Erik thought of the wicked gnomes of legend who forged iron in their underground caverns. Some people believe these to be the iron mines of modern Sweden.
The Baron looked like a wizened little gnome.
Erik saw him shiver and draw his warm coat closer about him.
"I shall catch cold!" he muttered, and Erik clenched his strong young fists together.
"He's a weakling!" thought the boy miserably. "A weakling!"
Erik could imagine nothing worse.