Balin and Dwalin both watched him silently for several weeks afterward, not trusting that he would keep their family's secret. Bofur tried not to mind, and Mirkwood took all their attention anyway. By Laketown, they were friendly again.

Dwalin saved Bofur's life three times in the Battle of the Five Armies, and Bofur saved Dwalin's once. He could get used to this, Bofur thought, adrenaline singing in his veins as he stood back-to-back with Dwalin, cutting down all foes. A fierce joy lit Dwalin's face; finally he was in his element.

Guilt took their knees out from under them when they understood what the battle had cost them.

Bofur could not speak for eight days, afraid that if he gave voice to the grief in his heart, he would never be able to stop. Dwalin wept, enough for all of them.

Dain was crowned King Under the Mountain, and Bofur couldn't help but hate him a little, this prince who had refused their quest and now claimed their prize. He would never replace Thorin in any of their hearts.

The Halfling departed for home amidst more tears, and still Bofur could not speak.

He looked upon his share of the gold, and thought he would give a hundred times the obscene riches he now laid claim to, to hear Kili's laughter one more time, or to look up to see Thorin scowling into the distance.

All the adventurers were given richly appointed rooms in the mountain, of course. Bofur had his own room, and a suite to share with Bifur and Bombur. He kept getting lost in the long corridors though, still numb.

On the eighth day, he finally found the room he was looking for. Thorin's funeral vault was work of art, befitting the last descendent of Durin. Fili and Kili were laid to rest on either side of him.

Bofur didn't know how long he stayed. He knew he slept, but there was no way to mark the time here in the dark. Gold and gems glittered in the dim torchlight, but nothing could make up for the silence.

When he awoke the second time, Dwalin was sitting next to him.

Bofur sat up rather faster than he ought, and the room swam around him. Silently, Dwalin held out a tray. Soup had never tasted so good, and Bofur wondered when he'd last eaten. For that matter, he wondered how many days he'd been here. Bombur and Bifur would be worried sick.

Dwalin seemed content to join him at the silent vigil, and Bofur couldn't quite bring himself to leave just yet. To say goodbye to Thorin Oakenshield would mean their quest was over. He would have to find a new person to be.

He watched Dwalin's eyes wander over the intricate carving of the monument. "Balin says you were to be betrothed to him." The words left his mouth before his mind caught up.

Dwalin nodded. "It was my father's dearest wish."

"Did you want it?"

There was a silence as Dwalin considered this. "Not as a child. When I came back, I sometimes thought on it. If things had been different, we would no doubt have shared a bed a time or two. But no, I never wanted to wed Thorin Oakenshield."

"He was your closest friend, though." Bofur felt like a fool, hiding here in the dark with his grief when Dwalin's grief must be three times his own.

"Aye. And the boys – I had a hand in their training."

"I grieve for your loss," Bofur said formally.

Dwalin nodded slowly in the dim light. "And I for yours."

"What will you do now?"

His companion shrugged. "I'll stay for a bit. Balin needs looking after; Thorin was his oldest friend."

"Yours, too."

"Mine too," Dwalin echoed. "And you, will you stay here?"

"I don't know," Bofur said. "It depends on what Bombur and Bifur want to do. We're all the clan we've got, you see, so we stick together."

Dwalin nodded, though Bofur was almost certain he didn't understand. Dwalin's clan was large and prosperous, and there was always a place for him; anywhere he went, there would be Longbeard dwarves and he would be welcome. Bofur and his brother and cousin had never had that. Dwalin was able to leave his brother for most of a century; Bofur was not certain he'd ever gone more than a day without seeing Bombur.

The company had been like family, which was why it hurt so deeply that Gandalf and Bilbo had left. They should have stayed; family would have stayed.

But Bofur also knew he'd never see Nori without thinking of Fili, and never talk to Oin without grieving for Thorin. Family meant shared memories, and grief deeper than speech. There were ten left of the company now, and Bofur couldn't make them stay. He didn't even know if he wanted to stay. Perhaps it would be better, away from this place.

He didn't visit Thorin's vault again.

Dain brought then together for a ceremony, the ten of them who remained. Bofur knew that it was a political gesture more than anything else, but it was nice to have their accomplishments honored. Still, everyone was subdued.

It was when Dain started granting favors that Bofur understood. The ten of them were legends now, and Dain wanted them to stay. Dain wanted their loyalty, or at least the appearance of it.

By the slightly fixed smile on Balin's face when Dain made him principal advisor and restored his title, the old dwarf saw right through the new king as well.

Positions that once would have taken a lifetime of work were bestowed like rings and cups. Ori was given the libraries, named head scribe. Bombur was given the kitchens, and his face glowed with pleasure. Dwalin and Bifur were offered positions in the King's personal guard – which Bofur thought might be overplaying his hand, but both accepted. Bofur blinked to find himself the head of the western mines of the mountain, the deepest and richest of all the mines. He bowed automatically, and missed what the next few were offered through the roaring in his ears. He thought he heard Nori put in charge of internal security, which made him want to burst out laughing.

He looked around. Ori, Balin, and Bombur had received their heart's desire. The others seemed content enough, and truly Bofur thought he could be contented as well with his gift, had he not seen the flash of deep sadness behind Dwalin's eyes.

They had all gotten what they wanted except for Dwalin. What did a warrior like Dwalin care for this petty king, even if he was King Under the Mountain? There was only one thing Bofur could think of that Dwalin wanted, and Dain could not grant it.

Bofur was a rich dwarf now; richer possibly even than this king. There had to be a way to give Dwalin his heart's desire.

It took Bofur almost two years to find it.