Jaskier gives him a long list of all the ways that Geralt had shown his trust in him; the shaving and baths and tending to wounds, sitting in the crowded tavern common rooms while the bard sang just because his presence gave credence to his ballads. Stories about scars and lessons in basic survival skills, giving the bard his food so that he wouldn't go hungry on cold nights. It sounds like everything that Geralt had done for Dandelion, and done out of friendship and genuine concern. They had taken care of each other over the years, and Geralt would never have let a stranger, a man he didn't trust, put his hands in his hair or stitches in his wounds. Hell, there had been a time when he wouldn't have even let Lambert put stitches in him, would have only just tolerated Eskel's, and they were his brothers.
And that's why what Jaskier tells him about the mountain-- if life could give me one blessing-- is so confusing. It's the piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit. Years of trust and companionship, of allowing Jaskier to work his way into all facets of his life and inexorably change it, all to tell him that he was nothing but a burden? Geralt wouldn't have tolerated a burden for twenty years. He wouldn't have pretended to trust a man. And out of what? Politeness? Since when has he been well-versed in social niceties?
"I think," he says, and he takes some care in deciding what he wants to say, "without having met this man, that it would be a stretch for him to spend two decades pretending to tolerate and trust you. It wouldn't make any sense when he could easily just ride off in the morning and leave you behind."
Instead, he'd, what, ridden Roach at a slow enough pace for a human bard to keep up with him on foot? Made sure to travel only as long as said human bard could manage in a day, calling for rests early even though he could go on longer? The idea that he'd do that for a burden is absurd. Even if he'd felt some kind of obligation to him, Geralt would have gotten him to the nearest town and left him there, not continued to travel with him.
"Instead of trying to make sense of twenty years being a lie, maybe it's more reasonable to assume that what he said to you on the hunt is a lie. Then the question becomes why would he want to drive away his closest companion?"
Geralt knows that he is prone to fits of self-loathing, a habit of his that had exasperated both Dandelion and Yennefer in turns. With fewer friends and even less communication, he could imagine that these bouts of moodiness might be somehow even worse.
"Did something else happen on this hunt that you haven't mentioned?"
no subject
And that's why what Jaskier tells him about the mountain-- if life could give me one blessing-- is so confusing. It's the piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit. Years of trust and companionship, of allowing Jaskier to work his way into all facets of his life and inexorably change it, all to tell him that he was nothing but a burden? Geralt wouldn't have tolerated a burden for twenty years. He wouldn't have pretended to trust a man. And out of what? Politeness? Since when has he been well-versed in social niceties?
"I think," he says, and he takes some care in deciding what he wants to say, "without having met this man, that it would be a stretch for him to spend two decades pretending to tolerate and trust you. It wouldn't make any sense when he could easily just ride off in the morning and leave you behind."
Instead, he'd, what, ridden Roach at a slow enough pace for a human bard to keep up with him on foot? Made sure to travel only as long as said human bard could manage in a day, calling for rests early even though he could go on longer? The idea that he'd do that for a burden is absurd. Even if he'd felt some kind of obligation to him, Geralt would have gotten him to the nearest town and left him there, not continued to travel with him.
"Instead of trying to make sense of twenty years being a lie, maybe it's more reasonable to assume that what he said to you on the hunt is a lie. Then the question becomes why would he want to drive away his closest companion?"
Geralt knows that he is prone to fits of self-loathing, a habit of his that had exasperated both Dandelion and Yennefer in turns. With fewer friends and even less communication, he could imagine that these bouts of moodiness might be somehow even worse.
"Did something else happen on this hunt that you haven't mentioned?"