Torin couldn't say for sure how they had ended up in Britain. His mind and his vision were completely clouded. He couldn't remember a thing: how they had driven, walked, or crawled there. It didn't really matter; the most important thing was that they were safe now, and that his sister and nephews were out of danger. They were granted refugee status on an emergency basis. Thorin was furious—furious at the whole world; he blamed everyone for taking his home away from him. Why didn’t they help? Why didn’t they stop it? If they’d moved faster, they could have saved more people; they could have saved more and stopped Smaug’s army. But no, none of the neighboring countries helped. The news only reported that they would gladly take in the refugees and shelter them for a while. No, Thorin flatly refused to go there. They’ll kill them there—they’ll find them and kill them. He knows they’re everywhere, and they need to flee as far as possible from their native mountains. When they arrived in London, they were placed in a hostel as temporary housing until their official refugee status was approved.