Jaskier Shows Lambert Its Okay To Be Passionate About Something

Jaskier shows Lambert it’s okay to be passionate about something…

An easel sat on the shores of the lake near Kaer Morhen. Jaskier spotted it for the first time while on a romantic boat cruise with Geralt; the Witcher did all the rowing and Jaskier lounged back opposite with his lute across his lap, but that was beside the point. The easel sat at the very bottom of a steep path, with a small chest at its side, which probably contained the mystery artist’s equipment.

Jaskier made a mental note to investigate further.

When the snows cleared towards the end of the season, the beautiful, mist-wreathed views of the Blue Mountains from Geralt’s bedroom window reminded Jaskier of a painting, which in turn reminded him of his mystery artist. One afternoon, he set off on foot. When he reached the top of the path, he looked down the slope and saw someone he really didn’t expect to.

It was Lambert.

The youngest wolf of Kaer Morhen stood with a palette in one hand and brush in the other. A leather case sat unfolded on top of the chest containing more tools of his trade; scalpels, brushes and other miscellaneous items. He was currently measuring up a perspective of something in the distance.

“Lambert!” Jaskier stood downwind, so called out to let the Witcher know of his presence. He really didn’t expect Lambert to swirl ‘round, wide-eyed, and then immediately throw his tools in the lake. Not only that, but his left hand twisted into the Sign for Igni and he set his entire piece of art on fire. The bard sprinted down the path—no mean feat, he wasn’t exactly a spiritely youth anymore—and kicked the easel into the lake.

Too late. The painting was ruined. Jaskier pulled the canvas out of the wet mud, and looked at it forlornly. “Lambert, why—?”

Lambert shook. His fists clenched. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” The Witcher looked genuinely distressed; his teeth gritted, eyes wild. Rather than engage with Jaskier any further, he snatched up his bags and stormed away. Geralt warned Jaskier of the potential for drowners, foglets and water hags in the area, so the bard didn’t tarry.

After a little bit of prodding, some moonshine and a game of Gwent, Lambert finally opened up. He was… embarrassed. Worried. He thought that if the others found out they’d take the piss and if there was one thing he couldn’t deal with—there were quite a few, but Jaskier wasn’t brave enough to point that out—then it was someone ripping into him about a private passion. It was his. No one else’s. Something he could enjoy outside the bullshit of the Path. But it was very un-Lambert. It was gentle, and peaceful, and everything the Path wasn’t, and—he just didn’t want anyone to find out, alright?

Despite giving assurances that Eskel and Geralt really wouldn’t tease him about something he was passionate about—and deep down, the prickly wolf knew this to be true—Jaskier didn’t push Lambert to reveal his secret. Instead, he decided to support his Witcher quietly. For the following solstice Jaskier bought Lambert a present. A set of watercolours. The winter after that, he bought him a new drawing pad and some charcoal. They never talked about it and Jaskier never saw the products of his gifts. It didn’t matter. He was showing Lambert that it was good and healthy to have something just for yourself.

Until the fourth winter.

Lambert approached quietly, tentatively, and placed a small square wrapped in brown paper beside Jaskier while he was basking in the fading winter sun. He left without a word. The bard set his lute aside and picked up his gift. The paper and twine fell away to reveal a beautiful watercolour; a small, full-bodied portrait of himself sat within a buttercup that took up the rest of the background. His miniature self was singing, happy and bright, with the gorgeous yellow shades reflecting the joy of a bard’s heart in full flight.

Lambert had signed it at the bottom, with a very small ‘thank you’ scrawled beneath.

The small watercolour became one of Jaskier’s most beloved possessions.

Geralt and Jaskier as Jareth and Sarah from Labyrinth for @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher​‘s fantastic fic, It’s Only Forever, Not Long at All. Go check it out!! Thank you for the fun opportunity, my friend, it’s a pleasure as always to work with you!

I’m kind of obsessed with the idea that Jaskier makes his own paper and makes his own books from scratch. You know the really aesthetic looking tiktoks or how to tutorials on making a book? Yeah, that’s Jaskier.

Like I can see him having a small bucket that’s long enough filled with river water and paper he’s cut up and let soak, and running a screen through and letting the pages dry over night by their camp fire.

Or him sewing the pages together and creating the spine and covers. I’m not too educated on the process, so I’m sorry if I get everything wrong or if I don’t add to much detail onto the idea, but I’d like to hear everyone else’s ideas to this.

Another is, I think Geralt would absolutely love watching Jaskier do all this. Very relaxing.

The Witcher but it’s Chris Fleming

Geralt: (giving dating advice) Sit on a grassy hill near their apartment and just…pet a crow. That way your lucky so-and-so will wake up and see you there, sharing secrets with night fowl.

Jaskier: Why even bother with demolition vehicles anymore when we could just grab a freshman theatre major auditioning for a cabaret troupes? The SWAT team should hire them to blow doors open.

