It's been so long since I updated this story, almost three years. The good/bad news is that this story will now be at the top of my to-do list. I say good/bad news because people have been asking me to update Harriet Potter and the Four Witches. I haven't forgotten about it and I promise you I am working on it, but Quote the Pauper Forevermore has been on my need to complete list for a lot longer. With any luck Harriet Potter and the Four Witches will have an update this month, but no promises. I do have some sad news for Quote the Pauper Forevermore: I had The Two Towers part already written out, just needed to go back and proofread, and I came back to it and was like, "This is a disaster." I don't need to rewrite the entire thing, but it's like fifty-fifty. So enough of my droning on and welcome back to Quote the Pauper Forevermore.
Ricky was sitting in the public library at a computer. He was wearing the nicest, cleanest clothes he owned as to not look homeless. One leg was propped up on the chair across the table and a book on ancient medicine sat next to the keyboard. It was an odd book for a teenager to be reading on their own time. The same could be said for the website dealing with treating stab wounds, but Ricky had a reason. Under the fabric of his propped up leg was a nasty gash he had gotten the night before from falling into a full dumpster. He had bandaged it with some gauze and duct tape after washing it out with some vodka from his stash. Considering Ricky had been doing something less than legal when he cut himself, he didn't want to go to the doctor or the hospital unless he absolutely had to. When the Asian man, Lee, was still alive, he took Ricky to Chinatown for treatment if they had the money. It usually ended with Ricky having to swallow some sort of nasty herbal mixture, but it worked.
Ricky found the information he had been looking for on a survival website. It said not to stitch it close if the wound had been opened for more than six hours. Since the cut happened last night, Ricky's wound was in the do not close category. It said to keep it covered and clean, pack it with a wet bandage if need be, and apply antibiotic cream to it. Ricky didn't have any antibiotic cream on hand. He turned to the ancient medicine book and found a passage on the antibiotic properties of honey. It had been used for thousands of years in wound healing, dating as far back as the Ancient Egyptians.
A jolt woke Ricky up. The Uruk he was being carried on had come to a sudden stop.
For the last three nights and days, Ricky, Merry, and Pippin had been bound and carried on the backs of the Uruk-hai, stopping only for the shortest of breaks. The only reason the Uruk-hai stopped for those breaks at all was because Ricky threatened to relieve himself on the back of the Uruk carrying him after the first night. They may have not been the cleanliest creatures, but even they didn't want to deal with that particular smell.
Ricky thought it was odd they were stopping during the morning. They usually took the break at night. He looked around the rocky outcropping they had stopped in. One Uruk, whose name from what Ricky could gather was Maúhur, was sniffing the air.
Several Orcs came out from behind the rocks led by a short Orc with crooked legs and very long arms.
"You're late," the Orc leader said. "Our master grows impatient. He wants the Shire-rats and the boy now."
The lead Uruk, Uglúk if Ricky recalled correctly, looked at Maúhur, amused. "I don't take orders from Orc-maggots."
The Orc didn't seem to like that answer, but said nothing about it.
"Saruman will have his prize," Uglúk went on. "We will deliver them."
"Merry! Merry? Wake up."
Ricky could hear Pippin behind him.
"My friend is sick," Pippin said. "He needs water. Please!"
Ricky tried to looked back to see what has happening and why Pippin was desperate enough to ask the Uruk-hai for help.
Uglúk walked back through the ranks to Pippin and Merry. "Sick, is he? Give him some medicine, boys!"
They all laughed as one of them dumped the contents of their flask down Merry's throat. Merry choked and spat some of it up. Ricky could see whatever it was wasn't water.
"Stop it!" Pippin yelled.
"Can't take his draught!" Uglúk jeered.
"Leave him alone!" pleaded Pippin.
Uglúk turned to him. "Why?"
"Because you need us alive, jackass."
Uglúk whirled on Ricky. "Do you think so?"
"If you didn't, you wouldn't be goin' through all this," Ricky retorted.
Uglúk growled at him and walked away.
"Merry," Pippin whispered.
"Hello, Pip."
Ricky was relieved that he could hear Merry was awake.
"You're hurt," said Pippin.
"I'm fine," Merry said quietly. "It was just an act."
"An act?" Pippin asked disbelievingly.
"See? I fooled you, too. Don't worry about me, Pippin."
Ricky's attention returned to the Uruk-hai. He saw Maúhur sniffing the air.
Uglúk hurried up to Maúhur. "What is it? What do you smell?"
"Man-flesh," Maúhur replied
"They've picked up our trail. Let's move!" Uglúk ordered.
They broke into a run once more.
Ricky wondered who could possibly be tracking them. The Fellowship, or what was left of it, had to get the Ring to Mordor, which was in the opposite direction. He put the thought out of his head for the time being. Right now he had to come up with a plan to get the three of them away before they got to Isengard. Ricky refused to be Saruman's prisoner again and he wasn't going to allow it to happen to Merry and Pippin either.
Aragorn had his eyes closed and his ear pressed to one of the large rocks that made up the ground he lay across, listening. His eyes snapped open. "Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent."
Aragorn got to his feet. "Hurry!" he called to Legolas and Gimli. He started running northward.
Legolas came running up the hill behind Aragorn. He paused and turned. "Come on, Gimli!" Without waiting for a reply, the Elf started running again.
Gimli struggled up the hill, huffing and puffing. "Three days and nights pursuit. No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell." He ran after his companions.
Three days. If Boromir was never in a boat again he would die a happy man. At the moment, he was leaning over the side and throwing up what little he had in his stomach. Fever was setting in. He cursed his lack of strength.
Pulling himself back into the boat, he looked around what was given to him. Merry, Pippin, and Ricky's packs were with his, along with their food. He had his sword laying close by if he needed it and his shield. The Horn of Gondor had been cloven in two, but Boromir could not bring himself to part with it.
He had to be near Osgiliath now. The current had kept him moving at all times and had saved him the trouble of paddling. For now, he wanted to lie down and sleep. Boromir closed his eyes.
He slept and gathered his strength.
"Boromir."
He could hear it on the far reaches of his consciousness. He didn't want to wake. He was tired and wanted to sleep.
There was yelling, but Boromir couldn't make out what was being said.
His eyes flickered open and there was the silhouette of a man standing over the boat. He couldn't open eyes open any farther or longer. He slipped back into a fevered sleep.
"Boromir! Boromir!"
Boromir, dressed in his battle armor, stood on top of a turret of Osgiliath and planted a white flag with a tree on it and drew his sword in salute. "This city was once the jewel of our kingdom, a place of light and beauty and music and so it shall be once more!"
There was an uproar of cheers.
"Let the armies of Mordor know this: never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands."
There were more cheers.
"This city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor!" Boromir raised his sword in triumph.
"For Gondor!" the men echoed.
"For Gondor!"
"For Gondor!"
"For Gondor!"
The soldiers responded with cheers and jubilation.
It wasn't long after Boromir was in the crowd and spotted his brother's face.
"Faramir!" Boromir embraced his brother.
Faramir resembled Boromir very much. Their eyes were the same color, but Faramir's hair was slightly darker and wavy and he kept his beard a little scruffy yet still neat. While Boromir was easily viewed as a pillar of strength among the people, Faramir, strong as well, had an approachability to him.
"Good speech," said Faramir. "Nice and short."
"Leaves more time for drinking!" Boromir looked at the men around him. "Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!"
The men cheered.
Boromir got himself and Faramir the first two tankards from the first barrel they opened. He handed Faramir his tankard.
"Remember this day, little brother," Boromir told him. "Today, life is good."
Faramir smiled and took a sip. He looked over Boromir's shoulder and his expression fell.
"What?" asked Boromir.
"He's here," Faramir said.
Boromir turned and saw his father greeting the soldiers. He turned back to Faramir in frustration. "One moment of peace, can he not give us that?"
"Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where's my first-born?" Denethor called with a broad smile on his face. His grey hair was long and his robes were black and trimmed with fur. As always, he had a kingly air about him.
