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Geralt & Jaskier/Dandelion’s Friendship Throughout the Witcher Saga (Book Series)

!!!WARNING!!! (CONTAINS SHOW AND BOOK SPOILER)

DISCLAIMER: This analysis is made for entertainment purposes and the writer does not profit in any way whatsoever from it—it will also be including excerpts taken directly from the original Witcher series by Andrzej Sapkowski to serve as proof/support of the writer’s educational analysis. The use of these excerpts falls under Fair Use (Section 107 of the Copyright Act).

As someone who watched the Netflix show first before diving into the books, I was quite surprised by the slightly different portrayal of their friendship on the two platforms. Though if I were to be completely honest, I may have been slightly influenced by the many fanfics I’ve read in my attempt to sooth my broken heart after watching the sixth episode of the Netflix show “Rare Species”. Barring the fan-based depiction on the many fanworks scattered throughout the internet, I’ve found that while both renditions (Netflix and Book) differ, there are certain elements to their characters and by extension their relationship, that stay true on either platform. Choosing not to include the Witcher Game due to various reasons—one of them being that I haven’t played the game myself to draw a fair conclusion, I’ll only be comparing and analysing their friendship development from the original Novels and later, Netfllix adaptation.

Before I dive into the more analytical portion of my discussion, I want to lay a disclaimer that I do not intend to fully treat this as a proper thesis, so do excuse the rather unorthodox exclamations and grammatical errors that will undoubtedly appear in this essay.

Buckle up, because this is going to be a long ride.

Now let’s recap briefly on who exactly the characters are to each other—taking most of the reference from the book, seeing as it is by far the only completed canon material.

In all of the canon sources I’ve cited, it is a well-established and recognized fact that Jaskier/Dandelion is considered one of Geralt’s closest friend; some even claiming him to be his best friend. We can also conclude that Geralt himself is a complex character who suffers from self-loathing and self-inflicted isolation, his ability to articulate and convey his emotions close to none, as is discussed by the company in Baptism of Fire and by Dandelion in The Last Wish and Sword of Destiny.

What I’ve seen a lot of people complain about the Netflix rendition is Geralt’s reluctance in calling Jaskier a friend throughout the show. While I do understand the frustration, let’s look at it from an outsider’s perspective who’s never had contact with any Witcher content: We immediately see Geralt as a Lone Wolf—something that he insists upon countless times in the books throughout the story, but it’s quite clear to anyone who’s only watched the series. Due to the shorter nature of an 8-episode series, the quickest way to establish that is to have him constantly push away the only true friend he has, one that isn’t perturbed nor bothered by his profession and personality.

So I applaud the writers of the Netflix series in reflecting both Geralt’s personal struggle as well as the significance of his friendship with Jaskier in the show in just a few episodes, even adding in a climax in Episode 6 (that I know all of us are still suffering from—yes I’m looking at you, fandom) that never actually happened in the book. Seeing as we don’t know how close the show will stick to the book; which parts will be taken as inspiration and which ones left out, it makes me very much excited to see what they have in store for Jaskier, Geralt and their friendship in the upcoming seasons.

In this regard, I’ve come to accept the two renditions are two separate things I can appreciate, seeing as the Netflix series will give its own spin onto the story and characterizations while still retaining the heart of the series.

Moving on, I shall discuss the major themes of their friendship in points:

CONFIDES WITH EACH OTHER

In the book, Geralt openly and sometimes even fondly, calls the bard his friend (depending on whether he was being a nuisance or not). Geralt is also seen to confide a lot in the poet, whether it be about his romantic endeavors or his ‘sad fate as a witcher’ as Dandelion had so eloquently put it. Moreover, he seems to genuinely appreciate his friend’s views and seeks them out, despite snapping at him for his remarks more often than not; as evident by some of these scenes.

‘No. It’s Dandelion this time, your fellow. That idler, parasite and good-for-nothing, that priest of art, the bright-shining star of the ballad and love poem. As usual he’s radiant with fame, puffed up like a pig’s bladder and stinking of beer. Do you want to see him?’

‘Of course. He’s my friend, after all.’

Nenneke, peeved, shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can’t understand that friendship. He’s your absolute opposite.’

‘Opposites attract.’

‘Obviously. There, he’s coming,’ she indicated with her head. ‘Your famous poet.’

=========

‘No, Dandelion. The world is changing. Something’s coming to an end.’

The poet took a long pull at the demijohn, narrowed his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Are you crying over your sad fate as a witcher again? And philosophising on top of that? I perceive the disastrous effects of inappropriate literature, because the fact that the world is changing occurred even to that old fart Roderick de Novembre. The changeability of the world is, as it happens, the only thesis in this treatise you can agree with. But it’s not so innovative you have to ply me with it and put on the face of a great thinker—which doesn’t suit you in the least.’

Instead of answering Geralt took a sip from the demijohn.

(The Last Wish, The Voice of Reason 5)

‘And what’s your opinion about all this, Dandelion? What do you think?’

‘What does it matter what I think? I’m a poet, Geralt. Does my opinion matter at all?’

‘Yes it does.’

‘Well I’ll tell you then. When I see a reptile Geralt, a viper let’s say, or some other serpent, it gives me the creeps, the vileness disgusts and terrifies me. But that dragon…’

‘Yeah?’

‘It…it’s pretty, Geralt.’

‘Thank you, Dandelion.’

‘What for?’

(Sword of Destiny, The Bounds of Reason VIII)

While the event below happens much later on, we can see that Geralt did not trust to share his worries with the rest of the company, not for something so controversial and risks the breaking of their little group. All we know is that he and Cahir would much later break into a fight before they split off, after Geralt made his distrust and accusations clear to everyone.

Dandelion reined Pegasus back somewhat. They were riding at the rear, and Regis, Milva and Cahir were about a quarter of a furlong ahead, but the poet didn’t want a single word of their conversation to reach the ears of their companions.

‘The problem was,’ the Witcher continued, ‘that our Cahir was only acting nobly by order. He was noble as a cormorant is: he did not swallow the fish because he had a ring on his throat. He was meant to take the fish to his master. He failed, so the master was angry at the cormorant! The cormorant is now out of favour! Is that why he’s searching for friendship in the company of fish? What do you think, Dandelion?’

The troubadour ducked in the saddle to avoid an overhanging linden branch. The branch already bore completely yellow leaves. ‘But he saved her life, you said so yourself. Thanks to him Ciri left Cintra in one piece.’

‘And she cried out in the night, seeing him in her dreams.’

‘But he did save her. Stop dwelling on it, Geralt. Too much has changed, why, it changes every day. Brooding achieves nothing, save distress, which clearly does you no good. He rescued Ciri. That fact was, is, and will remain a fact.’

Geralt finally tore away his gaze away from the horse’s mane and raised his head. Dandelion glanced at his face and swiftly looked away.

‘The fact remains a fact,’ the Witcher repeated in an angry, metallic voice.

