Hello again. Thank you all so much for the support with this story. I love the feed back and how much you guys are waiting to see what's going to happen with Ricky. I do want to confess something: I had planned to do a major twist with this story and now I'm having second thoughts. You guys have said that you like Ricky so much so far and it seems like if I do what I plan on doing that it's going to ruin the story. Part of me wants to keep it in, but part of me feels bad for doing it to you guys. I guess it's going to boil down to what you think of Ricky in these chapters leading up to The Two Towers portion of the story. So leave a comment; let me know what you think about Ricky's character developing at this time. I might have to restructure the later chapters depending on what you tell me.
It was decided they were going to spend two weeks in Rivendell, taking time for them to recover from their journeys and teach the Hobbits a few basic fighting techniques.
Ricky spent most of his time with Elladan and Elrohir. They started a lesson where if he pronounced a word "incorrectly," one of them would give him a soft smack on the head. Ricky was beginning to believe they had different definitions of the word "soft," but that could have been Elrohir's revenge after he punched him the first day they met.
"Ow, dammit!" Ricky swore, rubbing the back of his head. He was hit again. "Son of a bitch, Elrohir! Stop hitting me!"
"Stop cursing and I will stop," Elrohir said calmly.
"I didn't even start this," Ricky said angrily.
Elrohir raised the arrow he was using to "softly" smack Ricky again.
"Elrohir, so help me, you hit me with that arrow again, I will nut you," said Ricky. "I don't care if it's honorable or not, I will do it."
"Elrohir, stop harassing Ricky," said Elladan. "We are to be conducting an archery lesson."
"And for that, I need to be able to see straight," said Ricky.
Ricky drew back his bow.
Elladan came up behind Ricky and gently corrected his stance. "You need to remember to keep your elbow up. Draw all the way back to your cheek."
"You make it sound easy," muttered Ricky, flinching subtly at Elladan's touch.
"Focus," Elladan reminded.
"Don't touch me," Ricky muttered irritably.
Elladan moved away and allowed Ricky to shoot.
Ricky released and the arrow made the target. He let out a disappointed sigh for not getting closer to the bullseye.
"That was a good shot," said Elladan. "You made the target. You need to relax when you release."
"Easier said than done," said Ricky.
"Master Weiss."
Ricky turned to see Elrond standing at the edge of the training grounds.
"Go," said Elrohir. "Ada wishes to speak to you."
Ricky put his bow down and went to speak to Elrond.
"Walk with me, young one," said Elrond.
Ricky walked beside Elrond as he led him into the library.
Elrond noticed Ricky was silent and tense. "You do not need to feel threatened. You are not in trouble."
"Habit," Ricky explained.
"It is not the only habit I have noticed," said Elrond. "How long have you been finding yourself at the bottom of bottles?"
Ricky was quiet. "For a while now."
"When did it start?" asked Elrond.
"I don't wanna tawk about dis!" snapped Ricky.
"It is something that must be addressed," Elrond said firmly. He motioned to a chair for Ricky to sit in.
Ricky let out a heavy sigh and sat down.
Elrond took a seat across from him. "When did the drinking begin?"
"A couple years ago," Ricky admitted quietly.
"Why?"
"Oh, God, really?" asked Ricky.
Elrond simply kept his gaze on Ricky.
Ricky's head fell into his hands. "You really don't wanna know."
"Ricky."
"You don't." Ricky lifted his head and his mouth was twisted in anger. "You don't. No one should know."
"Let us help you," said Elrond.
"Oh, tawkin's supposed t' help? It doesn't. It nevah does. It just makes me rememba everythin' and how messed up I am!" Ricky breathed heavily and calmed down. "You don't cut open sca's just t' rememba da pain."
Ricky got up and walked away.
"Ricky," Elrond called after him. "Ricky!"
Ricky picked up the pace and ran out the building.
Gimli noticed the boy sprint passed him. "Lad, watch where you're going!" He shook his head and kept on walking. If the lad was going to be so fiery, it would be dangerous to have him on the quest.
The lad was very strange. He spoke with a strange tongue, dressed in strange clothes, and had strange ideas.
Legolas was having similar thoughts. He watched Ricky run up the incline that led to the edge of Rivendell. With a quick leap, Ricky was up in a tree and jumping and swinging from branch to branch. It was nowhere near as graceful as an Elf, but it certainly was more graceful than the typical Man. The child had potential.
Legolas decided to find Ricky an hour later when he didn't come back. What he found was astounding. Ricky had just jumped from quite a height and tucked into a ball. He hit the ground feet first and rolled. He sprang back to his feet and kept running. He took a step up a tree trunk and flipped around, twisting so he could keep running in the opposite direction. He stopped when he caught sight of Legolas.
"What do you want?" Ricky demanded.
"I wish to know my companion," Legolas answered. "We will be traveling together, after all."
"Here's what you need to know: I'm not from around here, I don't play nice, and I'm a survivor. Honestly, I don't know why I signed up for this."
"Then why are you here?" asked Legolas.
