Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's most prestigious work. I only own Tari. She is MINE!

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Chapter 10

Atalantawen Meets Legolas

Tala filled her quiver with the perfected arrows she'd made while standing among others in the armory of Durthang. The tips and shafts were carved in elven fashion for deadly accuracy. She slung it over her back, buckling the straps that would hold it in place. Her sword was at her waist, the ebony handle gleaming with the polish she had used. They would begin the march to seize the city of Minas Tirith today. There force had since grown from twenty, to thirty thousand.

Her mortal father looked at her with hatred as he sheathed his own sword beside her. He growled low in his throat, casting her a look of pure disgust.

Tala was used to it, and learned to retort. "If you hate me so much dear father, then why don't you think twice about what you'll get next time you sink your manhood into a helpless and innocent woman."

The Easterling (whose name is Bauglir; one of the numerous alias that Morgoth used, which means The Constrainer) tried to backhand his own daughter, who dodged him deftly, still polishing her dagger. As he aimed at her for another blow, she kicked him hard in his royal jewels, sending him to his knees. She elbowed him the back of his neck, eliciting a sharp cry of pain as she nearly severed his spine from his neck. Tala wrenched his head up, holding him by the sparse hairs on his now bruised neck, hissing, "I hate being your 'bastard' daughter just as much as you despise me. But I'm better than any damn son you hope to have." With one last punch to the jaw, she stood up. "And as much as you detest females in arms, I am your superior. You will obey me, or so help me I will not hesitate to drive your own blade through your heart." To make her point final, she used her freshly sharpened dagger to slit a hole in his clothes where his heart was.

(A/N: Some people always wanted me to show the bad side of Tari; like have her get really mad at Elrond and stuff. Well, this is what she would be like if she still had her 'power' and used it for evil.)

All the soldiers around her seemed to cower in fear of the Fallen Maiden.

Tala glared at them all. 'They all deserve to die...' she thought as she sheathed her dagger and led her battalion from the armory.

After a days march and only a few hours rest, her army was upon Minas Tirith. The other generals (11 including Tala) met in the center, she among them. These were the only ten men that she would trust. They had trained her, defended her, and watched over her as she grew and learned in the arts of war. They weren't exactly men though. More like spirits. Some called them the Nazgul (A/N: Please don't flame me for bringing these guys back into the picture! They are more than likely going to be important later on). Others, the Wraiths. In the elven tongue, (which she was fluent) they were the Ulaer. The tenth general was the renowned Mouth of Sauron. He had escaped the Fate of Mordor when it had collapsed into ruin.

The Mouth beckoned her closer, and she obeyed with a bowed head of respect.

"There are ssome rebel sscum from North Ithilien who are advanccing on our right flank. It is a ssmall company, a little over a hundred. But half of their rankss are elvess. Take half of you battalion (that's a little less than a hundred) and meet them before they reach uss. Don't fail me Fallen one." he hissed, his deformed mouth and face covered by a thick helm.

Tala nodded swiftly, and reined in her horse. She drew her sword, calling forth her part of the army. All of them, except for the following uruks, were on swift steeds, clad in armor of thick steel like mail.

Tala could see the approaching as her company galloped across the field to meet the opposing offense. She had never fought elves before. This would be a new, and perhaps even a rewarding experience. Tala smiled in anticipation, and her sword seemed to vibrate in her grasp, as eager as she was to disconnect the heads from the bodies of those men. 'Soon...' she thought to herself, urging her horse faster, 'Very soon...'

"I can see her..." Legolas said to Elrond, as they halted their force. At the head of the approaching force, and a little to the left, was the only female among the many men on horseback and fierce armor clad uruks. She wore no helm. Only layered leather on her shoulders and a thin layer of chain mail.

"I could probably get an arrow through her shoulder guards..." said Elrohir weakly.

Legolas looked shocked at the fact that he would even suggest harming her.

Gandalf, wanting to reassure the prince, said, "You have to remember Legolas, she isn't Tari right now. She is a cold-blooded soldier. You can't simply pull her off her horse and expect her to come quietly. Tari's spirit is in her, co-existing with her own. Merely there, unknown to it's holder."

With a dejected sigh, he nodded to Elrohir, who readied his bow. They weren't that far off now...

"We have to wait 'till we are engaged in battle, lest she could be trampled by the others if she fell from the saddle." said Elrond.

Inwardly, each one of them groaned. They would have to fight off the soldiers, and then subdue the enraged mortal before she killed them.

Legolas drew his white knives, listening as his own father spoke to the army behind him, giving them commands to prepare to charge.

"HERIO!" (charge) they heard Thranduil shout, and all of them spurred their horses forward against the oncoming soldiers.

They clashed. Some soldiers fell from their horses to battle with the uruks. Others stayed atop their mounts, their swords swinging at the enemy.

Whether by fate or nor, Legolas met head on with 'Tari'. She looked similar to the old, but there wasn't that elvish glow about her, and all he could sense in her heart and eyes was hatred so deep, that it almost made him wince.

Tala saw the silver blonde-haired elf as he slain his first victim. There was something so familiar to him... And she wanted to end that familiarity before it became to strong, and she became attached. Her sword clashed with his knives in a deadly dance as they retreated from their horses.

As she studied his moves, she noticed something; he didn't seem to want to hurt her. He only blocked her moves, making her swing and miss, causing her to tire. Well, if he thought her as weak, not able to match up to his strength, then perhaps he should learn a lesson, she thought.

She lunged at him, leaving a deep cut on his hip. He didn't even wince. Enraged, she came at him again, and again, and again.

Eventually, they were nose to nose as they blocked each other's swords. And unfamiliar name came to her ears, as he spoke to her. "Tari!" he called her, "Stop!"

"My name isn't Tari, you filthy elf!" she spat, pushing away from him, and slicing a shallower cut on his arm.

"Yes it is..." he retorted, blocking her blade. It was raining, and there was mud upon the ground now. Her army was dwindling in numbers against the well trained elves. She had never retreated before, and she wasn't about to start now.

"It is NOT!" she roared back, attempting to kick his legs out from under him. He only jumped up when she tried.

"I'll give you one last chance to stop on your own..." the elf said to her, parrying what felt like her hundredth blow.

She laughed, swinging her sword around and trying to knock away his blades. "I am not going to surrender myself to a petty elf." she growled. The words had hardly left her mouth, when she felt a piercing pain in her shoulder. She looked to her left side, to see an arrow sticking out of there, dangerously close to her heart. When she raised her hand to attempt to rip it out, someone had crept up behind her and pinched a nerve in her neck. Her vision went black, and she felt herself falling...