Bofur had not intended to fall asleep. Yet after the exertion from facing the stone giants, followed by the escape of the goblin tunnels, not to mention the battle thereafter, even he could not resist succumbing to rest once he finally noticed her breathing even out as she dozed off.

Yet he awoke in the early hours of the morning, a cold sweat on his brow. In his mind, the events of the recent battle replayed in his mind. Engaged on the far side of the assault, cut off from Kili and Fili, and her - his friends - by fire and fangs, watching as they struggled. It was no different than combat on any other occasion, and yet this time it was different. This time, she had been there, and in his mind he fixated on the point when she grappled the orc on the cliff, and then was gone.

He roused himself, just to see if she was still alright.

She was not.

She lay next to him in a fitful sleep, perhaps caught up in the very same nightmare that he had just awoken from, but it was when he knelt close beside her and laid a hand gently on her good shoulder to comfort her that he felt the heat radiating from her. Hurriedly, he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and then quickly got up, cursing himself for his ignorance.

He roused Óin, not caring if he woke up others as he did so.

"She's taken a fever." he told him as they kneeled down in front of her.

Bofur watched as Óin felt her face as well, and then proceeded to push back her jacket to inspect the wound on her shoulder. Bofur clenched his jaw as Óin undid the wrapping and pulled it aside. He had never been quite comfortable around blood and injury, and felt somewhat unsettled upon seeing the foreign stitching along such fair skin. It had taken all his mental fortitude to stay by her side while she was being mended, yet the thought of her thinking him a coward would have been even worse to bear and so he got over his nerves, and he remained steadfast.

"It doesn't appear infected. See, it is pink, but not red, 'round the edges. No pus either." Óin remarked after several moments of squinting down at the area. Bofur nodded, not feeling the need to inspect it any closer as Óin smoothed some extra salve over it. After redoing her bandaging, the healer mumbled to himself a moment, before snapping his fingers in sudden clarity.

"Help me get this jacket off." he ordered. Bofur acquiesced and when Óin rolled up the sleeve of her tunic, they discovered the source of the infection.

Bofur hissed under his breath and Óin tutted in displeasure as the swollen, angry, red scratches from the orc were revealed.

"They're festering." Óin cursed. "No wonder. Nasty bugger of an orc dug its filthy nails in deep."

"What do we do?" Bofur asked worriedly. He noticed that a few of the others were now getting up and some had wandered up behind them, wondering what was happening.

"Well, for now I'll clean it, apply more salve. When the sun's up, I'll take Ori and we'll scout out some herbs." Óin replied.

"Surely you shouldn't be leaving her like this." Bofur protested, glancing around at the others, all of whom seemed only half interested in what was going on, and as such were of no use.

"Let me go instead." He continued, as Óin stood and bent over to dust off his knees. As the healer straightened, he put Bofur's mind to rest.

"Don't be so affeared of fever, laddie. Her body is doing what it must to burn out infection, and will continue to do so until the infection is gone. All we can do is help speed it along."

Kili, who had been listening nearby, tentatively approached. Bofur glanced at him and saw the young prince looked genuinely concerned. He found this to be a good omen as he could not quite forget Thorin's words: if she slows us, she will be left behind. Surely this would put them behind schedule, yet if Kili vouched for her, there was less of a chance of Thorin following through with his threat.

"Could you burn it out, cauterize the scratches?" Kili asked Óin, indicating towards the fire in case the elderly dwarf did not hear him.

Óin frowned and looked towards the flames, though seemed to take the wrong meaning as his focus fell on the cast iron kettle that sat next to it. "Aye lad, I just said I'd clean the wounds." Looking at the fire, though, seemed to give him the same idea that Kili had just suggested. "I suppose I could have sealed it with flame; if I'd known sooner... would have been a shame for her to bear scars of such treatment though...no. Now the infection is in her body."

Bofur looked towards their human companion with a measure of helplessness. She tossed about, mumbling incoherently, her golden hair plastered against her bruised face. She should have stayed with the elves, he thought miserably. He condemned himself for being unkind to her before they were separated on the High Pass, and if she did not recover... well... he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself for it. What wasted time. And really, how could she have known that he preferred to keep that part of his history locked away? And what right did he even have to do so, after she had privileged him with her own private past? He was a fool, and he only hoped he would have the chance to make amends.

