Author's Note: Wow. I mean, seriously WOW. I've never had such a strong response towards one of my fanfics before. 7 reviews, 10 favs and 28 follows all in matter of hours. In fact, my first couple of reviews came appeared in only a matter of minutes after I posted this fic's first chapter. So again WOW. And thank you, thank you so much.
So this chapter is from Bofur's POV. I love Bofur, I absolutely adore him. If I didn't love my fem!Bilbo/Thorin so much, I'd probably pair my Billanna with Bofur because I trully do love him, lol.
Anyway, please enjoy.


Chapter Two

A Lonesome Heart

Bofur walked through the great halls of Erebor with a heavy heart. It was Durin's day, a day of celebration; the farewelling of an old year and the welcoming of a new one.

He should be enjoying himself and yet, he is not. He's heart is too heavy to muster any feelings of true joy. Which is selfish of him, he knows for there are many things he should be joyful over, many things he should be thankful for.

He is home once more; he has his brother back by his side and a good group of loyal friends all around him. He has all the reasons in the world to be happy, but…

He lets his mind wander back to a year prior, to a very different Durin's day when a small, golden brown haired lass had jumped up and down excitedly for she had just figured out the puzzle behind the mystery of the secret door.

She had been so pleased and proud of herself as she ordered them all to their feet, bossing around their King to hurry and to get his key out for there wasn't much time.

Bofur smiled slightly at the memory.

It was one of the few last good ones he had of her with the rest of the company before everything turned to madness and chaos.

She had done so much for them, saved them countless times and yet with one mistake – alright, so granted it was a rather large and rather grievous mistake – they had cast her aside, cast her out.

The hurt and betrayal in her dark, earthy brown eyes with the final look she sends them before she disappears into the camp of the men and elves, still haunts him. Haunts all of them he is sure for that was the last time that any of them saw her. The battle had come shortly afterwards and they all barely made it out alive.

They thought that they had been at their lowest then, with their King gravely injured, along with his two heirs. Little had they known that worst was to come.

It was a day or so after the battle had finished and those who were not so grievously injured has started to sort through the dead on the battlefield, searching for possible survivors and lost friends.

Their group had remained behind by Thorin, Fili and Kili's side as they were thirteen in number and had no one to search for. Or so they thought.

It was late evening when a dirty and blood-stained Gandalf came striding into their tent, demanding to know where exactly his burglar was.

At first, Bofur is ashamed to admit how uncooperative they were and all he can say in their defence was that they were tired. So very, very tired. From their long journey to the mountain, from the betrayal within their own company, from the battle and from their injuries, old and new.

Many of them were in a great deal of pain and what did they care for the little hobbit who had betrayed them when they were dealing with such great pain.

Gandalf hadn't liked this of course. He called them a great many names in languages they knew and many they didn't.

He was so angry and so very worried that they finally offered what little help they could. They hadn't seen her since she had left them, they informed him as one voice before one of them, he thinks Ori, asks the wizard why he asked, hadn't he sent her back to Laketown or what remained of it before the battle had begun?

The Wizard had mournfully shaken his grey head and informed them that shortly after the battle had begun their burglar had gotten the notion into her head that she must do something to help, anything to help and had run into the battle with her little blade glowing as blue as starlight, paying no heed to Gandalf's calls for her to return to his side.

It was then that members of the company started to remember odd occurrences happening during the battle, rocks seemly being thrown out of nowhere striking down goblins and wargs alike when they came to close to any of them. The high pitch whistles cutting through the battle, warning them of Azog's coming. She had been quite proud of her whistle and had used the skill a number of times during their journey. So many times in fact that it seems silly now that they hadn't recognised the sound of it when they heard it, even if was in the midst of a battle for their lives, their home and their gold.

The last time, Gandalf informs them once their guts were filled with guilt and fear for the smallest member of their company, that anyone had heard what might have been her was just before the Eagles had arrived, crying something along the lines of, 'The Eagles! The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!' before the cry was cut short.

None who had apparently heard her, could remembered exactly where in the battlefield they had heard her voice and now, a day and half later, the old wizard was very worried and had been hoping that "she may have found her way back to you lot".

But of course, she obviously hadn't and so now the wizard was very, very worried. So worried he was in fact that he quite forgot to scold them further for casting her out and starting this whole mess.

Thorin, who had been silent up until this point, croaked, "You should have sent her back."

Gandalf had glared back at him, snapping, "You should never have cast her out, never should have started this whole business in the first place."

Thorin as injured as he was, still managed to glare with all his kingly wrath as he snarled, "You should never have brought her along to begin with."

The old wizard simply stared at him for a moment before nodding his head slowly in agreement.

