Chapter 2 : Tree-folks and Old Sword

"You are a strange one, Geralt of Rivia," boomed the great tree. "you look like a man and yet you have magics, some may call foul, coursing through your being. However, do not be intimated. You gave me your name, let me give you mine. I am the Great Deku Tree of the Lost Woods," declared the tree.

As its name reverberated through the clearing, little creatures, that came up to his knees, started to appear. Curious exclamations of "whoa", "Look! Look!" and "Is he a monster?" were heard. The beings, or Tree-folks assumed Geralt, were like a bunch of excited children seeing a strange man in their home. Which they probably were. Their reactions to his appearance was typical for young ones. They were excited and very curious about him, that was for certain but they also were a bit afraid, since none dared to leave the protection of their plants, logs or stones. Except for one who, in a courageous move, decided to leave his stone and walked towards Geralt with its little legs. The little Tree-folk was like the rest, even if their body type and height differed from one individual to another. With a face made out of a big leaf, or maybe it was a mask, the little creature made its way crossing grass which was almost as tall as it. Once it was near Geralt's feet, it grabbed his leg with its stubby little arm that had no hand nor fingers and shook his pants.

"Say, say, Mister, are you a cat?" it asked with a voice that made him look like a five year old.

"Myo, do not bother our guest," admonished gently the Great Deku Tree.

"Oh, oh, sorry." said the little creature made out of wood with a dejected look.

"Please excuse them, Geralt of Rivia. My children, the Koroks, are very curious of any visitor arriving in ours woods," explained the Tree.

"There is no need for that, Great Deku Tree," answered Geralt as he looked at the little Korok walking away.

"Hm, now that the presentation are made, it is time for you to explain your presence in this hidden part of the world."

"I would like to give you an explanation or a reason, however I have none. I do not know why or how. All I know for certain is that I appeared here after getting lost in a strange mist which invaded my land," explained the Witcher.

"Hm, a mist, you say?" The Great Deku Tree pondered for a few moments on what Geralt had revealed. "By any chance, was that mist disorienting? You had the impression of going in circles?"

"Yes, couldn't tell how much time I staid inside of it."

"This is strange. The only fog that acts as you described is the mist of the Lost Woods, which protect us from the danger of the outside. However, if you were inside of it, I would have sensed it. Very curious indeed."

As the Great Deku Tree seemed to reminiscence about something, the glint of reflected light caught Geralt's eyes. Controlling his pupils so that they were at their minimum, he caught the sight of an old blade, eaten by time and use. The surrounding childish chatter faded away as more and more of his attention was pulled toward the sword embedded in stone. Moss covered a bit of the purple handle. Coming from two wings, the blade itself had a symbol engraveed at is beginning. One triangle made out of three. Cracks and rust were here and there. But they were few. Discreet whispers started to speak lowly to his ears with unknown words. Their sonority was a subtle discord of anger and hate so pure someone less experienced than Geralt would have felt like being in the middle of the most terrible of inferno.

"STOP" bellowed the Great Tree, cutting Geralt from the daze that had taken hold of him. "This blade is not YOURS to take," it grumbled darkly.

Geralt would have said something if it wasn't for the stick that hit him at the back of the head, making him lose consciousness once more.


"Sorry! Sorry! I'm so sorry!" said quickly a childish voice of bells and flutes.

"You may be, but your intervention was unnecessary at all, Myo."

"I know! I know! But he was gonna touch the sword! No one is supposed to touch the sword! 'xept for the Hero!"

At those words a chorus of affirmative voices went to stand with the first, all of them belonging to a child. However each of them had a certain tint in the sounds, making it windy and woody like air passing through a musical instrument. Another chorus, more deep and aged was in disagreement and made it known by harrumphing like drums.

"Even so, the situation was in control, he seems to be a man with a good head on his shoulder. No matter his eyes or hair," said the Great Deku Tree. "Ah, I see that our guest is coming to."

Geralt eyes opened with difficulty. He felt a sort of bandage, made in what felt to be leaves, was dressed on his head. With this many black out couldn't be good for his health. His yellow eyes scanned the room he was in and was surprised to see it packed with myriads of little plant-masks looking at him with the same emotion as the last time. One of them was the more sheepish of the crowd, trying very hard (and making a bad job at it) not looking at him.