He was suddenly jostled out of his reverie and made to go boil water at Óin's bidding. It was then he noticed Gandalf was finally alert. With renewed vigour he approached the wizard, petitioning him to Óin's side.

Much to Bofur's dismay, however, Gandalf, provided little to no aid.

"I haven't the ability to draw poison from a wound." the wizard explained after briefly lifting the girl's arm for examination. "I may be able to suggest a few herbs, if we might be so lucky as to come across them."

Bofur nodded. "Tell me what they look like. I can find them."

Gandalf looked skyward in thought for a moment then mumbled off a few plants. "Elderberry boosts a body's natural healing. Peppermint for when she awakes to help dull the pain, chamomile will put her back to sleep again... Athelas, however, would be of most use right now."

Bofur shook his head. "I don't know it."

Gandalf frowned. "Kingsfoil? Perhaps you've heard of that."

Still it rung no bells for Bofur, but Óin picked up on the word.

"Aye. Kingsfoil. It could help lower the poisoning. Grows in thickets. It's got a good odour to it, strong but sweet."

Gandalf described more of the plant's appearance while Óin ordered Ori to fetch hot water. Bofur struggled to remember every detail; still, he nodded confidently, and was soon hurrying out of camp and into a more densely forested area across the river.

He surveyed the ground, becoming increasingly frustrated that the wizard did not just offer to look himself. He was a miner, not an herbalist, and knew little of plants in general. Surely an apothecary would have been one of the more useful careers to bring along on the quest - more useful than half of the ones they had already.

"Not that any from the Blue Mountains volunteered, mind you - Uncle Bronn, I'm looking at you. Oh, and who else would have been useful? Maybe an armoursmith, or a navigator, or maybe a few dozen warriors. I'd even settle for a proper baker to give Bombur a day off now and again..." And so his grumblings went, on and on, as he tromped deeper into the forest with a brooding mind and a brooding heart.

After a few hours of searching, he came to an area of rather prolific growth where he thought some of the smaller plants looked at least vaguely like the narrative he was given. He picked mercilessly, grabbing one of each, until he had a whole bouquet of greens. Satisfied with his efforts he began to rush back, startling a rabbit from the underbrush as he did so.

He paused at the sound of an arrow whirring past him and was interested to see the rabbit fall dead. He looked around and saw Kili approaching from nearby, bow in hand.

"Bofur! You nearly scared away the only game I've seen all morning." Kili admonished lightly, coming up and clapping Bofur on the arm. "Thought I'd try to get something, to make broth, you know, for when she wakes."

"Aye. Good thinking." Bofur remarked with a grin as they carried on back to camp together.

"You've brought me the whole forest, laddie." Óin exclaimed as Bofur laid down the selection of plants he had chosen. "Let's see here..." He grumbled and muttered as he spread the plants out on a relatively flat stone, and then began systematically throwing what must be useless ones over his shoulders.

"You're taking your sweet time about it..." Bofur stated dryly. Óin finally seemed satisfied with what he had, though.

"Could you not have simply just picked out the ones you needed first?" Kili remarked as he passed towards the fire with the skinned and gutted rabbit, just as perplexed with Óin's sorting techniques as Bofur. Óin ignored both of them, bustling past Kili to get to the fire first where he poured some hot water into a bowl and then began to mash up the kingsfoil into it. He then tossed the rest of the herbs he had selected right into the kettle with the remaining water and ordered Kili to put it on the fire as he made his way back to his patient.

Applying his poultice on the now cleaned and rather raw looking wounds, he then covered the scratches with some of the wide leaves that Bofur had brought back, as they were far cleaner than any of the fabrics they were wearing at this point, and then bound them with some strips of sinew, which he fussed over until it looked quiet professional. Finally, he stood up and brushed his hands off.

"Give her some tea when she wakes." he mentioned casually as he strode past Bofur and Kili.

"Hang on, Óin, what do we do until then?" Bofur asked helplessly. Óin didn't even turn around, but called back over his shoulder.

"Until then, we wait!"

My dreams were troubled, and never-ending. I remember feeling cold, and then so hot I could hardly bear it. My entire body was aflame as it fought the infection that coursed through it. Yet I could do nothing but lie disabled in my agony, fluttering in and out of confused consciousness, trying to find respite from the battle raging within.

I was not sentient to anything until I woke up at one point freezing and my entire body was sore beyond belief. I tried to move but my limbs were leaden and I hadn't the strength to even open my eyes. I felt the weight of a blanket fall on me and soon fell back into a fitful sleep.

