"Gandalf!" He was shouting again, angrier than she had ever heard him. "Call yourself a wizard? Do something!"
"If you want me to do something," Gandalf said wearily, "You will have to let me see her," - - and Bella felt the safe, strong warmth of furs and pipe-smoke unfold from around her and was bereft, because without Thorin's arms she was nothing. She spiralled, oblivious to most things but keenly aware of others: of the cold breeze on her skin as Gandalf peeled back her tunic, the groan Thorin never knew he made when they saw the extent of her wound. Balin's "Laddie" which told her plainer than seeing how he was standing now with his hand on the king's shoulder...
Then Gandalf was probing the wound and the pain rose up beyond bearing and she clung to Thorin's hand so tightly she could feel the imprint of the runes on his ring...
"I can do nothing more here," said Gandalf. "If you will listen to my advice... my horse is faster than your ponies... you must let me take her, now, and ride on ahead to Rivendell."
It took Bella a moment to recognize him, for the wizard's voice was not usually gentle. Her throat was raw with screaming, but she was back where she belonged, the only place she would ever belong, with Thorin's face pressed against her hair, and his arms so tight about her that even through the thick layers of dwarvish clothing she could feel the fine trembling all through his own body - and that couldn't be right. As if the great Thorin Oakenshield, veteran of a dozen hard-fought battles, would tremble at the sight of a wounded hobbit!
Still, she did not want to hear what Gandalf was saying. She did not want to be taken away from Thorin ever again. With the last of her strength she tangled her fingers into the fur of his coat, and was rewarded with a ragged kiss on the forehead...
... Had that really happened? Bella's last thought was that this was such a pleasant dream, but a dream for all that. Because what Thorin was saying as the darkness welcomed her under was not something he could ever really have said...
The King Under the Mountain glared up at the wizard across the sweat-rumpled head of his hobbit and spoke in words like slabs of mountain stone. "I will be dead before I put my only hope of happiness into the hands of an elf."