Boromir forced a smile. "Father!" He hugged Denethor.
"They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handed," said Denethor.
"They exaggerate," Boromir brushed off. He turned to his brother. "The victory belongs to Faramir also."
Faramir took a step forward.
Denethor looked at Faramir. "But for Faramir, this city would still be standing." Condescension was evident in his voice. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"
"I would have done, but our numbers were too few," said Faramir.
"Oh, too few. You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim." Denethor took a step forward. "Always you cast a poor reflection on me."
"Da only po' reflection bein' cast on you is yours."
Boromir heard the voice loud and clear, but it appeared that neither his brother nor his father heard it.
Faramir was shattered at his father's comments. "That is not my intent."
Boromir grew angry and impatient. "You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will." He stormed off into one of the stone buildings.
"Wow, now I know where you get it from," the voice told Boromir.
Denethor followed Boromir into the building. Boromir whirled around, hoping to see the owner of the voice, but found his father instead. "He loves you, Father."
"Do not trouble me with Faramir," said Denethor. "I know his uses, and they are few."
"What da hell crawled up yo' ass?" the voice asked, directing itself at Denethor.
Boromir couldn't believe his father would say such a thing about his brother, Denethor's own flesh and blood.
"We have more urgent things to speak of," said Denethor. "Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose. It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found."
Boromir stared at Denethor. "The One Ring. Isildur's Bane." He could hardly believe it.
"It has fallen into the hands of the Elves," Denethor went on. "Everyone will try to claim it: Men, Dwarves, wizards. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor."
"Gondor," Boromir breathed, getting ready to disagree.
Denethor grabbed Boromir. "It's dangerous, I know. Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser Men. But you, you are strong and our need is great. It is our blood which is being spilled, our people who are dying. Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies. He will return. And when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring me back this mighty gift."
"No." Boromir pulled away and left the building. "My place is here with my people. Not in Rivendell!"
Denethor followed him out. "Would you deny your own father?"
Boromir whipped around.
Faramir, not knowing what was going on, stepped forward. "If there is a need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead."
"You?" Denethor sneered. "Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to show his quality. I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother, the one who will not fail me."
Boromir gathered his things, changed out of his battle armor, and mounted his horse.
"Dis isn't da end," the voice said.
Boromir looked up at the flag of Gondor that was flying.
"Yo' gonna be back."
Boromir looked at Faramir. "Remember today, little brother."
They smiled sadly at each other and Boromir turned and rode off.
"I hadn't a clue dat yo' dad was dat big of a dick. I see where you get it from, but I don't see you doin' shit like dat to da Hobbits. Now me, dat's anotha story."
"Hobbits?" Boromir asked, confused.
"Dey love you," said the voice. "So you bettah live."
Boromir stopped his horse and looked around. "Where are you? Who are you?"
"Come on, Pretty Boy, don't tell me I'm dat fo'gettable."
He couldn't place the voice. He knew he heard it before, but he didn't know where. He travelled Middle Earth and never heard such a strange and whiny accent like this. But he had. He knew this voice, he knew this accent, although he hadn't heard the accent this thick since they began travelling south.
"Ricky?"
"Finally! Thought you were gonna forget me completely." The boy's accent instantly weakened, or maybe Boromir was remembering how to interpret it.
"Ricky, I am sorry," Boromir said, tears coming to his eyes. "Forgive me! Forgive me!"
"For what?"
"I tried to take the Ring," Boromir cried.
"Whadiya doin'?" Ricky yelled at him. "Why are you apologizin' to me? I'm not the one you attacked. Apologize to Frodo."
"But if I hadn't tried to take the Ring, you, Merry, and Pippin would still be with us," Boromir rationalized. "This is my fault. How will I be able to face any of you again?"
There was silence. The horse didn't even make any noise. The world seemed dimmer, like the sun was covered by the clouds.
"You done?" Ricky asked. "Yeah, you screwed up, I'm not even gonna try to defend you on that one. You're alive now. You gotta chance to make things right."
Boromir nodded. "Yes, I am alive, thanks to Aragorn and the Lady. I will see Gondor again. I will carry out my king's will. The Lords of Gondor will return."
Boromir could hear Ricky smiling. "Good. Now you better go."
He frowned. "Go? Where? And where are you?"
"Me? I'm just somethin' you cooked up in your head because of your fever," Ricky answered. "As for you, I think somebody's waitin' for you."
"What?"
"Wake up, Boromir," Ricky whispered in his ear as the world grew black. "Wake up –."
"– brother."
Boromir slowly opened his eyes, light assaulting his senses. He could make out someone standing over him.
"Boromir?"
His eyes focused on the person standing over him. Wavy light brown hair framed the strong features of a man a few years younger than Boromir. Grey eyes were full of concern.
Boromir smiled weakly. "Little brother."
Faramir smiled broadly. "Remember today, brother. Today, life is good."
Boromir chuckled.
Faramir continued to smile as he wetted a rag and placed it on Boromir's forehead. He was relieved to see his brother awake and lucid after pulling him out of that Elvish boat with him muttering in a fevered sleep. Faramir had been shocked at the two arrow wounds that had been treated with great care and were healing nicely. They looked to be a week or so old, but as the hours had passed, he could see they were healing very rapidly.
As the time had passed, Boromir's fevered ramblings had become louder. For twenty minutes he was begging for forgiveness and speaking to someone named Ricky.
"What happened to you, Boromir?" Faramir asked.
Boromir sighed. "Oh, Faramir, it is a long story."
Aragorn reached down and pulled an Elven brooch out of the mud and grass. "Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall."
Legolas stopped behind Aragorn. "They may yet be alive."
"They were as of last night at their last rest," Aragorn said. "Less than a day ahead of us. Come."
Aragorn and Legolas took off again. Gimli stumbled from behind some rocks and rolled down the embankment.
Legolas stopped. "Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!"
Gimli got to his feet. "I am wasted on cross-country," he panted. "We Dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances."
The trio of hunters came over a hill and paused as they gazed across the open fields.
"Rohan," said Aragorn. "Home of the Horse-lords. There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."
Legolas went ahead and looked out to the horizon.
"Legolas! What do your Elf eyes see?" Aragorn called.
Legolas could see a distant cloud of dust, the only disturbance on the otherwise quiet landscape. "The Uruks turn northeast. They're taking them to Isengard!"
"Saruman," breathed Aragorn.
It was night when the Uruk-hai and Orcs stopped at the edge of a forest. Ricky, Merry, and Pippin were thrown to the ground. Ricky looked at the forest, a feeling of fear and dread filling him. There was only one other time he had been terrified of a forest and wanted to run away and that was the forest Saruman found him. It was the same feeling, only this time it was amplified by the dark of night. Ricky realized this was the same forest. This was Fangorn Forest.
"We're going no farther until we've had a breather!" snarled an Orc that was doubled over.
"Get a fire going!" Uglúk ordered.
The Uruk-hai were quick to obey, leaving the Orcs to catch their breath.
Pippin crawled over to Merry. "Merry," he whispered.
Ricky crawled over to the two of them. He noticed a streak of dried blood on Merry's brow.
"I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin," Merry weakly whispered.
Pippin smiled a little.
A group of Orcs went into the forest with axes and started chopping at the trees to get firewood. Accompanying the sound of chopping wood were low groans and rumbles coming from within the forest.
"Wha' da hell is that?" Ricky asked, staring into the forest in fear.
"It's the trees," Merry replied.
"What?" Pippin and Ricky asked.
"Do you remember the Old Forest, on the borders of Buckland?" Merry asked Pippin more than Ricky. "Folk used to say there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall and come alive."
"Alive?" Pippin repeated.
Another groan issued from the forest.
Merry went on. "Trees that could whisper, talk to each other . . . even move."
"Oh, screw that," Ricky muttered under his breath. He crawled a bit closer to Merry and Pippin. "We need to try to escape."
"How?" asked Pippin. "We have no weapons. We cannot fight them."