"You are right, I shouldn't have. Her skills and intelligence were clearly wasted on you all and I should have allowed you to meet your fates with the trolls and goblins, the spiders and elves and lastly the dragon or have you already forgotten that it was she who saved you all from untimely deaths. And it is also because of she that you are not being siege at this very moment by the men and elves who still stand. Because she showed humbleness and strength, qualities that were admired by both men and elves alike, unlike you Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror. She was trying to save you once again and instead of seeing that, lost you were in your hunger for gold that it blinded you to her love and desire to protect and save you once again and so that in the end you only saw her betrayal. You are right Thorin son of Thrain, I should never have brought her along on this quest and if she is dead, be it on your head, for it will be her life that you will be living."

And with that the wizard had disappeared and they weren't to see him again, for he steered clear of all of them until the day he left in a great hurry on a white steed with Beorn, in his huge bear form, by his side, galloping back towards the ruins of Laketown.

They had not seen him since.

Or her for that matter.

They never did find her. Her blue coat that she had been give when her red one was torn and battered beyond repair, was found and given to them once Gandalf had left.

It was barely recognisable as hers, the once dark blue fabric now stained almost black with blood, the thick cloth ripped and torn. None of them wished to think much of the fate of its owner, the state of the coat speaking all too clearly of how the hobbit had spent her final moments.

It was another couple of days after the coat had been found and Gandalf had left that any of them remembered about the lass's magic ring.

"She went into the battle invisible." He had excitedly whispered one night around a camp fire, careful to keep his voice down so as to not wake the resting king, "she might have snuck away before it ended."

"Leaving her coat behind to be bloodied and torn?" Dwalin replied with a snort, thrusting a stick sharply into the flames.

"She never liked it," Ori had pipped up, "she always said it was too long and heavy for her. It probably got in her way during the battle and she took it off."

They actually got quite excited when they thought of this, well most of them at least.

"So where is she then?" Gloin had growled, "Where is she? Buggered off, instead of coming back and facing her…"

"Face her what?" he had asked as he felt his temper rise, a rare thing for him but he had discovered that he had quite temper over those few days and it had been about to boil over, "her judgement? Her trial? Why? Why would she come back for that? She has already been cast out. Why would she return? Even if she wanted to, how would she know she wouldn't be facing as you are suggesting we should do to her, hmmm?"

"You were always too soft on her laddie," Gloin rumbled, but his dark eyes were filled with some akin to shame.

"And you were always too hard on her! She tried her best, maybe not right from the start but she did try. As Gandalf said, we would have been dead several times over if it wasn't for her! One mistake, just one and we all turn our backs on her, threw her out even though she was only doing what she thought was best for the company. And now she's gone…" possibly forever.

He had blinked back angry, grief filled tears and had stormed out of the tent, ignoring the cries for him to come back.

It was stupid; he knew that, to be still trying to search for her after so many days after the battle.

Even if she had survived the battle there was a good chance that she had been hurt during it and had been lying somewhere, unseen because of her magic ring, being missed constantly and too weak to cry out for help and without help, infection from her injuries would have spread within her tiny body.

It wouldn't have taken long, she was so small after all, maybe a day or two for the infection to make its away all around her system and then…

He had shoved his fists into his face as he kneels down upon the battlefield and allows himself to sob. Even if she had survived the battle, she was probably long dead from her wounds.

That is why Gandalf left in such a hurry, he had thought dully, he knew she was gone and so saw no point in remaining here any longer.

His smile seemed to have died after the Battle of the Five Armies. Many thought it was due to the ghastly injury he had received during the battle, a great wound that had cut its way across his face, taking a great chunk of his nose with it. But that hadn't been it, that hadn't been what killed his smile but he lets them all think that. It's easier that way and doesn't bring an angry and guilt-ridden - no matter what he says, anyone with half a brain can tell that the King under the Mountain is guilty with how he dealt with the situation with his burglar. The only good thing that came out of the whole affair was that the insanity that had seized him hasn't been seen since her leaving - King down upon his head.

He knows that she won't be happy with him, that she'll shake her golden brown curls and say that he is being incredibly silly and that she doesn't want him to be sad over her, for him to lose his smile because of her.

She would most likely tell him to be happy, he is home and where he belongs with his brother and cousin and all his friends, together and safe.

He knew what he would say to her in return; that yes he was home and back in the place where he belongs with his family and friends, safe and sound, but she wasn't there with them. Nor was she at her home, where she belonged and that, that was what made all the difference.

She had been taken, her life stolen from her because of thirteen stubborn dwarves, all of whom had had the inability to see sense when it was looking them all right in the face.

She was dead because of them, never to see her home, her books, her armchair or her garden again.

She had a family too, a large one at that. A family who had loved her and whom she loved dearly in return. She had a father who was probably still waiting for her return, unless Gandalf had returned to the Shire to deliver the news of her passing himself. She had cousins whom she had adored, spoken fondly of, loving them all as if they were her very own, aunts and uncles and a whole extended family as well.

She had also had her husband-to-be waiting for her, he remembered with a start. He knew that they hadn't been close – that was why she had come after them on this mad adventure on the day of her wedding – but he can't help but think how terrible it would be, waiting for your bride-to-be, not knowing where she had gone or if she was ever to return.

