A/N: Hello, it's Wednesday! So here's another chapter as promised. Thanks as always for your reviews, they all mean the world no matter how long or short, or what they say. Just knowing you guys are reading is enough for me. Hope you are all doing well and I'll leave you to read, review and enjoy! :)

Chapter 5

'Hey…hey. Blue eyes. Wake up.'

Ellie felt like a truck…no, a fleet of sixteen wheelers had run over her. She moaned, as she became aware of a hand shaking her shoulder not entirely gently.

'Come on. I've not got all night.' The annoyingly familiar voice grated on her nerves like steel on steel. Opening her eyes a crack, a sharp stab of pain lanced through her head as they struggled to adjust to the firelight. Her legs and arms felt like jelly, the command to move them slipping through her nerves like treacle. Gingerly, she lifted her hand and tried to shield her face from the glare, then she became aware of someone leaning over her.

The man who's voice she had recognised looked down at her, his strange cat like eyes the same bright orange of the flames dancing a few feet from her. He had an annoyed expression, as if she had kept him waiting for something. His full lips pulled up at one side. She was lying flat on her back on something soft, her nose scented the air automatically, picking up the strong smell of horse from under her. The witcher's distinctive smell of spiced blood hit her next, the strength of it making her stomach roll and she couldn't help flinching back in disgust.

'Yeah, you're not the first girl to do that waking up to me. But I really need you to sit up and eat something.' There was a note of bitterness to his voice as he let go of her, sitting back on his heels. Ellie shifted herself onto her elbows and eyed him suspiciously.

'Where are we?' She asked, giving her surroundings a quick scan. It was dark, apart from the fire that had been made. Beyond the circle of amber light, she could make out the trunks of trees standing like shadowy sentinels around them. They were back in the forest? No, these trees were thinner, more spaced out, this was an unfamiliar woodland. The witcher's horse was stood on the edge of the firelight, grazing contentedly, his back free of the saddle and bridle he had been wearing. She spotted his belongings were arranged around the fire. A bed roll laid open across from her, an assortment of bandages and a needle lying on it. The smell of his blood was coming strongest from there.

Looking back at the witcher she assessed him for injuries. There was a tear in his black shirt on one arm, and she could just see the off-white colour of a bandage underneath it. How long had she been out? He'd long enough to perform surgery on himself and by the look of the rumpled bedroll at least have a nap. The last thing she remembered was the cold silver of his sword slicing through her stomach for a second time that day. The sensation of burning pain as she felt her innards try to become her outards. There had been the faintest memory of people cheering right before she had collapsed in the dirt and succumbed to the blackness.

Dying three times in such quick succession was not a good thing. Ellie could feel her stomach lurching as her body reacted to the revival process again. The witcher watched with a raised eyebrow as she twisted suddenly to the side and vomited in the dirt. The black viscous puddle was larger than last time. She was really putting herself thorugh the wringer since getting to this bizarre world.

'Definitely need to get something in you now.' He muttered, standing up and moving over to the other side of the fire. Ellie pushed herself into a sitting position, her head spinning causing her to see two of him as he busied himself by a pot of something. The smell of cooked meat and vegetables wafted towards her and she clutched her mouth and nose with one hand, groaning. He gave her a sideways look, his expression a little hurt.

'My cooking's not that bad demon. No need for the theatrics.'

She waved her other hand at him. 'No, it's not that.' She said behind her fingers. 'I'm sure it's fine, it's just dying and reviving kind of takes it out of me. Plus, I don't actually need food to live.'

She saw him lower the ladle he had been holding, serving the stew he had made into a crude bowl, and give her a funny look. 'All of that sounded bat shit crazy. And I've heard some bat shit crazy stuff in my time.'

'Well, how do you think I feel with you throwing words like leshen and hym and witcher around? It's not like either of us has the first clue about each other…and why am I still tied up?' She was looking down at her ankles which she now noticed were shackled together with those…what had he called them? Dimerity? Dimerite? Dimeritium, that was it. She jangled them experimentally but the force needed to break them was beyond her at the moment.

The witcher came back round the fire towards her, offering her the bowl of stew despite her refusal of it. 'You thought I was going to let you roam around freely after the stunt you pulled back there?' He gave a snort of laughter but there was no mirth in it. 'You really are a naïve little demon.'

She glowered at him, resolutely ignoring the bowl he was holding out to her. He pushed it at her. 'Eat.' He commanded, his arrogant expression begging to be slapped.