"I'm not sayin' we have to fight them," said Ricky. He nodded in the direction of the forest. "But we may be able to lose them in there."
The Hobbits looked at the forest as another groan came from the trees.
"Are you mad?" asked Pippin.
"Saruman's tower is on the other side of this forest," Ricky told them, drawing his knees up to his chest. "We have three options: bein' imprisoned, killed by Orcs, or takin' our chances with the moanin' forest. Personally, I'll take my chances with the forest. What about you?"
The Hobbits looked at each other.
"He has a point, Pip," said Merry.
Ricky pulled out his straight razor from his boot. "Good thing these things didn't check me for weapons that well." He flipped it open and started on cutting through the rope around Pippin's wrists.
"I'm starving," an Uruk declared. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty break for three stinking days."
Ricky quickly tucked his straight razor out of sight.
An Orc agreed. "Yeah! Why can't we have some meat?" The Orc turned its attention to Ricky and the Hobbits, its eyes wide and hungry. "What about them? They're fresh."
"They are not for eating," Uglúk told the Orc.
Merry, Pippin, and Ricky were hauled to their feet by two Uruk-hai.
"What about their legs?" asked the Orc leader, salivating. "They don't need those. They look tasty." It made a move towards Ricky and the Hobbits.
Uglúk shoved the Orc leader back. "Get back, scum!"
The other Orcs sprang forward and scowled at Uglúk.
"The prisoners go to Saruman," Uglúk told them all. "Alive and unspoiled."
"Alive?" repeated the Orc leader. It moved to one side to get another good look at the Hobbits and Ricky. "Why alive? Do they give good sport?" it asked, gnashing its teeth excitedly.
"Wanna find out, bitch?" Ricky muttered quietly that only Merry and Pippin heard him. Both of them glanced at Ricky fearfully.
"They have something," said Uglúk. "An Elvish weapon. The master wants it for the war. As for the boy, he is special."
"They think we have the Ring," Pippin whispered.
Merry shushed him. "As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead."
"Just a mouthful," said the first Orc from behind them. "A bit of the flank."
Uglúk swung his sword at them. Ricky quickly ducked out of the way of the swing. A second later, the Orc's head bounced to the ground in front of the Hobbits. Ricky looked behind him and saw the headless body of the Orc twitch and topple over.
"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" Uglúk shouted.
The Orc and Uruk-hai roared like wild animals. Merry, Pippin, and Ricky were shoved away as they swarmed the carcass to cannibalize it.
"Pippin, let's go," Merry urged.
The Hobbits began to crawl away.
Meanwhile, Ricky rolled to the side and went back to cutting his bonds. He sawed through the rope and unwrapped his wrists.
The scream of an Orc got everybody's attention. Ricky looked around frantically for Merry and Pippin. He found them, the screaming Orc between them with a spear sticking out of its back. Seconds later, dozens of armed men on horseback came charging in.
It was complete chaos. Orcs and Uruk-hai tried to fight the men on horseback, but they were easily slaughtered. Some tried to flee only to be mercilessly cut down. Ricky lost track of Merry and Pippin in favor of keeping himself alive. He stayed low, practically crawling on all fours, rolling under horses and dodging weapons and fallen Orcs. He tried to get to the forest, but his way was blocked. Instead he tried to get off the battlefield.
Ricky spotted a horse without of rider. It gave him an idea. He ran up to the horse and grabbed its reins. He was able to get his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle of the large horse. Even with his new vantage point he couldn't see Merry or Pippin.
The horse started the move.
"Whoa!" Ricky gasped, nearly falling off. He leaned over and clung to the horse's neck. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"
He tugged at the reins to turn the horse away from the battle.
"Come on," Ricky said, clicking his tongue. "Come on, home. Go home! Come on!" He gave the horse a kick in the sides.
The horse started galloping into the night.
The sun rose as Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli continued their pursuit across the fields.
Legolas paused and looked at the sun with dread on his face. "A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night."
Aragorn knelt down to examine the ground. Just as he did, the neighing of horses got his attention. He gestured to Legolas and Gimli to hide behind a nearby rock formation. They hid a moment before dozens of armed horsemen came galloping over the hill.
Aragorn looked up at them passing and recognized them by their armor. They were Rohirrim, the Horse-lords of Rohan. He calmly walked out of hiding. "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" he called out to them.
The leader raised his spear and with astonishing speed and skill, they turned as one and started back up the hill. Legolas and Gimli had followed Aragorn out of hiding. The Rohirrim surrounded them, closing in tightly with their spears pointed at them.
The leader cut through. "What business does an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" he demanded.
"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine," Gimli said defiantly.
The leader handed his spear to another rider and got off his horse.
Gimli gave him an arrogant nod at his approach. Aragorn reached out and placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder to stay him.
The leader looked down at Gimli. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
In the next second, Legolas had an arrow aimed at the leader's face. "You would die before your stroke fell."
Every spear was suddenly pointed at Legolas.
Aragorn lowered Legolas's bow. He turned to the leader. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."
"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." The leader removed his helmet to show them his face. He had long blonde hair and a slightly darker, neatly trimmed beard. "Not even his own kin."
Aragorn recognized him. "Éomer, nephew of Théoden King," he said quietly.
The Rohirrim withdrew their spears.
"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands," said Éomer. "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets."
"We are no spies," Aragorn said. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken three of our friends captive."
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night," said Éomer.
"There were two Hobbits and a lad," Gimli said desperately. "Did you see two Hobbits and a lad with them?"
"The Hobbits would be small," said Aragorn. "Only children to your eyes. The boy would be of strange dress."
Éomer shook his head. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed to a hill in the distance. Smoke rose from a recent large fire.
"Dead?" Gimli said in shock.
Éomer hung his head. "I am sorry." He gave a shrill whistle. "Hasufel! Arod!"
Two horses without riders moved to the forefront. One was brown while the other was white.
"May these horses bear you to better fortunes than their former masters," said Éomer. He put his helmet back on and mounted his horse. "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands."
He then shouted to the riders. "We ride north!"
And with that, the Rohirrim left, quickly disappearing from sight as they rode to the north.
Aragorn rode the brown horse, Hasufel, while Legolas and Gimli rode the white horse, Arod, across the plains toward the smoldering pile of remains that was left at the edge of the forest. They dismounted and started at the pile with dismay.
Gimli used his axe to pick through the pile halfheartedly. Something caught his eye. He reached in a pulled out a small belt with an Elven sheathe. Gimli turned mournfully to Aragorn and Legolas, holding it up. "It's one of their wee belts."
Legolas bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Hiro hyn hidh ab'wanath."
Aragorn kicked a helmet. He screamed out in anguish and dropped to his knees.
"We failed them," said Gimli.
Aragorn turned his head. Something on the ground caught his attention. There were a few marks on the ground. He leaned forward and ran his hand over one.
"A Hobbit lay here," he said. He noticed an almost identical mark next to it. "And the other."
He sat back and pondered the marks. His eyes then shifted to a new set of markings off to one side.
"They crawled," he said, getting to his feet to follow. "Their hands were bound."
Several steps away from the pile was a piece of rope. Aragorn picked it up and examined it. He found the ends were sliced through.
"Their bonds were cut," he said, becoming hopeful. He continued to follow the tracks. "They ran over here. They were followed. The tracks lead away from the battle into Fangorn Forest."
The three of them stopped at the edge of the forest and stared.
"Fangorn," breathed Gimli. "What madness drove them in there?"
"Merry and Pippin escaped the battle." Aragorn turned back to the battlefield. "But what of Ricky?"
"Are you sure the lad was not with the Hobbits?" Gimli asked.
"I saw no tracks belonging to Ricky. Perhaps he escaped another way," said Aragorn.
He retraced his steps, going back where he had first seen the Hobbits tracks. Several feet away, he found where someone Ricky's size lay on the ground.