Bofur's depressing thoughts had led his weary body far away from the celebrations and down into the hall that had once been Smaug's bedroom as Bilbo had lightly called it – she had received several very unamused looks for that comment but she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice.

He looked around, still feeling the same wariness and fear that had churned away in his gut the first time he walked into this hall.

It was empty now; all the treasure within it had long since been moved out of the hall and into different locations throughout the great mountain. No one minded though.

No one liked coming to this hall, let alone enter it by themselves. It still reeked of dragon no matter how many times it was cleaned and so it was abandon.

He settled himself against the doorway of the hall, took out his pipe and started to smoke. He wasn't sure how long he had sat there before his cousin finally found him, grunting and grumbling in Khuzdul, patting and tugging on his arm.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming, I'm coming. I did wonder how long it would take for me to be missed."

Bifur grunted at him, looking extremely unhappy with him but then most people were now a days.

The two cousins slowly made their way back towards the celebrations, their way being lit with more and more torches as they moved closer to Dwalven civilisation.

His feet grew heavier with each step he took, his head hanging low and it was only with Bifur steering that he didn't crashing into a wall.

They had reached the main entrance hall when Bofur felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Where have you been? And why didn't you take me with you?"

Bofur shook his head in slight amusement,

"Because laddie, you are a prince and your uncle would notice your absence at the celebration. Everyone would notice your absence from the celebration."

The young dwarf snorted, his dark brown eyes filled with anger and sadness. He wanted to be here even less than Bofur himself did, if that was possible.

The young dwarf lad had been at odds with his family, mainly he uncle for almost a year now and spent a great deal of his time by himself, exploring the mountain and surrounding lands.

He said he was doing it to better understand his people and to come up with strategies to better protect the mountain if another attack like the Battle of Five Armies were to ever occur again.

Most people swallowed these words for it was easier to just pretend that the youngest prince simply had itchy feet and couldn't settle down than it was to accept the fact that the boy wanted almost nothing to do with his uncle and was trying to stay as far away from him as he possibly could.

The only reason he was present at this celebration, Bofur suspected was because of Fili. Fili had left a little over a week ago with a small guard to track down his little brother and bring – dragged him more likely – him back to the mountain for this night.

Bofur suspected that the young prince in front of him would be gone again in the morning and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he could possibly join him on his next wandering.

He bit down hard upon his tongue to stop himself from asking.

He was home, had his brother and cousin to take care of, he couldn't just disappear into the blue with the youngest Durin prince simply because he wasn't coping with his grief. It'd be far too selfish of him to do such a thing.

But… it certainly was tempting.

"I don't care about them." The younger dwarf was muttering. "I only came back because Fili asked me to and because I knew I would be able to see the company again." For a moment his eyes burned fiercely before the fire with them burned itself out in a matter of seconds.

"Well," Bofur said, clapping the young dwarf on the shoulder, "we're glad you're back even if it is only for tonight, laddie. We've missed you something terrible, especially your brother and mother." He didn't push it and add 'and your uncle' for he knew the dwarf prince would not respond well to that.

The Dwarf prince nodded.

"Yes, I know. I've missed you all too." Bofur wondered if the King was included in the people that Kili had missed. He was sure that he was. Kili didn't really hate his uncle; he simply didn't like him very much anymore.

The three dwarves walked into the great Feasting Hall, where numerous tables, all filled with rowdy dwarves, were set all around the hall.

The trio walked through the throng of noise, dodging the food being hurled about the room and made their way to the head table set up at the opposite end of the hall, where the rest of their company sat along with important guest, such a Dain Ironfoot who was sitting next Thorin and whom he was having deep conversation with.

Kili dragged himself over to sit with his mother and brother and the two cousins moved to sit with their old company, Bofur ignoring the questioning looks that were being sent his way, at least it was too loud for any of them to bother with any quiet interrogation of asking him where he had been for the past couple of hours.

He glanced up the table to where Kili was slouching between his brother and mother, glaring resentfully at the table while his older brother tried to coax a conversation out of him. The lad gave short, blunt answers to whatever ever his brother was saying but nothing more. Even from where he sat, Bofur could see the pain in Fili's eyes.

He wasn't the only brother pained by another brother's attitude he realised when he saw that his own was looking at him with a similar expression.

He forced himself to smile, the one smile he had left and was solely reserved for his brother and their cousin.

"What's the matter, Bombur?" He tried to tease, "Full already?"

His brother smiled back at him, a shy and possibly a little nervous but a smile nonetheless.

Bofur shook his head, angry with himself.

He had to do better than this, he had to! His brother and he had spent far too many years apart for a rift to form between them now.

He would work harder to be a better brother and cousin.

After all, it would be what she would have wanted.


Author's Note: Sad Bofur. I didn't really like writing him sad because hello, he's Master Optimistic and Cheerfulness, he's not meant to - or allowed to be - unhappy! But for the first couple of chapters of this story, he sadly will be sad and unhappy Bofur.
Thorin is next and then in chapter four we return to Bilbo, lil'Frodo and Gandalf.
Thanks for reading!