'I…told…you. I don't need to eat.' She said, her jaw clenched. This man was as infuriating as he was fascinating. It made for a confusing combination. He let out a laboured sigh and set the bowl down by her feet. Ellie noticed not only was she tied up but both her shoes were now gone. Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout as she felt a twinge of sadness at losing her sneakers. They had been through a lot with her. Now she thought about it, the rest of her clothes weren't exactly in mint condition anymore. Her light blue vest top was torn in several places. The most notable being the slashes across her midriff where her captor had cut her with his sword, and the three holes near her chest where the pitchfork had lodged itself. Blood and dirt covered the rest of it so it was very hard to see it had been blue at all. Her shorts were in better condition but were equally dirty.

The witcher moved back to his bedroll and sat down cross legged. He watched her stoically as he picked up his own bowl of stew and ate it in silence. Ellie drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them self-consciously. She must really look like some kind of wild monster right now, covered in blood and bits of forest. Although she had never been one to care about how she looked, her life not really calling for that kind of thing, she felt kind of embarrassed under the gaze of those burning cat eyes.

He put down his bowl and nodded towards her torso which she was covering with her legs. 'You heal quickly.' He stated simply.

Ellie gave him a suspicious look. 'Is that a question?'

'No. I'm just saying what I've observed so far. You said we don't know the first thing about each other but I've been making notes.'

Suspicion turned into irritation. 'Okay then witcher. What are your notes so far?' She saw the flicker of anger at the mocking way she said his title. Chagrin instantly flooded through her as she remembered the angry mob she had witnessed turn against him. That had been a step too far.

As quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone and he gave her an arrogant smirk. 'You move and fight like a witcher. Yet you also act like a wild animal when cornered. Your eyes go black and your teeth elongate, and you make noises like an injured fiend. You've come from another world and are knowledgeable about portals, but you are unfamiliar with magic and monsters. You have a strange symbol on your wrist, you claim you're a demon and don't need food for survival. What else…oh, yeah, and you don't fucking die.' He cocked his head to one side. 'Have I missed anything?'

'Quite a bit actually, but that's not bad for first impressions.' Ellie said darkly. She moved her hands down her bare legs and rubbed at were the shackles were digging into her ankles. 'So, what now? Thought you were giving me to those people to torture and lock me away for all eternity.'

He brought a hand up to scratch at his beard again. 'Not too sure. Wasn't intending on bringing you with me but I had a feeling…'. He trailed off, his expression becoming guarded.

'A feeling? A feeling compelled you to bring along a girl you've tried to kill twice and were all too eager to get rid of not five minutes earlier? Must have been one hell of a feeling.'

The witcher gave her a disgusted look. 'Listen Blue eyes, I could leave you here to fend for yourself and let whatever monster comes along first turn you inside out, but I've decided out of the goodness of my heart, to you with me and try and get to the bottom of what you are and why you're here?'

'So, I'm still your prisoner?' He nodded, his mouth turning up into that self-satisfied smirk she was rapidly becoming acquainted with. 'And where are you planning to go?'

'To the only place that has the knowledge to figure out both those things. The witcher fortress of Kaer Morhen.'

It was Ellie's turn to raise an eyebrow. 'You said that like I should be impressed.'

He deflated slightly and began packing away his stuff grumpily. 'You should be. Not many people get to see it nowadays. Hunk of crumbling rubble that it is.' He muttered under his breath. 'And it may be the only place you can find a way back to your world.'

'Am I at least going to be able to ride the horse this time?' She asked hopefully, taking another look at her bare feet as the witcher called his mount over to tack him up. He shot her an incredulous look.

'No. I'm taking you home, but you're still a danger. Don't worry, we won't go fast.'

'Not what I was worried about.' She grumbled, tucking her chin on her knees.

'Way I see it, you haven't got many options Blue eyes.' The witcher quipped securing the last of his belongings to the horse. Ellie glared at him, her eyes turning stormy.

'I have a name you know.'

'Thought common folk weren't meant to say a demon's name. Brings ill omens upon them or some shit.' She rolled her eyes dramatically.

'If you're worried about ill omens from a demon, tying one up and pissing it off isn't a good start.' She had said it argumentatively but the man suddenly threw back his head and let out a loud, barking laugh. It was the first time she had heard him sound anything other than insolent, irritating or biting and she couldn't help her answering smile at the humour in it. His face seemed younger as he looked at her, his strange eyes creasing at the corners.

'That's a very good point. What's your name then demon?'

Her smile widened, despite the less than favourable circumstances she found herself in, at least her captor was interesting. 'My name is Eleanor, but you can call me Ellie. Everyone does.'