"Here," Aragorn called to the others. "He lay here. He cut his bonds." Next to the marks was a length of cut rope. Aragorn continued to follow the tracks, which were more muddled than the Hobbits'. "He rolled away from the Hobbits, avoided the Orcs and the Rohirrim. He ran over here. His tracks end here, on the other side of the battlefield."
Aragon continued to study the ground. "There was a horse here. It galloped south, not north with the rest of the Rohirrim. Ricky must have taken it and rode out of danger."
"Which trail do we follow?" asked Legolas.
"We go after the Hobbits," said Aragorn. "With luck, Ricky will find safety in the south. Once we find Merry and Pippin, we will search for Ricky."
The three turned and entered Fangorn Forest.
There was shouting from below the bedroom floor. Ricky looked over at his roommate, a girl about his age. She was crying in the corner. Ricky himself was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
"He's drunk again," Ricky muttered. He glanced over at his roommate. "Cryin' about it s'not gonna change it."
The girl looked up at Ricky in a rage. Her dark eyes were red from all her crying. "How can you say that?"
"You t'ink I don't know it?" Ricky asked coldly.
"You're a cold bitch, Ricky," the girl snapped.
Ricky didn't take the bait. "Been cawed woise." He turned back to the door.
"How do you do it?" the girl asked.
"Do what?" asked Ricky.
"Keep it together? You're always so calm. I don't think I've seen you angry, just cold."
Ricky turned to her. "'Cause I know nobody ca'es. Nevah did, nevah will, not unless we do somethin' woith anythin'. You get used to it."
The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You just don't care about anyone but yourself?"
"Welcome to life, Michelle."
Ricky turned away.
Michelle glared at Ricky and climbed into bed.
Ricky soon got into the bed on the other side of the room. He woke up an hour later to Michelle screaming and a man shouting. He was up and out of bed in the blink of an eye. The man who was the boyfriend of the woman taking care of them was on top of Michelle. Ricky shoved the man off and they tumbled to the floor.
Ricky began punching the man repeatedly in the face. He was then punched in the face himself and the man flipped him over. Ricky brought his feet up and started kicking anywhere he could. The man put his hands around Ricky's throat. Ricky thrust the heel of his hand up into the man's nose. Ricky got out from underneath the man and to his feet. He began stomping him to the ground. Over and over he brought his foot down on the man's back and head.
Michelle was screaming the entire time. She screamed for help and when Ricky started stomping the man, she screamed for him to stop.
Ricky stopped when he felt it was enough. He was covered in sweat and breathing hard. The man was motionless on the floor. Ricky stared at him for a second before stepping over him and to his bed. He reached under and pulled out his bag that he always kept handy if he had to run.
"Get yo' stuff," Ricky told Michelle.
"Ricky, what -?"
"Get yo' stuff!" he barked.
Michelle jumped off the bed and started packing her things.
Ricky dragged her out of the apartment building.
"Where are we going?" Michelle asked.
"You a' goin' t' da cops," Ricky said, not letting go of Michelle's arm.
Michelle frowned. "What do you mean? We're both going to the cops."
Ricky stopped and spun around. "I'm done wit' da damn homes! Every one I end up bein' beat or stahved. I'm bettah off on da streets. Now, you a' gonna go t' da cops and tell dem what happened tonight."
Ricky walked Michelle down another few blocks when they saw a police car parked outside of a pizza place.
"Dey dere," said Ricky, pointing at the police that were sitting by the window. "Go."
Michelle's eyes were wide. "But what about Miss Cash's boyfriend? We don't know if he's alive. You could have killed him."
Ricky put his goggles on his head. "Honestly, if I did, den de'e's one less pervert in da woild."
"And if you didn't?" Michelle asked hesitantly.
Ricky's face became stony. "Den I should've stomped hahdah."
Michelle turned to the police. Ricky crept off into the shadows, gone before Michelle looked back at him.
Ricky woke up with a scream when cold water hit him. He floundered for a moment before sitting up. Next to him was the horse. It was taking a drink out of the stream Ricky had fallen into.
With a curse, Ricky got out of the stream. He cleaned himself up the best he could, but there wasn't a way to get the smell of Orc off him, even with the impromptu bath. He wiped off both pairs of goggles, putting on the pair with the tinted lenses so he could see better in the daylight.
He took out the ration of lembas he still had in his pocket. Ricky was surprised that it was still wrapped, dry, and unbroken after all the abuse it had been through. He broke off a small piece and ate it slowly. When he felt like he wasn't going to throw it up, he knelt over the stream and took small sips. All the while, the horse waited for him, grazing nearby.
Once he had his fill, Ricky went back over to the horse. It stood patiently, waiting for him to climb up into the saddle again. Getting back on the horse was more difficult than the first time, but Ricky managed to get on without falling over the other side.
"Okay, big guy, home," Ricky commanded. "And hopefully this time I don't fall off."
He gave the horse a good kick and they were off once more.
Ricky regretted never learning to ride in Rivendell or Lothlórien. It was painful riding clinging to the horse's neck and he had more bruises than he cared to think about. Ricky decided he had to figure out how to sit up in the saddle. After several attempts, more bruises, and nearly falling off a galloping horse multiple times, he figured it out. He bounced around in the saddle for several minutes before discovering it helped if he relaxed a bit.
The horse gave a whinny.
"Hey, dis is a learnin' experience fo' me," Ricky said, irritated. "Never done dis befo'."
He tried to remember how the Elves looked when they rode. They were always sitting up straight. Ricky found that sitting up straight was more comfortable, if not more terrifying as he felt like he would fall off if he didn't hold on tighter. He ended up holding onto the saddle more than the reins since he trusted the horse to know where home was.
Apparently home was a walled town that was built on a large hill. The wall was made out of stone and sharpened posts.
The horse went right up to the gate which opened for them.
"Halt!" a voice called out.
"Whoa!" Ricky said to the horse, giving a tug back on the reins. The horse came to a sudden stopped, nearly throwing Ricky off. "Sorry, big guy."
Ricky was roughly pulled off the horse and thrown to the ground.
"Asshole," he groaned. He turned over and found a sword pointed at his face. He was surrounded by guards.
"Who are you? Why do you ride this horse?" demanded the guard holding the sword in Ricky's face.
Ricky glared up at him.
"Speak quickly!"
"He is only a boy," said another guard.
"A foreign boy," said a third, looking at Ricky's goggles. "I have never seen garb like his before."
The others agreed with him.
"My name is Ricky Weiss," he said, hiding his accent the best he could. "My friends and I were captured by Uruk-hai. We managed to escape last night when they were ambushed. I was separated from my friends. That horse didn't have a rider. It brought me here."
The sword poked Ricky in the neck. "Not only a horse thief, but a liar as well," said the guard.
"I am lost and unarmed," Ricky said, lying about the second part. "I'm not much of threat. But if you don't want me here, give me a map and some food and I'll leave."
The guards exchanged looks.
"We should take him to the king," said one. "Perhaps the boy can convince him there are Orcs wandering Rohan."
The guard holding the sword scoffed. "Théoden cannot tell friend from foe with the worm whispering in his ear. He has convinced the king to banish his nephew and no healer has been called for his son. Saruman will take Rohan by force and the king will do nothing."
"Saruman?" Ricky asked.
"The enemy is cunning," the guard with the sword growled. "Already he has the king's ear. Why not send a 'lost boy' to spy on us?"
"Hey, I have no love for Saruman," said Ricky. "The bastard tried to throw me off the tower roof."
"You are an enemy of Saruman?" asked a guard.
"I'm pretty sure he wants to kill me himself," Ricky said. "He's not happy that I helped out Gandalf."
"Gandalf the Grey?"
"Is there another Gandalf?" Ricky asked.
"Mind your tongue, boy!"
"Okay, relax," said Ricky. "Like I said, give me a map and some food and I'll leave."
"It will be dusk soon," said a guard. "I do not want a boy wandering the fields at night."
"The only maps we have are in the Golden Hall," said another. "Wormtongue will find him."
