Beauty Tamed the Beast: Prologue

She was a mercenary; brutal and cold and thoroughly without mercy. To most this wouldn't have been something to brag about. But with the woman's particular occupation, these qualities were an unescapable requirement.

Tarah the Chopper was a killer for hire under the Assassin's Guild ORC (The Operably Relentless Corpse-ifyers) and was close to reaching the status of Uruk-hai (the highest rank of assassin in the guild, directly under the Nine Nazgul leaders of ORC). So with this in mind, the Orc hireling had had no choice but to be unforgiving. This was hard for most of the lower ranking Guild members to achieve, but to Tarah it came quite naturally.

When the young woman had first been recruited by the Guild at the age of fifteen, she had been fending on the streets by herself. Eating out of garbage cans and freezing on cold nights out in the elements had been her everyday lot in life. So at the opportunity for a way out of the gutter, the young woman had accepted it without a second thought as to what the price might be. Now some ten odd years later, she was an assassin through and through. Where she had once cringed at the screams of her prey, she now looked on with an emotionless face. Where she had once felt sick as she watched the light leave her victim's eyes, she now willingly spent their last moments with them, talking them through it with a soft but firm voice.

Yes . . . the Chopper had made quite the name for herself, and because of this her life had changed for the better. Though deep down Tarah didn't gain pleasure from the lives she ended, she still was good at her work and had never once thought of going back to the life she'd had before. In a vastly growing age of technology and social propriety there was no room for a discarded child of the streets with daddy issues and a hideous past. She was out of place, so the woman remained contented, and found the respect she had so longed for in the Black Market and Underground businesses. And due to this, she had started getting bigger and better murder contracts for her trouble.

Like tonight's target. . .

Tarah had been called in by Angmar (the forever masked leader of the Nine Nazgul) earlier that morning to discuss the details of the hit of a lifetime. The bounty was the largest that the woman had ever seen for a singular contract for anyone but the Uruk-hai ranking assassins, and the job itself was on the easier side of the spectrum as far as difficulty was concerned, so she had accepted without hesitation. Though even if she hadn't wanted to accept the job, it would have fallen to her anyway, seeing as the person who had put up the bounty had specifically asked for the infamous Chopper to carry out the deed.

Angmar had solemnly begun to explain the particulars of her target, but the assassin had respectfully stopped him. Tarah found that the less you knew about the person that you were meant to end, the easier it was to do the work, so she had settled for a description of the man she was meant to kill and an address for his safe house. (Apparently this man had gotten on the wrong side of one of the bigger crime syndicates; ruffled a couple of high up bad-boys by screwing up some of their drug shipments and putting their guys in jail.) The target was a humanitarian goody-two shoes Judge who couldn't be paid off- or so Angmar had said as Tarah turned to take her leave and prepare for her mission- and lots of people in the underground wanted him dead. This hit was supposedly a community service, and the scum of the earth would all thank her for it.

That had been many hours ago, and Tarah was currently waiting for the proper time to strike her prey. It was nearing two a.m. now, and the world had finally grown still enough for the female assassin to feel comfortable. It was at times such as this that the woman almost felt like she belonged... When the world was dark and silent, and the noise-makers were either asleep or holed away in their places of refuge . . . But then the feeling would fade and she would be reminded that she was still an outsider; that she would never be a part of anything other than death. And her mask would snap back firmly into place.

Tarah had been scouting the address of her target in her unmarked SUV for two hours (before that she had found her way into the nearby apartment building and borrowed an old man's window seat for a while). To be able to know what you were up against, one had to set a course and stick to it. Now as the assassin tapped her fingers against her steering wheel in a slow, thoughtful rhythm she knew that she shouldn't wait any longer. The target's guards changed every four and a half hours, and it had been four and a quarter. Now was the time to take him out; now was the time to do what she did best.

The Chopper got out of the car without hurry; not bothering to sneak as she walked towards the building door. Being too sneaky out in the open was a rookie mistake, and Tarah was no rookie. The goal of a true assassin was to fit into a regular stereotype and use it to their advantage. If you acted different from the social norm you would get picked out on a camera or by witnesses faster than you could blink. But if you were observed as standard and average to everyone you met, you didn't stand out and got away with . . . well murder. . . Though having the black face mask in her pocket and concealing gray hoodie in place didn't hinder matters in the slightest.

The door to the complex opened easily enough- with her lock picking skills and a new record of cracking the lock in 15.6 seconds (not that she was counting or worried) and she entered into the entry hall. There was a door off to the right that looked like the caretaker's flat, and then a main desk that rested on the other side of the room. But neither of these were of much interest to the woman, so she ignored them and began to climb the flight of stairs that lead up towards the other renter's homes. There was an elevator that she could have used, but Tarah never liked the feeling of confined spaces and more often than not tried to avoid them when at all possible.

The Chopper knew that her target resided on the third floor in apt. 208, but the assassin didn't stop on said floor. Instead she went one floor up and turned to apt. 308. Once more the lock pick came out, and she worked her magic, before creeping into the apartment directly above her targets. To her good fortune and fair amount of luck, the resident of 308 ( a rather portly old lady) was fast asleep, so her job wasn't interrupted as she moved past the entry hallway and to the far side of the unlit living room to silently open the window located there. Tarah took a small breath to calm herself before she climbed out onto the small ledge. For a minute she hung there, getting used to the feeling of holding herself up with her arm strength alone, before the woman slowly began to climb down the building wall. When the ledge below her was within her reach, she slowly lowered herself onto it, and stopped. This would be the defining moment. Either her entrance would be unnoticed and she would be able to get in and out without a hassle, or she would be caught and have to kill more than just her target.

