Mira had shouted at him that he was doing too much too soon, and stormed off to Valar knew where. Haldir, more determined than ever, spent the next half hour in a parody of a training fight with Gimli, who seemed to be the only creature alive that had not told him to take it easy; his best friend this day by far.
Every time the Dwarf brought him down and set his axe at his throat, Haldir growled and looked around for a trace of Mira, or the Mirkwood princeling, but neither were to be found.
Aragorn brooded on the steps to the keep, his eyes flitting back and forth between his pipe and the top of Amon Din.
On his backside once again, Haldir admitted defeat. His head pounded, the wound in his side, although healed considerably, burned like a brand iron. His legs and arms trembled with fatigue. He let himself lie there, sprawled out and drawing deep breaths while Gimli shuffled uncomfortably above him.
"If you've had enough, then, Marchwarden," the Dwarf muttered, "we can call it a day. I grow weary of wiping the ground with you."
Haldir said a few choice words about dwarves, and Gimli burst into hearty laughter.
"The beacon!" Aragorn shouted above them. "The beacon is lit!" he looked down at the training grounds and met Haldir's gaze, then launched himself two steps at a time towards the great hall where Theoden sat.
Haldir looked to the south where the pyre burned upon the mountainside. Gondor called for aid, or rather he thought, Gandalf the White had managed to convince Gondor's Stewart to call for aid. Not an easy feat, Haldir was sure. He knew a little of Gondor's Stewart, and liked none of it.
Legolas had appeared beside them.
"And where have you been?" Gimli demanded.
"Must I give notice of my movements?" he demanded of the Dwarf.
"We're going to war," Gimli declared.
"So we are."
Haldir pulled himself to his feet and with his left hand on the wound at his side, started climbing the steps gingerly. Beneath his palm he felt the warm wetness of fresh blood soaking through his shirt. He hated admitting it, but Mira had been right. He'd done too much too soon and reopened it, and now that they rode to war, he was already regretting it.
As if knowing he would have preferred avoiding her, Mira met him at the top of the steps.
"Have you heard?" she asked breathlessly and he nodded. Her eyes sought the burning beacon. Men rushed around them, calling out. Messengers came out of the hall, ready to ride out to gather the Rohirrim and those still loyal to Theoden King.
Mira's gaze turned to where Haldir was holding his hand at his side. She frowned and shook her head.
He put his right hand up to stop any words she may have had for him.
"Save it. I must get ready," he said.
Her disapproval turned to anger.
"Ready?" she shouted. "Ready for what?"
"To ride," he clarified. "To go to battle."
"What use are you in battle?" she yelled. "You're bleeding again and a Dwarf who was being careful of your wound just made mincemeat of you on the training grounds. You want to ride to battle? For what? So I can bury you?"
"If it weren't for you kidnapping me," he answered, "I'd be on my way to the Grey Heavens."
"Who's stopping you from going there now?"
He watched her tie her sword belt on.
"Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."
She scoffed and looked him up and down. "And you think that's you? Never felt much responsibility for me before when you were ready to leave me to my fate."
They were both fighting dirty, so Haldir thought it shouldn't matter how much her words stung.
"Well, if I'm going to leave, what does the manner of my exit count? Dead or gone, it would be the same to you," he shot back and saw her flinch.
Legolas came carrying her bow and arrows. He passed them to her quietly and moved on, conscious he'd interrupted something. Haldir's jaw locked at the silent familiarity between them.
"I thought you would choose better where to make your friends," Haldir said, keeping his voice low so that they wouldn't be overheard. "The Mirkwood princeling won't stay. He'll enjoy these adventures and then take off with the rest of his kind."
She muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "just like you, then."
"What?"
"Nothing. Forget it," she mumbled and Haldir watched her walk away.
On the road south, Haldir rode silently beside Aragorn. Legolas and Gimli came behind and Mira, he knew not where she was. He regretted his words to her. He didn't know why he'd wanted to hurt her. Perhaps to make it easier for her to let him go. His side hurt and his body felt weak and tired.
"Because of you, I never doubted," Aragorn suddenly said, and Haldir had to pull himself together to listen. "Your visions gave me hope, Haldir," Aragorn clarified.
"What are you saying?"
"You've already done all that was asked of you and more, my friend."
Haldir rode silently. He was being released of all responsibility.
He had followed the White Lady's orders and stood beside mankind one last time at the battle for the Hornburg. He had done his duty. He owed them nothing more. He was free to leave. Free to leave Middle Earth.
He looked sideways at Aragorn for any sign of disappointment, but Aragorn's face showed none. He'd told Aragorn of his dreams, warned him of all he had seen. There was nothing more.
Haldir looked ahead at the road before him. They would soon reach Harrowdale where the Rohirrim were to gather. He had the night to make his decision.