Life's One Blessing (The Witcher fanfic)

Chapter 3: A ride along

Geralt had thought, perhaps too optimistically, that they would get back to how it had been before the dragon hunt. The day started well enough with Jaskier already eating his breakfast when Geralt went down. Jaskier said very little, but Geralt put that down to the early hour and the still awkward situation between them.

After they had finished, they headed to the stables.

"Roach!" Jaskier cried delightedly and rushed to give Roach's nose sweet, loving pets. Roach nickered softly and bumped his head at Jaskier's chest. "Oh, dear girl, I missed you too, yes, I did. Look, I have something for you." Jaskier dug into his pack and produced an apple, which Roach chomped down enthusiastically. "That's so good, isn't it, girl?" 

Seeing them together made Geralt's chest hurt oddly, and he rubbed at it as he set to get them ready. Soon enough, Roach was saddled and their meager possessions secured in the saddlebags or tied to the saddle.

Geralt lead them back on the northern road, spurred on by vague reports of a grave hag plaguing the next town. It was also in the direction Jaskier was going, so perhaps that was why Jaskier followed him without comment. 

During their years together, Jaskier had driven him mad with his constant chatter, his incessant complaints about the hardness of the road, the wetness of the rain, the blandness of the rabbit Geralt had captured, gutted, and roasted, and his maddening impulses to spend half his time composing new songs. So why was it worse now that Jaskier didn't do any of those things?

Jaskier followed Geralt in silence, his lute staying firmly tied to Roach's saddle, not a single note heard from his lips. Geralt didn't smell any anger from Jaskier, but his usual chatter was gone. Even when a sudden gust of wind brought a spell of rain on their heads, Jaskier just sighed and pulled his tattered cloak over his head, and continued in silence. 

It was driving Geralt to distraction. His acute hearing was picking up sounds from miles away without the background noise of Jaskier's existence, his hearing somehow amplified by Jaskier's silence far more than it had been by his absence. 

Around midday, Geralt grunted something about a break and guided Roach to the wayside, into a little copse of trees. Jaskier followed obediently and sat heavily on the ground, with not so much as a word of complaint about his feet. He pulled some dried jerky from his bag and started chewing on it.

"Jaskier."

"Hmm?" Jaskier asked.

"Are you... Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine." 

But Jaskier didn't smell fine.

"How was," Geralt asked, "these past months?"

"Fine. A few close calls with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Nothing I couldn't handle," Jaskier said dismissively and rose. "Shall we?"  

When they continued, Geralt could swear he saw Jaskier open his mouth a few times as if to say something and he waited, holding his breath, but Jaskier just closed his mouth and plodded on. A few times he could just barely see the beginnings of a hum, but that stopped before it got past Jaskier's lips. At one point, Jaskier pulled out his journal and something in Geralt's chest eased. But Jaskier just jotted some notes in silence, without even breaking his stride.

By evening, Geralt was at his wit's end. He didn't know how to break the silence between them. So of course he put his foot in it again. "You can't trust Cats."

"Sorry? Oh, cats! I know they don't like witchers, but I never met one who didn't love me."

"There was more than one?" Geralt growled. "Did you write songs about them all?"