Eric the Bold
Eric was a thief. At least, there were those who thought so. They were most often the rich land barons or the soldiers of the King , and they feared him. There were others though, who thought him the hero and respected him greatly. In point of fact, Eric was indeed a special man in many ways. His brown, wavy hair hung to his broad shoulders. His blue eyes glinted like chips of glacial ice, yet their sparkle could melt a young damsels heart. His skin was tan and his chest, arms and thighs rippled with sinewy strength. Yet, he was not such a perfect physical specimen. His face and arms were covered with the scars of many battles past. He had fought bravely in the war when he had lived only 16 years. He had served the King well for three years. But, that was not so in the two years since he had returned from the war. He served the King no more.
He always cared gently for children who were sick or hurt and he fed the poor when he could gather enough riches from those who had too much. In some way, whether they feared him or revered him, he was respected by all.
Eric strode through the dense trees of the forest avoiding the trails and, thereby, he thought, the kings men. His tough soled moccasins were laced with leather straps over his muscular calves up to his knees and protecting him from the nettles that tried to tear at his legs. He wore a tunic of rough, brown cloth and held it in place by straps of leather that he cured from one of the king's deer he had taken three months ago. On his left arm he carried a beautiful, round shield of hammered iron and leather which bore the scars of battle just as his face did. It had protected and saved him from enemy swords on many a desperate occasion.
And then, there was truly the pride of his possessions. A broad sword he had removed from an enemy officer in the wars. From it's gold pommel to the tip of its shining blade, it was nearly five feet long, honed to a keen edge capable of slicing through shield and armor, flesh and bone. In spite of its massive weight, he could wield it as if it were a wooden long staff.
Eric loved the forest. He could spend all of his time here, enjoying the freshness of the air, the green of the plants and the abundance of wildlife.
He turned his head, lifting his nose to the wind. He smelled something being carried on the morning breeze...something putrid in death. Probably a deer had been killed and gutted by some hunter or, perhaps, by a bear. The carrion birds and other small scavengers would come soon to clean up and return the forest to its pristine state.
He heard a sound behind him and whirled to face whatever danger was there. He raised his shield to ward off any descending blow from an enemy sword and drew his own, preparing to do battle.
Eric heard a voice,…
"Hey, Shit head. Stop screwing with the trash can lids. Put that broom handle down. Get those cans emptied into the truck. We don’t have all friggin’ day!"
Eric dropped his skinny arms to his side.
"Fuck." he mumbled quietly to himself, afraid his fat, sweating boss would hear.
Shifting his weight to his good ankle, he lifted the last of the remaining battered, corroded cans to his shoulder and dumped the reeking contents into the back of the even more foul smelling garbage truck.
In some minor act of rebellion which brought him little sense of satisfaction, he smashed the last can back to the ground against the curb, denting it even further. He waved around the corner of the truck signaling the driver that the last of the cans had been emptied. As the truck began to move forward, Eric placed his foot onto the passenger platform at the rear of the reeking truck, grabbed the flaking iron handle with his filthy gloved hand and...
...threw his leg over the beautiful, white stallion, liberated from the stupid sheriff's minion who had tried to sneak up behind him. Eric had quickly disarmed him, relieving the unfortunate man of his purse containing twenty gold pieces. Those would help the pitiful villagers to survive another day. He looked down from his perch at the fool cowering in the dusty road and laughed as he galloped away through his beloved forest.