The guard with the sword moved his blade away from Ricky's neck. "Luck has been with the boy this far. May he have the same luck when he faces Wormtongue."
Ricky was pulled to his feet and led through the town by the guards. He saw these people had a love of horses. Images were carved into their houses. The people looked at him like a harbinger of doom or some sort of demon. Mothers hurried to hide their children as the guards passed with Ricky. He pulled down his goggles to look somewhat normal to them.
The guards took him to the large building that stood on top of the hill. The roof was made of straw, giving it a golden appearance in the setting sun. Ricky thought calling it the Golden Hall was very appropriate.
The doors to the hall opened and a man in armor stepped out. He had long, light brown hair and beard and appeared older than the guards.
"We found this boy riding our kinsman's horse. He is lost and asking for help, Háma."
The new man, Háma, looked at Ricky. "What is your name?" He didn't snap at him like the other guards had.
"Ricky Weiss."
"And from where do you hail?" Háma asked.
"Lothlórien," Ricky answered. "That's the last place I stayed. Before that was Rivendell." He hoped by telling Háma that he was a friend to the Elves that it may improve his chances of getting help.
"A friend to Elves," Háma stated, sounding impressed and somewhat hopeful. "Tell me, do you know any healing?"
"I know enough to patch myself up," Ricky answered. "Why?"
"The king's son has been wounded in battle, but the king has not summoned the healer," said Háma. "You have lived with the Elves. Their skill in healing is legendary. I had hoped you learned from them."
Ricky frowned. "And the healer couldn't come up here themselves?"
"The healer serves at the pleasure of the king," Háma explained. "If the king does not give the order, the healer can do nothing."
"And since I do not serve at the king's pleasure, I could do something. But I'm no healer. I know the bare basics," Ricky argued.
"Please," Háma begged.
Ricky sighed. "Sure, what the hell. Just don't kill me if I can't do anything."
Háma took Ricky inside and led him to a bedchamber. A woman was sitting on the edge of the bed tending to the bed's occupant by mopping his brow. She was dressed in green with long sleeves and had long blonde hair. The man in the bed also had long blonde hair and bore a resemblance to the woman. He was as pale as the sheets and breathing harshly.
"My lady," Háma said. The woman turned to face them. "This is Ricky Weiss. He is a traveler and has some healing knowledge. Ricky, this is Lady Éowyn. She is the niece of King Théoden."
Ricky wasn't sure what to say to her.
Éowyn didn't give him a chance to say anything. "Can you help my cousin?"
"Like I told him, I can try," said Ricky. "Something's better than nothing, right?"
Ricky walked over to the bed. Éowyn pulled the blanket back to show him where the wound was. The man's abdomen was packed with some bandages to slow the bleeding. Ricky carefully pulled the wad back. He was not one to shy away from blood and gore. There were things he saw on the streets he wished he could forget. The sight of the wound didn't turn his stomach, but it made him worry. It was still sluggishly bleeding and looked like nothing had been done other than having rags pressed to it to stop the blood flow.
"Did anyone try to treat this at all?" Ricky asked, looking at the mess of the wound.
"My brother and his men brought him in like this," said Éowyn.
Ricky looked at her in disbelief. "And nothin' else?" he asked, his accent slipping in.
"I have tried to stop the bleeding and keep him comfortable," she went on.
Ricky took his cloak and fingerless gloves off. "First things first, we need to sterilize everythin'. I need boiled water to wash my hands and the wound, bandages and clean rags. And alcohol, the stronger the better. If you got somethin' that will put you on yo' ass after two drinks, bring that. We'll go from there."
Éowyn turned to Háma. "Fetch me Synne and Orva and tell them to bring boiled water, clean bandages, and strong drink. Return to your post. Do not let Wormtongue know about the boy."
Háma nodded. "Yes, my lady." And he left.
A few minutes later, two maidservants came back with what Ricky needed.
Ricky took a swig of the alcohol. It was a strong whiskey that burned going down. He pulled up his clear goggles and washed his hands. He splashed some on his hands and arms to clean off what the water hadn't.
"Who's gonna help?" he asked the three women. "I might need an extra set of hands."
Éowyn volunteered. Ricky had her wash her hands as well. While she did that, Ricky began cleaning the wound site and flushed it with the whiskey.
"Dammit! This is a mess," he muttered.
The man moaned.
Éowyn immediately wiped at his face with a damp cloth. "It is all right, Théodred. The healer is here. You will be well, cousin."
"Hey, I just have an idea of what I'm doin'," Ricky corrected, looking at the wound. He never learned how to help anything this severe from his trips to the library or Aragorn's lessons. He really wished Aragorn was here right now.
He considered his options. The skin could be stitched closed, but that did nothing for the internal damage. Ricky suddenly remembered his dream from the previous day. In fact, it was actually a memory. He had cut his leg badly and patched himself up. From what he read, if a wound had been in open air for more than six hours, it shouldn't be stitched closed. It was the same if the wound had dead tissue or if there was infection as it could cause more problems.
The wound was inflamed and bleeding a bit more now that Ricky had cleaned it out, but it was already slowing down. There wasn't much to be done other than packing and covering it.
"Honey," whispered Ricky.
"What?" Éowyn asked.
"Honey," Ricky repeated a little louder, looking at the women. "It's a natural antibiotic. Do you have any?"
"We do," replied one of the servants.
"Go get it," Ricky ordered.
She hurried out of the room.
Ricky got fresh bandages ready. The servant came back with the honey. Ricky was careful to put an even layer around the wound and gave it time to drip in.
"Do you believe this will help?" questioned Éowyn, watching as Ricky applied the honey.
"It worked for the Ancient Egyptians and they knew what they were doin'," Ricky said absently.
With a wet dressing, he packed the wound. He then had Éowyn and the servants help him wrap the wound with a dry bandage.
"This is all I can do," Ricky told Éowyn. "It's up to him now."
"Thank you," said Éowyn.
"Thank me if he lives," said Ricky. "I'm no healer. I just know what I know from patchin' myself up."
The servants cleaned up the mess and Ricky washed his hands again. A fire was built in the fireplace. It was only then that Ricky realized how dark it was in the room and only growing darker.
"I do not know what we would have done if you had not come along," said Éowyn. "Háma said your name is Ricky Weiss?"
"Yeah," said Ricky.
"Thank you, Master Weiss," Éowyn said again.
"Like I said, thank me if he lives. And thank the horse that brought me here. Apparently it belongs to one of your soldiers. One of the guys at the gate called me a horse thief."
"Why were you riding one of our horses?"
"I left out of Lothlórien with some others. We were attacked by the Uruk-hai sent by Saruman the Wise," Ricky sneered, purposely slowing his speech to enunciate his words clearly and hide his accent once more. This also gave him time to think about what to tell her without revealing the Ring. "I was taken with two others. Saruman wanted them to deliver us to him for some reason. I don't know why he wanted the other two, but I was an unlucky guest of Saruman before and escaped. I'm sure he wasn't too happy about that. Last night, we stopped at the edge of the forest to rest. I knew we would only have one chance to escape. The camp was ambushed by your men. My two friends ran into the forest, but I couldn't follow them. I did the next best thing I could think of. The horse was at the edge of the battlefield without a rider. I just jumped on and told it to go home. It brought me here. I was hoping to find a map and figure out what to do next."
"My brother and his men rode north," Éowyn told him. "The only forest there is Fangorn Forest."
"When you see him next, thank him for me," said Ricky.
"I do not know when that will be," Éowyn said sadly. "My uncle, the king, had him banished yesterday along with the Éored."
"For what?" Ricky asked.
"Because of Gríma Wormtongue, the king's advisor," Éowyn answered. "He manipulates my uncle. Gríma whispers into his ear and my uncle does what he is told. He insists Saruman is ever our friend and ally, yet the Orcs running freely across our lands bear the White Hand of Saruman. My brother tried to get my uncle to see this, but Gríma accused him of warmongering. Éomer confronted him, asking how long he has been following Saruman and what reward he would receive when Rohan falls. Gríma revealed that the king had signed Éomer's banishment order that morning and had him thrown out of Meduseld."
