Thorin Oakenshield didn't linger long in his memories. He got down to business.
"My homeland has been seized by a powerful enemy. To take it back, I need a mage's help. And you—you need to find a new home for your people. So here is what I can offer. If you help me reclaim my kingdom, your people may settle in the vast region stretching from Erebor down to the Long Lake.
"That land is the main hub of the North. Once we dwarves have rebuilt the Kingdom of Erebor and taken back the Lonely Mountain, your people can found a city on the Long Lake—or a whole kingdom if you prefer. However you like. We dwarves have no interest in the plains."
Bella listened with genuine interest. When she realized the proposal actually concerned her directly, her expression softened.
She glanced down at her grey robe, then up at Thorin Oakenshield. Was this fellow mistaken about something?
Bella could feel things drifting in a strange direction—but she had to admit Thorin's logic was sound. In fact, very sound.
Both sides stood to gain. A fair exchange. She needed to lead the Narnians to a new home, and Thorin needed muscle. His company fighting rearguard alongside the Narnian coalition had been a down payment. Now it was her turn to repay the investment.
Bella weighed it. She performed divination twice, and both omens came back favorable. Meeting Thorin Oakenshield's expectant gaze, she nodded and extended a hand.
"I'll help you. I'm not sure I can provide exactly the kind of help you're imagining, but I think we can work together."
Thorin Oakenshield's hand closed around hers. And with that, the alliance between Narnia and Durin's Folk was sealed.
Three days later, Bella had her "people" organized. She assigned the Centaur General and the Faun General separately—one to the north and one to the south of the valley—to hunt down the evil races that had scattered into the wilderness and collect every scrap of useful material they could find. Preparations for the evacuation from Jotunheim were underway.
She herself set out with Thorin Oakenshield to search for a new homeland.
The many peoples of Narnia wouldn't have to make the grueling journey on foot. Once Bella found the right place, she could simply open a portal.
Leaving behind the valley where the Narnian coalition had taken shelter, Bella and the thirteen dwarves traveled south. Somewhere down there lay an ancient spatial tunnel, left over from the age when Asgard had mustered armies to march on Jotunheim. The passage would return them to the world shared by dwarves and many other races: Vanaheim.
Bella didn't ride the temperamental unicorn. The dwarves were so short that riding a horse beside them would have come off as disrespectful, so she walked with them instead.
Grey robe, staff in hand, longsword at her hip—she didn't look the least bit out of place among the company of dwarves.
Thorin Oakenshield was a dwarf of few words, fiercely protective of his own dignity. Most of the time he wore a flat expression, as though someone owed him five hundred gold coins. Even his own kin couldn't quite warm up to him.
Bella got along well with Balin, the white-bearded, white-haired old dwarf. After she'd roughly picked up Dwarvish, she loved hearing him recount the old stories of Durin's Folk.
As they walked and talked, the old dwarf seemed to remember something.
"A pact is a pact—the alliance between Narnia and Durin's Folk isn't directly tied to the current task. As you can see, we're dwarves. Our homes are piled high with gold and jewels. If you're willing to help, we'll pay you generous compensation afterward. And during the contract period, you'll be our most important companion. We'll trust you to guard our backs."
Old Balin drew a thick little booklet from inside his coat.
"This is a standard contract. Witnessed by the gods. It lists the actual expenses, the time required, the compensation, and funeral arrangements, and so on."
Bella was no fresh-faced girl anymore. Her eyes steady, she took the booklet without fuss.
A closer look revealed something like the memorials from her previous life—or the travel permits of Tang Sanzang—folded accordion-style, each panel the same size. She hadn't been paying close attention when she took it, and when she gripped the cover and let go, the whole thing unfurled with a rustle, dropping open to over a meter long, with writing on both sides.
Her Dwarvish was still at beginner's level. The Comprehend Languages spell had its limits. Speaking and listening were fine, but reading and writing lagged behind.
Ordinary vocabulary she could follow. Abbreviations and slang, not so much.
Fortunately, dwarves weren't exactly a literary race. Their wording wasn't exactly refined either, so most of it stayed within her grasp.
She read the contract carefully.
The contract filled in everything Thorin Oakenshield had left out. The company was bound for the Lonely Mountain to steal the Arkenstone from the dragon Smaug. With that stone in hand, Thorin could command the seven great dwarven kingdoms and rally them to a joint campaign, helping him reclaim his country.
From start to finish, the contract never once mentioned slaying the dragon. Only stealing the stone, raising an army, and founding a kingdom. What would come next—piling bodies on the dragon until it died, or driving it away—the contract didn't touch.
Bella thought back over her "mage" role and its various responsibilities. It seemed like the role didn't involve engaging the dragon at any point!
Finally she looked at the dwarves' signatures. Like celebrity autographs back in her old world, the body of the document had been written neatly, but by the signature page, every letter was a flourish.
Add in the differences in personal handwriting, and it looked like an alien script.
Bella squinted this way and that, giving up on deciphering most of it, and quickly signed her own name.
"All right. Since we're companions from here on, let me introduce myself first. 'Snow White' is a nickname. My real name is Isabella Swan. You're all my friends—you can call me Bella."
"I'm Kíli, and that's my brother, Fíli!"
"Well, I already introduced myself. I'm Balin."
"I'm Dwalin, Balin's brother."
"Bofur. Yeah, that fat one over there is my brother."
"He means me. I'm Bombur!"
"I'm Bifur, cousin to those two idiots."
"We're brothers. I'm Óin, this is Glóin. His wife is one of the great beauties among the dwarves! He's got a son too, called Gimli—"
"I'm Dori." "Nori." "Ori."
"The three of us are brothers!"
"...Thorin Oakenshield." Even though they'd already been introduced, Thorin Oakenshield reintroduced himself now with all due gravity.
He was stern, but mindful of courtesy. He didn't want anyone thinking him coarse.
Bit by bit, Bella and the company warmed to one another. And bit by bit, she started picking up on the undercurrents among them.