"Gandalf got me away from Saruman," Ricky replied.
"And you feel as if you owe him," Legolas said.
Ricky's face twisted. "And I hate owing anybody."
"There is a chance you will not return from this journey. Why would you risk your life? You are very young, even in the eyes of Men."
Ricky looked away. "'In the end, it is not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.'"
Legolas was surprised at the wise words from the strange boy. They were not his own words, but someone else's.
Ricky turned back to him. "Just because I'm a street kid, doesn't mean I don't read."
Legolas saw this as a way to learn more about Ricky. "You like to read?"
Ricky nodded. "Oh, yes. If I wasn't out looking for food or money, I was reading. Bilbo was having me read out of his book for pronunciation. You guys can't deal with a New Yorker. And honestly, I have a hard time dealing with you."
"How so?" asked Legolas.
"You guys are so proper and uptight." To make a point, he added, "Speakin' propahly an' crap makes ya sound like one of dose yuppies who t'ink dey know everythin' an' don't give a crap 'bout da people beneath dem unless it's puttin' on a front t'make dem look like saints. See what I mean? You probably only caught half of that."
"I understood most of it, but I believe I will need you to clarify what a 'yuppie' is."
Ricky snorted. "I don't think you want to know. It's more than a little insulting."
Both were quiet. Ricky shifted, awkward with the silence. "Was there another reason you're here?"
Legolas was looking Ricky up and down. "I am curious where you learned how to jump like you did. Perhaps I can teach you more."
"Self-taught," Ricky replied. "You could teach me more?"
Legolas gave a nod. "Elladan and Elrohir tell me you are decent with a bow."
Ricky snorted. "I can hit a target if that's what you mean."
"You need to learn how to use a sword," Legolas also added. "Aragorn can teach you as we travel."
Ricky turned away. "I doubt I'll be able to use one."
"From what I have heard, you are a quick learner," said Legolas. "The Hobbits will need to learn as well. The Gentle Folk of the West know nothing of fighting. If they are able to learn, so will you."
Ricky turned back to Legolas. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Glad somebody thinks I can do somethin' right."
Later that evening, Ricky was confronted by Lord Elrond again. He didn't press Ricky's drinking problem, but something else that he was curious about.
"Why do you not wear the clothes we gave you, Master Weiss?"
The question caught Ricky off-guard. "I didn't want you worryin' about clothin' me along with feedin' me."
Elrond looked down at Ricky with a hurt expression in his eyes. "Do you truly see yourself as such a burden on us?"
"A street kid is a burden on everybody," Ricky said. "They ain't yo' blood, they have nothin' to contribute to society. They're just freeloaders. And I don't want that." Ricky looked away, his face twisted up with anger, sorrow, and disgust.
"Ricky." Elrond kept his voice soft, coaxing the hurt animal to let him help him. "We give these things to you freely, not out of obligation that we must help you. Your world is very different from ours. Elves will not turn away someone in need, especially a child. And you will need new clothes for the quest. Your shoes will not last you to the Misty Mountains."
Ricky chuckled at that, glancing down at the duct tape that was holding them together. "I guess I could use some new shoes."
Elrond smiled.
When most were asleep, Ricky was still awake taking inventory of what he owned. His clothes were laid out on the floor. He was currently wearing dark leggings and a brown tunic belted around his waist. His old sweatshirt and jeans were not in the best of shape and his socks were more holes than fabric. He already had his sneakers by the door to be taken out with the trash. His underclothes were still on the floor to be decided. He had a pair of tight, black pants and matching shirt with a logo of two arches overlapping. Ricky remembered all the trouble he had to steal these clothes. Under Armour Cold Gear was some of the best out there and it had served Ricky very well so far and with winter coming, he wasn't giving it up. He folded them and placed them with his pack. His other clothes were too small to comfortably move in for Ricky's liking. He had gone through enough of a growth spurt to make a difference. The only reason his Cold Gear and his everyday clothes still fit him was because he had got them a size or two larger than what he needed at the time.
Ricky moved on to the other items in his pack. There were three rolls of duct tape, a ball of twine, a claw hammer, a manual LED flashlight, and a foldable multi-tool that had several screwdriver heads, mini socket wrench set, bottle opener, nail clippers, small knife, and more. He also had a homemade medical kit that he put together when he had the money to get supplies. He kept everything in a small plastic container. It held a bottle of aspirin, a few packets of DayQuil tablets, a bottle of tea tree oil, antiseptic wipes, gauze, cotton balls, cotton swabs, ACE bandages, and plenty of adhesive bandages. All of it was individually wrapped in sandwich bags to keep the container organized. In a separate plastic bag was an emergency suture kit he managed to pick up from an outdoors store. Ricky had used one in the past after he cut his leg after falling into a dumpster. These were things he wasn't leaving behind.