"I feel I'm beginning to become tired of fainting," grumbled Geralt as he got up with his elbows.

"Sorry!" exclaimed Myo while shaking like a leaf.

"I'm not angry. Don't worry about that," reassured Geralt with a calming voice. "Anyway, where am I?"

"Inside of me," trembled the walls around him. "Thank you for being forgiving. I hope you understand why Myo reacted like that."

"Yeah," answered the Witcher. "It's the sword, isn't it? Must be really important."

Chuckles invaded the room, coming from all direction.

"To hear you say this with that tone, you must have seen a lot in your life, haven't you?" said the Great Deku Tree, amused.

"You could say that. And you could say this is not my first time being an outsider either."

"Truly? I am sure that you have fountains of stories to tell."

This sentence was the breach for the dam and geyser of supplication for a story exploded. The cacophony was a bit much for his enhanced ears. He was going to shout until the walls shook again, silencing everyone.

"My children, please be considerate of our guest, who seemed to have sensitive ears."

"Thank you," answered Geralt gratefully.

"Can you hear the goddesses speak?" asked a little Korok.

"No."

"Oh." it said dejectedly.

The Koroks, even if their curiosity was at its peak, started to leave, one by one like droplets from a branch after a little rain. The ones which were still present after the grand majority went outside could be counted with one hand. And one was just at his bedside. Two emotions were in conflict into its mask. Annoyance and curiosity. Like any other Koroks Geralt had met until that point, his mere presence had kindled a great inquisitive fire inside these little beings of the woods.

"You want me to leave the bed?"

"Yes. No. Yes….. I don't know!" it cried as it pulled its vines. "The bed was meant for the Hero."

The mention of this almost made Geralt snort. From his experience, a prophetical hero was someone who would fail, because the world wasn't a fairy tail. However, this same experience also told him strange things happened when destiny was involved.

"Then I will leave it."

He could guess the relief when the leaf-visage wrinkled a bit. The nameless Korok, as soon as Geralt got up, jumped and in a flurry of orange and green, changed the bed and a new fresh foliage was now covering the bed.

"You want to eat something, mister Geralt-sir?" squeaked the Korok with a little hat of white while moving its ladle inside a steaming pot.

"Yes, thank you."

"A big bowl coming right up!"

And a big bowl did. What the Witcher had in his hands was soup so thick in cream and fat you could probably clog a hole with it. It didn't stop him from eating it with ravenous hunger. All of what happened to him, all of the blacking out and being lost into the tapestry of time and the caves of space had made him hungry. A thing he had learned about himself after retiring was that having an empty stomach was a sure way of losing one nerve. He didn't care if the little Korok was a mere pretender in the arts of cooking or that it was a living wood creature with magic coursing through it and thus didn't have the same palate as humans. Geralt of Rivia took a second serving then half of a third. The Cook-Korok seemed to shine with pride seeing his cooking being swallowed like water by him.

"Now that you have quelled your hunger, Geralt of Rivia, I think it is time you and I have a talk. Go outside and climb one of my roots," grumbled the walls before everything became calm once more.

The white-haired man wiped the corner of his mouth before addressing the one who fed him.

"My equipment, where is it?"

"Hm? Oh, right there!" it pointed to a corner where his two swords, one of metal and one of silver, laid still in their sheath. "We didn't touch them, because the Great Deku Tree said so."

Grabbing them and putting them on his back where they belong, Geralt adjusted the straps before he crossed the entrance. Light poured into his eyes, green tickled them and warmth caressed his skin. An air of calm entered his lungs as his boots brought him down. Almost of the Korok, young, old, big and small looked at him. The sword which had him entranced was still waiting in its pedestal, waiting for someone.

He knew what to expect and resisted the pull. As per The Great Deku Tree's instruction, Geralt made his way up by climbing on a root which acted like a bridge. From there, there was a little platform for anyone who wanted to meet the master of the woods.

A great face marked by the passing of the ages welcomed him, great bushes of thorns as eyebrow frowned at Geralt's arrival before they settled in a neutral stance.

