Note: Set in Desolation of Smaug. Severely unrefined and mostly unnecessary. It's pretty much the product of my trying to cope with this movie.
"Bofur." Bilbo prodded the dwarf with his toes in a final attempt to wake him, and Bofur stirred.
"Bilbo," he mumbled, cracking open an eye and searching the underside of Bard's table for the hobbit. "Where's Bilbo?"
"Here." When Bofur found him, he warned, "We're to leave soon, and I don't think Thorin will wait for anyone."
"I'm up," Bofur said, but as Bilbo nodded and went to secure his pack, he fell back and slept.
Bilbo hated how easily he could be swept away in a crowd, and how willingly his anxiety kept him from fighting against it. He wanted to turn back, drag Bofur by his braids if need be, and haul him onto to the boat, but Thorin was adamant; there was no time, and Bilbo was required; it was nearly time to fulfill his part of the contract. After coming so far, he could hardly miss it. Bofur, at the very least, would be in Lake-town when they returned. Or so he reasoned with himself - it was a war to wrestle his cynicism away and think so.
Bilbo would have liked the dwarf's company, though. Bofur was the truest friend he made among the dwarves - may well have been the closest friend he had at all. He cared about Bilbo, and Bilbo him. But he didn't appear to be coming on the last stretch of the journey.
Bilbo hunkered down in his seat, feeling lightheaded with the throng of Lake-town cheering all around, and prayed that Bofur would stumble in.
In the end, he didn't quite make it.
"Wait!" Bofur called after the company. "Wait for me!"
He looked down the dock; there was no way to chase after them without someone taking a nasty swim. He slumped back and watched. Bilbo, furthest off, at the bow of the dingy, locked eyes on Bofur. His mouth opened in what must have been a gasp. He turned to Thorin, speaking urgently, but even from the growing distance Bofur could read the disappointment in his face, and the boat did not stop or turn back. Bilbo lifted his hand in a wave shocked out of motion. Bofur put on his softest smile and waved back, hoping to ease Bilbo's stress one last time before the mountain. Though he would have preferred he did it with his boots planted on Erabor's rock, not Lake-town's creaking docks.
He had hoped to be there for Bilbo. Tell him-
But that would have to wait. In that moment he chose to believe that Bilbo, and his family, and his friends would return to him.
Then, a firm hand clapped over his shoulder.
"Help us, laddie," Oin said when Bofur turned. He led him over to Thorin's nephews, clutching at each other.
"What are you doing here? You didn't miss the boat too, did you?" Bofur asked.
"Kili's in ill health," Fili told him. Indeed, the lad looked worse than any one of them ever had through their travels.
Oin said, "Carry him back to Bard's home. I'll examine him there."
"I can walk," Kili protested faintly.
"What was that? Lad, I wouldn't even bet on you against an elfling, in this state." Oin elbowed Bofur and gestured to the young dwarf.
With Fili at Kili's head, and Bofur at his feet, they maneuvered through the thinning crowd, back over bridges, and up Bard's stairs. Thankfully, Oin convinced the children to let them return, though it took a small amount of bland intimidation and anomie.
Perhaps it was for the best Bofur missed the boat. If Kili needed them here, that was where they needed to be.
But his thoughts often returned to Bombur, Bifur, and Bilbo.
The docks swayed, and water splashed over the planks, soaking into Bofur's sad, worn boots. He staggered with the quaking structure. Was that part of the orc attack?
A man shrieked far off, echoing over the water, through the eerie, frightened silence that enveloped this side of Lake-town. "The mountain," he cried. "The dragon!"
The mountain appeared just as still as the town, but as Bofur watched, a gargantuan shape barreled into the sky above Erabor. It reached an apex, and suddenly Smaug the Terrible's wings unfurled like sails.
Fear and misery overwhelmed Bofur. The dragon was alive, and headed toward the town; was the company forcing him off, or did they not fill his belly? The very idea rattled his heart.
It was just an idea, he thought then. He had no proof, no more reason to believe they were dead than to believe they were not. But the dragon roared, his voice sending Lake-town into a frenzy. The only thing Bofur knew in absolute was that he needed a weapon.