(The Tower of the Swallow, Chapter Three)

This part still made me laugh and tear up. It’s implied that that Geralt shared his grievances with Dandelion after parting from Yennefer, all broken-hearted and hurting—no doubt the source of his songs.

‘Only I don’t know,’ the Enchantress pinched her lips together, ‘who gave you permission to describe my internal organs. How did it go? “Her heart, as though a jewel, adorned her neck. Hard as if of diamond made, and as a diamond so unfeeling, sharper than obsidian, cutting—” Did you make that up yourself? Or perhaps…?”

Her lips quivered, twisted.

‘…or perhaps you listened to someone’s confidences and grievances?’

‘Hmm…’ Dandelion cleared his throat and veered away from the dangerous subject.

(Blood of Elves, Chapter One)

While we’re on the subject of romance, it’s no secret that Dandelion has composed numerous ballads surrounding Geralt and Yennefer, a result of being privy to their romantic life; something the bard obviously took advantage of.

We know that Geralt does not like talking about the matters of emotions, nor let other people meddle in, least of all his relationships. But the fact that he lets Dandelion in on it in his own terms (and even lets him write ballads about it) speak a lot in this regard. Whether Geralt liked it or not, the bard is a meddler; most of the times Geralt had an affair with someone, he’s there to stick his nose in unwanted—but sometimes its proven to be useful too.

‘I know why you’re furious and gnashing your teeth.’

‘No doubt. You know everything.’

‘I know who warped you like that, who left you unable to understand a normal woman. Oh, but that Yennefer of yours was a troublemaker; I’m damned if I know what you see in her.’

‘Drop it, Dandelion.’

‘Do you really not prefer normal girls like Essi? What do sorceresses have that Essi doesn’t?’

(Sword of Destiny, A Little Sacrifice III)

‘Ah Geralt, I forgot to ask, how is it with you and Yennefer?’

‘It isn’t.’

‘I understand.’

‘No you bloody don’t. Is it far to this tavern?’

(Sword of Destiny, Eternal Flame I)

‘I know it’s not my business,’ he said, for him unusually empathetically and forcefully. ‘I know I shouldn’t meddle. I know you don’t like it when anyone meddles. But certain things, Geralt, my friend, ought not to be left unsaid. Coral, if you want to know my opinion, is one of those women who ought to always wear a conspicuous warning sign. One proclaiming “Look but don’t touch”. In menageries, they put things like that in the terrariums containing rattlesnakes.’

‘I know.’

‘She’s playing with you and toying with you.’

‘I know.’

‘You, meanwhile, are simply filling the void after Yennefer, whom you can’t forget about.’

‘I know.’

‘So why—?’

‘I don’t know.’

(Season of Storms, Chapter Seven)

But I said nothing, for I know him. He can’t bear anyone to talk tactlessly about his women. Even brief dalliances, Thus, I swore on my honour that I would strike the slicked-down novice’s chastity from the agenda and not even woo her.

(Season of Storms, Interlude)

‘Childishly simple,’ said Dandelion, finding an apple in the grass, wiping it on his trousers an examining it critically. ‘He’s asking her to forgive him for his various foolish words and deeds. He’s apologising to her for his impatience, for his lack of faith and hope, for his obstinacy, doggedness. For his sulking and posing, which are unworthy of a man. He’s apologising to her for things he didn’t understand and for things he hadn’t wanted to understand—’

‘That’s the falsest of lie!’ said Ciri, straightening up and tossing the fringe away from her forehead with a sudden movement. ‘You’re making it all up!’

‘He’s apologising for things he’s only now understood,’ said Dandelion, staring at the sky, and he began to speak with the rhythm of a balladeer. ‘For what he’d like to understand, but is afraid he won’t have time for…And for what he will never understand. He’s apologising and asking for forgiveness…Hmm, hmm…Meaning, conscience, destiny? Everything’s so bloody banal…’

‘That’s not true!’ Ciri stamped. ‘Geralt isn’t saying anything like that! He’s not even speaking. I saw for myself. He’s standing with her and saying nothing…’

‘That’s the role of poetry, Ciri. To say what others cannot utter.’

‘It’s a stupid role. And you’re making everything up!’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Two)

No matter how much he hurried, urged, fumed and stormed, the Witcher remained in Toussaint almost the whole winter. What were the reasons? I shall not write about them. It is all over. There is no point dwelling on it. Anyone who would condemn the Witcher I shall remind that love has many names and to not judge less they themselves are judged.

—Dandelion, Half a Century of Poetry

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Three)

(For context: the one above speaks of Geralt’s affair with Fringilla Vigo.)

As annoying and know-it-all the poet could be, he does appear to genuinely respect and care for Geralt’s pursuits of romance—ballads aside. And as much as Geralt seemed to loathe his hand in advising him, it appears that he does listen from time to time. Plus, both he and Yennefer aren’t actually bothered that his muse comes from their messy love life, something I find quite amusing and endearing.

TRUST AND LOYALTY (but not without fault)

Coming back to the subject of their odd friendship, this is supported by the fact that Geralt’s association with Dandelion is now common knowledge to both strangers and acquaintances alike, sometimes even putting both persons in difficult positions due to their association. Dandelion’s famous ballads about Geralt and Yennefer, and later Ciri, inadvertently caused unwanted attention on him, despite him not being in touch with Geralt since their parting after the Yaruga.

Had Yennefer not rescued him in time, he would have spilt a very important information regarding Geralt’s hiding place to Rience and be ruthlessly killed afterwards, who had taken it into his hands to torture the information out of Dandelion.

‘The question is: if no one has seen Geralt, or Gerald, the Witcher for over a year, where is he hiding? Where does he usually hide?’

‘I don’t know where it is,’ the troubadour said quickly. ‘I’m not lying. I really don’t know—’

‘Too quick, Dandelion, too quick.’ Rience smiled ominously. ‘Too eager. You are cunning but not careful enough. You don’t know where it is, you say. But I warrant you know what it is.’

Dandelion clenched his teeth with anger and despair.

‘Well?’ Rience made a sign to the reeking man. ‘Where is the witcher hiding? What is the place called?’

The poet remained silent. The rope tightened, twisting his hands painfully, and his feet left the ground. Dandelion let out a howl, brief and broken because Rience’s wizardly ring immediately gagged him.

(Blood of Elves, Chapter One)

From the way Jaskier guards this knowledge this close, and how he mentioned it with utmost care and secrecy in Season of Storms, we can assume that this isn’t common knowledge everyone knows—at least not anymore.

Kaer Morhen is inaccessible to people who aren’t familiar with the Witcher’s Trail, due to its dangerous path and the obstacles the people have to face in order to get to the Keep. With that in mind, Jaskier still insisted on going there because he felt the need to warn Geralt about someone pursuing him and Ciri, something Yennefer couldn’t do after he asked it of her but also refused to let him.