"Geralt of Riva," greeted the Great Deku Tree. "You are a man out of this world, a man lost and a sailor shipwrecked unto unknown shores. Let me, The Great Deku Tree of the Lost Woods, greet properly into the Old Lands of Hyrule."

This kind of official meeting made the Witcher ticked a bit. Having lived through enough of them to make him almost loath them, him who had an already dislike to them. However, he knew that following them was a sure way of being polite.

"Thank you for this, Great Deku Tree."

It didn't meant he couldn't try to shorten them though.

"I do not know who or what brought you here. Nor why. However, as your host for your time being, let me warn you of what may wait for you in those wounded lands. Monsters roam free, people are scattered to the four winds and Malice is trying to infect all. Should you want to leave the safety of my home, as I think you want, let me grant you boon."

"But..."

"But for receiving it, there one simple condition, should you accept it."

Gerlat didn't answer right away. All the years behind him with their high and low had given him very good insight on precisely what was happening. A broken spoon and a chase for a mirror resurfaced in his memory.

"What is the condition, Great Deku Tree?" asked Geralt while trying to mask his small queasiness.

"It s quite simple. Let me take a look at you."

The Witcher had an idea of what a look meant. He didn't know whether he should accept or not. On one hand, he could stay here until Ciri find him. However, he could not tell how long this would take and even if he was grateful for the hospitality of the Koro and their leader, something made him feel like an intruder. Like the bed, the food and the welcome weren't meant for him.

"I accept your condition, Great Deku Tree."

"I thank you, Geralt, for accepting my simple request," said the tree before being silent.

The sweetness and calmness in the air was sucked out of it. The Koroks went into hiding while still looking at the scene with interest and the sounds of the forest became more prominent. Cracks and whips and whistles became alive as a discrete breeze flowed into Geralt's white hair. The eyes without eyes opened and went down to meet the Witcher's. And they looked at him. Saw him. Saw him. Saw him. SAW HIM.

Geralt's world sank as his muscles became stones. Nothing was responding. He didn't even feel himself breath. A monster not slayed but cured back into a young woman. A being of magic throwing his wrath on a town before being sealed by a last wish. A child's destiny embroiled to his. A tower, an elf before everything blurred until a sharp pain in his torso brought him back. Three fangs of metal had bitten into him. Death and revival and riders of worlds. Lost of memories were retrieved and the search for the child-turned-adult began. A heart of stones and blood in the wine.

The spell stopped with the same violence as it had began and Geralt fell in his knees, trying not to throw up. His hair were stuck to his face, his beard was moist and the rest of his body was completely drenched.

"Hm. What you said was true, Geralt of Rivia. You life was one of torment and love. I am sorry to have put you through that but I had to be sure of your trustworthiness. Even if he let you get here, I had to for the safety of my children."

Geralt understood why the Great Deku Tree had looked at his past. However, he still didn't like it. A bit of bile had managed to escape and was now dropping in the corner of his mouth.

"Let me help you, Witcher," said the master of the Lost Woods.

The air was hold back and a soothing smell of pines and flowers filled Geralt's nose. His aching muscles were calmed. He felt a lot better. He even noticed he was standing a bit straighter than usual. He only noticed now the shaking of his medallion subdue.

"The boon that was promised will be delivered. She waits for you outside of my domain. Take good care of her and she will in return. A pack of supplies will be also given to you to ease your journey."

A Korok, the same chef as before, had with him a satchel that was ready to burst. It struggled to lift it and was determined to bring it to him. Geralt eased its burden. A way was made for him as the see of curious Tree-folks moved out of his way, leading him at the edge of the great clearing.

His feet stopped at a frontier where mist awaited him like a wall of white. A shaking took place as the mist disappeared and the trees parted to let him pass. The safe-passage given to him took a bit of time to traverse. Geralt of Rivia arrived at the edge of the Lost Woods where the sun shined and darkness stopped.

A horse was waiting for him while scratching the road with its hoof impatiently. She, for the horse was a mare, had one of the most common brown coat, mattered by some patch of black. Its mane was what caught most of his attention. It was of the purest white he had seen. It also seemed to shine with ghostly lights.