A lifetime later, I drifted into some semblance of awareness once more, absolutely drenched in sweat. I tossed about, uncomfortable in every respect. I felt an arm slide under my neck and lift me slightly, then a cup was pressed to my lips. I drank slowly, and felt slightly better when I was laid back down.

I scrunched my eyes tight as rays of sun hit my face, and keeping them closed I took a few deep breaths, trying to assess how I felt. I was no longer sweating and, though cold, I wasn't shivering either. Plus I felt that my thoughts were finally once again my own. Gone were the troubling visions and twisted memories that had been plaguing me since falling ill.

I opened my eyes and noticed that the sun was in fact rising, and wondered if I had been sick through the night. The last clear recollection I had was speaking to Bofur by the fire after being sutured, yet that memory seemed years past for some reason. I turned my head to see Bofur was stretched out sleeping nearby, his hat covering his face. Óin was sitting beside me; he looked over as I shifted about then got up and came to my side.

"Wait, lass, you best take it slowly." he urged as I tried to sit up. All the muscles in my body protested the movement and so I took Óin's advice and lay back down for a moment.

Bofur must have heard us, as suddenly he was up. He righted his hat and then rushed to my side when he saw me awake.

"You're alright?" he asked worriedly, placing his hand on my forehead. I was too surprised to stop him but he seemed satisfied by what he felt as he quickly dropped his arm and beamed at me.

"I think I'll live." I said lightly, though I felt unusually weak.

He smiled, but I noticed a dark emotion hidden in his eyes that I could not quite place.

"I'll get some fresh tea." Óin remarked as he left us alone.

Bofur studied me a moment and I felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny so I told him to help me sit up.

Carefully and slowly I managed to settle into a sitting position, though my vision dotted for a moment and my shoulder burned at the movement. The pain in my upper arm, however, was becoming just as demanding. I looked down to see my sleeve had been rolled up to my shoulder and there were odd, dark, slimy looking bandages covering the scratches I recalled I had gotten.

"Leaves, with mashed kingsfoil." Bofur said as an explanation as he watched my gaze settle on it. I nodded with interest though I knew nothing of herb lore.

"That was a long night." I admitted wearily. "I don't know if I can travel, though I don't think Thorin will be willing to lose a day."

Something in Bofur's expression made me frown quizzically. "What is it?" I questioned.

He looked at me kindly then. "Lass," he said. "You've been with fever for over three days. We were nearly starting to fear the worse."

I gawked at Bofur, astounded and unbelieving that I had lost so much time - lost the group so much time. I shook my head.

"I don't understand. How? Why? Why did you wait for me?" I questioned tiredly.

Bofur's reply, however, was interrupted as Óin returned with a cup of tea and bowl of broth.

"Feeling better?" he asked as he set down my light meal.

I smiled softly and nodded.

"Thank you." I said sincerely, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear me.

He grinned and bobbed his head. "Just doin' my duty."

Bofur had to help me with everything as I found I had little strength in my arms, and my hands were still too unsteady to even feed myself. I worried over this fact, wondering how long it would be before I could continue travelling, wondering if the dwarves would soon tire of waiting. Fortunately, Thorin made no mention of breaking camp that day. He simply walked past me and seemed to note that I was indeed wakeful, yet felt no need to interact with me further.

Gandalf came to me before noon with a few sprigs of a plant he had cut that morning and advised me to slice off the bark and brew it into a tea to help dull the pain. Bofur saw to it immediately, making some extra to store in his now empty flask for me to easily drink from later on. When Kili came over to check on me, I had to convince him to haul me to my feet - Bofur had seemed too nervous to move me that much so soon. Fortunately Kili obliged, and he helped me take a few unsteady steps, to which I then had to coerce him - likely much to his embarrassment - to walk me away from camp a ways so I might relieve some other needs. I otherwise spent the day leisurely sipping a variety of liquids and napping on and off and then Óin changed my leaf dressing once more in the evening.

The next day followed in relatively the same fashion, and I slowly began to feel some measure of strength returning to me.

The next morning Thorin announced that it would be the last day to recover. I knew I could not yet tolerate too much activity and was relieved to have another day of rest, yet still I worried that I would be too weak on the morrow to carry on with them.