‘So I’ll go then.’ He raised his head high. ‘Tell me—’

‘I won’t,’ she interrupted. ‘Your cover’s blown, Dandelion. They might come after you again: the less you know the better. Vanish from here. Go to Redanian, to Djikstra and Philippa Eilhart, stick to Vizimir’s court. And I warn you once more: forget the Lion Cub of Cintra. Forget about Ciri. Pretend you have never heard the name. Do as I ask. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much—’

‘You’ve said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?’

The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.

‘You travelled with him,’ she said finally. ‘Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.’

The bard lowered his eyes.

‘He didn’t get much from it,’ he muttered. ‘He didn’t get much from our friendship. He had little but trouble because of me. He constantly had to get me out of some scrape…help me…’

She leaned across the table, put her hand on his and squeezed it hard without saying anything. Her eyes held regret.

(Blood of Elves, Chapter One)

There are a lot of things that can be taken from this exchange, things I felt no words could bring justice to the influx of emotions laden within their conversation and actions alone. Yennefer’s gratitude to Dandelion’s companionship to Geralt after she and Geralt parted ways, filling the empty void Yen left him; Dandelion’s reluctant admittance of how he felt during their travels and his own guilt and uselessness, that his companionship didn’t amount to much; Yennefer understanding what he means and their silent, shared moment of regrets regarding Geralt. There’s so much beauty and nuances in it that I think there’s no need to explain the scene any further—only that it highlights how much esteem Yennefer holds Dandelion in now and vice versa, compared to their first-time meeting.

And later on, we get to see his loyalty and the public knowledge of his friendship with Geralt tested again when he was summoned by Dijkstra and Philippa Eilhart, the Redanian secret service.

‘When the witcher emerges from his hide-out, he’ll get in touch with him, no one else. Just imagine, he considers him to be a friend.’

Dandelion slowly raised his head.

‘Indeed,’ he confirmed. ‘He considers me to be such. And just imagine, Dijkstra, that it’s not without reason. Finally accept the fact and draw your conclusions. Have you drawn them? Right, so now you can try blackmail.’

‘Well, well,’ smiled the spy. ‘How touchy you are on that point. But don’t sulk, poet. I was joking.’

(Blood of Elves, Chapter Five)

This just shows how much Dandelion appreciates and values his friendship with Geralt—that it’s not just a mutually beneficial relationship that’s spanned for years. They enjoy each other’s company and confide in each other—a strong bond forged in trust between two friends that we get to see over and over again in the series.

Their display of trust to each other obviously has its drawbacks, and not just for Dandelion. Geralt continuously suffers from a lack of anonymity due to being the subject of Jaskier’s ballads and poems, his stories and conquests laid bare open for the world to see. Not to mention the tattletale nature of the bard causes slips and mistakes to happen when Geralt would be better suited undercover. This was a price to pay in his friendship with Dandelion, one that would be the subject of their many bickering.

One of these arguments manifested when Dandelion disclosed Geralt’s identity and his plan to save Ciri to Zoltan Chivay behind Geralt’s back. Geralt, not wanting his mission to be found out nor for more people to join in naturally blew up, even though Dandelion meant well.

‘Blabber,’ Geralt said quietly. ‘Windbag. Big-mouth. I ought to shove your tongue in a vice, you blockhead. Or put a bit between your teeth.’

The troubadour said nothing, his expression was haughty.

‘When news got out that I’d started to associate with you,’ the Witcher continued, ‘some sensible people were surprised by our friendship. It astonished them that I let you travel with me. They advised me to abandon you in a desert, to rob you, strangle you and throw you into a pit and bury you in dung. Indeed, I regret I didn’t follow their advice.’

‘Is it such a secret who you are and what you’re planning to do?’ Dandelion suddenly said, losing his temper. ‘Are we to keep the truth from everybody and pretend all the time? Those dwarves…We’re all one company now…’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Two)

It should be noted however, that even though he is a blabbermouth, throughout the books he never purposefully unveiled any sensitive or important information to anyone who genuinely pose a danger to Geralt or his life. This was more in the usual line of him breaching Geralt’s privacy due to his talent of oversharing the witcher’s life and their many adventures together more than anything else, something that Geralt would show his distaste over on later expeditions, which in this case is very much well-deserved. Not to mention he was still recovering from his severe physical wounds, as well as the emotional wound due to the loss of his lover and his daughter simultaneously—we can forgive him for being a smite touchier than usual.

He decided to give Dandelion a good dressing down at the next camp for his untrammeled chatter. Knowing the poet, he couldn’t count on any results, particularly since Dandelion had probably already blabbed everything he knew.

==============

‘Not in the case of this witcher,’ Dandelion snorted, now a little flushed and eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘Booze is just right for him and his worries.’

‘It ought to do you good, too,’ Geralt said, giving the poet a chilling stare. ‘Particularly if it paralyses your tongue.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Three)

Another thing to note is that Dandelion and Geralt repeatedly butted heads in this particular book, especially after what the poet did—I’d share every snide remarks Geralt made, but it’d take too much time and space. However, I’m convinced this whole chapter was dedicated to show us just how insufferable Dandelion could be; especially when drunk. And to show us what Geralt has to put up with, knowing his private life is pretty much public knowledge at this point, as Zoltan deigned to mention in hopes of lessening the Witcher’s wrath.

‘It’s time you gave up your secrets, Geralt,’ Zoltan grimaced. ‘Dandelion hasn’t told us much we didn’t know. You can’t help it if you’re a walking legend. They re-enact stories of your adventures in puppet theatres. Like the story about you and an enchantress by the name of Guinevere.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Three)

Like I said, a price to pay—something both of them has to give and take in order for their friendship to work. And I’d say despite the inconveniences, both are very much willing to pay it and has been for years.

Compromise is the base of every healthy relationship of any kind, and it is obviously something they’re familiar with, as seen in one of their travels where they both were in a tight situation with no money to dine nor find proper shelter.

‘Dandelion,’ Geralt hissed softly, ‘don’t put on airs. We need those few pennies.’

‘Don’t try to teach me!’ the poet yelled. ‘Me, putting on airs? Me? Look at him! What should I say about you, who rejects a lucrative proposition every other day? You won’t kill hirikkas, because they’re an endangered species, or mecopterans, because they’re harmless, or night spirits, because your code forbids it. I, just imagine it, also have self-respect! I also have a code!’

‘Dandelion, please, do it for me. A little sacrifice, friend, nothing more. I swear, I won’t turn my nose up at the next job that comes alone. Come on, Dandelion…’

The troubadour looked down at the ground and scratched his chin, which was covered in soft, fair bristles. Drouhard, mouth gaping, moved closer.

‘Master…Do us this honour. My wife won’t forgive me if I don’t invite you. Now then…I’ll make it thirty.’

‘Thirty-five,’ Dandelion said firmly.

Geralt smiled and hopefully breathed in the scent of food wafting from the tavern.