In his pocket, Ricky carried an Altoids mint tin. The lid was held in place with two strong rubber bands, the kind that came on bunches of produce. It held a much smaller version of his medical kit: a bunch of bandages, antiseptic wipes, and a couple aspirin and DayQuil. There were also a couple of needles, safety pins, a single bobbin of black thread, a razor blade from a disposable razor, a mini black Sharpie, a lighter, some duct tape, string, a couple dollars, and his library card. The money and the library card wouldn't help him much, but he put them back into the tin once he took inventory of it.
Ricky continued going through his bag. He found his hygiene kit with a small mirror, soap, toothbrush, small tube of toothpaste, and floss. He found a couple packs of stale crackers, his water bottle, and a sturdy hunting knife that had been a real pain to steal, but well worth it. His straight razor was with his boots. He usually kept it somewhere on his legs as a surprise weapon.
Ricky packed up everything and put it in his bag. It seemed better days as well and the duct tape would only hold for so long and soon the bag would be completely made out of duct tape. He put the bag on the floor and sat on the bed. He fiddled with a fingerless glove. He would also be keeping his gloves, both pairs of goggles, his bandana, and knit hat.
There was another thing bothering Ricky: how he was going to fight. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Elrohir was right when he said that Ricky ran away a lot. He really did know how to fight. However, the problem was that Ricky was worried that someone would get seriously hurt if he actually fought them.
It was an Asian man who had taught Ricky. He was five years old when he met the homeless man and for two years he lived with him, sleeping in the park, in old access tunnels, anywhere they could safely be. The Asian man taught Ricky how to fight, how to take down people much larger than himself. It was also the time when Ricky started learning parkour. Ricky needed to show people here that he could fight and take care of himself.
He didn't know how quickly the time would come to prove himself.
Ricky was awake at the crack of dawn and apparently wasn't the only one. After getting dressed, he made his way down to the kitchens for a bite to eat.
"Master Weiss."
Ricky stopped and was surprised to see Legolas. "Hey."
"I wish to test your skills," Legolas told him.
Ricky blinked. "I thought everyone else already told you what my skills are."
"But I have yet to truly see your skills," he responded.
Ricky twitched his nose. "Fine. Can I eat first?"
"I would not stop a child from having a proper meal if I can help it," Legolas replied. "You will fade away if you become any thinner."
"Shaddup," muttered Ricky.
Ricky ate a roll and went out to the training grounds where Legolas was waiting for him. With him were Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir.
"What's this?" Ricky asked.
Glorfindel smiled. "Legolas tells us you have a special skill."
"You didn't tell us," said the twins.
"None of you asked," Ricky pointed out. "I don't consider it a special skill. And Elrohir called it running away."
Elladan and Elrohir frowned.
Legolas turned to Ricky. "Follow me."
Legolas took quick strides and jumped over a small wall and kept walking.
Ricky blinked. Was Legolas doing what he thought he was doing? With a smirk, Ricky chased after Legolas. As soon as Legolas knew Ricky was following him, he sped up. Their game of follow the leader took them around the House of Elrond and though Rivendell. Legolas never went faster than Ricky could keep up. While Legolas easily cleared his obstacles, Ricky had to work a little more for them. He rolled over low walls instead of jumping off them and used precision leaps to avoid some obstacles altogether. Behind them, Glorfindel and the twins followed, surprised Ricky could move like this.
After making their way back to the training grounds, Legolas stopped and waited for Ricky. Ricky jumped off a wall with a front tuck and landed in front of Legolas. The Elves following them caught up.
"Impressive," said Glorfindel. "Not the most graceful of races, but impressive for a child of Man."
"I will admit I was wrong, Master Weiss," Elrohir said. "I apologize for my comments of calling you a coward."
Ricky was still trying to catch his breath. "Not the first time. Won't be the last."
They walked back to the kitchens to get Ricky some water and something else to eat. Ricky didn't want to eat anything else, but the Elves insisted, saying he was far too thin to be healthy. Ricky rolled his eyes and ate the apple they told him to eat.
After the second breakfast as the Hobbits called it, Ricky found his way back to the training grounds. The Dwarves were now there and everyone was giving Gimli some extra sparring practice.
One of the Dwarves looked up and saw Ricky has he passed by. "Lad, join us! Let's see if you can fight."
"I just got done playing follow the leader with Legolas," Ricky called back.
"Playing games with an Elf won't make a warrior," the Dwarf retorted. "Get down here and spar!"
Ricky walked onto the training field.
"Better grab a weapon, laddie," said Gimli, taking his stance.
Ricky gave Gimli an accessing look. "Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself."
There were times when Ricky hadn't the chance to arm himself. Those were the times when things were the most dangerous. It was those times when Ricky remembered the Asian.
"C'mon, ginger," Ricky taunted with a smirk.
Gimli lifted his axe. Ricky charged forward, but stopped as Gimli made his move. Ricky found an opening and punched Gimli in the nose.
Gimli let out a cry and stepped back.
Ricky grinned.
Gimli came at Ricky again with his axe. Ricky dodged again, but Gimli put his axe down and switched to hand to hand. Gimli was slower than Ricky, but he had more training. He managed to strike Ricky. Ricky went down and rolled to his knees.