Kili decided to go on a final hunt and broke off from the group, bounding over the stones to the mainland armed with his bow. He was gone for the duration of the morning, and when he returned he was grinning as usual, as he proudly flourished the rewards from his skill; a handful of rabbits and a few grouse.

Lunch was an enthusiastic one and I was happy to be able to get up and sit by the fire with the group for it. I found I was getting a bit more attention than I felt I deserved as certain members of the group made sure I had plenty to drink and even pushed me to have seconds. After resting a while, I was able to talk Bofur into helping me up again, I then shooed him away to test my balance on my own. I felt weak but no longer light-headed, and though my shoulder was still very painful and tender, it was definitely a bit better than before. Still, I was nervous about having to set out the next morning. I walked around camp, but found I tired quickly and soon had to ease myself back down. Óin tended to me every few hours, unbinding the sling and cleaning the stitches. I ran out of my tea rather quickly and Bofur pestered Gandalf to show him where the special plants grew. They returned with a large handful but Gandalf sternly cautioned me to drink it in moderation. I promised I would, and limited myself to one more cup that evening which allowed me to fall asleep rather quickly.

Despite Thorin's commitment to begin early the next day, we had a slow start. I suspected he was also still recovering from the injuries he received from Azog and his warg: there was a noticeable albeit slight stoop to his shoulders and a permanent scowl on his face as he slowly circled the camp, waking the others up. Bofur brought me a hot cup of tea but I urged him to give it to Thorin instead, claiming I was still feeling the effects from the one I had in the middle of the night.

We eventually got organized well enough to cross over to the mainland as a group. Bofur and Fili both sacrificed the dryness of their boots and pants to help ease me from stone to stone across the river, walking on each side of me with an arm at the ready in case I began to wobble. The stepping stones were wet and slippery, and with one arm tied against my body I found that my balance was completely compromised.

We followed the shoreline for a time before heading into the shadows of the trees, and I was eternally grateful that the set pace for the day was quite slow, and that Bofur let me steady myself against him nearly the whole journey. The terrain quickly got more challenging but thankfully it wasn't much past mid-afternoon when we were called to a stop and were allowed to make camp again.

It was becoming more and more infuriating to be without supplies. I missed having a few of my own belongings in a pack. I lamented the loss of a change of clothing, and even thought wistfully of the elven dress I had 'borrowed.' The thought of it made me subconsciously reach up to my neck and I was pleasantly surprised to feel the necklace from the troll cave still there, hidden beneath the collar of my tunic. If that orc had spotted it while pawing at me he surely would have ripped it off. I ran my fingers along it possessively, knowing it was the only thing of value I now owned. I would pawn it when I reached Laketown so I would not have the shame of knocking on my mother's door while dirty and penniless.

The dwarves at least had their weapons, plus each one still seemed to possess a few meagre items not taken by the goblins.

"Bofur, do you still have your pipe?" I asked idly as I fussed over the loose threads of my makeshift sling. I eagerly anticipated when it could be removed; my arm really needed to stretch and my shoulder was becoming increasingly itchy.

He looked thoughtful for a moment as he dug inside his coat.

"Aha!" he proclaimed happily as he pulled it out along with a small pouch of leaf. I smiled.

"Not that I condone smoking, but you should go relax." I urged gently. He had spent the past few days ensuring my needs were met, sometimes at the cost of his own, and I knew he hadn't had much time to himself. He looked at me quizzically. "You don't have to babysit me anymore." I added with a grin.

"But I like babysitting you," he teased as he stood up. "It's my new job, you know. I'll be sending you the bill later."

"Ha Ha." I retorted sarcastically. "Just leave me your flask."

"Fine, but pace yourself missy." he instructed with mock firmness and a wink before heading over to the fire to light up.

I allowed myself a quick nap before dinner, after which Óin came to look over my stitches. I could not hide my excitement when he said they could likely come out within a few days. While the sling was off, he took my hand and gently pulled and bent my arm into different positions, some of which made me draw in a quick breath, but none of which hurt so badly as to make me cry out. My shoulder ached from the movements, but it no longer felt irreparably damaged. Óin muttered to himself, nodding a few times, then informed me that I appeared to be on the mend. He redid my sling and I instantly felt better than I had in days.

The next day we travelled no faster, but we did travel longer and I was exhausted by the end of it.