=========

‘Geralt,’ Dandelion seized him by the sleeve. ‘Don’t forget.’

‘Forget what?’

‘You promised to agree to any task, without complaint. I shall hold you to it. What was it you said? A little sacrifice?’

‘Very well, Dandelion.’

(Sword of Destiny, A Little Sacrifice X)

It’s little things like these that again, shows their respect and appreciation to one another—that they both have principles that they uphold, and the other doesn’t begrudge or belittle it, instead they find a way around it that benefit them both.

You could say it’s one of the many reasons I really enjoy seeing them together—why I’m invested in their friendship. A friendship built on mutual respect, trust and loyalty—while still having enough discomforts and slip-ups to be real and to some: strange.

MUTUAL LOVE & CARE

When I say love, I don’t mean the romantic kind. There’s nothing wrong with romantic love of course, but let’s not dismiss the importance and existence of a genuine love forged out of friendship/camaraderie and strengthened by it—something just as strong and important as the romance and familial themes in the book. Platonic love, if you will. Need I remind you of the many times Dandelion would protest when Geralt urges him to run away from the danger behind them and he either stayed or grudgingly does as Geralt ordered?

And every time he asked Geralt back: ‘What about you?’ after the witcher gives him an instruction that doesn’t involve himself—because he worries about his friend and needs to know what he does next, wants to help if possible.

It may not be the same, but time and time again Dandelion proved himself to be Geralt’s savior is emotional situations that he feels himself very ill-equiped to handle. Such as his whole situation with Essi, the girl the bard loved like a little sister; where Dandelion practically scolded them both for skirting around each other and to make love to each other and either get over it or not.

Or the time Dandelion swooped in time to whisk Mozaïk away so Geralt could speak alone with Coral in Season of Storms. And throughout the book, he was shown to repeatedly ask about and worry over Geralt as the Witcher would disappear to who knows where for long periods of time without any notice.

That care is naturally not one-sided, as Geralt was shown countless times throughout the whole series making sure Dandelion’s life was saved. It’s reciprocal and consistently shown in the books.

Like making sure the bard wasn’t washed away by the rush of bodies and animals, and protecting him after Dandelion was shot as they were running away from the enemy camp.

Or when Dandelion’s throat was attacked by the Djinn and he rushed to get help. I’m sure a lot of you have seen this scene play out in the Netflix series, but you should know that the writers changed the scene a bit. In the books, Geralt was forced to wait until the city gates were opened as he arrived far too late in the dead of night. His reaction when Chireadean told him Dandelion might never sing again spoke volumes on how guilty he felt.

‘That means…Does that mean he won’t be able to talk?’

‘Talk, yes. Maybe. Not sing.’

Geralt sat down at the table without saying a word and rested his forehead on his clenched fists.

And later, it’s repeated constantly how he would do anything to save Dandelion; by his own admission and Yennefer, who knew this and took advantage of it.

‘Magic requires time. It can take all day and night, as long as Dandelion gets better.’

====

‘He suffered at my side, in my presence. I didn’t manage to save him and I couldn’t help him. I’d sit on a scorpion with my bare backside if I knew it would help him.’

====

‘You’d do anything for me in order to save your friend, even without spells at that. You’d pay any price. You’d lick my boots. And maybe something else, too, if I unexpectedly wished to amuse myself.’

(The Last Wish)

To further prove this point, a scene in Sword of Destiny I’d like to discuss a bit is during the apex of the war against Nilfgaard, where people are fleeing to cross the Yaruga in response to the raging war, where Geralt meets Dandelion by chance. Another demonstration of how much Geralt cares about Dandelion—but I think the conversation speaks for itself.

‘Geralt, don’t leave me here! I’ll never survive by myself! Don’t leave me!’

‘You must be insane, Dandelion,’ the Witcher said, leaning over in the saddle. ‘You must be insane with fear, if you could think I’d leave you. Give me your hand and jump up on the horse. There’s nothing for you here, nor will you shove your way onto the ferry. I’ll take you upstream and then we’ll hunt for a boat or a ferry.’

=======

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you across on a log if I have to.’

‘The far bank’s barely visible!’

‘Don’t whinge. I said I’d get you across.’

‘What about you?’

‘Hop up onto the horse. We’ll talk on the way.’

(Sword of Destiny, Something More VIII)

After finding out just how severe the war has become from his friend, Geralt opted to help him cross the river before heading back to Cintra, his worry for his Child Surprise finally making itself known.

But then Dandelion reveals to him what has become of Cintra, the massacre in the kingdom with no known survivor of the royal family. Throughout his gruesome retelling of what transpired there, Geralt was shown to visibly grow more distressed, so much so that Dandelion paused several times to ask him what’s wrong; which our witcher naturally chose not to explain, only that he knew the Queen and her granddaughter, asking him whether the poet knew what had happened to her.

Dandelion undoubtedly finds out about Ciri and what she means to Geralt, as was sung by him in his most popular song: The Lion Cub of Cintra, and this of course correlates to Dandelion’s torturous interrogation by Rience, but we’ve discussed that earlier.

CHARACTER GROWTH

Even Dandelion’s arc in the main story revolve around his friendship with Geralt, among other things. The turning points of his character are most prominent in Time of Contempt and The Lady of the Lake, during which he had to weigh in his priorities and the role he plays as Geralt’s friend.

During the battle in Thanedd, he had run away at Geralt’s instruction, leaving Geralt to fend for himself. Everything fell apart right then—with Ciri and Yennefer gone, his swords lost and the witcher so utterly thrashed that he had to be brought to and healed in Brokilon for months.

Triss Merigold, who had brought Geralt there with Tissaia’s help, had told Dandelion where his friend was—another sign of trust in the bard. I’m not sure whether Triss took the initiative and told Dandelion or if he asked her first, but that’s not important. The crucial fact is they weren’t expecting him at all, and Dandelion risked his neck approaching the forest just so he could find Geralt in Brokilon, which thanks to his clever wit and non-depletable source of luck he managed to pull off.

‘Which is why I came up with my cunning plan. For which, incidentally, you haven’t praised me.’

‘My congratulations,’ said the Witcher after a moment’s silence. ‘It was indeed cunning. And fortune smiled on you, as usual.’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Five)

(I had to include this excerpt, because Geralt—after everything he’s gone through, displaying his subtle joy at seeing his friend will never fail to make me cry. Finally seeing a friend he trusted and cared for in the midst of everything else must have been a highlight.)

‘Don’t get annoyed now, Geralt…’

The Witcher came closer. Dandelion couldn’t see the expression on his face, only the white hair and bristles of several days’ beard growth, which was visible even in the dark.

