Courage ✔

Chapter 9

Bofur was sitting on a fallen tree trunk. He had rolled up the rags of his right pant and studied the wound that was left by the grinding jaws of a warg last night. He'd waited until dawn, but there still wasn't enough light.  Dwalin lit a piece of wood and held it close to the wound, the heat making Bofur pulling his leg away. The movement caused a sudden pain and he pressed his teeth together, growling..

"Can you move on?"

Bofur looked up. Thorin was very impatient. Bofur had 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 was sure he liked the elf — even though he tried hard to keep it secret. It wasn't necessary at all; they all had nice conversations with her. Even though Bofur felt more attracted to dwarf women — for Alyssae was almost just skin and bones — she had become a friend and he cared about her. Nevertheless, he had forgotten about his concerns about Fíli, Kíli and Alyssae as soon as their plan succeeded and the wargs followed their trail. They hadn't much time to triumph; despite their tired bodies and intoxicated minds, they had to do everything they could to fight the wargs. Fortunately, it was just a little pack of orcs. One part had gone into the woods to stab them in the back, but they'd disappeared. After this odd event, they decided to stay on the road, for something dismal was 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 necessary. He squeezed his eyes as he stood up and took some steps, but decided there was no reason to take a break. Injuries were part of this journey. They must be glad that they were all still alive, unlike the poor hobbit. 

In silence, they moved on. Grumbling, they stepped over the dead bodies they'd left behind yesterday and Bofur was glad to see that they hadn't attracted any bloodthirsty creatures. He felt very uncomfortable, believing to hear whispering voices and seeing eyes gazing at them everywhere around, in all the colors one could imagine. Nobody dared to speak, although he heard Bombur whisper to himself once in a while. 

Although Bofur was used to live under the ground, these woods had a claustrophobic effect on him. His hand didn't move away from his sword and he saw the others act just the same.

The whispers became louder and louder, and sometimes he thought to distinguish words. The voices belonged to strangers and he knew for sure he had never heard them before. However, sometimes they sounded very familiar as if his memories were speaking to him and wanted to move him in a certain direction.

Balin's eyes flashed nervously from left to right and Bofur suspected the old dwarf to experience the same as him. Had these voices tried to bother them too yesterday? Had they been so busy they'd only focused on their pursuers?

Bofur became aware of his dry mouth and a rumbling sound from his stomach. A terrible thirst attacked his throat all of a sudden, as if the blood that was leaving his body needed to be supplemented with water. He was startled when Thorin drew his sword and stared in the darkness to the right of them. Alarmed, the others got their weapons too while following his gaze. Colored eyeballs still observed them and Thorin turned around.

"We go back."

"Back?" he asked baffled. "Why?"

"Because I say so!" Thorin snapped, tightening the grasp around his sword.

Bofur looked at Balin. "We can't leave Kíli and Fíli! Or Alyssae!"

Thorin stared right into his eyes. Bofur got the feeling he looked into a shadow.