38: The Last Debate (Edited)

                                    

                                          
There were so many deaths. 
Varilerin did not attend the mass funeral held after the war, for she was occupied by the endless injured soldiers and civilians, her sleep deprived into simple naps and occasional dozing offs. But she knew, she could feel, just how many soldiers had lost their lives in the siege. From the suffocating fumes of the funeral pyre to the reek of blood wafting in the Houses of Healing, she knew how much blood had been spilled just to secure the victory. 
So much blood had been spilled by Ruindoldir, her friend. 
She was grateful of Legolas' company more than ever. Although he did not speak or hold her, his presence beside her as they both tended to the injured comforted her immensely. Intrusive thoughts still plagued her, but with Legolas within her vicinity, she felt safer, at least for now. In periods of silence he would also recount small stories from their travels to the Path of the Dead, most of them involving Gimli committing stupid deeds. In the past, she would have shied away from his stories, but she relished his voice The fact that Eowyn was recuperating swiftly provided further assurance that, despite how grim the situation was, they still had hope. Pippin too saw a speedy recovery, with Merry ever by his side, while Ioreth had managed to stabilise Faramir's conditions after the gruesome attempted murder by Denethor which left him with minor burns. Varilerin thought now and then about Denethor's burnt body, and how grief had ultimately led him to his demise. 
Time moved so fast when one was occupied by commitments. By the time Varilerin realised it, she had fallen asleep next to Eowyn, her body resting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs. She had no dream or visions, much to her relief, but she found no respite either. A blanket had magically appeared over her body. Eowyn was awake as well, smiling softly at Varilerin. "What is wrong?" Varilerin asked. 
"He was the one who wrapped it around you," Eowyn whispered. A faint blush crept up Varilerin's cheeks. 
"More importantly, how do you feel?" Varilerin asked dutifully. 
"Better... Worse," Eowyn said. "Your words were true, about all of these. War is a terrible thing, and it was foolish of me to think that only valour and honour lie in the front lines." 
Varilerin winced. She wrapped the blanket tighter, desperate for the warmth which had evaded her since they had arrived in Minas Tirith. "Are you alright, Varilerin?" 
"I am fine... At least I choose to be," Varilerin muttered.
"What worries you, my friend?" Eowyn said, grasping Varilerin's hand. "Ever since I have met you, you have always been restless—now even more so. Even with Legolas by your side, something keeps bothering you. Why?" 
Varilerin scoffed. "You wouldn't understand." 
"Perhaps I wouldn't, for you are much wiser and different than I. But I do know that you are stronger than you think. You have survived countless battles for a reason. I believe you can overcome whatever ordeal you are facing right now." 
Conversing with Eowyn was different than the others. Something in her voice was so persuasive, so manipulative in a good way which managed to lighten Varilerin's heart. "Thank you for your assurance," Varilerin said, mustering a faint smile. "Bless your soul, Lady Eowyn, for you have helped me so much." 
"No, I should thank you and your company instead," Eowyn chuckled. "You came when we needed you the most. You all found a way to end our suffering when we thought all was lost. Your names shall be sung throughout the halls of Rohan and Gondor for your deeds when this ends." 
"Sung? I doubt that," Varilerin retorted. "Come on now, you should rest. I will inform your brother of your awakening, for he has worried for a long time."