‘I’m not annoyed,’ said the Witcher, placing his hand on Dandelion’s shoulder. It seemed as though his voice, which up until then had been cold, was somewhat changed. ‘I’m glad you’re here, you whoreson.’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Five)

We know that Geralt has been informed on the going abouts of the world outside of Brokilon; about the war and the many changes that have happened while he was indisposed by Milva, but he still preferred to hear it from Dandelion himself—since the poet has always been a reliable source of information to him for a long time.

‘Tell me about the war.’

‘Don’t you know anything? Hasn’t the news reached you here?’

‘Yes, it has. But I want to hear everything from you. Speak, please.’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Five)

Lady Eithné later appeared in Dandelion’s dreams while Geralt was shaving his beard with the poet’s razor, asking him whether he had a hand in Geralt’s current pitiful state, to which Dandelion did not answer. She then replied herself that of course he does:

‘I asked if you had a hand in this,’ she began a moment later. ‘But I think there was no need. It’s obvious you had a hand in it. It’s obvious you are his friend. And if someone has friends, and he loses everything in spite of that, it’s obvious his friends are to blame. For what they did, or for what they didn’t do.’

‘What could I have done?’ he whispered. ‘What could I have done?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered the dryad.

‘I didn’t tell him everything…’

‘I know.’

‘I’m not guilty of anything.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘No! I am not…’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Five)

One could presume Eithné guilt-tripped Dandelion into helping Geralt, but if you look closer, you’d know that Dandelion’s own guilt had been festering, driving him to go to Brokilon and find Geralt in the first place. All she did was pull them to the surface and have him confront them. What he said later, before he and Geralt were supposed to part ways, gave more insight into his sense of helplessness in his friend’s peril.

‘Geralt, listen to me—’

‘Listen to what?’ shouted the Witcher, before his voice suddenly faltered. ‘I can’t leave— I can’t just leave her to her fate. She’s completely alone…she cannot be left alone, Dandelion. You’ll never understand that, but I know. If she remains alone, the same thing will happen to her as once happened to me…You’ll never understand that…’

‘I do understand. Which is why I’m coming with you.’

‘You’re insane. Do you know where I’m headed?’

‘Yes, I do. Geralt, I— I haven’t told you everything. I’m…I feel guilty. I didn’t do anything; I didn’t know what to do. But now I know. I want to go with you. I want to be by your side. I never told you…about Ciri and the rumours that are circulating. I met some acquaintances from Kovir, and they in turn had head the reports of some envoys who had returned from Nilfgaard…I imagine those rumours may even have reached the Squirrels’ ears. That you’ve already heard everything from those elves who crossed the Ribbon. But let…let me tell you…’

The Witcher stood thinking for a long time, his arms hanging limply at this sides.

‘Get on your horse,’ he finally said, his voice sounding different. ‘You can tell me on the way.’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Five)

It was at this point we begin to see Dandelion take a more active role in the story, instead of supporting Geralt in the background or on the side-lines as he’s wont to do before. He understood what Geralt was going through, because that was exactly what Dandelion had let happen before and now, he’s seeing the consequences of his inaction in front of him—that was how he felt seeing Geralt stripped of everything, in front of his own eyes. He couldn’t- wouldn’t leave his friend be when he needed him the most.

“If she remains alone, the same thing will happen to her as once happened to me.”

Maybe the outcome wouldn’t have changed much if he had done something in Thanedd, maybe he would have made it worse, or maybe it wouldn’t have been as catastrophic—no one will ever know.

What struck me too was how Geralt didn’t even try hard to dissuade his friend from joining, because deep down he appreciates and wants his presence there. Even later as he continuously tries to push his companions away, there’s never enough weight behind it; and thankfully by that time they are pretty much immune to his poor attempts at disbanding the gang.

Dandelion—though a whiner, a coward at times, and troublemaker, has always tried to help Geralt whenever he got into trouble (even if he’s more often than not the one to get them into it in the first place). And the same goes to Geralt, who had saved Dandelion during their first meeting in Gulet from certain doom, and a lot of times after that.

Though the excerpt below talks about financial aid, it can also be extended to other aids and favours both have given each other.

‘Dandelion was treating him. Which didn’t inconvenience Geralt. After all, it had quite often been the other way around, with Dandelion taking advantage of Geralt’s generosity when he was a skint.’

(Season of Storms, Chapter Six)

One can see that Dandelion recognized Geralt’s need for a companion—a friend to back him up in this journey, even before others joined in as well; despite his numerous and countless attempts to continue alone. His companions later ridiculed him after another of Geralt’s attempt; not long before Regis the Vampire reappeared and Cahir being an unexpected addition.

I think it’s safe to say that Geralt has had an issue of wallowing in self-pity at his mutant-self and pushing people away, which has been called out by Dandelion a handful of times:

Dandelion lay motionless for a moment, saying nothing, but Geralt knew him too well.

‘I know,’ the poet said at last. ‘Now I know everything.’

‘You know fuck all, Dandelion.’

‘Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. You flaunt your otherness, what you consider abnormal. You aggressively impose that abnormality on others, not understanding that for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.’

(Sword of Destiny, A Little Sacrifice III)

‘It only concerns you,’ Dandelion repeated slowly. ‘You don’t need anybody. Company impedes you and slows down your journey. You don’t expect help from anybody and you have no intention on relying on anybody. Furthermore, you love solitude. Have I forgotten anything?’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Five)

And later on, Regis even called out the reasoning behind his insistence on taking his mission up alone, while also giving a really insightful advice afterwards—an advice Geralt begrudgingly took to heart at last:

‘A baptism of fire, I’d say. You’ll pass through fire, which burns, but also purges. And you’ll do it alone. For were someone to support you in this, help you, take on even a scrap of that baptism of fire, that pain, that penance, they would, by the same token, impoverish you. They would deprive you of part of the expiation you desire, which would be owed to them for their involvement. After all, it should be your exclusive expiation. Only you have a debt to pay off, and you don’t want to run up debts with other creditors at the same time.’

….

‘A sense of guilt, as well as the need for expiation, for a cleansing baptism of fire, aren’t things you can claim an exclusive right to. Life differs from banking because it has debts which are paid off by running up debts with others.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Five)

They all have their own reasons for joining Geralt’s quest to rescue Ciri, some owing themselves to a personal debt that somehow led their path alongside Geralt’s. For example: Milva to save the life of a child in exchange for her own, Cahir to see the woman he dreams of and loves, Angoulême to pay the debt of her life saved by Geralt…this is what Regis meant.

And later, after the infamous soup scene that we all love and adore, they started to discuss a new plan without even asking for Geralt’s input—Geralt who has been sulking and brooding on the side all by himself. (It’s definitely one of the best moments in the series and I sincerely hope they’ll feature it on the Netflix show.)

‘Don’t any of you,’ Geralt said, annoyed, ‘think you should ask me my opinion?’

‘You?’ Dandelion said, turning around. ‘But you haven’t got a clue what you’re doing. You even owe the soup you gobbled down to us. Were it not for us, you’d be hungry. We would be too, had we waited for you to act. That cauldron of soup was the result of cooperation. Of teamwork. The joint efforts of a fellowship united by a common goal. Get it, friend?’

