Try, Please Try For Me

Why So Blue?

Aspenfroth laughs, the sound like tiny bells. "A bold one it is," it says. "Asking for our help when this very day it set our forest ablaze."

Geralt slowly rises to his feet, and keeps his voice as calm as he can when he speaks. "I am sorry for the loss of your trees," he says carefully, "But I am not responsible for the fire. That was the doing of the mage who attacked us."

"And yet half of the eastern treeline still smolders."

"Enough, Aspenfroth," Twillthistle says, raising one of its abnormally long fingers. "The witcher seeks aid for one of our kind. We will not turn him away."

Aspenfroth frowns. "Very well."

"Your companion's blood has been tarnished by the ashwood," Twillthistle says. "He must be cleansed."

Geralt raises an eyebrow, hesitant. "Cleansed?"

"He needs to consume the cleansing sap of the World Tree. Only then will the poison be neutralized."

"And where can I find the World Tree?"

"It is in the center of our realm," Aspenfroth says.

Geralt grinds his jaw tight. This is what he'd been afraid of. A trip to the realm of the fae is extremely dangerous, even for someone like him. Time operates differently there, you could spend a single hour and return to find that a hundred years have passed in your own world. Or stay for decades, never aging, only to have the years catch up to you once you left. Provided you come back at all.

But Geralt is willing to risk it if it means that he can save Jaskier.

Twillthistle takes notice of Geralt's expression and smiles, closed lipped and somewhat unsettling. "If you cannot make the journey, I will take him." It spreads out its freakish fingers in Jaskier's direction and Geralt quickly steps back, beyond reach of the circle.

The wording of that statement is careful, and dangerously structured to have terrible consequences. These fae are not like Jaskier, they can't lie, so Geralt needs to be extra wary of dual meaning in what they say.

"I can make the journey," he replies, curtly.

"Our world is no place for a mortal," Twillthistle reasons. "Give him to me and I will ensure he gets the help he needs."

"I may be mortal, but I am no human."

The corner of the fae's mouth twitches in displeasure, but it steps forwards one more time and opens its arms as if expecting Geralt to place Jaskier in them. "No harm will come to him. Give him to me."

Geralt backs away and growls. "He's mine."

Both of the faeries blink, sharing a look with each other. Then Twillthistle lowers its arms, looking...amused? Its face has the expression one would make when a child draws a terrible picture and gives it to their parent. "Very well, witcher. You may follow us. Step into the circle and we will take you there. You have my word."

Geralt shifts his weight and studies the two fae in front of him, then looks down at Jaskier.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the circle.

--------------------------------

The last thing Jaskier remembers is pain. Everything hurts and everything is blurry, like he's in a dream.

And Geralt. He can feel Geralt's arms around him.

He's wet with something warm and sticky, and Jaskier knows he had been worried but he can't quite recall why. Probably the pain.