He pushed the fur skin back; weary eyed and dragging his feet. The meeting with Thorin and Dwalin had gone on longer than expected; both of them disagreeing with one another on numerous topics.
Dwalin wanted them to move to the Ironhills, while Thorin refused claiming the journey through the mountains would be long and dangerous and the camp was too large to travel without notice.
Bofur agreed and suggested the only outcome he knew; the Blue Mountains. There was little choice.
They couldn't function as a society without a mountain around them and Bofur didn't want to return to Moria for more years of war.
Travelling west was a safer option. The only thing they had to worry about would be bandits and given the size of their camp; no bandits would dare encroach upon the party.
Two hundred plus dwarves were quite a difficult target to take on easily.
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