I slumped down to the ground when we finally found a spot to overnight at and I instantly fell asleep for a bit. I was gently roused awake a while later and handed a smoked rabbit thigh and some concoction of herbs in a tea which helped revive some of my energy.

Later that evening I was contemplating asking Bofur some questions about his life. We were sitting a bit separate from the others, so it was an opportune chance to have a more private conversation. I wanted to know more about his past, but I didn't quite know what kind of questions would land me in dangerous territory and cause him to become upset with me again. I chewed the inside of my cheek, looking at him intently.

"What is it, lass? I can tell you have something on your mind." Bofur asked exasperatedly after a few good minutes of this.

I grinned, slightly abashed. "Well," I began, raking my mind for something easy to begin with, I noticed the firelight shine off something near his jaw as he tilted his head. "I was just wondering about your earrings, what are they fashioned from?"

He laughed. "Honestly, I've no idea myself. They were a gift from Bifur. He won't tell me. I suspect they are the teeth from some unlucky beast that came across him during a bad mood."

I smiled. "Do dwarf women pierce their ears as well?" I asked, subconsciously touching my own unpierced lobes.

He reflected for a moment then nodded. "Most do. You'll even see many dwarf children with pierced ears."

I bit back a weighted question that I desperately wanted to ask, but knew I must not - do you have any children?

Instead I nodded politely and decided to keep the conversation light.

"I've never seen a human with any piercings," I told him nonchalantly. "Well, perhaps I might have on traders... but I can't remember ever really noticing."

Then I fell silent once more, twirling my hair in my fingers. It was getting too long for a journey such as this, I had to keep it tied back or braided for it to be even tolerable or else it just became a tangled mess.

"I doubt that was all that was troubling you?" Bofur asked me after a moment. I blinked at him.

"Have you ever even been to the Lonely Mountain?" I demanded suddenly.

He stared at me, looking somewhat startled. "No. Have you?"

I tutted. "Do you think that one day the dragon just threw open the doors to Erebor, peacefully welcoming all the people of Laketown to come and go?"

I regretted my sharp, mocking tone when he looked away, clearly embarrassed by his slip of tongue. I had been born under the rule of Smaug, I was much too painfully young to know anything else, and he was, of course, aware of this.

"I just don't understand why you're doing this..." I continued softly. "You and your kin. You have no ties to the mountain, or to Thorin as king. What are your plans after it all?" I didn't add if you're still alive, though I knew it to be a real possibility.

Bofur looked back to me, his expression unreadable. "I decided to join this quest because I've known Thorin for many years, and though he's not my kin, he is my friend. I wanted to help him, if I could. I also really had nothing to lose."

I bit my lip, chagrined by his honest words.

"I thought if we succeeded," he continued after a moment. "I would be able to live out my life in wealth and comfort, away from the Blue Mountains... Away from the memories of home."

I kept a steady watch on Óin the following day, hoping each time I caught his eye would be the time he'd smile, nod, then come and remove the stitches and the blasted sling for good. However, he kept to his own schedule, despite my incessant looks. We made a decent pace through the forest, though I could not keep up as easily as I once did. Bofur stayed in step beside me, but I let a few of the others overtake us so that we were at the back. I huffed a quick apology to Bofur as I took a moment for myself, leaning against a large tree to try and catch my breath.

"I'm just not as young as I used to be." I explained sarcastically after wiping my sweaty forehead with my usable arm.

Bofur laughed and pulled me back onto the path.

Just before sundown Óin sought me out. I smiled and enthusiastically brandished my arm for him. He tested my mobility once more, inspecting the healed seams for any sign of tearing while he did so. Finally he nodded and placed my hand down by my side to begin the process of removing the sutures. Though not the most pleasant sensation, they definitely felt better coming out than they did going in. He urged me to continue wearing my sling full-time, but after my moans of protest he reasoned that I could take it off during the day so long as I was careful, and had me promise to wear it still at night.

"I'd recommend plenty o' bed rest and good hearty meals, but at this rate..." he looked over towards where Thorin was obsessively busying himself with the next day's preparations. Our pace would be increasing steadily as he regained his strength. "...well, we'll just have to take what we can get. Sleep up now. I expect we'll be getting an early start. The next few days are going to be scorchers if the portents are to be believed. I saw a lark nesting in a sparrow's nest this afternoon..." He tapped his nose, as if bestowing upon me some hidden knowledge, then winked and left me to fall asleep with a confused smile.