A character background too long... -need critique for a new writer

I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed writing this character so far, only it appears theres no where to post it. If possible, Id like to get some opinions...

This is a character for middle earth
"Lucky 'nick"
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Southern human
A Short, Wiry kid who spent a several years among pirates. Still alive mostly from his luck, hes trying to find his way in the world.
Sneaky and clever, he's well practiced as a thief, unless something is in a person's hand, it doesn't necessarily belong to them, and its up for grabs.
Speaking in an accent that isnt heard much in the north, he is quite far from home and maybe a bit edgy around these very foreign strangers.
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Hitch Plastin by birth, as a very young man jumped at the chance to "claim me fortune!" by stowing away on a "merchant's" ship. Away at sea a few days before being discovered, the crew had nothing to do with him but put him to work. Hitch, having heard tales of adventure on the wide open sea in the corner tavern growing up, wanted to be a pirate, a fighter, and very, very rich. He took to the work eagerly and copied everything the crew would do, the way they talked, the way they moved, the way they dressed. And in this way, he learned to sail, to fight, and to steal.
The crew was an ambitious and successful one, and they made off quite well in their plans, whether sneaking into villages and looting, or ambushing trade routes and fighting. Time passed surprisingly quickly, and before long, a couple of years had passed and he was no longer some kid that they were looking to get rid of at the first chance, but a valuable part of the crew. He had good wits about him and a fair share of luck that came in very handy at times.
He started to be known for his luck, especially as a thief, as the crew liked to use him for. And if the luck didn’t serve him in getting him in and out easily, it made well for keeping him alive. The first time, a should-have-been-sleeping-blacksmith nearly knocked him out with a well thrown ingot as he made off with the man's moneybox and a few finely made daggers. An old farmer from outside of town happened to be walking down the street and saw the event. He immediately punched the blacksmith out for his cruelty and hitch stumbled off safely. By the time the blacksmith came to, the boy was long gone. The second time he was almost beheaded by an unseen tree limb struggling to race out of the stable on a nobleman's horse in the dark, falling off just in time that he missed it. He'd seen men ride horses before and it looked easy enough to him that he shouldn’t need a saddle. The pirates began to call him "lucky ter haff yer neck", which later changed to "lucky haffe'nick", then finally, just "lucky 'nick".
He didn’t grow up to be as stout and strong as the other men in the crew, he was of a thinner build and when it came to tight situations, he had to rely on his resourcefulness, speed, and luck all too often to survive the lifestyle he'd worked himself into. A couple more years passed in this way, and "Lucky" had put together a small fortune, had some grand adventures, and become a rather crafty and dirty fighter.
Later, as a young lad of 13 years, he saw his home harbour for the first time in the 7 years that passed. The skip every now and then would take the ship a long way past where their reputations as pirates would be known. So for the past few weeks, he had the crew cleaning and changing the look of the ship so they could pass as merchants. As merchants, they could sell off goods they acquired but had no use of. As well, the crew would play and dress the part so that they might be able to live it up a bit without being outlaws or hunted down. By trading and selling various goods to the town from all over the world, they were quite welcomed, well treated, and well paid.
The years past, the wear of the sun, a few scars, the length of his hair and his demeanour easily kept Lucky from being recognized by anyone in town. Indeed, the boy he was before, they thought had run away or drowned. Now he returns only after several years, and appearing even older than his days, no one is the wiser.
So as was his habit, Lucky found his place gambling and making challenges in the local tavern. He almost always made off well, and today was no exception. There was no game he didn’t know, and none especially that he couldn't turn in his favour. The night wore on and he did quite well for himself, nearing the end of the night he had filled his pockets with the locals' money and was set to be off, quite pleased with himself.
Coins jingling and feet dragging, Lucky stumbled towards the door to make his way back to the inn with the rest of the crew when nothing other than a heavy blunt object struck him in the back of the head, leaving him senseless on the ground. The blunt object's name was Gill, a sailor who lost his money and was at the moment collecting it again.
Gill was not all bad, he had a sense of humour, and so did his pals. They took to fine and mysteriously-acquired merchandise like Lucky's company and just so happened to have a bit back on their ship that they thought might just now come into use.
