"Bilbo? What are you doing?"
It would be Bofur on watch tonight. That made everything harder, somehow. He would just have to get it over with quickly.
"I'm, ah… I'm going back. To Rivendell, first, and then to the Shire. This mountain is no place for a hobbit."
Bofur's face made Bilbo's stomach flip most unpleasantly. Must he look so… betrayed? No, bewildered might be a better term. As though he really hadn't seen this coming. As though he didn't want Bilbo to go. And sure enough, the dwarf protested;
"You can't leave! You're one of us."
Surely he couldn't believe that? Had he not heard Thorin's angry words, not noticed how Bilbo was always holding everyone back? If only he didn't look so horribly genuine all the blooming time. Bilbo steeled himself. If he didn't go through with this, he'd only make matters worse.
"No, I'm not."
"Look, you're homesick. I understand..." And something about Bofur's utter calm made Bilbo snap.
"No, you don't! Because you haven't got a home, none of you do!
He regretted the words as soon as they were said, not least because of the way they seemed to strike Bofur like a slap to the face.
"I'm sorry..."
But Bofur was there before him, the dwarf's kindly manner seemingly unbruisable.
"No, it's all right... you're right. We don't belong anywhere."
It seemed to Bilbo that a dark cloud of shame had enveloped him. He knew he was behaving dreadfully. To say all that he had said would never have been tolerated in respectable circles. Yet Bofur smiled gently on. And if he saw something different in the dwarf's eyes, it was quickly forgotten as his sword began to glow.