"You all right, laddie?" Gimli asked.
Ricky touched his mouth where Gimli hit him. There was no blood. Ricky sprang up with a yell. The boy grabbed the Dwarf's arm and threw him to the side. Gimli stumbled. How did the boy have that much strength? Ricky crouched and spun around, his foot catching Gimli's leg and tripping him.
Gimli turned over and look at Ricky. He laughed. "You have some fire in ye, lad. Come." Gimli got back to his feet, eager to continue.
Ricky wasn't sure if he should keep going.
He remembered what he learned. He only knew his teacher for a short time when he was little, but Ricky had learned. There was a rule on the streets; adapt or die. Ricky adapted. He survived. He could fight. He may not be able to fight like his teacher, but he turned what he learned into his own.
Gimli let out a yell and came at him again.
Ricky ducked, putting his arm up. He launched himself off one foot and used a forearm strike to Gimli's stomach. Gimli was wearing armor and it did more damage to Ricky's arm than to Gimli's stomach. The force was enough to have Gimli stagger back a little. Ricky kept moving forward and jumped into the air. He kicked Gimli in the shoulder. Gimli was knocked off balance.
Ricky took a few steps back and held his injured arm. It didn't feel broken, but it was certainly bruised.
"Is that all you got, lad?" Gimli challenged.
The two came at each other again and Ricky was pulled into a wrestling match a boy his size wouldn't be able to win. Gimli was stronger and heavier than Ricky and easily brought him to his knees. Ricky's arm was being twisted painfully. Gimli wasn't about to break the boy's arm, but the hold was painful.
Ricky needed to get out of that hold. His free hand balled into a fist and he thrusted it up between Gimli's legs. Gimli let out a yell and released Ricky, doubling over and holding himself.
Ricky got to his feet, kicked Gimli in the femur, and punched him in the face. However, he caught Gimli's helmet in the process. Gimli fell onto his back. Ricky moved back, his stance defensive.
Gimli sat up and looked up at Ricky. "I yield."
Ricky held his defensive stance, backing up as the other Dwarves helped Gimli to his feet.
One of the Dwarves pointed out in Khuzdul that he could have taken Ricky. Gimli then pointed out the state of Ricky's hand. The boy's knuckles were bleeding and Gimli knew his arm was bruised.
Gimli turned to Ricky. "You have a fire in ye, laddie," he said again.
Ricky turned and left the training grounds, holding his bruised arm.
His quick walk took him to one of the gardens where he found a bench and sat down.
"Master Weiss."
Ricky looked up. Aragorn was standing down the path.
"Are you well?" Aragorn asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Ricky.
Aragorn approached him. "You are hurt." He knelt before him. "Let me."
Ricky pulled back, holding his arm. Aragorn waited for Ricky to relax. It was several moments before Ricky pushed up his sleeve.
Aragorn prodded at his arm. "Bruised, but not broken." He moved to Ricky's hand, checking the bones with gentle hands, not caring that he was getting blood on him. "Nothing broken, only scraped."
Ricky let his hand linger in Aragorn's loose grip. He looked at their hands and blinked.
Aragorn noticed Ricky wasn't pulling away and let his hands cradle Ricky's. He carefully rubbed Ricky's fingers. He ran his thumb over the back of Ricky's hand.
"You're not hurting me," Ricky whispered.
Aragorn lifted his grey eyes to Ricky's face. A smile tugged at Ricky's thin lips.
"I knew you could smile," Aragorn said quietly.
The little upturn of his lips disappeared. He pulled his hand away and quickly left.
Aragorn slowly got to his feet.
"It is like caring for an injured animal."
Aragorn turned to Legolas. "We will do what we can for him."
Legolas had witnessed the exchange between Aragorn and the boy. "Do you believe he is fit for the journey?"
"He is," replied Aragorn. "Whatever has happened to him, he is not afraid to fight. However, he is afraid to trust."
"I agree with you; he is not afraid to fight. I do worry for him. He is a child. He cannot be more than twenty winters."
"Younger than that," said Aragorn. "You were never good at telling the ages of Men. No more than seventeen winters. His eye coverings and size make it difficult to tell his true age, but he is very young."
"Someone so young should not be burdened so," Legolas said. "What happens to a child to cause so much pain?"
"I do not know," said Aragorn. "But we are sure to learn on our journey."
Ricky went to his room and cleaned the scrapes with tea tree oil and wrapped them. He decided to take walk around Rivendell, since they would be leaving soon and Ricky was sure not to see it again.
He found himself in a gallery. There was a fresco on the wall of a battle. A glowing figure was on the ground, holding a broken sword to defend himself against a shadow. One the hand of the shadow was a gold ring. Ricky recognized it as the Ring, the one at the Council.
He turned around to the statue. It was a man sitting on a rock with a shield across his lap. On the shield was a broken sword on display. Ricky looked over his shoulder at the fresco and saw the sword was the same sword in front of him.
"Do you know what the image depicts?"
Ricky whipped around to see Boromir standing a little ways off.