A few hours later, just before dawn, "Lucky" found himself waking up freezing cold laying near the docks with a splitting headache and a sharp pain on his neck and head. He rubbed the back of his head and found fresh blood and something else, a pain that didn’t belong, it felt like a burn and was lower down on the neck that he was hit, it was also bleeding and it certainly didn’t seem to be a regular cut.
He climbed to his feet and headed towards the dock where his ship was tied up. Wallace, one of the older codgers in the crew, preferred to stay on the ship and wasn’t much good pretending to be a merchant. So he was set to be the watchman while the others stayed in the inn. Looking more than ridiculous in anything but his regular rags, he stayed mostly hidden from sight and in his own clothes.
He woke with a start as Lucky came fumbling down the stairs below deck. Still exhausted and half-drunk from the night, he grabbed a rag off the floor, pressed it against his neck to soak up the blood, and collapsed into his hammock.
Wallace, a suspicious and mistrustful fellow, lit his lantern, and not saying anything, staggered to his feet and limping off his bad leg, made his way over to the boy and squinted down at him. Fast asleep already, Lucky didn’t notice the old man reach down and peel the rag off his neck. Seeing the blood, his eyes widened a bit and he brought the lantern closer to inspect the wound. At the bottom of the neck, between the cold sweat, smeared blood and obvious infection there was a circular white mark, a branding.
Wallace grabbed the boy's shoulder and turned him face down to get a clearer look at it. Lucky woke up and fought to get whoever's hand was holding him down. "Kwit cher wigglin boy! lemmy see whatcha dun", says Wallace, never bothering to learn the kid's name after seven years on the same ship. Lucky stopped struggling, because he too was curious what the heck had been done to his neck.
After just a few seconds, the old man recognized the branding. "Marlin's Kerse!" he coughed, stumbling back a step.
The symbol of the coiled snake now burned into the boy's neck was that of Morlan's tomb. Known to all sailors and storytellers as holding remarkable treasures of many kinds, it also carries a mysterious and sometimes deadly curse. There are few around who speak of the tomb freely after the many strange tales of misfortune that happened to those gone to seek it. The stories of the tomb's many raidings over the ages are said to have composed the fortunes of some of the day's kings. It was also said there were old magics still alive in it that granted the talents of several remarkable artists, musicians, and even wizards. However it is also said to have equally cursed and laid waste to towns and villages of those who carried its riches back with them. The name carries with it tales both great and terrible, and no pirate as superstitious as this lot was about to have that mark anywhere near them.
"Up boy, and out wich ya, I's aint haffin Marlin stampin on me grave... Up I' sed", Wallace demanded in his best English with a good hard slap on the boy's back. Lucky, still only partly awake, only made out the word "up" and the fresh sting on his back. Turning over and sitting up, he looked at the crazy old man… He was old, greasy, gray, and had a lazy eye, with a voice that should have belonged to his pet parrot, only there was no parrot, just a bad leg and worse breath. He saw Wallace's one eye lookin' at him, the other eye lookin' for him, both of them as wild and insane as he's ever known them.
"Whatcha so x'sited abat?"
"Tha' kerse boy! Now wat gat ya inta dis trubble? Ya ottent be burnin dis on yer nek. Evrybady knows wat it be bringin…"
"curse?....... wat curse?"
"Marlin… Marlin's… toom. Aincha heer me? Now grab ya trunk an' be off wich ya….. Now..… out..… I' aynt haffin you be th' deth a me!"
At this he pulled up the edge of the hammock and flipped Lucky onto the ground, then grabbed the end of his trunk and started dragging it to the stairs.
"Yu an' yer stuff, outt' m' site! I' noo yu wuz trubbl' frumda start!"
With the strength that only terror and insanity could grant, the old man lifted the nearly full trunk up the stairs to the main deck. Lucky laid bruised, upside down on the floor, still not any closer to waking up. He'd seen Wallace get excited before, even if never quite this far, and he fully planned to ignore the crazy old coot till it passed.

Unfortunately, this was not a night for sleep it seemed. Lumbering back down the stairs, Wallace unhooked Lucky's hammock, dropped it on top of him, grabbed the boy by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. Hurriedly dragging him along, he had him up the stairs, across the deck and down the plank to the dock, leaving no time to argue.

So it came to pass that this was the last time Lucky was ever on his ship. Being dragged away half asleep, bruised, beaten and branded, he somehow knew things were about to change, and that he wasn’t about to miss his days on that bloody boat. But nevertheless, he glanced back one last time.

As it happens, pirates are pretty fond of pretty things, and learn that in order to keep anything safe, especially from each other, they need to have it locked up. In general, nothing less that a hardwood metal bracketed trunk will do, with a sturdy lock, a watchful eye, and a strong will to keep it there. Not the easiest luggage for travel, but everything at least was in one place... And it was in this fashion, between the hammock wrapped around him, the clothes on his back and the trunk dragged beside him, "Lucky 'nick" managed to have all his belongings with him.