Philosophy 101 with Grimes and Baine (Narrative WU)

On a rare night off from Watch and Orphanage duties, Grimes orders a dark rum at the bar of the Ettin planning an early night. Scanning the dark and smoky tavern he spots Baine sitting at a table in a corner - a table Grimes has often favoured in the past - with a now massive Frankie close beside him.

Grimes studies the young Half-Orc, the added layers of dense muscle and the scarred face, but also the way he carries himself with the quiet confidence of a proven soldier. But it's the expression of him that concerns Grimes; they way his eyes dart to the door of the Ettin every time someone new comes in. The way he’s chosen a table where he can sit with his back to the wall, his hound at his feet, a brutal-looking maul within arms reach. The bags under his eyes and the way he clutches his drink a little too tightly.

The Baine that Grimes met some ten months ago had been a boy, a child playing at war. The Baine staring into his pint like it holds all the answers he seeks at the bottom, this Baine is a man who knows what war looks like and wishes that he didn’t. 

"Too much death, too young," Grimes mutters under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

Grimes walks over to his table slowly.

"You shouldn't drink alone, Baine."  (The irony of his own comment is not lost on Grimes.)

Baine looks up at the sound of his name and Grimes sees an expression he's all-too familiar with - a confused mix of anger, pain, loss, resolution, determination. Through it all a small but genuine smile breaks through.

"Grimes." He raises his tankard slightly. "You better sit down and keep me company then."

The older man sits on the other side of Frankie who immediately places a massive furry head in his lap expecting and receiving a good ear scratch from the grizzled Watchman.

"I think it's your turn to tell me some stories - if you want to,” Grimes says and then waits patiently for Baine to begin.

Baine chews his lower lip, clearly thinking hard. He looks at Grimes for a long moment, putting his thoughts in order before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, reckon it's my turn. I might have a story or two for you." He laughs a little, suddenly.

"Last time you and I had a drink we were trashing Varis and his private army, do you remember? 'Where does he get his money? Fighting for nothing but the cause, what a load of crap.' Gods, but I've had to eat some humble pie since then, haven't I?"
And of course Grimes knows - he's seen Baine around Daring, seen him visiting Thia's Refuge, waltzing in and out of trouble wearing armour emblazoned with the Crimson Fist on it, this is isn't news to anyone.

"That larger than life, charismatic motherfucker. He pulled me in, drafted me to the cause. Saddled me with purpose and responsibility and that kind of shit. Family. A home." He takes a resentful drink. "I'll never be able to thank him enough."

It's been long enough now that he can tell Grimes about it without tearing up, his voice and hands steady, his eyes mournful but clear.

"We lost Sweet in Kul Goran. Danton and Cob too. And that's life I've chosen, the fucking path I've decided to walk down. I'm taking the oaths, Grimes, and it's going to be a life just.. full of hurt. I'm workin' on accepting that, I guess." He gestures with and to the tankard in his hand.

Grimes waits a moment and chooses his words carefully.

"Caring about our friends and colleagues means we're going to get hurt. The time to worry is when it stops hurting. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place. Good folks die and others ... well let's just say there are many that maybe don't deserve to live. It's not fair - never has been - never will be."

Grime loses focus for a second, withdrawing inward to some dark memory of his own before drawing a deep breath and carrying on.

"Something terrible happened a few years back in my home city. I stopped caring for a while - didn't care if I live or died - wanted to die really. Swore revenge. Swore never to care again.” He sees Baine draw breath to ask but waves him off. “Doesn't matter. I came here. Found a purpose. A reason to carry on. That's all you can do really - carry on."

He pauses, takes a sip of his drink. Scratches Frankie behind the ears.

"We do the best we can, deal with the pain and loss, help and protect our friends where we can and try and make a difference."

Grimes then stares straight into Baine's eyes for a full 30 seconds.

"Just promise me that if you're struggling to deal with whatever comes your way and can't talk to others, you find me. Okay? Trust me - it doesn't do you any good brooding on your own."

Baine meets his stare and eventually nods with a reluctant, resigned smile on his face, the smile of a man who knows the answer to a question but was hoping that against all odds there might be another way, a magical cure to end his ills.

"You're gonna regret that," he says. "Red likes to say she's successfully taught me everything except for how to shut up."

The two share a smile and another drink and sit in companionable silence for a moment before Baine takes one of his trademark deep breaths.

"So here's another one for you then, mate. I found my mum." And he tells Grimes the convoluted story of Sharn of the Cinderblade tribe. It takes him a couple of tries to convey the proper order of things but he eventually paints the complete picture of how she had seen Varis and the doom he would bring to Baine, how Sharn had been part of the Green Tide and how Varis and the Order of the Crimson Fist had risen from those events.

"She did horrible, awful things to protect me. People died, a city burned and it was all to protect someone she loved." There's a spark in Baine's eyes as he talks about it, like he's burning to make sense of something. "And when we fought, Grimes, when she was the shadow and I attacked her, I saw things. I saw her memories. I saw some of the things Varis did. The horrible, awful things he did to protect the people he loves. There was innocent people, young people in those orc camps."
His eyes go distant and he tries to remember his mother's memories, before snapping back to the present. "Just like there was young, innocent people in Daring."

Grimes nods sympathetically. "I heard some of the story from Varis. I don't know if I'm the right person to answer those questions, Baine." The half-orc nods like he already knew that, too, and then continues.

"I've always liked to pretend that there's a line that I won't ever cross. That the violence that I'm capable of doing, that I won't ever do that to someone innocent." He hesitates for a second before barrelling on, brutal and honest. "But you know, Sergeant, you know as well as I do what desperation tastes like and what fucking terrible things it can make a man do."

And there it is, the trace of the boy Grimes met so long ago, the naïveté and the childlike wish for a simple solution to a problem that people have been wrestling with since the dawn of civilisation. "How can we ever know that what we're doing is the right thing?"

Grimes shakes his head.

"You can't ever be certain that you're doing the right thing - especially in a place like Kantas. All you can do is trust your instincts and listen to those around you that you trust to give you counsel. A wiser man than me once said that the test to know whether or not you are doing the right thing is to examine whether your decision is based on love or based on fear."

Grimes shrugs and continues.

"But that also explains why your mother did what she did and, in a way, why Varis did what he did - why we all did what we did. Best you can do, I figure, is carry on asking yourself if you're doing the right thing. That's what I do all the time - and trust me - I've got it wrong plenty of times."

Grimes stares into his drink before stroking Frankie's huge head absentmindedly.

Baine stares into his own drink while he ponders Grimes words. Eventually he nods.

“Well, that’s a better plan than the non-existent one I had before. Keep each other honest. Deeds from love and not fear. I reckon I could manage that.”

He looks down to where Frankie has all but fallen asleep with his head in Grimes lap.

“Look at you. Acting like I never pet you, people think you’re touch-starved the way you go on.”
He rolls his eyes at the large hound and drains the last of his pint. “Get you another?”

Grimes nods and the large half-orc makes his way to the bar. He returns moments later with two more drinks. The two settle in, comfortable in the knowledge that neither of them really have answers to the big questions that sometimes need asking and intent on enjoying each other’s company instead.

”Here’s to doing honest, stupid shit in the name of love.”

---

In Collaboration With Grimes 🙏🏼