"Of course you would not," scoffed Boromir. "If what Gandalf says is true, you are not from our world. You have no place among us. You are a child! You have no business on this quest."
Ricky narrowed his eyes, but figured Boromir couldn't see them. "Still pissed Gandalf asked my opinion instead of yours? I don't give a shit what you think, Pretty Boy. You have your own agenda."
Boromir glared. "How dare you speak to me like that? I am the son of the Steward of Gondor!"
"Yeah, so?"
Boromir's eyes widened.
"Do you think I really care who's a king, who's a lord, and who's a steward?" Ricky asked. "Titles are just words to me if you don't have the track record to back it up. People born with a silver spoon in their mouths have no idea what it is to work."
That made Boromir very angry. "I worked hard for my people. I serve Gondor. I protect her and her people. That is why I am here, to save her."
"And what have you sacrificed?" spat Ricky. "I'd like to hear that."
Boromir's face turned red. "And what would you know about sacrifice?"
"Mo' dan you t'ink," Ricky snapped. With that, he walked around the statue and leapt off the level and down to the stone ground floor below. He tucked and rolled and ran off.
Ricky's destination was the stables. He climbed up into the loft. He punched a beam out of frustration. "Shit!" he growled angrily.
There was a snort from a horse below.
"Shaddup!" he snapped down to the horse.
Ricky flopped down in a pile of hay.
Ricky had taken up residence in a maintenance closet in the tunnels for the week. He would have to move out before the next time the city workers came to do work. Ricky packed up his bag and left the closet. The tunnels had plenty of places to hide. It was all a matter of finding a quiet place and being able to access food and water without too much trouble.
He made his way through the tunnels and out into a subway station. The train arrived and people were getting on and off. Ricky went topside and walked down the busy street. He took note of the number of restaurants, paper stands, bodegas, and stores. There were a few small convenient stores and a bodega, along with a paper stand. He was also nearby a park. Ricky liked to get out when he could to enjoy the fresh air.
Ricky searched for most of the day looking for a good spot to make his new bed. Most of the good places were already taken by other homeless people. Chances were good he would be sleeping behind a pizza shop tonight.
As he passed them by, Ricky managed to pick a few pockets from businessmen. They were always so oblivious when they were looking at their iPhones and PDAs. He took out the cash and left the wallets on the counters of a few hot dog stands.
With the sun going down, Ricky decided it would be a good time to find something to eat. He went behind a restaurant and flipped open the dumpster. It always amazed him what perfectly good food was thrown away because of the sell by date.
After enjoying a piece of stale bread and a bottled coffee beverage from the coffee house with the seal still intact, Ricky decided to go back to the maintenance closet for another night. He walked by the park and saw a few people he recognized. He moved discreetly into the shadow of a tree and waited.
The people he saw were a couple of thugs he had come across in the past. They knew who Ricky was and they would probably kill him if they saw him. Ricky only knew one of their names. He was a weed of a thing, though Ricky was one to talk, had blonde hair sticking out of his beanie and buckteeth. They called him Jack Rabbit and not just because of the teeth. He could run and jump and keep going. Ricky had been kicked by him before and it had forced him into hiding for three days with the rats until Ricky could even think about hobbling topside to the free clinic.
"That bastard!" snarled Jack Rabbit. "I'll cave his head in the next chance I get!"
There was also a reason why Ricky didn't like those guys; he had caught them trying to kidnap some kid two weeks. Ricky didn't know why they had tried to kidnap the kid, but Ricky made sure they didn't get away with her. The one guy wasn't hard to take down, but Jack Rabbit had been a challenge. Jack Rabbit had kicked Ricky in the back of the leg and Ricky had proceeded to take his straight razor Jack's face. It had taken all of Ricky's willpower to get back "home" across town. The subway ride had been agonizing.
From what brief glance Ricky gave them, he could see there was gauze on Jack's face.
"Would you friggin' chill? God! It was just a cut."
"I needed stitches!" yelled Jack Rabbit.
"You weren't dat pretty t' start."
Ricky heard someone being kicked. He smirked at the groan he heard. Leave them with nothing to do and they would probably kill themselves. As much as Ricky was enjoying them beating on each other, he had to get out of there. He didn't want to fight Jack Rabbit again if he could help it.
Ricky slipped between the trees and went for the street.
"Hey, you!" Jack yelled.
"Shit!" hissed Ricky.
Ricky took off at a full sprint. He ran into the street and vaulted over a car that slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting him.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Jack Rabbit right on his heels.
Ricky ran into an alley. He quickly turned around and threw his body. His shoulder slammed into Jack's gut. Jack fell on his back and he kicked his feet up and caught Ricky in the stomach. Now both of them were winded.
Jack jumped to his feet and tried to kick Ricky's legs out from under him. Ricky saw it coming and jumped over his leg. Jack came around and Ricky punched him in the face, right in the gauze. The force knocked Jack back and the blonde howled. Ricky jumped over Jack and ran out into the street. The lights and the screeching tires told Ricky what was about to happen before he felt it.