Eskel: I don’t know if you’ve ever seen those oil paintings of goat demons screaming in the 1400′s, they’re horrific, but they look tame compared to a field hockey player roaring: “MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE UNLESS YOU GOT BUNS, HON!”

Yennefer: This will show him that you’re not a Victorian piece of string cheese holding in her period until she’s whisked off her size four glass slippers by her prince, who in this case is a business major who can only get it up when he sees his own reflection in the TV during a Bond marathon.

Renfri:  Witnessing an Adventure Family in the throes of an outdoor activity makes me want to put myself in a pelican’s mouth and say, “Just drive.”

Lambert: What kind of a prude enjoys a Crunch bar? You might as well just eat toast.

Triss: Panera is just McDonald’s that studied abroad and came back wearing a beret and cigarette jeans, thinkin’ it’s the shit because it got fingered by a mime!

Vesemir: Quit your day job and help me throw chicken nuggets at my neighbor’s fruity son.

Ciri: Nothing makes you feel more like a bed-wetter than your loved ones conspiring together behind your back. 

Eskel and I wholeheartedly endorse the red-shirt mod

alright so no one asked for his but I can’t stop thinking about it. 

Jaskier is not talented at fighting in anyway shape or from. He’s fit enough to run away pretty quickly and is taller than most people, but honestly he just doesn’t having any knowledge of how to fight. He has a dagger but it’s more for looks that anything else. 

Most people assume that after years of traveling through increasingly dangerous situations with Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier would have picked up something, sword fighting, pakour, hand to hand or even would be strong enough to throw a good punch but honestly he’s really useless at that kind of thing. 

When Geralt is around, the witcher can normally take care of any enemies they have so Jaskier doesn’t bother and when Geralt isn’t around Jaskier has enough charisma and charm to get himself out of the situation. He’s a bard by trade. He doesn’t like to resort to fighting. 

Then he begins to hear whispers from people about The White Wolf’s bard. There are rumours that he is viscious when crossed, that he can hold his own in a fight. The rumors are helpful, Jaskier is accosted quite a bit less and when people see him late in the night, they leave him alone but it begins to push at Jaskier in an unpleasant way. Because, in the end, these are just rumors, falsehoods. He can’t actually fight, he can’t actually go feral or take out a dozen bandits in the night. 

He’s not useful to Geralt and once he realizes this Jaskier begins to a feel more than a bit self-conscious. The swords in the windows of local blacksmiths begin to look more appealing and the measly dagger he carries to defend himself begins to looks more pathetic. How could be matched up to Geralt if he’s really as useless as all that?

His mood must be obvious because Geralt begins to give him odd looks that Jaskier understands to mean ‘we really should talk but I’m too much of a coward to say anything’. Jaskier is having trouble composing his music and he feels entirely uninspired. 

One night, when they have just left a town and are headed for a contract on a nekker nest Jaskier feels brave enough to ask Geralt. 

“Geralt, uh, quick question, no pressure, no commitment here. But, well, I know that you have those big scary swords of yours and well, I was wondering if you think you could teach me how to use them.”

From over the fire, Geralt gives Jaskier the strangest look.

“Why do you want to learn to use swords? There’s not much room to carry them alongside a lute.”

Jaskier tries to edge around the questions, “I just think…it could be fun.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at Jaskier, “Fun? You once said that watching me practice swordsmanship must be a special type of torture desgined by Witchers for use against bards.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I was mistaken.”

“Jaskier you have never admitted to being wrong a day in your godforsaken life, what is this about?”

He sighed, he might as well admit it. It could be the only that convinces Geralt.

“I’ve been hearing these rumors about my apparently hidden talent at weapons, but the truth is Geralt I can hardly throw a punch and honestly I terrified that…”

He stopped he couldn’t say it. Then he looked at Geralt who was waiting patiently, no judgement in his eyes and it gave him the strength to continue. 

“I’m terrified that I am absolutely useless to you as a traveling companion.”

For a moment, Geralt was silent and Jaskier considered bolting then and there but Geralt began speaking in a measure voice. 

“Jaskier, by this point in time I truly hope you aren’t measuring your worth on physical prowess alone.”

He looked up, what was Geralt saying? The Witcher must have noticed his questioning look because he continued talking.

“You are easily one of the most talent bards on the Continent, you manage to get people in your pocket within minutes of meeting you and you have the have the terrifying talent of making people forget why they ever hated you in the first place. Jaskier, you don’t need to be vicious and ruthless to be interesting, you don’t need to be strong to be brave, and you don’t have to be useful to be my friend and the most worthy travel companion I have ever had.”

Jaskier blinked. Those weren’t tears forming in the corners of his eyes, nope, the smoke from the fire had just irritated them. He tried to open his mouth to speak but the words came out rough. 

“Than-thank you Geralt.”

He grabbed his lute from behind his back and pulled it in front of him. His desire to amass an increasingly immense stockpile of weapons was diminishing and the want to compose his next song was growing. He began to strum a simple pattern on the strings. 

Geralt was right. He didn’t have to be the most powerful person in the room. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to be useful to be loved.