‘How could he get it?’ Milva said, grimacing. ‘He’s just “me, me, by myself, all alone”. A lone wolf! But you can see he’s no hunter, that he’s a stranger to the forest. Wolves don’t hunt alone! Never! A lone wolf, ha, what twaddle, foolish townie nonsense. But he doesn’t understand that!’

‘Oh, he does, he does,’ Regis cut in, smiling through pursed lips, as was his custom.

‘He only looks stupid,’ Dandelion confirmed. ‘But I do keep hoping he’ll finally decide to strain his grey matter. Perhaps he’ll come to some useful conclusions. Perhaps he’ll realise the only activity that’s worth doing alone is wanking.’

Cahir Mawwh Dyffryn aep Callach remained tactfully silent.

‘The hell with all of you,’ the Witcher finally said, sticking his spoon into his bootleg. ‘The hell with all of you, you cooperative fellowship of idiots, united by a common goal which none of you understand. And the hell with me too.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Five)

It was here that Geralt finally accepted that he would either travel with them, or not at all—a huge stepping stone for his character.

Subsequently, it’s worth mentioning that this would also be the first time Dandelion finally showed some reluctance in following through with the company’s decision. Let it be known that Geralt has given him a chance to leave his side several times throughout Baptism of Fire and The Tower of the Swallow—3 times and once respectively, before he found himself in a situation where he could not back out.

First time, after they set out of Brokilon:

‘We’ll ride to Verden first. We have to discuss…certain matters there.’

‘What matters? You’ll neither discourage me nor get rid of me. I’m coming along! That is my last word.’

‘We shall see. As I said, we ride to Verden.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Two)

Second time, after Milva came to warn Geralt of his cornered position:

‘I’m not going back,’ he retorted. ‘But you can escort Dandelion to Brokilon.’

‘No!’ the poet protested, although he still hadn’t regained his normal colour. ‘I’m going with you.’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Two)

Third time, though none of them heeded his words—and this was right before Geralt finally accepted his companions’ help:

‘You’re returning home,’ he began bluntly when they came over, wet and stinking of fish. ‘Head north, towards Mahakam. I’m going on by myself.’

‘What?’

‘Now we much go our separate ways. The party’s over, Dandelion. You’re going home to write poems. Milva will lead you through the forests…What’s the matter?’

(Baptism of Fire, Chapter Five)

Fourth time, after they ran away from Queen Meve’s convoy:

He went away, but was soon to return with a gloomy demeanor. He announced, in so many words, that he was breaking up the company with immediate effect and continuing on his way alone, since awful things were occurring somewhere, time was running out, it was becoming dangerous, and he didn’t want to put anyone at risk or take responsibility for anyone. He talked and argued so tediously and unconvincingly that no one wanted to discuss with him. Even the usually eloquent vampire dismissed him with a shrug, Milva by spitting, and Cahir with a terse reminder that he was responsible for himself, and that as far as risks went he did not carry a sword to give his belt ballast. Afterwards, however, everybody fell silent and stared knowingly at the undersigned, no doubt expecting me to avail myself of the opportunity and go back home. I probably do not have to say that they were most disappointed.

— Dandelion, Half a Century of Poetry

(The Tower of the Swallow, Chapter Three)

And later came this scene, after Angoulême joined their little group and they’re about to split ways to deal with a Nilfgaardian problem:

‘Angoulême, Milva and I,’ he said, ‘will make for Belhaven. Cahir, Regis and Dandelion will ride into the Sansretour valley and go to Toussaint.’

‘No,’ Dandelion said quickly, gripping his tube more tightly. ‘Not a chance. I can’t—’

‘Shut up. This isn’t a debate. It was an order from the hanza’s leader! You’re going to Toussaint with Regis and Cahir. You’ll wait for us there.’

‘Toussaint means death for me,’ the troubadour declared empathically. ‘If I’m recognized in Beauclair, at the castle, I’m dead. I have to tell you—’

‘No, you don’t,’ the Witcher interrupted bluntly. ‘It’s too late. You could have turned back, but you didn’t want to. You remained in the company. In order to rescue Ciri. Am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you’ll ride with Regis and Cahir down the Sansretour village. You’ll wait for us in the mountains, without crossing the Toussaint border for now. But if…if the necessity arises, you’ll have to cross it.’

(The Tower of the Swallow, Chapter Five)

Geralt is right, of course. Dandelion is in no position to back out now, not when he’s been given so many chances before. We’ll soon find out the exact reason why he was so afraid of entering Toussaint: His affair with the Duchess Ana Henrietta, where the late-Duke was sure to have skinned him alive if he were to return. But now with the Duke gone, his fear was proven to be unfounded and immediately replaced with joy.

(Although I’d like to point out that Geralt was not so heartless that he didn’t take his fears into account; as he later elaborated that they did not have to immediately cross over Toussaint’s borders, not unless something happened.)

But in The Lady of the Lake, Dandelion would find himself in a position where he has to choose.

To continue with the company or stay with the person he loved and loved him in return?

This is where we see Dandelion truly becoming his own person.

Just as Geralt finally embraced the people who wished to help him in his quest, growing out of his selfish need to redeem himself and take on the world alone, Dandelion had to lay out and straighten out what his priorities and goals in life, growing out of the only path available to him up until this point.

Suffice to say, the privilege that Anna Henrietta has bestowed upon her beloved consort has put him and by extension, his company in her favour. However, we see that the sudden difference in stations had put some distance between Dandelion and the company, and it’s even more apparent with him and Geralt. The small jabs and sarcastic remarks Geralt gave him after finally having a moment to themselves, how Dandelion refused to look him in the eyes.

‘I thought,’ Dandelion said slowly, ‘that we’d sit out the winter here. That we’d stay here—’

‘If you want to stay,’ Geralt blurted out. ‘then stay.’

‘I do.’ Dandelion stood up suddenly and put down his lute. ‘And I will.’

The Witcher audibly sucked in air and said nothing. He looked at a tapestry depicting a fight between a titan and a dragon. The titan, standing solidly on two left legs, was trying hard to break the dragon’s jaw, and the dragon looked none too pleased about it.

‘I’m staying,’ Dandelion repeated. ‘I love Anarietta. And she loves me.’

Geralt still said nothing.

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Three)

Let’s take a moment to be frank here: this scene was very, very painful. It was honestly disconcerting and heart-breaking to see Dandelion finally taking the chance to back out of the mission which he had so fervently demanded to be a part of since the very beginning. Four times Geralt gave him an out and he always refused to leave Geralt’s side. In this confrontation Geralt knew it was coming, from the way his friend had been avoiding him, that they never had a proper conversation on ‘What’s next’ until that moment—yet from his reaction at Dandelion’s answer, he also had not expected Dandelion to take it; or was perhaps counting on him not to, as he did time and time again before.

