
And then they came to The Valley of Death, and there was no hope left for the Company.
Nothing to see.
Nothing to feel.
Only the Long Dark, that went on forever and ever, and no light could pierce it.
The hearts of the companions grew still and quiet. Fourteen of them had entered the First Valley, but very few made it through the Seventh. Some of them, discouraged by the trials of their journey, snuck away in fear. Others managed to keep going, but were not strong enough to continue.
They lost direction, reason, died of thirst, of hunger, or from the heat of the sun. They were frightened out of their minds, and could no longer bear to even look at each other. At last when the few who had survived the journey stood at the end of the Seventh Valley, their mouths and throats were so choked and full with grave dust, that they couldn't speak.
Are we alive or dead?
Thorin, our king, can you bring us peace?
We've come all this way with you.
Put our minds at rest.
And all Thorin could do was point towards the mountain's peak, and he knew that nothing he could say could bring them true peace. But what is a dwarf if he cannot try?
"You have followed me this far," he said "And you have proved yourselves to be true companions, a thousand times over. There is our homeland, and, having come this far, we will not turn back."
And the dwarves' hearts lifted at his words, and they stood there, proudly, both the better and the worse for their journey...
In the end, not more than seven dwarves...