Dow: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.
Grim: Spear.
Dow: BLOCKED.
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Dow: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.
Grim: Spear.
Dow: BLOCKED.
'Gugh!' said Grim, throwing his bow into the corner of the room as if he'd suddenly realised he had a turd in his hand, then staring down at the arrow, baffled.
— Last Argument Of Kings, Joe Abercrombie
Yesterday I finished Last Argument Of Kings by Joe Abercrombie. This book finished off The First Law Trilogy. It was a solid read. Just not as good as the previous installment.
I hate what happened with Harding Grim. The light spoken archer was one of my favorite characters. I loved his affinity to speak the obvious, while refraining from saying anything else. The few times he went on at length delivered some great quotes.
“’Rudd Threetrees,’ he said, looking round at ‘em one by one. ‘Rock of Uffrith, they called him. No bigger name in all the North. Great fighter. Great leader. Great friend. Lifetime o’ battles. Stood face to face with the Bloody-Nine, then shoulder to shoulder with him. Never took an easy path, if he thought it was the wrong one. Never stepped back from a fight, if he though it had to be done. I stood with him, walked with him, fought with him, ten years, all over the North’ His face broke out in a smile. ‘I’ve no complaints.”
“’Hurts,’ said Grim, as Dogman squatted down next to him.
‘Where?’
He gave a bloody smile. ‘Everywhere.’
‘Right, well...’ Dogman pulled his shirt up. One side of his chest was caved in, a great blue-black bruise spread out all across it like a tar-stain. He could hardly believe a man could still be breathing with a would like that. ‘Ah...’ he muttered, not having a clue where to start even.
‘I think...I’m done.’
‘What, this?’ Dogman tried to grin but didn’t have it in him. ‘No more’n a scratch.’
‘Scratch, eh?’ Grim tried to lift his head, winced and fell back, breathing shallow. He stared up, eyes wide open. ‘That’s a fucking beautiful ceiling.’
The Dogman swallowed. ‘Aye, I reckon.”
‘Should’ve died fighting Ninefingers, long time ago. The rest was all a gift. Grateful for it, though, Dogman. I’ve always loved ...our talks.’
He closed his eyes, and he stopped breathing. He’d never said much, Harding Grim. Famous for it. Now he’d stay silent forever. A pointless sort of a death, a long way from home. Not for anything he’d believed in, or understood, or stood to gain from. Nothing more’n a waste. But then Dogman had seen a lot of men go back to the mud, and there was never anything fine about it. He took a long breath and stared down at the floor.”
Grim: Don't judge me because I am quiet.
Grim: People never plan murder out loud.
Forley: If you got arrested what would be the charges?
Dogman: Theft.
Tul Duru: Disturbing the peace.
Black Dow: Aggravated assault.
Grim: Arson.
Logen: All of the above. In that order, probably.
Logen: I mean, small creatures are way more vicious. It’s because their anger has less space to be bottled up in.
Dogman: Ridiculous. Give me one example of this.
Forley: Spiders.
Threetrees: Wasps.
Grim: Terriers.
Tul: Black Dow.
Harding Grim: sniping is the least social form of murder, which is why it is my favorite