In fact, he never felt it.
Ricky's next memory was waking up in a forest that made his skin crawl. It took Ricky several moments to get to his feet. He was stiff, but he didn't feel like he had been hit by a car. He knew he should have been hit by a car.
He began making his way to where he thought was the way out. This place was dark and oddly quiet. Ricky grew up in the city where it was never quiet. He shivered. He could hear footsteps. Ricky quickly pulled out his straight razor to fight off whatever was coming.
Ricky sat up in the loft. The tinted goggles made everything too dark. He pulled them down, noticing it was dusk.
He rubbed at his eyes. That was the last day of his world and the first day of this world.
After climbing down from the loft, Ricky set out for the one thing that would make sense to him: alcohol. He knew there was some in Elrond's library.
He snuck over to the library and started looking for the decanter. It wasn't sitting out like it usually was. Ricky gritted his teeth. Elrond had enough sense to lock his liquor up now that he knew there was an alcoholic in Rivendell.
Ricky left the library and continued his search. There was probably something in the kitchens.
"If you continue to skulk around in the dark, one may think you were into trouble."
The sound of Gandalf's voice made Ricky drop into a defensive crouch. Once he realized he wasn't in danger, he stood up.
"You missed lunch," Gandalf pointed out.
"I fell asleep," Ricky said.
"Would you care to join us for dinner? Everyone is in the dining hall now."
Ricky's nose twitched. "Not the best idea."
"Your fight with Boromir."
Ricky's eyes widened. He looked away. "Great. Everyone knows."
Gandalf nodded. "You left quite an impression on Lord Boromir."
"Tch. Seems like I've been doin' that with everybody."
"You are certainly someone they have not met before," Gandalf pointed out. "Including me. I've never met a boy with so much potential who comes off pretending he is worth nothing."
"Because I am worth nothing."
"No, you are not!" Gandalf angrily reprimanded. "You protected me from Saruman on top of the Orthanc."
"You would've made it out yo'self," Ricky argued. "You didn't need me."
"Then why are you coming on this journey?" Gandalf asked.
"Simple; somebody's gotta keep you focused on what's important."
"Ricky Weiss, by the end of this quest, you will have learned more about yourself than you would have thought," Gandalf announced.
Ricky walked away, throwing a hand up in the air. "Whatever."
Ricky went down to the kitchens and realized he wasn't going to be able to snatch a bottle of liquor with all the Elves moving about. Instead, he went back outside and sprinted off. Stone railings became simple obstacles to vault over and jump to and from. He flipped in the air before landing in the grass. He turned back around and went back the same way he came.
Twisting, flipping, and even freefalling briefly from a roof, Ricky made his way across Rivendell. Everything was an obstacle. He rolled across a railing, flipping before landing on the ground several feet below.
Ricky finally came to a stop. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with his eyes closed. He was high. It was rare that he could do this and be able to enjoy it.
"Master Weiss."
Ricky looked up to see Aragorn watching from a covered walkway above him.
"You do not cease to amaze me with your skill," Aragorn said.
Ricky just gave a nonchalant shrug.
"It is something you enjoy and enjoy greatly." Aragorn didn't miss the small smile on his lips. "Come. Speak with me. You missed dinner and you must be hungry. We can get you some food from the kitchen."
Ricky thought about it for a moment. He ran up and pulled himself up to the covered walkway.
"I'm not really hungry," Ricky admitted.
"Then something to drink." Aragorn took out a waterskin and held it out to Ricky.
Ricky took the waterskin and took a drink, feeling himself coming down from his high.
"I speak for many of us when I ask where you learned such skills," Aragorn said.
"The streets. You learn a lot when you need to survive."
Aragorn frowned. "Have you no family? No uncles or cousins to take you in?"
"I don't remember my parents," Ricky told him. "Either they're dead or they didn't want me. I've been either in foster care or out on the streets by myself for most of my life."
"Foster care?"
Ricky leaned against a pillar. "Ward of the state. The state takes care of you, they decide where you go. The social workers place you in homes people open up to kids who need a place to go."
Aragorn's face softened. "You had somewhere to go."
"Depends on how you look at it." Ricky looked out at Rivendell. "Some kids are lucky and find good foster homes. I wasn't one of them. I always ended up in the crappy ones. The state gives the foster parents money to provide for the kids, but the ones I went to, they never used the money on me."
"What happened to you?" Aragorn asked gently.
"Which time?"
"Perhaps you should start at beginning."
Ricky waited a moment before telling Aragorn. "When I was three, I remembered getting lost in Brooklyn. Some old homeless lady found me and took care of me for a few days. Nobody filed a missing person's report. She took me to the police station and they figured out where I was supposed to be. I didn't go back to that foster home. I was placed somewhere else for two years before I ran away. At the time, I was just getting away from the smell of the house; it made me sick. Now that I'm older, I know they were cooking meth in the basement."
"Meth?" asked Aragorn.
