Bofur was sitting on a fallen tree trunk. He had rolled up the rags of his right pant and tried to explore the wound that was left by the grinding jaws of a warg last night.
He had postponed the moment until dawn, but enough light to see anything stayed away. Dwalin lit a piece of wood, which he held close to the wound. Because of the heat he pulled his leg aside. The movement caused a sudden pain and he pressed his molars together while he cursed growling.
'Can you move on?'
Bofur looked up. Thorin was very impatient. He actually wanted to go back yesterday, in spite of the bisection of the amount of flesh around his lower leg and the fact that Gloin was hit on his head so heavily they had feared he would die.
As soon as they had left the others Thorin was very moody. Bofur knew for sure he liked the elf – even though he tried so hard to keep it secret. It wasn't necessary at all, for they all had had nice conversations with her and Bofur wasn't an exception.
Although dwarf women attracted his attention more easily, since Alyssae was almost just skin and bones - she had become a friend of him and he didn't want her to go through something bad.
Nevertheless he had dismissed his concerns about Fili, Kili and Alyssae as soon as their plan succeeded and the wargs followed their trail. They hadn't much time to triumph because their tired bodies and intoxicated minds had to do everything they could to fight the wargs. Fortunately it was just a little pack of orcs. One part went into the woods to stab them in the back, but they disappeared. After this odd event they decided to stay on the road, for something dismal was surely hidden in the bushes, which must have killed the orcs and their animals.
'Yes,' he answered Thorin's question, since he didn't want to stay in this woods any longer than was necessary. He squeezed his eyes when he stood up and walked some steps, but censured himself by saying he didn't had to pose. Injuries belonged to this journey. They must be glad they were all still alive – unlike the poor hobbit. Certainly Thorin and Alyssae, who escaped death just in time.

In silence they moved on. Grumbling they stepped over the dead bodies they left behind yesterday and Bofur was glad to see they hadn't attract bloodthirsty creatures. He felt very uncomfortable. He believed to hear whispering voices and everywhere eyes were gazing at them, in all the colours he could imagine. Nobody dared to speak, although he heard Bombur whispering to himself once in a while. It was clear he was afraid.
Although Bofur was used to narrow subterranean places, these woods had a claustrophobic effect on him. His hand didn't move away from his sword and he saw the others acting just the same.
The whispers became more and more penetrating and sometimes he thought he could distinguish words. The voices belonged to strangers and he knew for sure he had never heard them before. However sometimes they looked very familiar, as if his memories were speaking to him and wanted to move him into a certain direction.
The eyes of Balin flashed nervously from left to right and he suspected the old dwarf experienced the same as him. Did these voices try to bother them too yesterday? Or had they been so busy they only focused on their pursuers?
He became conscious of his dry mouth and a rumbling sound from his belly. A terrible thirst suddenly attacked his throat, as if the blood that was leaving his body needed to be supplemented with water.
He startled when Thorin drew his sword and stared in the darkness on the right of them. Alarmed the others got their weapons too while they followed his gaze. Colored eyeballs still observed them and Thorin turned around.
'We go back.'
'Back?' he asked baffled. 'Why?'
'Because I say so!' Thorin snarled and the grasp around his sword tightened.
Bofur looked at Balin. 'We can't leave Kili and Fili! Nor Alyssae!'
Thorin stared right into his eyes. Bofur got the feeling he looked into a shadow instead of eyes.
'I don't want to hear the name of that filthy elf ever again!' He stamped on the ground and turned away. 'I hope she'll rot away and that her cursed body will eaten by everything that lives here in its dark holes!'
Dwalin grabbed his arm to stop him but Thorin's sword glided through the air and the dwarf knew how to duck down just in time.
'I told you to move on! I am your king and you will obey.'
Bofur stood still in disbelief, convinced that something made him mad. Thorin would never speak to them with such words, but now he was steadfast and even life dangerous, such as he had attacked Dwalin…