But he had special combat skills that were nearly unmatched, as he had won the stick-fighting tournament almost every year. Looking past his charm and good looks, he was quite dangerous in his own right. He sparred with Eric all the time, and although Eric was better in almost every other weapon, he could not touch Jacob’s skill with a staff. Not that Jacob was any slouch in other forms of weaponry, but a quarterstaff might as well have been part of his own body.
“Since it appears you blew it with two girls at once without saying a word to either one...which simply must be some kind of record...I guess I will have to take both of them off your hands,” Jacob said, trying his best to keep a straight face. “No, no. Don’t thank me yet! I will try my best to assure both of them you are not mentally challenged, although I’m afraid this might take all evening.” That was the limit of their control as both erupted in laughter.
The two had been best friends since they were children. Although their personalities were very different, they complemented each other quite well. Jacob had always done well with the ladies, as he had a very aggressive personality—but not always to his benefit. He had gotten in many fights with the other boys for stealing girls’ hearts. Sometimes it was an older brother seeking revenge, other times a rival who had his eye on the same girl. He had a bit of a temper himself, and it found him trouble more often than not.
Eric, on the other hand, was reserved with the ladies. Not that they didn’t like him, far from it. With his long, curly brown hair and bulging arms, the girls would watch him all day as he trained out in the yard. Shortly after that, they continued to watch as he began working away in the shop. He was always in control of his emotions and never let them get the best of him. Eric hated making hasty decisions and always took the time to think things through. As different as they were, they loved each other like brothers.
“So, are you going watch me tonight?” asked Jacob, still grinning widely. “I’m considering using a little tree branch this year to even the odds, you know.” No doubt he was talking about the stick-fighting competition. Eric respected Jacob’s skill, but always thought he could do with a little humility. Although to be fair, his arrogance spilled over into all aspects of his life, not just his skill with a staff. He was just very sure of himself at all times. Eric could not deny his jealousy of Jacob in his free-spirited ways.
“Of course I am. Someone will need to pick you up off the ground,” said Eric, returning the huge grin.
“So you think I might lose, do you!” his friend replied with his hands held out wide and one eyebrow raised. He then began pacing back and forth, still holding the sarcastic pose with his eyes looking up, fixed on nothing as he said, “I suppose it’s possible, no matter how unlikely. I could fall and injure myself before the competition ever begins. Lightning could strike me in the head four consecutive times before lunch time. Demons might fly out of the sky and—”
“OK...alright, by the Gods!” Eric said, laughing into the back of his hand. “I said I will watch, now go and get ready. I’ve got to clean up here and get ready myself. I’ll see you there,” he said, already looking around the booth, deciding what to take care of first.
After putting all his tools away and sweeping the black ash from the floor, Eric took one last long look down the street. It was starting to come alive with people putting the last touches on their wagons. Final streamers and decorations were being hung wherever there was still a place to put them. Children were running in the streets, laughing and waving pinwheels around, trying to make them spin faster before their parents came to scoop them up and bring them back to the walkway, which was where they were supposed to be all along. He pulled down the light cage that covered the side openings of the booth and locked it.
Eric lived only a short distance away, but it took longer than usual to walk there, given how the streets and walkways were beginning to fill up quickly. When he got back home and walked inside, his father was sitting in front of the fireplace, slumped over in a chair with his head in his hands. He didn’t even seem to notice Eric walk in.
The living room was rather modest-looking, sporting wooden floors and furniture. There was a simple table made of pine and four matching chairs. The wooden couch and large chair were decorated with brown cushions that were handmade by Henry years ago and still served well enough. The fireplace was quite large, with candles and little wooden figurines on the platform above the hearth.