"The stuff is poison and illegal," said Ricky. "It's an upper. Keeps you awake for days, makes your heart race, kills your appetite. The stuff's addictive and dangerous. One thing I never did on the streets was drugs. I saw what that stuff does to other people. I'm not going out like that."
Aragorn was unsure exactly what Ricky was talking about, but any substance that did what he said was dangerous. Healers were always cautious of giving patients certain herbs because of how addictive they could be.
"I started living on the streets after that," Ricky continued. "Stayed under a bridge with some Asian guy. Nice man. He taught me a lot. He died after I turned seven. I got thrown back in foster care. I alternated between homes and the streets until a year ago. That's when I started living permanently in the tunnels."
"What happened a year ago?"
Aragorn was disappointed when Ricky shut him out completely and ran off. He sighed. He should be pleased he learned more about Ricky at all, but he was curious what changed a year ago.
Ricky went back to the stable. He really wanted that drink now. It always made him want to drink after someone made him tell them about what happened in the past. Even when he didn't tell them, he wanted to drink for just remembering.
He climbed back to the loft and began to stretch. He was useless if he didn't have full range of motion.
Ricky didn't sleep that night. He stayed in the loft gauging what he could use at sparring practice without seriously injuring someone. There wasn't much he could get away with, but God help whoever crossed him with the intent to kill.
His one leg still gave him a little trouble. Jack Rabbit had hit a nerve and it had cramped the muscle. Even after a few weeks and a visit to the free clinic, it was still tight at times.
Now with the sun up, Elves came into the stables to muck out the stalls and take the horses for rides. Ricky stayed up in the loft, seeing how high he could kick his injured leg. He could get it high enough that he could kick someone in the shoulder.
Ricky finished morning stretches by doing a backflip. The sound his landing made startled an Elf.
Ricky quickly left the stable after the Elf yelled at him. He grabbed a boiled egg from the kitchen and made his way to the training grounds to watch morning training. He had planned on climbing up in a tree to watch, but that plan was quickly scrapped when Aragorn called his name.
"Are you here to join morning training?" Aragorn asked.
"I was just going to watch," Ricky told him.
"Please, join us," said Aragorn. "You will need to choose a weapon for the journey. This will give us the chance to see what is the best weapon for your fighting style."
Ricky shoveled the rest of the boiled egg in his mouth and followed Aragorn to the sidelines.
"The lad is joining us today?" Gimli called. "I would like a rematch with him."
The Elves were standing around along with the Hobbits. Boromir was there, too.
"You will have to wait, Master Dwarf." Glorfindel walked out to the training grounds. "Young Master Ricky has his first spar with me."
"Is that not a little harsh?" asked Elladan.
"You are the best fighter here," Elrohir added.
"I was told Master Weiss has a different style of fighting," Glorfindel said. "I wish to see it first-hand."
Ricky shrank back slightly. "I don't want to hurt you."
Boromir scoffed. "Like you could hurt him."
Ricky glared at Boromir. He turned back to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel smiled. "I doubt you could seriously hurt me, Master Weiss."
"Don't bitch when you can't move somethin'," muttered Ricky.
Glorfindel and Ricky moved to the sparring area.
"Whenever you are ready," Glorfindel told Ricky.
Ricky gave a nod.
Glorfindel smiled. "There is no reason to be nervous. This is just a spar."
Gimli leaned against his axe. There was a smile barely present under his beard. "I hope the Elf knows the lad has some fire in him."
The Hobbits looked over at him.
"Why do you say that?" asked Merry.
"I sparred with the lad yesterday," Gimli explained. "He wouldn't stop even after he hurt himself."
"He's hurt?" asked Sam. "Why is he fighting?"
"T'was only a bruise and a scrape, Master Hobbit," Gimli assured. "His hand is bandaged and he has full use of his arm. He has no excuse for his poor performance."
Ricky attacked first. He charged Glorfindel. The observers saw this was not going to end well for Ricky. Glorfindel readied himself to knock Ricky back.
Ricky dropped and slid between Glorfindel's legs. On the other side, Ricky didn't get to his feet but pushed himself up on his hands and kicked up and back. Glorfindel was turning as Ricky kicked his feet up. Ricky's toes caught Glorfindel in the ribs.
Glorfindel took a few steps back. They knew Ricky had strength in his legs, but never thought he would be able to twist himself in such a way. Ricky jumped back to his feet and faced Glorfindel. Many had trouble seeing his eyes through the darkened lenses, but the rest of his face told them not to take him lightly.
Glorfindel put his hands up ready for a real fight. This time he swung first. Ricky, so much smaller than Glorfindel, ducked under his fist and kicked up high and to the side. His foot hit Glorfindel in the shoulder. Glorfindel didn't stagger back again and kept swinging. Ricky tended to duck away from Glorfindel's blows and would spring back up to kick him in the legs or torso, always careful not to kick somewhere vital.
Ricky pulled away from a swing from Glorfindel and threw a punch of his own. Glorfindel caught his fist. Ricky tried to pry Glorfindel's hand from his fist. Glorfindel grabbed Ricky's other hand.