"So this Gríma Wormtongue is in Saruman's pocket," said Ricky. "Best stay away from him then."
"Yes. But I do not know how to hide you from his sight," said Éowyn.
Ricky looked at Théodred. "I should stay close to him though. I don't know how much I can do if he takes a turn for the worst, but I can try."
"Gríma may come in here to see me," said Éowyn. "I do not wish to leave my cousin's side, but you cannot be found."
"You let me worry about hiding," said Ricky. "I'm very good at it. Would any of the servants tell him I'm here?"
"They love Théodred and care little for Gríma," Éowyn told him. "They will hold their tongues when he passes by."
"Speaking of servants, would one of them mind if I got some food?" Ricky asked. "I haven't really eaten much the last few days."
Aragorn sat by the campfire contemplating what all had happened that day. After discovering Ricky and the Hobbits had escaped the Uruk-hai, he, Legolas, and Gimli followed the Hobbits' trail into Fangorn Forest. While they had not found Merry and Pippin, they had found someone else or rather he found them.
Gandalf was alive! Aragorn was still amazed by this even as he watched the now Gandalf the White stand at the edge of the small hill overlooking the plains. Gandalf had assured them Merry and Pippin were both safe and they would be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche, whatever that could possibly mean.
Aragorn left the fire and joined Gandalf.
Gandalf spoke, "The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dûr, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Númenor still lives."
Aragorn looked over at Gandalf to find him already looking into his eyes.
"Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become."
Aragorn looked away.
Gandalf looked back to the east. "And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. He will use his puppet Saruman to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning, we have one advantage."
Aragorn and Gandalf locked eyes again.
"The Ring remains hidden," said Gandalf.
Aragorn nodded.
"And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams," Gandalf went on. "And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest."
Gandalf saw the worry coloring Aragorn's face. "Do not regret your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."
"He's not alone," said Aragorn. "Sam went with him."
Gandalf was surprised. He smiled. "Did he? Did he, indeed? Good. Yes, very good."
"Ricky was unable to follow Merry and Pippin," Aragorn added. "I believe he went south on horseback. He may have gone to Edoras. He could be running into Saruman's hands without knowing it."
"Ricky is a resourceful child," said Gandalf. "I am certain he will be safe until we meet again."
Aragorn silently agreed.
Ricky laid on the floor. He was sore, but was in better shape than he would have been if he hadn't taken some of the aspirin from his Altoids tin. His legs and front were bruised from riding the horse. He let out a groaned as he arched his back and went up on his hands and feet, completely bent backwards. He then sat up and bent forward to touch his toes. Ricky wanted to keep himself from getting too stiff.
A knock on the door sent him scrambling to his feet with a hiss of pain. With his straight razor in hand, Ricky went to the door and knocked back. It was something he and Éowyn came up with. She or one of the servants would knock on the locked door. Ricky would knock back and then wait for an answering knock. After receiving one, Ricky would open the door for them and lock it again once they were inside.
There was an answering knock. Ricky opened the door to let in Éowyn.
"There hasn't been much change," said Ricky, locking the door behind them.
Éowyn went over to her cousin. "Has the dressing been changed recently?"
"I want to wait a couple more hours to change it," Ricky told her.
Éowyn touched Théodred's face. "He does not seem as feverish."
"Think it came down some," Ricky agreed.
"He may live yet," said Éowyn.
"He needs more than me," said Ricky. "The only healer I know of that could help him for sure is nowhere near here. You wanna live, buddy, it's all on you," he directed at Théodred.
The door rattled, but there was no knock. Ricky quickly put his finger to his lips to quiet Éowyn. They waited. The door rattled again, this time harder. Someone on the other side banged on it twice. It was quiet after that.
Ricky took out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was three in the morning.
"Expectin' anyone?" he asked quietly.
"No," Éowyn answered.
"Maybe you want to stay here for a while until we're sure they're gone," suggested Ricky.
Éowyn ended up staying until dawn. Neither of them said much, not wanting anyone to know they were in Théodred's room. Éowyn occupied herself with caring for her cousin while Ricky would move around the room on silent feet. After dawn, the servants knocked on the door like they knew to do. With their help, Ricky changed Théodred's bandages. One of the servants divulged that Wormtongue had been looking for Éowyn for some reason or another and skulked about Meduseld all night trying to find her. Ricky frowned. So it was probably Wormtongue banging on the door at three in the morning.
Éowyn left the room to freshen up. She returned wearing a white dress. Then it was Ricky's turn. When Ricky returned to Théodred's room, he found the door open. He peered around the doorframe and saw Éowyn kneeling beside Théodred's bed. They weren't alone. A man with stringy black hair and dressed in black robes slowly approached Éowyn.
"Oh, he looks like he is ready to fall any moment," he said with concern. His voice was as slimy as he looked. He put one pale hand on Éowyn's shoulder. "I understand that his passing will be hard for you. Especially now that your brother has deserted you."
Éowyn jumped up and backed away from him. "Leave me alone, snake!"
Ricky stepped into the room and ducked behind the door.
"Oh, but you are alone." The man's voice lost all of its concern and turned sinister. "Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness in bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of you bower closing in about you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?"
Ricky took out his straight razor.
The man stopped in front of Éowyn and stared into her eyes. He reached out and put a pale hand on the side of her face. "So fair, so cold like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill."
Éowyn closed her eyes.
The man moved his hand down her neck.
Éowyn's eyes snapped open. "Your words are poison," she said angrily. "Get out."
The man staggered back and quickly left the room.
Ricky closed and locked the door. He turned to see Éowyn shaking, with anger or something else he wasn't sure.
"You okay?" he asked.
Éowyn blinked, seemingly confused at his words.
"Want me to cut him?" Ricky went on, holding up his straight razor.
"There is little you can do."
"Who was that?" asked Ricky.
"That was Gríma Wormtongue," she replied.
"Huh, fitting name." Ricky could see Éowyn didn't want to be in the room right now. "I'll stay with Théodred if you want a few minutes to yourself. Bad enough you got to be under the same roof as that creep. Just take a knife or something with you. He tries something again, stab him."
Éowyn opened the door and ran out.
Ricky closed and locked the door behind her. He turned to Théodred. "Looks like it's just you and me again."
It was only a few minutes after Éowyn left that she came back pounding on the door.
"What's wrong?" Ricky demanded.
"There are four travelers who have entered Edoras," Éowyn explained.
"Okay," Ricky said slowly. "Do we need to worry about them?"
"Gandalf the Grey is with them," she said.
"What?"
That wasn't possible.
"Who else was with him?" Ricky asked, his voice shaking a little.
"A Man, he looked to be a Ranger of the North, an Elf, and a Dwarf," Éowyn replied.
Ricky grabbed his cloak and fingerless gloves. "I want you to stay here. Look after your cousin."
Éowyn bristled at the teenager ordering her around. "What is going on?"
Ricky opened the door and turned to her. "Stay here," he said sternly. He closed the door behind him and hurried down the hallway, trying to remember where the door he came in originally was.
Ricky's thoughts swirled. There was no way Gandalf was alive. The Fellowship saw him fall in Moria. Ricky saw him fall in Moria. He had crossed that bridge and knew it was more than deep enough for it to kill a person. And the Balrog had fallen with him. Even if Gandalf managed to survive the fall he would still have the Balrog to deal with. And what were Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli doing here? They would have gone with Frodo or at least they should have been with him, not chasing after him, Merry, and Pippin.
Ricky ended up back in the main hall, but not through the same doorway from the night before. Instead of being at the far end of the hall by the entrance, he was at the other end. This allowed him to get his first good look at the main hall. Carved pillars held up the roof, a cauldron and fire pit sitting in the center. Like the rest of the town, horses were a theme amongst elaborate knots and twists carved into the wood and banners hanging all around. To his left was a dais where a frail old man who looked like he just climbed out of the crypt was sitting on a throne, Wormtongue sitting next to him, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. To his right was the main entrance where people were stepping behind the columns to allow the four people who had just entered approach the throne unhindered.