After everything they had gone through, surely Dandelion would know better than to do that? For a fleeting romance where he’d be chased out of the castle as he usually does? To settle down and even think about marriage, a fantasy? Geralt challenged Dandelion’s reasonings, prompting them to exchange some hurtful words with each other—both having their own reasons to defend their views. Geralt is no doubt confused and (deep down) concerned for his friend, who intend to deliberately leave himself in the presence of “skittish” royalty to pursue his love, his dream—feelings that, as usual with Geralt, manifested as anger.

‘Is my friend Dandelion really spouting such balderdash? Has my friend Dandelion really gone completely mad? Is Dandelion, whom I know as a realist, now beginning all of a sudden to live in the sphere of illusion? Open your bloody eyes, you dolt.’

‘Aha,’ Dandelion said slowly, tightening his lips. ‘What a curious reversal of roles. I’m a blind man, and you meanwhile have suddenly become an attentive and astute observer. It was usually the other way around.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Three)

That slight by Dandelion is a call-back to the many times Dandelion himself had to play the middle-man and sort out Geralt’s own raging emotions, being able to read Geralt accurately most of the time thanks to being exposed to his terrible moods and non-verbal cues for years and years on end. Throughout the books, we know that the two of them do understand each another very well, for they aren’t afraid of voicing their honest opinions to one another, always open and direct.

But between the two of them, Dandelion’s always been the more perceptive one to the actual situation, picking apart the thoughts Geralt offer him and pointing out the loose ends in what he said—what he missed during his musings if need be.

There are moments of ambiguity: like that instant before Ciri and Yennefer arrived all of a sudden in a strike of thunder and lightning, moments that remind us that even close friends don’t and won’t know every single thing.

‘You know him best, Dandelion, you say…’

‘Do I know him?’ said the poet, swatting a mosquito on his neck, plucking his lute and staring at the black outlines of willows by the pond. ‘No, Bernie. I don’t know him. I don’t think anyone knows him. But something’s happening to him, I can see it.’

(Time of Contempt, Chapter Two)

‘You don’t have to. I know you.’

‘You only think you know me. Don’t forget: I’m complicated by nature.’

‘Dandelion,’ the Witcher sighed, now genuinely tired. ‘You’re a cynic, a lecher, a womanizer and a liar. And there’s nothing, believe me, nothing complicated about that.’

(Sword of Destiny, A Little Sacrifice IV)

That said, the moments where both of them claim that ‘I know you’ or ‘You know me enough’ far outweighs these scenes, scattered throughout the series liberally, reflecting the many years they’ve been at the other’s side to be familiar enough to each of their quirks and personalities.

Still, these moments of vagueness or uncertainty make me appreciate the authenticity of their friendship even more—because misunderstanding happens between friends, mistakes are made, insults are traded. Sometimes you question the action of your friend when they do something you don’t expect; you blow up in anger and frustration, at their stupidity and the irrationality of it.

It’s because you think you know what’s best for them; want what’s best for them, confronting (what you see are) the errors of their way of thinking. But then they cleverly echo the harsh reality back at you, calmly pointing out the flaws in your judgement—giving more weight and concreteness to their action that you failed to see in your cloud of hurt.

That’s what Dandelion did.

‘I’m aware of your lack of awareness. You’re a lunatic, Dandelion.’

The poet said nothing and stroked the neck of his lute. Some time passed before he spoke.

‘We set off from Brokilon on a deranged mission,’ he began slowly. ‘Taking a lunatic risk, we launched ourselves on an insane quest for a mirage without the slightest chance of success. A quest for a phantom, a daydream, an absolutely impossible ideal. We set off in pursuit like idiots, like madmen. But I didn’t utter a word of complaint, Geralt. I didn’t call you a madman. I didn’t ridicule you. For you had hope and love in you. You were being guided by them on this reckless mission. I was too, as a matter of fact. But I’ve caught up with the mirage, and I was lucky enough that the dream came true. My mission is over. I’ve found what is so difficult to find. And I intend to keep it. Is that insanity? It would be insanity to give it up and let it slip through my fingers.’

Geralt was silent for as long as Dandelion had been earlier.

‘Pure poetry,’ he finally said. ‘And it’s difficult to rival you at that. I won’t say another word. You’ve destroyed my arguments. Helped, I admit, by your quite apposite ones. Farewell, Dandelion.’

‘Farewell, Geralt.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Three)

Remember when we discussed how everyone in the company has their own reasons for pushing through the quest? We already know the reason behind Dandelion’s involvement. He said it himself since the beginning in Brokilon: “I want to go with you. I want to be by your side.” Because 1) Geralt needed help, from people he can trust and as far as he was aware, he was the only one the witcher could rely on; and 2) Before the revelation that Ciri isn’t in Nilfgaard, Dandelion had his intel to depend on (but later it lost its usefulness).

Unlike the others who are in some ways indebted to either Geralt or Ciri, he is under no obligation to go with him other than the “hope and love in him” which he had beautifully worded earlier: hope in finding Ciri and the love he has for Ciri and Geralt as a friend. And now he was finally reunited with another love he lost along the way: the love he shared with Anarietta.

There was no mistaking the truth behind his words, and though Geralt graciously yielded his arguments, we saw that he was still terribly bothered by the fact that Dandelion chose to stay. He only later understood the love that kept his friend there after meeting Fringilla, filling the void that Yennefer left with her gone (and he mistakenly thought had betrayed him). That some things are worth staying for.

We didn’t get anymore interaction between Geralt and Dandelion as the poet seemed to be very busy with his ‘Little Weasel’ Anarietta, but his casual inquiry to how his friend was faring seemed to indicate that they had finally got into an understanding.

A part of me was dreading the fact that he’d go straight to Vilgefortz’s hideout without properly saying farewell to Dandelion, but thankfully we see the bard catching up to them as they were riding away from Beuclair.

‘Well, I made it. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you.’

‘Just don’t say you’re finally riding with us.’

‘No, Geralt.’ Dandelion lowered his head. ‘I’m not. I’m staying here in Toussaint with my Little Weasal. I mean with Anarietta. But I couldn’t not say farewell to you. Or wish you a safe journey.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Four)

He then gave him a heavy pouch of money to Geralt, saying “Let it be my contribution.” because he couldn’t physically be there anymore. After staying by his side for most of the journey, the two friends finally parted ways. Dandelion finally finding a new purpose in his life, while Geralt continues in his.

‘Well, farewell! Be off, because I’ll burst into tears. And when it’s all over you’re to stop by Toussaint on your way back and tell me everything. And I want to hug Ciri. Do you promise, Geralt?’

‘I promise.’

‘So, farewell.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Four)

This really is bittersweet, but also a very real thing. Everyone has their own paths to choose and make do in their life—sometimes their paths would cross and meet, but then they would diverge from one another until the next time. Even close friends. Such is life.