Ricky yanked back hard and fell back. Glorfindel tumbled with Ricky to the ground, finding himself unable to block Ricky's feet as they connected with his face.
Glorfindel released Ricky and staggered back to his feet. He was dazed and not only did his face hurt, but his neck, too. He was too dizzy to straighten himself up entirely, so he was left doubled over. It was perfect for Ricky's next assault. The boy got back on his feet and struck out with his elbows, bringing them down hard on Glorfindel's shoulders.
Glorfindel punched Ricky in the side. The force knocked Ricky off balance. The blonde Elf decided he needed to put more effort into the spar to properly test Ricky's skills. He didn't wait for Ricky to get his bearings and began punching him. It wasn't near as hard as Ricky had been hitting him, but still hurt. One punch missed where Glorfindel was aiming and hit Ricky in the nose. The boy staggered back, holding his nose and blood dripping between his fingers.
"Master Weiss, forgive me!" Glorfindel apologized. "I was not trying –."
Ricky let out a yell and kicked Glorfindel in the gut. The Elf had the wind knocked out of him. This was much harder than his previous strikes. Something had changed. Ricky's strikes were more brutal. He concentrated on his kicks and his dodges, whipping around and using centrifugal force to add power. He was also attacking from a different position, using his small stature to his advantage and focusing his attacks below Glorfindel's waist. Glorfindel was forced to either kick at Ricky or crouch down himself to strike.
They decided to end the spar after Ricky did a front handspring and kicked Glorfindel in the head with both feet. Glorfindel moved away to give Ricky space, but Ricky was out for blood.
Aragorn ran up behind Ricky and pulled him into a bear hug. "No, Ricky!"
Ricky dropped and slipped his hold and kicked up, hitting Aragorn in the chest. He cartwheeled back out of reach of everyone.
Everyone watched Ricky pant heavily and touch his bloody nose again.
Aragorn slowly approached him with his hands out. Ricky allowed him to take his hand and pull him to the sidelines. Someone fetched Ricky a cloth to stop the bleeding.
Ricky closed in on himself, holding the cloth to his nose. A look from Aragorn sent almost everyone to do something but focus on Ricky.
"Let me see," Aragorn coaxed.
Ricky pushed up his sleeves to show the red marks on his arms. Aragorn saw they were nothing to worry about and pulled Ricky's boots off. There were many broken blood vessels around his ankles and up his shins.
Legolas brought Aragorn ointment and bandages and left again.
Aragorn began gently smearing the ointment on Ricky's forming bruises.
Merry and Pippin were standing nearby. Either they had missed Aragorn's look or they ignored it entirely.
"His feet are so small," Pippin giggled.
Ricky pulled his feet up to hide them in his trousers.
Merry slapped his cousin in the arm.
Aragorn took Ricky's foot again and wrapped it. "One can say Master Weiss's feet are small, but one can say Hobbit feet are large."
Merry and Pippin puffed their chests up with pride at the comment of their large feet.
Aragorn finished bandaging Ricky's feet. "Be careful on your feet. They will need time to heal. We are not leaving for a few days. Take the time to rest."
"Okay," Ricky said quietly.
Ricky didn't move from his spot on the bench while the other sparring matches went on. He was left alone to nurse his bloody nose.
From across the training grounds Aragorn stood beside Legolas.
"He has no control," Legolas stated. "He will get himself killed before we are over the Misty Mountains."
"He is strong," Aragorn said.
"He is reckless," Legolas countered. "Glorfindel did not fight with his true skill and strength. In a fight against an Orc, the boy would be dead within moments."
"He is part of the Fellowship now. We cannot leave him behind."
"We have not left," said Legolas. "He is a child. He needs a home. He should not be going on a dangerous journey."
"A child in form," said Aragorn. "Not in mind."
"It matters not to an Orc," Legolas pressed. "How can a child of Man have the strength to fight an Orc? He is too small, too thin to be healthy. At best he can run away to escape and find one of us. He cannot hold a sword and he has little skill with a bow."
Aragorn had to agree with the Elf. Ricky's limbs were much too thin to be healthy. Aragorn could wrap his hand around his wrist with little trouble. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his frame from what he had heard since Ricky shied away from touches and was always dressed in long sleeves. Those clothes hid his effeminate limbs, keeping people from underestimating him even more. One could dress him as a girl and Aragorn was sure that anyone would be fooled. As for weapons training, he was making quick progress for a complete novice, but he was no Elf who could quickly pick up the skill.
"I disagree with you," Aragorn said at last. "He is strong, but he is strong not only in body. As for being reckless, we can teach him control."
"He will not be ready by the time we leave," said Legolas. "There is not enough time for him to learn."
"No," Aragorn agreed. "But he will learn what he can. He knows he must."
In the end, it is not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years. –Abraham Lincoln
A good long chapter to hold you over until the next update. So now we know a little more about Ricky's past and what he's had to deal with. Leave a comment in the review box to let me know what you think about Ricky and a bit of his backstory. As the story goes on, more and more will be revealed about him.