In case you just flew in from the moon, I would like to bring it to your attention that Bob and I (Stacy) are writers. Hence, we have decided to create a “Fiction” category for our blog. Each Friday, (given we don’t procrastinate), we will post some form of original fiction for your entertainment.
This week, Bob has created a fictional character sketch. If you are so inclined, we would love to know what you think of this character. If he is someone that grabs your interest, or otherwise leaves you wanting to know more about his life, let us know and we may include him in an upcoming story. Alternatively, if you don’t care for the character, feel free to voice that opinion as well.
Thank you and enjoy!
Bob & Stacy
Baldric Pinder
Baldric Pinder was an archer of great renown. He was sworn to his lord the Duke of Tempeston. The Duke, however, had been known to lease Baldric’s talents out to friends in need or to those who could pay the right fee.
Baldric was a towering, lean man with broad, powerful shoulders. His arms were defined by thick ropy muscles. Looking at him, one got the impression that he had been manufactured rather than born. It was easy to imagine some deranged necromancer laying slabs of marbled beef over a gallows frame, and then sewing it all up tightly in a covering of finely woven bronze mesh.
A mass of dark, curly hair crowned his stern-yet-well-balanced visage. Eyebrows like a thin smear of soot glowered over sharp, ice-blue eyes. An aquiline nose pulled ones gaze down to his drawn and unsmiling lips. Granite-like cheekbones and a squarish jaw supported his face under the rafter of his strong and unlined forehead. A fine scar left by a broken bowstring traced its way like a river down the right side of his face; it ran from the edge of his brow, just missing the eye, down over the expanse of cheek to his jaw line.
He always appeared alert because even at rest, his feet were planted, his back was straight, and his shoulders were squared. In truth, his body knew no other way to stand.
Baldric had a preference for black clothing, chiefly because it reflected the black emptiness where his heart once dwelled. His black trousers were always tucked into his knee-high boots. The boots themselves were well tended, but kept at a dull finish. He refused to wear a shirt beneath his high-collared jerkin of boiled leather; opting to keep his arms unfettered for his bow. Thick black leather bracers wrapped his forearms; the bracer on his right hand had a strip of leather tucked into the cuff which could be pulled out and looped over his first two fingers to protect them when drawing his bowstring.
His bow was as imposing as the man himself. It was a monstrous, ebon-colored mass of wood as thick around at the grip as his wrist. It was a bow that few men could pull and even fewer could shoot. The only other weapon he carried was a long knife strapped to the length of his right thigh.
Baldric’s father, Nathan, was an archer in the king’s army. His skill was great, but his politics were poor and he was never able to rise above the rank of squad leader. Nevertheless, he was proud of his craft and started teaching his son at an early age in the hopes that Baldric would rise to levels of mastery that most men could only dream of.
At the age of ten, Baldric was on his way to becoming a phenomenon. His skill at archery was already comparable to most adults. People came from far and wide to see him compete in the matches. In fact, he was well on his way to winning the Duke of Tempeston’s tournament when word arrived that raiders had struck the coast. Baldric’s kin were among the first to be slain. The Duke claimed the orphaned boy as his ward and raised him as his own son.
The Duke had a daughter about the same age as Baldric; her name was Phoebe. Baldric fell in love with her almost instantly. In his eyes, she could do no wrong. Sadly, this was something that Baldric and the Duke had in common. Phoebe was spoiled beyond all redemption and firmly believed her father’s opinion that the known universe revolved around her. Knowing that Baldric was in love with her provided her with an endless supply of entertainment. She would lead him on, then cut him off at the knees for little or no reason, only to coo an apology at him when she was ready to torture him some more.
The Duke was very proud of Baldric and looked forward to knighting him so that he would be of an appropriate rank to marry Phoebe. Two months before this was to happen, Phoebe ran away with a performer from a traveling troupe of actors.
The Duke’s despair only served to feed Baldric’s. Baldric vowed to never let anyone into his heart again, and thusly, gave himself over completely to his craft and his service to his liege.
-© Robert D Anderson
2006
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