Thorin's pledge was weighty enough to give Bella genuine pause.
In this world, claims and legal legitimacy mattered. It was different from the ruthless logic she carried inside her—where strength alone decided who owned what. Without proper legitimacy, holding territory meant nothing; you'd never receive formal recognition no matter how firmly you planted your flag.
Their exchange hadn't taken long, but their position on the mountainside was far too exposed. The Goblin army came surging after them quickly. The Great Goblin—fat as a barrel—had no intention of watching his prize walk away. He shoved to the front and led the charge out of the tunnel mouth, but his bulk was so enormous that he clogged the passage, leaving most of his horde jammed behind him with nowhere to go.
Thorin turned. There was the Great Goblin—the same one who'd wanted his head.
"With me! Cut that bastard down!"
As if fired up by Bella's exploits, all thirteen Dwarves wheeled around and came in hard.
The moment the Great Goblin realized he had almost no one at his back, he turned and ran—coward to the core. He left his backside and flanks completely exposed to the Dwarves. Four longswords, three axes, and two arrows found his back and rear end before he'd gone ten steps.
Kíli's blade split open the Great Goblin's misshapen belly. Thick, greasy blood—the consistency of rendered fat—sprayed everywhere. Thorin hated this creature with every bone in his body, and he needed somewhere to put the anguish churning in his chest. He leapt forward and dragged his blade across the Great Goblin's throat.
The Great Goblin died. His entire faction dissolved into chaos. Goblins scrambled over each other to grab his crown and bone-staff; a handful of the scrawnier ones had already started gnawing at the rolls of fat on his enormous belly, apparently convinced they could absorb his power that way.
"Disgusting." Bella threw an Ice Storm that sealed the tunnel exit and flash-froze several hundred Goblins solid. Then she drove Ice Spears in through the ice—again and again—until the walls ran slick with blood, flesh, and rendered fat. Only then did she stop.
She sensed something odd off to her left. She turned to look. She scanned the area—nothing visible. But a faint unease pressed against her sixth sense, vague and sourceless.
She studied the spot for several seconds. Then Thorin called for her, and she fell in with the Dwarves as they ran down to the base of the mountain, putting Goblin-town behind them.
Both parties would go their separate ways now. As Thorin prepared to move his people out, someone finally noticed that Bilbo Baggins was nowhere in the group.
"Where's the Hobbit? Anyone see him?"
"Bilbo should've been right behind Óin."
"No—I'm sure he was just behind Kíli!"
"Maybe he ran off on his own?"
Everyone had a different answer.
They were still piecing it together when Bilbo Baggins came sprinting toward them from a distance, gasping for breath.
"Hey! Wait—wait for me, everyone!"
Thorin didn't say a word until the Hobbit had jogged all the way up to stand in front of him. Then: "You were following us the whole time?"
Bilbo's left hand was buried in his pocket. His voice came out halting: "No. I came around from the other side of the mountain."
Thorin's suspicion was less a character trait at this point and more a permanent condition—he woke up every day convinced someone was out to get him. Bilbo's lie was not convincing. Thorin stared at him with hard, flat eyes.
Bella looked over too. Before now, Bilbo's mind had been an open book to her—clear and unguarded. But right now it was wrapped in a thin fog: light and seemingly weightless on the surface, yet impossibly dense underneath, completely impenetrable.
Is this the One Ring's natural shielding effect? she thought. Formidable. It's almost a match for my psychic shield.
She had no designs on that Ring—not now. Nor did she want it destroyed.
If the One Ring were unmade, the Seven Rings given to the Dwarves and the Nine given to Men would both lose their power.
The Three Elven Rings hadn't been forged by Sauron directly, but they used his methods. If the One Ring fell, the Three would be damaged as well.
Bella was deeply satisfied with her Ring of Fire. At this stage, she had no wish to destroy something that so effectively blunted the cold that gnawed at her from within.
"Hobbits are natural-born thieves. They have their own way of moving unseen." She covered for Bilbo, enough to quiet Thorin's suspicions for now.
"Warg-riders! Warg-riders coming fast!" It was Kíli—still the company's best archer—who spotted them first. Everyone looked back. From the far end of the mountain ridge, a thick cloud of dust rolled in. The Warg-riders numbered at least three hundred.
"Goblins must have sent word to the Orcs. Follow me—I'll get us out!" Bella moved to Teleport everyone.
Thorin raised a hand to stop her.
"My friend—go. We'll stay here and fight."
"In your current state?" Bella glanced over the company with concern.
They'd been ambushed and roughed up by Goblins, then forced to cut their way out—all without rest or a proper meal, and without a single horse between them. Above ground, an Orc tide was surging toward them. Below ground, Goblins could spill out at any moment. It was about as dangerous as it got.
Thorin said simply: "We won't fight them head-on. Go, Bella."
She tried twice. The Dwarves weren't moving.
She thought it over, then skipped the Teleport entirely. Instead she called the Gryphon she'd left sleeping back in Narnia.
"Anna! Good morning!"
The female Gryphon replied by spitting at her—a firm protest against the unauthorized name.
Thorin stepped forward. "Thank you for your help along the way," he said. "I, Thorin, broke my promise."
Bella exhaled. Thorin was a good friend. But their roads no longer ran the same direction.
One by one, the Dwarves came forward to say their goodbyes. Several months together on the road—now this. No one knew when they'd meet again.
Only Bilbo Baggins stood to one side, watching all of it in a daze. He had no idea what had just happened or why.
"Mr. Baggins—come with me. Didn't you want to see the world and write a travel memoir when you got back to the Shire?" Bella extended the invitation.
The Hobbit was no fool, but the situation had moved too fast for him to follow.
"Come with Bella, Mr. Baggins." Thorin pressed him too. "The road ahead of us will be brutal. You're not suited for what's coming."
Bilbo Baggins made up his mind. He'd go with Bella to Erebor. He'd left the Shire to see what was out there in the wide world—not to be forged into some battle-hardened warrior of the Shire. He had no taste for the bloodshed ahead, and he'd be of little help in the coming fight between the Dwarves and the Orcs anyway.
Bella's plan remained what it had always been: use Bilbo's particular gifts to steal the Arkenstone. Natural nerve, absurd luck, and the One Ring stacked on top of each other—the odds of pulling it off were high. And even if the stone proved beyond reach, she had a fallback: let Bilbo play to his strengths and keep Smaug talking for half an hour.
That alone was a card worth keeping up her sleeve.