The witcher scratched at his beard, which he seemed to do whenever he was thinking about something. 'Not what I expected but okay.' He finally said, stamping out the fire and crouching down in front of her to move the shackles from her ankles to her wrists again. She examined the scars that marred his face, giving him a dangerous look. He leant away as he completed the task, and she wondered again what kind of life this man had led to earn scars like that. As she continued to stare she felt his gaze fixed on her, and a funny tingling feeling started up in her face as he scrutinised her. Finally, he broke the staring contest and straightened up, pulling her with him.

'I'm Lambert.' He said simply, before turning and getting in the saddle. Ready to start the long journey the pair of them now inexplicably found themselves on.

Lambert let out a weary sigh as the swamp came into view. He had done his best to circumnavigate the stinking hell hole, but with road blockades still in effect on the road to Novigrad he had little choice but to venture through the unsavoury quagmire.

'Hate fucking swamps.' He muttered, feeling his horse's hooves sink into the water-logged mud. Thick clouds of swamp gas rose up around them, reducing the distance he could see. The bare, moss covered trees loomed from the smog like an army of leshens. He steered his mount to what looked like the clearest path, choosing the raised ground to keep them out of the water.

The worst thing about these gods forsaken places, apart from the drowners and water hags, was the way it diminished most of his senses. He could still see, hear and smell better than any human, but it was as if someone had put a bag over his head. Everything was dampened and marred by the foul-smelling waters of the swamp.

He heard a small noise of dismay as his prisoner squelched behind him. Turning in his saddle he saw the girl grimacing as she pulled one of her feet out of the mud with a soft sucking sound. She had managed to keep pace with him despite them travelling for a night and a day. He hadn't gone faster than a steady walk and now he felt a small pang of guilt looking at her bare feet, now caked in filthy swamp mud.

His horse was struggling to move its own feet with him sat astride him. Sighing again he dismounted, his own boots hitting the ground with a splat. The demon girl, who called herself Ellie, gave him a quizzical look. He hadn't spoken to her since their discussion round the fire and he didn't feel in the mood to start now. Taking his horse by the bridle he continued on. No need for all that guilt shit. She was his prisoner after all.

A harsh screeching cry suddenly echoed through the mist. He heard her flinch behind him. 'This place is delightful.' She said sarcastically. Lambert smirked. He couldn't help finding her disgruntled muttering amusing. He led them further in, the rotten, putrid smell of the swamp getting stronger with each step. The witcher listened intently, past the sound of their squelching footsteps and straining to detect any hint of approaching drowners, or worse, a water hag emerging from the depths.

'Look, I know you're trying to ignore me now, but could you at least tell me how long we'll be walking through this sludge?'

Without turning, Lambert answered in a bored tone, 'Not sure. Usual route is out so this is the scenic one. Now shut up so I can listen.'

'Pfft, scenic.' Blue eyes muttered. But didn't ask anything else. When they had gone on so long the mud had started to weigh Lambert's boots down and even his horse was looking disgruntled at their circumstances, he heard a distance scream coming from somewhere in the dense smog. He stopped, his senses on high alert. It had sounded like a girl but swamps occasionally harboured foglets, who were known for their illusions. His prisoner wasn't paying quite as much attention and actually collided with his back as she splashed up behind him.

'Hey, what the-'

He held up a hand to silence her and could almost feel the death glare he was getting. He didn't have any time to worry about her however, as another louder scream reached him followed by a recognisable hissing snarl. Drowners.

'What was that?' She asked.

'Bad news.' Lambert replied, unfastening his pouch of bombs from his horse and checking the knot tying her to the saddle. He gave her a warning look as he readied himself. 'Don't even think about running off.'

She gave a sarcastic tug on the rope, jangling her shackles in the process. 'Where would I go? I don't know where we are.'

'Still. Don't run off.' With that he stepped off the slightly drier path they had been following and into the disgusting swamp water. It came up to his knees, and it was impossible not to make a noise as he set off in the direction of the sound of fighting drowners. Luckily it seemed stealth wasn't key in this situation as another loud scream sent the filthy fish monsters into a frenzy. Whoever was making that noise wasn't long for this world. That was unless a witcher happened to be passing by.

Said witcher gritted his teeth as he pushed his legs to move faster through the quagmire. Trouble with swamp water was that it wasn't just that, he also had to contend with the thick, sticky mud and silt at the bottom. Along with anything nasty lurking in its depths. The smog had closed around him almost as soon as he had taken three steps away from his horse, hiding them from view. He just hoped that demon listened to his order.

But what does it matter if she doesn't? He wondered to himself. She'd be one less problem for you. It was true. She wouldn't be a danger for long, probably get taken by a sink hole, or attacked by a water hag. Then again, she was a demon that couldn't be killed, and he didn't want that on his record.

