Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or settings used in this fic; they belong to JRR Tolkien and New Line Cinema, and we should all praise them with great praise for creating a wonderful world for us to play in.

Dedications: To Ithil-valon, for tireless beta-reading and endless brainstorming. You are wonderful, mellon-nin, and never forget it. I owe you a LOT. Also for Evendim, who first gave me hope that my writing in this fandom wasn't totally horrible, and gave me enormous delight with her own AU series. Thank you, and thank you for gracious permission to play in your playground. And last, but not least, to my darling AJ, without whom my writing would never have seen the light of day. You give me courage, hon, and I love you for it.

Author's Notes: THIS STORY IS SET IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some facts, features, and faces will differ slightly from canon. This story is the second in hopefully a long series, beginning with "Revolution and Retribution." You don't necessarily need to read that one to understand this, but it will help enormously.

To All My Dedicated Reviewers: Thank you so much for making "Revolution and Retribution" so much fun to write! I hope you will all enjoy this tale as well.

Chapter Nine

Tanathel winced as her cadets poured onto the range. Her head hurt like blazes; she would have given her good right arm to have forgone her carousing the night before. "Cadets!" she roared. "There will be discipline on this range, just like anywhere else in this Academy. Now form up! I want a look at you."

They snapped into ranks immediately, silent and respectful, at attention. She nodded slightly. "Very good. You gentlemen will be the finest archers in all of Gondor by the time I'm finished with you."

She stepped back, watching them carefully. "The first thing you must learn is that the length of the bow will determine your range. It will also determine how much strength you must have to pull it." She held out her own longbow, almost as tall as she. "When you leave this academy, you will be able to draw this bow with ease, and to shoot they eye from a tiny bird in flight. That is my vow to you. I will teach you all I know of archery, that you will be better able to defend Gondor."

Someone cleared their throat near the entrance and she turned. "You are interrupting a lesson, Corvin," she said sternly.

"My apologies, Lieutenant, but the Captain-General sends for you to come immediately. Your cadets are to report to the Armsmaster until such time as the Steward can take over the class." Corvin stood his ground, though he'd never heard her sound so harsh to him.

Tanathel nodded and dismissed her cadets, quickly grabbing up her bow and indicating that Corvin should take her to Boromir, which he did.

"You sent for me, sir?" she asked quickly. This would be official until she was told otherwise, though she hoped his head hurt as badly as hers.

"I did. I need to know which, if any, of your cadets are ready for duty. We have need of archers to reinforce the garrison on the southern border." Boromir was also keeping it official, though it was difficult through the headache. "You are also to go. I need my best there."

She preened mentally for only a second at being referred to as his best. "None of the cadets I've seen are capable of that level of duty yet, sir," she answered truthfully, if a bit apologetically. "Of course, I haven't seen very many of them, yet. My advice would be to bring up Rangers from wherever we can spare them. That way you have not only archers but able swordsmen as well."

"Good." Boromir looked up from his desk then and grinned. "Nice to know you've a sound head on your shoulders. Oh, for Eru's sake, sit down. It hurts my head to look up at you."

She grinned back at him and took the offered chair, grateful that she could stop looking down at the desk. "At least I know I'm not suffering alone," she quipped.

"No, you most assuredly aren't," he answered. He pushed a goblet across the desk and took up its twin. "Courtesy of Calas. It's very effective, though it tastes positively vile. Drink up. We'll both need to be clear headed for this."

She did as ordered, trying not to fetch it back up the moment she was finished. "Vile is too kind a word," she finally gasped.

Boromir rose. "Gather your kit, Tanathel. We leave for the southern border at dusk."

She rose in turn and nodded acceptance of the order, and then went to carry it out.

The troops were assembled by the third hour after noon and Boromir gave silent thanks that his people were so well trained. He turned to find Tanathel only a step behind him, again with a small arsenal at her command. Matched blades hung at her back, as did her longbow and quiver. Twin daggers hung at her belt and her punching blades were in place on her forearms.

"I feel safer already," Boromir drawled, his voice thick with humor.

She glared at him before grinning back. "Someday I'll teach you to use these," she said as she made a fist. "Until then, just get used to the idea that I'm watching your back."

Boromir nodded shortly and turned away, going to his horse and giving the command to mount. He waited only until he saw Aragorn on the balcony of his apartments and saluted.

Aragorn returned the salute with Anduril and his words came clearly to them. "Safe journey to you all, soldiers of Gondor!"

Boromir didn't turn; he merely signaled for the column to move out. The Gates of the City opened wide, and the column passed through, out into the late afternoon splendor of the Pelennor Fields.

He drove them hard, pushing them beyond what seemed the limits of mere men, yet when it came time to halt for the night, he was not pleased with their progress. "Tanathel, we've got to move them more swiftly. Faramir's report was positively bloodcurdling; we need all haste. Even now, word might be making its way to Harad of our plans." Of necessity, his voice was soft; it wouldn't do to alarm the men any more than necessary.

"Then we don't make camp. Rest the horses, then get underway again." She kept her voice soft as well. "You suspect a traitor?"

"Not among these men, no." Grimly he outlined the events of the Council. "One man, riding hard, could conceivably outrun us and make the border in three days. We have to be ready by then."

Tanathel cursed softly, the sound of the Haradrim language harsh from her lips. "There's no hope for it, then. We'll have to move them out, Boromir. I'd also suggest a message rider sent ahead; as you say, a single rider, traveling light, riding hard, could make it. They can hold if they know help is coming." She rose from where they had crouched to plan. "I'll get my horse ready."

Boromir shook his head. "No, I won't send you. Find Lethwin, he's light. Send him ahead. I'll get the rest of this lot moving." He moved to the campsites while she went in search of Lethwin. "Strike camp! We're moving out. We will rest as need be, but we must make haste." A cold finger of dread had touched him, and he couldn't get them moving fast enough.

A horse passed him by, not too close, but he still recognized the rider. Lethwin was about his mission, and Tanathel had come up beside him again. It wasn't hard to read the expression in her eyes. "Tanathel, you have good sense, when you choose to use it. Would you believe a Haradrim riding up to the gates of the garrison was one of your own? Or a woman? Especially under the circumstances."

She sighed heavily. "No, of course you're right." Her eye caught on some of the wagons.

Boromir followed her gaze and cursed. "Daethlin, you and your men travel with the supplies, protect them. The rest of you, mount up! We're moving out!"