Bofur fell upon the mountain, storming through the entrance hall of Erebor with a fury he imagined unmatched since the days of Smaug. The journey from Dale under the descent of evening into cool darkness had done nothing to assuage the fire that raged within him. Commoners and soldiers alike parted before him, and unimpeded he fled towards the less habited regions to brood on his loss like a dragon over its ill gotten gains.

He didn't make it far beyond the common thoroughfare, however, before a voice addressed him.

"Have you news of her, then?"

Dwalin.

Bofur checked his path and wordlessly veered around the broad shouldered dwarf who had emerged from the alcove ahead of him.

"Bofur. Where is she?"

Didn't the lumbering oaf know when to leave well enough alone?

Dwalin's hand fell on Bofur's shoulder, stopping him

"Tell me something, for pity's sake." Dwalin demanded, only to have his hand knocked away as Bofur spun to face him.

"She's gone. For good." Bofur snarled, then he turned once again to leave.

"I don't believe that." Dwalin challenged.

"Then you're a fool." Bofur replied venomously, not looking back to Dwalin but instead glancing down at his hands, at his wedding band, as he struggled to maintain control of his temper. "She's with him." he managed to articulate by way of explanation, his hands closing into fists as he shook his head and stepped on to continue his flight through the mountain.

"I'm the fool, am I?" Dwalin scoffed, causing Bofur to halt in his tracks once more. "I'm not the one who's been feeling guilty enough to search high and low for the woman I chased away, the woman carrying my bairn, no less, now am I? I'm not the dwarf who tried to murder my own child before it even drew breath." Dwalin's voice rose as a fury of his own grew within him. "I'm the fool, yet I'm not the one who broke my oath to the one who the Maker allowed me to be with, against all odds, and-"

A ferocious right hook collided hard with the side of Dwalin's face, twisting the burly warriors's head to one side and spinning his shoulders with it - yet his footing held firm. He spat blood, and then glared up at Bofur full of his own wroth and bloodlust.

"That first one I'll give you, free of charge." he growled, in a show of amnesty that was uncharacteristic for the seasoned warrior. "The next, you'll pay for."

Bofur paid him no mind, and readied then loosed another blow, this one from the left. Dwalin, true to his word, caught the fist in his own with ease, his hand massive even compared to that of his fray.

He squeezed, hard.

Bofur glared.

Dwalin met his gaze and squeezed harder. "You're angry, lad, but not at me."

Bofur's composure began to break, and the bones in his hand threatened to do the same.

In an instant Méra was between them, thrusting them apart through no small degree of force on her own. The two dwarves yielded to their princess, who proceeded to smack the pair of them upside their heads one after the other as though they were children, before throwing her arms into the air in exasperation.

"By the Maker, you'd think I had enough on my plate trying to find my best friend and get to the bottom of this whole mess, but no, apparently I have to deal with you two boar headed nitwits too, don't I?" She walked about the pair. Dwalin looked sufficiently scolded, or at least had the decency to lower his gaze when she looked his way, but Bofur still had violence in his eyes.

"You know she'd never forgive either of you if you went and killed each other." Méra squared off against Dwalin, who looked up and seemed ready to plead his case. "You might not have started this fight, but I'll be the one to finish it." she stressed, emphasizing every word, staring at him, challenging him. He narrowed his eyes, and then sneered and nodded, leaving only Bofur to deal with. Méra whirled on him.

"You can drown your sorrows at the bottom of a sodding keg for all I care, just keep your fists to yourself for Durin's sake, and tell me what you know." she demanded.

"As if you haven't already guessed-"

Méra wasn't satisfied, and prodded his chest with a finger aggressively. "Bofur Broadbeard, you can save your self-wallowing sass for someone who gives a pebble of a damn about you and your undeserved pity-party. Tell me where she is or I'll fetch your brother and cousin to weasel it out of you, and so help me, Bofur, I'll make sure they will not be kind."

"She's with the merchant." Bofur finally spat, but then after a moment looked to Méra somewhat imploringly. "Don't make me say his ridiculous name."

Méra looked thoughtful, not so much in consideration of his request, but of the new information he had provided her with, and so with nothing more to stop him, Bofur sought out the sweet solace and release of utter, inebriated bliss.