All thoughts about the demon quickly flew from his mind as out of the mists he saw a number of leaping black shadows swarming around a very frightened girl. She was cowering, waist high in the waters of the swamp. Her arms thrown over her head in desperation. The flesh of them already cut into bloody ribbons by the four drowners now circling her. Lambert's lip curled as he drew his silver sword, the attention of the monsters snapping to him instantly.

'Pretty unfair fight boys. How 'bout I join the party?' The girl peeked out between her bleeding arms at the sound of his voice, her brown eyes widening. The drowner nearest him let out a screeching, hissing noise then leapt straight for his neck. With one deft, well practiced movement, Lambert raised his sword and brought it slashing down on the monster, mid-flight. It cleaved the scaly body from shoulder to hip, slicing it diagonally in half. There was a brief pause before the other three, let out a horrendous clamour before rushing him at once.

The witcher tried to back off from the group attack, but the sticky mud held him at a disadvantage. One of the drowners managed to flank him, cutting off his escape from the others who lunged at him, razor sharp claws extended. Shit. He thought, as he dodged one but caught the other near where his hastily stitched leshen wound was. He could feel the hot blood seeping from the cut but had no time to breath, let alone drink a shot of swallow.

Ducking down, he swivelled as best he could in the muddy circumstances, and straightened up behind the drowners. With two quick swings, he cut across their backs, splitting the slimy skin open. A smell like rotting fish hit his nose and he had to keep from gagging as he aimed another two swipes at the drowners' legs, cutting them off at the knees. They dropped in height, screeching bloody murder, and the witcher silenced them with a clean decapitation each.

He brought his sword up into a defensive position immediately, his eyes searching for the last drowner. A small frown creased his forehead as he found the place it had been vacant, then an ear-splitting scream from behind caught his attention. Turning on the spot he saw the last drowner had snuck past him whilst he had been dealing with its brothers, and was now slashing at the girl still lying in the muddy waters.

'I don't think so motherfucker.' He spat, throwing himself at the monster. With all his force he rammed his shoulder into the drowner, sending it flying backwards with a splash. Placing himself between it and the girl, he watched with grim satisfaction as the creature hissed in fury as it tried to right itself. He took a step towards it as it finally sprang to its webbed feet, its yellow teeth bared in an angry snarl. With a smug smile, Lambert held his hand out and shot a blast of Igni straight into the monster's face. It screamed in agony as he continued the relentless stream of fire, melting the flesh on its skull. After struggling in vain against the barrage of flames, the drowner's screams faded into a pathetic gurgling, before it fell backwards into the murky water.

The smell of burning meat added to the already pungent scents of the swamp, but Lambert couldn't help feeling elated at the win. That had been fun. Sheathing his sword, he turned to assess the damage the girl had taken. She was sat in the same position, her arms held above her head, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at him.

The witcher held up his hands to show they were empty and gave her an approximation of a friendly smile. Or the best he could hope to achieve.

'It's okay. You're safe now.' The girl lowered her arms slightly and he could see now she was young, probably about eighteen, nineteen. She had honey blond hair that was darkened by the mud caked in it, and a sweet, heart shaped face. Lambert noticed with a regretful pang that there was a deep gash across one of her cheeks, just below her right eye. She had been lucky not to be blinded but that would mean little when it scarred over, marring that fresh, maiden beauty she had.

He took a step towards her and felt a bitter twist in his chest as she flinched back. 'I'm not going to hurt you.' He said, maybe a little too sharply, but he had just rescued her for fuck's sake. The least she could do was not act like he was another drowner. The girl blinked up at him with those big, doe eyes of hers, then she did something worse than flinching. Her lip began to quiver and great big, watery tears began to spill over, running down her rosy cheeks.

'Oh no. Come on now. Don't cry, I've got to get you somewhere safe so we can look at those wounds.' He closed the distance so he was standing over her. Without waiting for her permission, he bent down and scooped her up from the cold, filthy water. Thankfully she didn't try and fight him, instead choosing to wrap her bleeding arms around his neck and hide her tearful face in his shoulder. Lambert cleared his throat awkwardly as he held her trembling body against him. Being a witcher sometimes had its perks, but he was far from accepting a grateful damsel's thanks just yet. He still had to get her out of here with his annoying, unpredictable cargo in tow.

Speaking of which, he rotated around, trying to sniff out his horse and the demon girl through the dense smog. Just as he thought he caught a whiff of something, another distant scream reached him. This time it wasn't a defenceless girl, it had been his horse, screaming in fright. There was a moment of suspenseful silence, where Lambert prayed his day wasn't about to get infinitely worse. Then he heard the unmistakable blood chilling cry of a water hag somewhere in the mist.