The mare neighed, presented her nose for some pats, which Geralt gave.

"Good girl."

She needed a name. It wasn't difficult to find one.

"Roach."

With the baptism done, the Witcher mounted on her seat, place his feet in the stirrup and left.


Wherever he pointed his horse to, the landscape was almost the same as the ones he knew. The difference with the one he was trapped in was the majesty it evoked when he let his yellow eyes wandered. Trees grew around him, the grass was lush and green and the faunas was free of any worry. Deere and does looked at him before fleeing. The beginning of a mountain was on his left as Roach climbed up the road. Even after leaving the Lost Woods, he was still in a forest.

It was quite tranquil. Some brushed bushes were caught by his ears. The sun was still high in the sky, the night would not fall yet before a few hours passed. The road was one made of dirt, which had been stepped on many times, may it by feet, hooves, or others.

The new Roach was a godsend. She listened to his command and stopped whenever he said so. Like right now. Geralt had seen a small hole in the road which had tree toes. However, it was too deep for an individual only. The thing was transporting something. Something that tried to fight back judging by the broken branches and the small drop of blood here and there. Following the trail, Geralt started to hear the oinking of what should be the monster and the insults of its captive.

The Witcher continued his investigation until he found a spot hidden to any eyes, where he could see what the monsters of this world looked like. And they were as ugly as they were grotesque. Big bulbous head with red skin and pig nosed, the monstesr seemed to taunt the woman they had captured. Her hair were as white as his. Like him, she was a warrior. Her eyes were experimented. They weren't yellow and belonging to a cat, but red. If it wasn't for her skin tanned by a life outside, she would have looked like an albino.

While the pig-headed monsters were taunting her by either standing menacingly or thrusting their hips in her direction, the woman tried to fight back. Her focused eyes betrayed it as an act though. She wasn't concerned for her well being nor was she intimidated by the five monster, all armed with old and stolen goods. One even had a mop.

She moved her eyes counting silently if all the monsters were there and once she was sure, everything went very fast. In puff of smoke, she disappeared, leaving her binds behind. The monster stopped what they were doing to look dumbly at the empty spot. The monster with the mop in its hands was the first to die. The woman reappeared over it and plunged a strange knife in its throat. It trashed, trying to get her off. It quickly lost vigor and stopped moving when she widened the wound, letting its crimson blood tainting the grass. It happened in only a second. The four others didn't reacted properly and she was on the move again. She charged with inhuman speed and stabbed another red monster in the throat. She kicked another sending it away and breaking some of its bones and threw the freshly deceased at another, trapping it under its comrade's body.

The rest was quickly put down mercilessly. Blood, teeth and limbs were strewn around in a gory mess. The woman with red eyes cleaned her blade on a patch of clean grass before sheathing it. The way she carried the bodies to put them in a pile before setting it aflame speak of professionalism. She was a monster slayer. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, thought Geralt.

The moment of self-reflection proved to be a lapse in his stealth as the woman went immediately on the defensive, taking out her strange straight blade.

"Come out! I know you are here," she demanded.

Seeing as he was going to come out no matter what, Geralt complied, hands up in a peaceful manner.

"Easy," he started as he took a few steps. "I do not bring trouble."

His appearance had an effect on the woman as she slacked a bit in her position.

"A curse?" he heard her mutter as she looked at his eyes. "State your business." she demanded as he voice became steel once again.

"I only followed the trail thinking thinking that maybe someone might be in need of help."

"You do not lie. Very well, countryman. I hope you find your way home safe and sound."

She didn't say anything else as in a puff of paper and smoke, she was gone, leaving Geralt a bit surprised. He had seen a lot of things, a woman killing everything around her wasn't the strangest. What was strange was the magic used, or what he assumed being magic. As he entered the camp to observe the dead monsters, he thought of her speed. He would have stepped in if it wouldn't have been for it.

This world, even with its similarities, still had surprises to give him. Maybe he will see one of those flying boxes that Ciri still talked about, even years after, he thought with a mocking smile. Ass he whistled for his horse, tainted smoke flew up in the blew sky.