Counting the seconds in her mind, Tarah prepared herself for the worst and slid the blade of her knife into the crack of the window. It took her a minute to lift the inside latch, but despite this she was able to open it quietly and enter without more than a slight rustling of her clothes. As her feet touched onto the carpeted floor, the woman let her eyes move across the room to assess her situation. She was in the living room- exactly matching the one she'd entered in apt. 308, with several couches and chairs and a coffee table. This was not over or underwhelming, but the assassin took it in all the same.

The apartment was completely dark save for a single lamp in the entry hallway by the front door, where she could hear two men talking quietly as they put on their coats, preparing to leave. This was her chance! The couple of precious minutes before her target's protection once more surrounded him again, and her clean break was thrown to the wind.

She lowered down into a deep crouch and shuffled across the living room floor, her head no higher than the bottom of the couch-cushions as she moved towards the adjoining door that she was certain lead to a bedroom. His bedroom. With a small burst of speed, the Chopper reached up and turned the doorknob, before she crawled in and closed the door behind her. For a long pause she listened for any sign that one of the police officers had heard her and was coming to investigate. But when there was no intrusion Tarah let her breathing return to normal and stood to her full height, facing the darkened room with purpose.

This bedroom was furnished far better than the living room was, with different shades of décor (though due to the darkness, the female couldn't exactly tell what the color was) and a bed that was of good quality and king sized. But it was the stilled scene of the person on the bed that caught Tarah's full attention . . . or rather persons.

Her target lay on his back, completely at ease and fast asleep. And though Tarah hadn't bothered to see a picture of the man before leaving the Guild, she knew without a doubt that it was him. Angmar had said that her mark was considered handsome and well-groomed . . . and the Nazgul Leader hadn't been lying. The man's features were angular and sharp, almost like one might imagine ancient royalty would look. And his hair was the longest and most beautiful that the assassin had ever seen: white blonde locks that seemed to be made of spun silk. But none of this held her attention. . . Oh no. . . . It was the thing that rested on his chest that made the Chopper stop and stare.

A small boy, no older than five years rested against the man's neck, his small hand clutching the soft blonde hair of the man as one would hold a lifeline. It was obvious that this little boy was her target's son, but it still made Tarah's breath catch in her throat in a painful way at surprise.

They were so beautiful, this father and son. . . Not just physically, but in the picturesque way they held onto each other. The father so gentle and emitting such absolute safety; the boy so trusting and peaceful. It was a scene from the heavens. An exact image of what bliss and family was meant to be. . .

And it made Tarah's stone cold heart break in bittersweet despair.

This. . .

This was what she had never had. This . . . unadulterated love between parent and child. This family bond that nothing else could come close to, or ever hope of recreating. It was pure beauty and her steadfast resolve cracked and dissolved in a painful wisp or regret. Because for the first time in years the Chopper voluntarily lowered her knife. . .

. . . She couldn't do it. . . Not when the child was present and so obviously in need his father.

The infamous assassin continued to stare at the angelic pair before her brown eyes shone with tears and she had to turn away. As several fresh tears trickled down the woman's face, she knew that her mission was forfeit. She would never be able to finish this task- not now or twenty years hence. She had been spoiled for it, and there was nothing now to do but retreat.

There would undoubtedly be a price to pay for walking away from this contract, but the ORC Chopper accepted it as she silently moved away from the bed and back towards the door. This little boy wouldn't go without his father; she wouldn't let him- at least not by her hand.

So Tarah once more crept from the bedroom; closing the door behind her and sneaking back to the window she had entered through. With a shaky sigh, the woman took one last look back towards the door that had caused her to feel and then swung herself out onto the ledge without a sound. As she began to climb up the wall to the other apartment, the assassin prayed that the haunting scene would be left behind her, instead of displayed in the forefront in her wearied mind. But even as she entered apt. 308 and ran back down the flight of stairs to the safety of her car waiting outside, Tarah knew that such a wish was impossible. That father and son had gotten to her . . . and the memory they had created for her would never be properly discarded.

As the bedroom door once more clicked closed behind the female assassin, a new pair of eyes slid open to regard the dark. Stunning light blue shifted to the place where the intruder had stood mere moments ago, before they automatically raised to the ceiling. With a single hand, the owner of the blue orbs reached for his phone, and typed in a text with a long and steady forefinger.

The Orc assassin didn't take the bait. Just as you predicted.

The man waited for a second before his screen flickered with light and buzzed quietly in the darkness. The blonde haired man glanced at his child, making sure the boy stayed comfortable and asleep before he returned his gaze to the phone.

What do you wish to do now?

The man's lips quirked slightly with a subtle smile before he typed back: I want her for the job. We continue with the plan as priorly agreed upon.

Alright, Thranduil. I'll set it up.

Thranduil laid his phone back down on his bedside table and ran a soft hand through his little boy's hair, with a now triumphant smile. Then the man closed his light blue eyes and fell into a dreamless and uninterrupted sleep.

A/N: Hey guys! ^^ So lately my obsession with a certain Elven King/Actor has completely gotten out of hand, so I've decided to make a series. I have a basic plot line, but otherwise this one is writing itself. lols

Also, as you can probably see I've mixed a bunch of Lord of the Rings/Hobbit elements into a Modern AU blend. XD Tarah is an Orc Assassin, the Nine Ring-Wraiths are in charge of the assassin's guild, Thranduil is a Judge, and Legolas is a little boy. 3 (I can promise now that there will be more appearances of Hobbit characters in later chapters, so just a heads up.)

So what do you guys think of this so far? I'm a bit nervous about it (seeing as I've never really touched this fandom before) but I'm gonna be brave and write it anyway. ^^ Any feedback you lovely readers can give me will be cherished and help me a bundle.

Love you guys! Until next update! *blows kisses and passes out cookies*

~Lyn