"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King."
Ricky's jaw dropped. He knew that voice. Gandalf was walking towards the dais. His hair was now white, but it was him. He was wrapped in a grey cloak. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were with him. Ricky noticed that they were not armed. He also noticed a bunch of thugs moving in the shadows while those in armor kept their eyes on what was happening, Háma among them.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow," the king, Théoden, labored to say.
"A just question, my liege," Wormtongue said, nodding.
Ricky didn't miss the fact that Théoden was looking to Wormtongue for approval.
Wormtongue stood and left the dais to meet the quartet far in front of Théoden. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Láthspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."
Ricky watched as Wormtongue to get up in Gandalf's face.
"Be silent," Gandalf ordered, freezing Wormtongue in his tracks. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy words crooked words with a witless worm."
Ricky broke into a grin.
Gandalf raised his staff.
Wormtongue backed away from it. "His staff. I told you to take the wizard's staff," he told the guards arrogantly.
An all-out fist fight started in the hall as the thugs charged in to take Gandalf's staff. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli fought them off as Gandalf continued forward like nothing was happening. Ricky saw some of the men in armor start to move, but a gesture from Háma stopped them.
"Théoden, son of Thengal," Gandalf started, reaching out to the king.
The king glared wickedly at Gandalf.
"Too long have you sat in the shadows," Gandalf went on.
While Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were taking care of the thugs, Ricky saw Wormtongue try to slip into the shadows and escape. The teen stepped into the hall and grabbed him by the back of the robes. He swung him around and sent him crashing to the floor. Ricky whipped out his straight razor and pinned him with his foot. Granted, Wormtongue could probably get free, but Ricky's goggled appearance was unsettling and kept him in place.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" Ricky asked, holding up his straight razor.
"Harken to me!" Gandalf commanded Théoden. "I release you from the spell." He stopped in front of Théoden, holding out his hand and closing his eyes to concentrate.
Théoden let out a labored, menacingly laugh. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey."
Gandalf threw off his grey cloak and spread his hands. Blinding white light left his white robes.
Ricky could feel the power coming off Gandalf as Théoden was thrown back against his seat with a yell.
"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," said Gandalf.
He thrusted his staff towards Théoden. The force knocked Théoden back in his throne kept him there. Gandalf came closer.
Ricky heard movement behind him and saw a flash of white as Éowyn ran forward to help her uncle only to be stopped by Aragorn.
"Wait," Aragorn told her.
"If I go, Théoden dies," the king said.
Gandalf thrusted his staff again and Théoden was forced back again. "You did not kill me, you not kill him."
"Couldn't even off me right," Ricky added.
The king struggled. "Rohan is mine."
"Be gone," Gandalf commanded.
With a burst of strength, the king lunged for Gandalf. Gandalf hit him with the head with his staff. A second later he sighed and the king slumped forward in his throne.
Éowyn ran forward and caught Théoden. She held him up and looked at him. His eyes cleared and his white hair turned blonde. His face became more youthful.
"Holy shit," Ricky whispered in awe.
Théoden looked at Éowyn. "I know your face," he said with a smile. "Éowyn. Éowyn."
Éowyn started to cry with joy.
Théoden looked at Gandalf like he just first noticed him. "Gandalf?"
"Breathe the free air again, my friend," said Gandalf.
Théoden got to his feet and looked around the hall. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He looked down at his trembling hands.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," said Gandalf.
Háma rushed forward with a sword in his hands and presented it to Théoden. Théoden slowly gripped the hilt and drew the sword from its scabbard. He gazed upon the steel.
Ricky felt Wormtongue grab his leg and try to push him off. Ricky lashed out with his straight razor, cutting Wormtongue across the back of his hand. Wormtongue cried out, drawing attention to himself.
Théoden turned to Wormtongue, his eyes darkening.
Ricky let out a chuckle. "You're in deep shit now, bitch," he said to Wormtongue.
Wormtongue was promptly thrown out of the wall and down the steps the lower stoop. He crawled away as Théoden descended the steps, sword in hand. "I've only ever served you, my lord," Wormtongue cried out beseechingly.
"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden said angrily.
"Send me not from your sight!" Wormtongue implored.
Théoden reached Wormtongue and raised his sword, intending to kill him.
Aragorn ran down the steps and grabbed Théoden. "No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account."
Théoden looked at Aragorn and lowered his sword.
Aragorn then turned to Wormtongue and offered his hand to help him to his feet. Wormtongue took one look and spat on it. The next second Wormtongue was violently kicked in the chest and sent tumbling down the rest of the stairs to the crowd that had gathered. Aragorn looked next to him to see Ricky righting himself to stand up.
Wormtongue hurried to his feet and pushed through the crowd. "Get out of my way!"
"Hail, Théoden King!" Háma called out.
The people knelt.
Ricky watched Wormtongue grab a horse and gallop out of the town at full speed. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Aragorn directing him to kneel down as he did, moving his hand to the back of Ricky's head to bow it.
"Where is Théodred?" Théoden asked. "Where is my son?"
"Needin' a healer." Ricky turned to Aragorn. "You gotta help him. I know you taught me a few t'ings, but I dunno what t' do."
"Show me," Aragorn said. "Tell me everything."
Ricky started leading the way, Éowyn joining them at the top of the stairs. "Wormtongue wouldn' let da healer take a look at him, orda of da king an' all," he said, his accent showing the more he talked. "Got around da orda 'cause I'm no healah."
Éowyn led the way to Théodred's room, Ricky following with Aragorn, Théoden, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli.
Once there, Aragorn immediately started checking him over. "Who did the dressing?"
"Me wit' da help of Éowyn an' a couple servants," replied Ricky. "Changed dem dis mornin'. I didn't screw it up woise, did I?"
Aragorn unwound the dressing to look at the wound. "No. This was the right thing to do." He noticed the sticky substance around the wound. "Honey?"
"Yeah," replied Ricky. "I used it befo' on myself. Worked fo' me. Washed da wound out wit' whiskey first."
"You did well, Ricky," said Aragorn as he continued his examination. "Lord Théodred would have been dead by sunrise if the wound had been left untreated any longer."
"Just did what I could," muttered Ricky. "He'll make it, won't he?"
"He will now that he has a healer tending to him," Gandalf said.
Ricky turned to Gandalf. "And you!" He walked over and slapped Gandalf on the arm. "What's yo' excuse? We thought you were dead!" Ricky gave him another slap on the arm. "We saw ya faw!"
Legolas reached out to stop Ricky from hitting Gandalf again.
"You sonovabitch," Ricky added, his voice cracking terribly as he shook.
It took the members of the Fellowship a few seconds to realize that Ricky was actually crying.
Gandalf put his arm around Ricky. "There now, Ricky. All is well."
"My lord," Aragorn said, gaining the attention of Théoden and Éowyn.
Théodred had opened his eyes and was looking around the room. Théoden and Éowyn were elated to see Théodred awake. Aragorn stepped back from the bed to allow the family a few minutes before he started treating Théodred.
Ricky could only see white as his lenses fogged up from his tears. He shook his head. "Merry and Pippin," he started to say.
"Are safe," Gandalf finished for him. "Not here with us, but they are safe."
"Frodo and Sam?" Ricky whispered.
"Continuing the quest," Gandalf answered.
"Then what da hell are you doin' here?" Ricky hissed. "You should be wit' dem!"
"We could not leave you to the Orcs," said Legolas.
"Frodo is more important," Ricky said.
"We could do little more for Frodo," Aragorn said quietly. "Sam is with him. I have faith they will succeed."
Ricky huffed. "Almost afraid to ask. Boromir?"
"He lives, lad," Gimli said.
Ricky's head snapped around to him. "Ginger Dwarf say what now?"
"Boromir lives," repeated Gimli.
