"There is a place called Moria. I've heard stories of it, Fili. It's been hard, but I've decided that I'll go. After everything that happened, I think I need another adventure." Sometimes she wondered why she did this. Why would Fili be listening? She had been long gone for years, sent to the holy halls of Aule. What would she need to listen to Ori for when she could be feasting and fighting? Those might as well have been the two things she loved most.
"As a child, I'd heard of the failed reclamation and all who died in battle. It sounded like a terrible place, even if Durin once lived there. To fear a dwarven place sounds silly, but it was true. To me, the place was nothing but bad. I even thought more highly of Erebor, and it was... Well, you already know that, don't you?" She chuckled. "I mean you did help reclaim it." She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. Despite the many layers of clothing she had on, she was still cold. "But like I said, after everything that's happened I think another adventure would do me some good. Balin and Oin agree."
The air was even colder than usual in the royal tombs, and a chill wind came with it from some upper part of the mountain. She curled up tighter into herself.
"The adventure, as dangerous as it was, was fun. I'm not saying I want to face off against another dragon. Putting dwarven iron up a dragon's jacksies isn't always worth it." She wiped some tears away from her eyes. She hadn't made that joke in a long time. "But Moria doesn't have a dragon in it, as far as we know at least. Wouldn't it be funny, seeing another one of those damned things? I still have my slingshot, you know." Ori pulled it out of her pocket and stared down at it. For years she'd kept it, just as her companions had kept their swords and axes. "I haven't used it in a long time, but I'm sure that it would still work. You never know, this just might save me when I need it."
Long ago, when she'd first started doing this, she'd thought of ways Fili would reply. After a while she had stopped. Only Fili could give her a true answer. The rest was just her imagination; she needed to stop letting it run wild all the time.
"I'm going to be the official scribe," she said. "It'll be a lot like the quest." She pulled her sketchbook out of the pocket. It was different from the one she'd used on her quest, the other one long since filled to the brim with drawings. She flipped through and began to draw the woman she'd long since forced herself to not draw. Still, her hand moved effortlessly, almost as though it had been waiting for this moment. Slowly, she began to draw Fili, except she was different. Now she was standing in the halls of Moria, free from hideous orcs and back to their proper dwarven owners. Orcs were terrifying, but they had nothing on dragons.
"I'm not scared," Ori said. "I have my slingshot to protect me."
She left the drawing on top of the grave. At first glance, it seemed like nothing but a piece of paper. Some part of her wondered if anyone would ever come and pick it up. What would they think?
It doesn't matter, Ori thought.
"And don't worry about me. I know you and your sister thought I needed to be protected on the journey, but I don't. All three of us can fight." She looked down at her slingshot. "And I know that you knew I could fight also. You just wanted an excuse to protect me. That was very noble of you. I only wish that I could have done the same for you." There were a lot of things that she wished she could do, could change.
A memory flashed through her mind of her scarf getting ripped off and cold lips meeting her neck. A chill had run up her back and two arms had wrapped around her waist.
She turned away from the grave. Next to hers was her sister's grave, and by it, the most elaborate of all, Thorin Oakenshield's.
"I'm going to be like you, Fili." Ori forced a smile. "I'm going to reclaim a dwarven homeland. Nothing will stop me. Moria will be ours again."