The next few days were odd for Bofur. Nori took to riding his pony beside Ori, leaving Dwalin to take his place at Bofur's right, not that Bofur minded all that much. Dwalin could be a nice fellow, if he wanted to be at that particular moment. He was quiet, too, in the sense that he did not talk often, which left a lot of room for Bofur to express his expectations for the adventure, though he didn't think the older dwarf was listening to much of what he had to say. Besides, it's not as if the two Brothers Ri strayed all that far anyway. They stayed directly in the front of him and Dwalin (who was spending an awful amount of time stealing short glances at Ori, probably wondering why the young scribe was on this quest at all), and Bofur could have sworn he heard a few chuckles coming from the pair at some of his more animated storytelling. Even so, he did miss the company of the dwarf with the tri-peaked hair and often found himself thinking if he had done anything to make him upset, and this day was no different.
Though, Bofur thought to himself one hot, sunny afternoon, Nori isn't the only one behaving strangely. The entire company has been behaving differently. He was, of course, mainly referring to none other than the littlest member of the group and the aged king whose eyes had not left him in weeks. Bilbo, for the first couple of days on the journey, had been absolutely pleasant when he wasn't complaining of allergies. Even the next week or so afterwards had been rather great, although Bilbo seemed to tire more quickly in the day than the dwarves, who were used to travel. But that all seemed to change the morning Bofur witnessed Thorin's harsh stares sent and enraged and annoyed burglar to bed much earlier than he would have under less intense conditions. Since that night, the hobbit known as Bilbo had been cranky and irritable, especially when it came to anything having to do with Thorin Oakenshield. Sometimes it looked as though the burglar was going to turn his pony around and head back into the Shire, but he never did. Thorin doesn't believe in him. He wants to prove him wrong.
"Laddie, it'll do you no good to stay in that head of yours," Dwalin's sudden words startled Bofur, so much so that the younger dwarf nearly jumped off his pony though he would later deny it. Instead, he would say that as Dwalin had made barely a sound in hours, Bofur did not expect him to start speaking. "Getting lost in your mind can be worse than getting lost in the wild, especially for you. More dangerous, too. At least with the wild, there's a way to get unlost."
"I was not lost," Bofur replied, lamely. "I knew exactly where I was, and it was a fine place to be. Too bad you're not invited." He stuck his chin higher in the air, eyes closed, in a display of arrogance. But it was hardly a half a minute later that he opened only one eye, just to see Dwalin's usual expression, one that lacked any amusement at all. Mahal, does he ever smile?
"I wouldn't want to be in your mind, lad. Probably full of all sort of odd and disinteresting things, it is." Bofur opened his mouth to speak, an insult to the old warrior on the tip of his tongue, but a small voice came from up front.
"I'm sure the insides of both your heads are very fascinating, Misters Bofur and Dwalin, just in very unlike ways," Ori, the company's scribe, said to the pair of them, even though as he looked back his gaze was solely on Dwalin. "In fact, I'd like to hear a lot more stories sometime. Maybe even about all your battles, Mister Dwalin. That'd really be something." Bofur's own words disappeared as he stared back and forth between Ori, who had now turned back around to face forwards, and Dwalin, who's neck and cheeks had become flush with colour.
Did everyone eat something that I had not? Is everyone sick? Why is everyone so- Bofur cut his own thoughts short, not wanting to continue to dwell on recent events. He shook his head quickly, only pretending he didn't glance quickly up to Dwalin, whose cheeks were still pink as his eyes remained focused on Ori. I am imagining things. There is no way that this hardened warrior is blushing. Nope. But Dwalin was blushing, and little Ori seemed to be the cause.
Another three days passed by, and all three of them were just as unusual as this. Actually, the days were so similar in events, with whatever little conversation occurring coming in the form of insults and Ori seemingly flirting with Dwalin, Bofur was sure he was just reliving the same day over and over. It was almost boring, and there was perhaps nothing in all of the world that Bofur disliked more than boredom.
Then, one evening just as night was about to fall, Thorin stopped the company by a cliff's edge. A formation of rock stood tall at one end of the smallish clearing, shielding the company from some of the chilling winds rolling over the landscape. It made for a nice place for a fire, and the lack of foliage left enough room for each dwarf (or hobbit, in Bilbo's case) to lay their bedroll a comfortable distance from everyone else's. This, of course, is exactly the first thing everyone did after tying up their ponies for the night. However, despite weeks of travel wearing down their bodies, no one was in a rush to sleep. It seemed instead a nice night for a few songs, and what Bofur considered one Bombur's greatest cooked meals to date.
It was hours before yawns broke out amongst the company, and even longer before anyone actually made an effort to get to their bedroll for the night. No, with Nori finally sitting beside him again (even with a lack of conversation between them, and a few shared looks and once even a smile), Bofur thought things were finally returning to the state they were in at the beginning of the journey. Bofur let himself break out into a large grin, not caring who saw or what they thought he was thinking of. Things did not stay good for long, however, because as the dwarves shuffled off into their makeshift beds, tiredness finally overcoming them, everything made another turn for the worse. Bofur was one of many dwarves who found themselves tucked into their beds, hiding under the warmth of their cloaks and coats. His eyes were heavy with sleep and he had just closed them when it happened.
Fili and Kili were on first watch, sitting by the small fire still burning away in the night. If either of them even noticed Bilbo as he stood up from his bedroll and wandered to the ponies, they did not react. They remained unmoving by the fireside, comforted both by its glow and its warmth, until a high-pitched cry sounded through the dark night air. Bofur wasn't sure how the conversation went, but he did hear a little being said about orcs. It wasn't until Balin's voice rang out through their camp that he sat up, finally interested.
The story Balin told was one of great interest, of the Battle of Azanulbizar. By the time Balin had finished retelling the events of that battle, the entire company was out of bed and staring up at Thorin, eyes wide in awe. Despite hearing versions of the war of dwarves and orcs before, Bofur was amazed at the courage and strength of his leader ad king. Bilbo, Bofur noted, looked in absolute shock, as if he could no longer be upset at the fierce and mighty (majestic, even, with the way he stared sometimes) dwarf, but could hold nothing but respect for him.
Yet, the next morning proved that Bofur was not always right in his observations. In spite of the admiration Bofur had thought he witnessed in the hobbit's eyes the night before, he was woken up by loud footsteps and louder voices.
"You can lead an army of dwarves into a battle near impossible to win, and still come out victorious, but you can't even bring yourself to do anything else but hate a hobbit! You are no leader, Thorin Oakenshield, not to me!" Everyone, including Bofur, thought that they must had been mistaken. There was no way that the small burglar could be making such deafening noises. One look around the camp said differently, however, as Bilbo was once again stomping about in anger.
Oh, Thorin, Bofur thought to himself, stop staring at the hobbit.