"And on his way back to Gondor," Legolas added. "Aragorn was able to heal him with Lady Galadriel's gift."
Ricky let out a sigh of relief.
Théoden walked up to Ricky. "You have my thanks, Ricky Weiss. You saved my son's life."
Ricky blinked at him. "You're welcome," he said awkwardly.
Aragorn treated Théodred while the others went back to the main hall. Tables and benches had been put out and food and drink were served. Gandalf sat on the stool next to Théoden's throne and informed him what was happening with Saruman and Mordor.
Ricky sat next to Gimli as they ate. Ricky's tankard only had water in it while Gimli's had something stronger.
"What's in yours?" Ricky asked him, nodding to the tankard.
"Good ale," Gimli replied
Ricky grabbed the tankard and took a swig. He made a face. "Gimme their whiskey any day." He gave the tankard back.
Gimli huffed. "What would you know about good ale?"
"Enough that I know I like the hard stuff better," said Ricky.
Théoden looked at Ricky's back. "Tell me about the boy," he said to Gandalf.
"Young Ricky Weiss," Gandalf started. "He is an interesting boy. He speaks plainly, if not cynically and a bit crude at times, but gives a glimmer of hope when others speak evil. He cares not for one's station or birth and judges them on their actions. His trust is hard to earn and he shies away from physical contact from those he does not trust completely."
"Such strange attire he wears and his speech is peculiar," Théoden said. "Do you know from where he hails?"
"A place called New York," Gandalf replied.
"I have never heard of such a place," said Théoden.
"Neither have I," said Gandalf.
"And of his family?"
"He has none. He has been without a home for some time now. However he does not let that stop him. He is surprisingly well learnt and imparts bits of wisdom from his homeland when it is least expected."
Aragorn entered the main hall. "Théodred will live. It will take time for his wound to heal, but he will recover."
The doors to the hall burst open and two soldiers rushed in carrying two children. One, a boy, was unconscious, and the other, a little girl, seemed scared to wit's end. Aragorn attended to the boy immediately. Éowyn took the little girl.
"Is Éothain alive?" the little girl asked.
"He will be all right," said Éowyn. "What is your name?"
"Freda."
"Can you tell me what happened?" Éowyn asked sweetly.
While Freda told Éowyn their story, Aragorn revived the boy. A servant brought bowls of soup and blankets for the children. Between bites of food, the boy, Éothain, clarified what his little sister told Éowyn.
Ricky watched them from his table. The two children were probably now orphaned. They would need to learn quick how to survive by themselves. Ricky thought about what he had to learn to survive. He had been fortunate that he had Lee look out for him, but these children had no one. The smell of a pipe brought Ricky out of those thoughts. He turned to see Aragorn sitting across from him smoking his pipe. Legolas stood against the pillar behind Aragorn, no doubt listening to the children with his superior hearing.
"They had no warning," Éowyn told those in the hall, repeating what the children told her. "They were unarmed. Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree."
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli exchanged concerned glances.
"Where's mama?" Freda cried.
Éowyn fixed a blanket around Freda's shoulders and shushed her.
Gandalf motioned to the children. "This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on." He leaned forward and rested his hand on the arm of Théoden's throne, earning him a wary look. "Draw them away from your women and children."
Aragorn decided to speak up. "You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."
Théoden stood up and walked to the center of the hall. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us."
Gandalf began to walk over to Théoden to speak.
"I know what it is that you want of me," Théoden said, stopping whatever Gandalf was about to say. "But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."
"It's in your front yard whether you want it or not."
Théoden turned to see Ricky standing up.
"It's only a matter of time before open war is at your door and it's not gonna knock and see if you wanna play or not. At least if you have Éomer, you have a fightin' chance. You can't tell me there's nobody who's willin' to go get a message to him. At least try."
"I am not risking my people!" Théoden yelled.
"It ain't about what you want no more!" Ricky shouted back. He pointed to Éothain and Freda. "Are dey not yo' people? Are da people in da village that was burned not yo' people? Yo' people are dyin'! Do you really t'ink fo' one minute dat Saruman's gonna leave Rohan alone because you don't wanna fight?"
The hall was silent.
Théoden was shocked by Ricky's blatant disrespect. "You would best remember your place, boy. When I last looked, Théoden was king of Rohan," he said indignantly.
"Then lead," challenged Ricky.
Théoden looked at Ricky with a thunderous expression.
Aragorn spoke up from the table. "And what is the king's decision?"
Théoden turned away, concern on his face.
Háma stood out and delivered Théoden's decision to the people. "By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need."
Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Ricky, and Gandalf walked passed the people who were gathering their belongings.
"Helm's Deep!" Gimli barked. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight."
The five of them walked into a stable.
"Who will defend them if not their king?" Gimli continued.
"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn said. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."
"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf said, making his way to a stall containing a beautiful white horse with no saddle or bridal. "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre."
Ricky threw his opinion in. "I'm all for a tactical retreat, but this is bullshit if nobody's got a real plan."
Gandalf had to agree with Ricky. He looked grimly at Aragorn. "Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."
"They will hold," Aragorn promised.
Gandalf patted the white horse. "The Grey Pilgrim," he mused. "That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time."
Gandalf mounted the white horse. "With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."
"You got it, Gandalf," said Ricky.
Aragorn nodded. "Go."
The horse charged out of the stables, forcing Legolas and Gimli to jump out of the way.
"Damn fast horse," muttered Ricky. "What do they feed it?"
"That is Shadowfax, the lord of all horses," Aragorn explained. "He is one of the Mearas, the greatest horses of Middle Earth. They are long-lived and are said to run faster than the wind."
"Place all bets on him at the track then, huh," Ricky joked.
People hurried around the stable preparing for the evacuation. One horse was putting up a struggle. Two men were working to subdue a mighty brown stallion.
Aragon handed the saddle he was carrying to Ricky, who was shadowing him.
"That horse is half mad, my lord," said another man to Aragorn. "There's nothing you can do. Leave him."
The horse whinnied and reared up.
Aragorn continued to approach the horse. "Fæste, stille nú."
Ricky watched as Aragorn took the rope from one man and got the stallion under control. He didn't look the horse directly in the eye and kept his voice calm. "Fæste. Stille nú."
The horse started to calm down and let Aragorn get close enough to untie the ropes from his halter. He handed the ropes to the other man, who hurried off to attend to the other horses.
"Lac is drefed, gefrægon," Aragorn told the horse. "Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hm? Hwæt nemnað ðe?"
"His name is Brego." Éowyn was preparing a saddle for a horse. "He's my cousin's horse."
"Brego." Aragorn turned back to the stallion. "Ðin nama is cynglic."
Ricky watched Éowyn hand the saddle to another soldier. She slowly made her way to Brego and Aragorn, transfixed on Aragorn's voice.
Aragorn continued speaking to the horse. "Man le trasta, Brego? Man cenich?"
"I have heard of the magic of Elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North," Éowyn said in awe. "You speak as one of their own."
"I was raised in Rivendell . . . for a time," Aragorn told her somewhat hesitantly. "Turn this fellow free. He's seen enough of war."
Aragorn left Éowyn in charge of Brego. He retrieved his saddle from Ricky and left.
Ricky looked over his shoulder at Éowyn before following Aragorn out. He would have to watch out for Aragorn. Éowyn seemed to have a crush on an already promised man.
Phew! That was a long chapter. I figured I would give a long chapter to hold you all over until the next post. If I'm being honest, this chapter was a bit of a nightmare. Originally, I didn't have Ricky escaping on a horse, so I had to look up information about horseback riding. The other challenge was making Ricky helping Théodred somewhat believable. Then I was having timeline issues about when Faramir found Boromir's body in the movie and when Merry and Pippin escaped the Orcs and when Aragorn and the others got to Edoras, it was just crazy. I did manage to find a Lord of the Rings timeline and have been using that as a reference point. Granted my story is not going to follow that particular timeline exactly, but it gives me something to work off of.
Let me know what you think of this chapter or the entire story on the review board.