Great Fantasy Books with Tough-Love Grumpy Mentors

Gruff, secretive, and forever hidden away in a towertop chamber, Chade is one of the most iconic (and, in my opinion, best-written) grumpy mentors.

As the illegitimate son of the king, like FitzChivalry, he’s earned his grumpiness, and that informs the way he approaches his training of young Fitz. He’s more than willing to throw Fitz into high-stakes, life-or-death situations with only just enough information to give him a chance at getting out alive. But as the layers peel back and we come to understand Chade, we see that beneath the scarred exterior is a man who ultimately truly cares for Fitz and is driven by a sincere desire to maintain peace in the kingdom. 

Kelsier is largely charming and confident, with occasional bouts of taciturn stoicism. But one thing he’s not is warm and nurturing. He throws Vin right into the middle of things, pushing her hard to learn her allomancy with all the tough love you’d expect. Bitterness, sarcasm, and gallows humor are his go-to, and it’s only with great reluctance that he even begins to let Vin (and us) see his softer side.  

I loved how Father Chains set the tone right off the bat by promising young Locke that if he steps out of line, he’ll happily cut his throat and drop him into the bay. Everything he does is some mind game, trick, ploy, or con to push Locke, Jean, and his other wards to becoming the best servants of the Nameless Thirteenth they can be. But beneath the affected grumpiness, the endless manipulations, the brutal and humiliating lessons, and the always-ready insults, it’s clear that he loves his “gentlemen bastards” as much as any man in his position could.

Brom is the personification of grumpy mentors: bitter, quick to snap, and harsh. But quickly we come to understand that it’s his own loss that drives his actions and behavior. He’s trying to make Eragon into a better dragon rider than he ever was, all so Eragon doesn’t lose Saphira the same way Brom lost his own dragon (the original Saphira). And, as the story ultimately reveals, there’s a whole lot more to the relationship between the two—which just made me love his protectiveness over Eragon all the more.  

Halt has zero tolerance for incompetence, stupidity, or laziness. He’s there to train Will to become a ranger, not be his wet nurse, and he’ll do so through exacting discipline and harsh lessons that teach the skills, patience, and intelligence required.

He’s a fountain of practical wisdom, often delivered in the form of cynical observations and the occasional complaint that Will isn’t working hard enough. But when finally Will earns his praise—and then his respect—it’s just that much more satisfying.  

The Geralt we see in the TV series has his grumpiness and brusque taciturnity toward young Ciri dialed up to the max, but even in the books (and games), there are plenty of moments when he’ll grunt or growl rather than offer any real answer.

Between his muttered curses and dry sarcasm, his eagerness to bicker with Dandelion and harsh training regimen, his world-weariness forever shines through. But when he thinks Ciri is dead—or when he finds out she’s alive and in danger—his actions leave no doubt in my mind that he cares for her more than perhaps anything else in the world.