Bofur settled by the warmth of the fire. Tonight was his watch, and he was alone save for the comfort of Gloin's well-built fire. Bofur himself could not build fires well - they were smoky and had to be constantly saved from self-extinguishing. This fire, however, was warm. Its cackling was gentle and faintly reminiscent of home. It was a luxury as well, for most nights on their sojourn it was not safe enough to have a flame sending its bright and smoky signal into the air for miles around.
Bofur smiled to himself - he did not mind taking his turn for the night watches. No one really complained. Some would brood, some would whittle, some would whistle, some would invent pranks, some would polish weapons... they kept themselves occupied. After a long day it was good to rest one's legs, mused Bofur. Night watches were a time of calm - the trees would rustle gently in the wind, the animals would stir in the forest, and there would be the monotonous hum of dwarven snoring. After a day of trekking, of climbing, perhaps even of fending off or running from enemies, a night of quiet watching and staying awake felt welcome and inviting.
Bofur was not accustomed to journeys. He was a humble miner, and his sojourns were mostly into the earth rather than across it. Because his turn at the watches came often enough, he would usually meditate upon the circumstances that led to the unlikely trio, himself, Bifur and Bombur, embarking on such a quest - a noble, daring quest.
But not tonight. Tonight, Bofur was content to sit by the fire. He repositioned himself several times before settling down and leaning his back against a large, dry, fallen log, his feet facing the fire. Bofur then had a nice, long, deliberate smoke, before putting away his pipe.
Bofur then whipped two needle stuck into a large, rough ball of homespun yarn out of his coat pocket. He would knit tonight
Winding the yarn around his fingers, Bofur continued his project of making mittens for Bombur like the ones he wore now. The light from the crackling fire illumined his work easily, casting its flickering glow and illuminating the dark straw-coloured wool with its yellow hue.
If there was no fire, Bofur could still knit. He could knit without looking at his work. He could knit in the dark, he could knit on horseback. Heck, he had even knitted while riding the great eagle to the carrock, and that while enjoying the sights as well.
Bofur clicked with exasperation, then quickly looked to around to ensure that he had woken no one - he had dropped a stitch and now had to undo several rows.
Soon the mistake was amended and Bofur continued merrily on, his eyes growing heavy. Occasionally, it must be admitted that Bofur did very nearly fall asleep. However, none would have known, for his fingers did not cease in their labours.
The scarcity of women amongst dwarves meant there was no such thing as "women's work", at least not for the tight-budgeted working classes. One had to learn to do things for oneself. Bofur had learned to knit from their grandmother, and he now knitted with haste to replace a missing mitten of Bombur's that had been displaced in their fall into the Goblin trap. The mittens were to keep Bombur's plump fingers warm during the winter that was quickly descending upon these lands.
With winter would come Durin's Day, reflected Bofur, and, hopefully, the end destination of their quest. While winter was ahead, Bofur smiled at the irony of knitting to keep Bombur warm when their goal to meet with a dragon who breathed fire and flames. Bofur shook his head as he considered the difficulties to come.
With such grim knowledge of what was ahead, Bofur took care to smile whilst he could.
Gloin soon awoke to take Bofur's place, and Bofur did not crawl gratefully into his bedroll, which he was too tired to unwind, but leaned against the log a little away from Gloin and folded his arms.
It did not take too long to fall asleep, but Bofur's last conscious thoughts were,
"I must get the other side from Bombur tomorrow, to compare the length... wouldn't want... unmatched... pair..."
Whether or not Bofur remembered to do so was another story.