This last farewell mirrors the farewell they exchanged at end of their fight; but this time, it’s laden with affection instead of hurt. A full circle, eh?

It’s a character arc, a sub-plot that I feel accentuates the main plot and Geralt’s own personal development really well, one that truly highlights their beautiful friendship in both good and bad. I’m forever grateful that they parted in good terms—accepting and understanding each other’s choices and best of all, with a hug.

‘Make sure this letter reaches—’

‘Fringilla Vigo?’

‘No. Djikstra.’

‘Are you serious, Geralt? And how do you propose I do it?’

‘Find a way. I know you will. And now farewell. Give us a hug, you old fool.’

‘Give us a hug, comrade. I’ll be looking out for you.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Four)

(Let’s take another moment to appreciate this final, significant display of trust Geralt is giving to Dandelion before they parted ways. The letter was later shown to be valuable information that Dijkstra would later give Emhyr vas Emreis, information that would settle a huge matter that has been plaguing the plotline.)

THERE TILL THE END

We only see them again after Geralt brought Ciri to Toussaint after Yennefer left, as he had promised to do.

As he and Ciri approach Toussaint, we see him turn gloomy when reminded that he would have to tell his friend—the only surviving member of the Hanza, what happened to the rest. But he was determined to move past it; past his guilt and remorse, to put it behind him for good.

‘You can’t do anything about it,’ Ciri said softly. ‘Don’t torment yourself, Geralt. It’s not your fault.’

Yes it is, he thought. It’s mine. Dandelion’s going to ask. And I’ll have to answer.

Milva. Cahir. Regis. Angouleme.

A sword is a double-edged weapon.

Oh, by the Gods, I’ve had enough of this. Enough. Time I was done with this.

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Eleven)

But naturally it wasn’t easy. Geralt had to face, yet again, another existential crisis as well as his own hand in destiny when they stumble into a public lynching—a hanging for Dandelion himself.

‘It’s unfair, thought the Witcher. It’s one big bloody injustice. It can’t be like this. It shouldn’t be like this. I know it was stupid and naïve to think that anything ever depended on me, that I somehow influence the fate of this world, or that this world owes me something. I know it was a naïve, arrogant opinion…But I know it! There’s no need to convince me about it! It doesn’t have to be proved to me! Particularly like this…

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Eleven)

At this point, Geralt was on the verge of denial, starting to harden up his heart as it seemed inevitable. He couldn’t cause a scene, not with Ciri within his care. I’m aware that this whole scene was meant to be comedic, and it truly is—you can see it for yourself when you read the book. But one can’t help but imagine how devastated and helpless Geralt felt in that courtyard, watching the friend he’d been waiting to see and bring Ciri to die before his very eyes.

Thankfully, Dandelion was pardoned by the Duchess at the last minute, and without wasting anymore time Geralt immediately went into action, swiftly forcing his way to the bard and finally galloping away from the city with Ciri (who had paved a way through the crowd for them).

Had Dandelion perished right then, Geralt would probably never have moved on from his guilt—or at the most, it would be a constant reminder in the back of his head. But it didn’t.

They travelled together again, crossing over countries and landscaped. Ciri then eventually had to leave him for Yennefer before the three of them would reunite again in Rivia, where Zoltan Chivay and Yarpen Zigrin waited for them.

(It was nice to see just the two of them again, after all the chaotic and mentally-draining things that happened.)

Here, we see just how much Geralt has changed. Dandelion’s absence had caused him to be unaware of some major changes that the witcher had endured after rescuing Yen and Ciri, and it’s so clear to see now.

Throughout the book, Geralt claims that he did not want to get involved in human affairs, yet somehow gets himself burrowed deep in it. Saving Duny, stepping out of his way to save the girl in the camp who was accused of being a witch, defending Villentretenmerth and the dragon youngling in the mountains, and so much more. Even if he was reluctant at first, he would always respond as best he could.

That’s why Dandelion, who knew this well and at times even counted on it or nudged the witcher subtly, asked him not to do so in this particular scene, where a group of Nilfgaardian settlers were being abused by a sub-lieutenant of the Cintran army. And Geralt’s reaction was no doubt unexpected and foreign to him.

‘Geralt, no,’ groaned Dandelion. ‘Don’t do anything, I beg you…Don’t get involved…’

The Witcher turned his face towards him, and Dandelion didn’t recognize it.

‘Get involved? Intervene? Rescue somebody? Risk my neck for some noble principles or ideas? Oh, no, Dandelion. Not any longer.’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Eleven)

And later as well, when they stumbled upon some rebellious kids in Rivia.

‘Geralt,’ muttered Dandelion, dismounting. ‘Don’t do anything foolish, please.’

‘Fear not. I won’t.’

Dandelion glanced at the Witcher’s face. He didn’t like what he saw.

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Twelve)

When they finally meet the dwarves in Rivia, Geralt reveals that he was retiring from being a Witcher, explaining his changed demeanour towards fighting in general. To further prove his resolve, he firmly returned the sword Zoltan gifted him with before they parted ways; a sure sign of him giving up his life of killing and defending for honour.

For Geralt finally found a reason to live and enjoy life in Yennefer and Ciri; something he intended to cherish and share with his friends, hence the reason he asked the two to meet him in Rivia.

‘It may surprise you old buggers, but I’ve come to the conclusion that pissing into the wind is stupid. That risking your neck for anybody is stupid. Even if they’re paying. And existential philosophy has nothing to do with it. You won’t believe it, but my own skin has suddenly become extremely dear to me. I’ve come to the conclusion it would be foolish to risk it in someone else’s defence.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ Dandelion nodded. ‘On one hand that’s wise. On the other—’

‘There is no other.’

‘Do Yennefer and Ciri,’ Yarpen asked after a short pause, ‘have anything to do with your decision?’

‘A great deal.’

‘Then everything’s clear,’ sighed the dwarf.

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Twelve)

That being said, the moment the massacre of non-humans broke out, he immediately went back on his words and grabbed the sword he supposedly abandoned to defend the people within the tavern. In his core, the Witcher was never the type to stand idly by while he watched innocents being slaughtered, and this whole debacle was simply the final proof of that.

Geralt took a deep breath. He stood up. Feeling on him the terrified eyes of Dandelion and Wirsing, he took the sihill, the sword wrought in Mahakam, in the very forge of Rhundurin, down from the shelf over the fireplace.

‘Geralt…’ the poet groaned pathetically.

‘Very well,’ said the Witcher, walking towards the exit. ‘But this is the last time! Dammit, it really is the last time!’

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Twelve)

And the last time it was.

In a way, it really is poetic. A fitting, yet cruel end. We see everyone of Geralt’s closest acquaintances and friends, his loved ones surround him in his final moment. Ciri. Yennefer. Triss. And Dandelion.

Dandelion who, despite lacking the capabilities joined the others who hid inside the tavern to fight back against the mob with a broom.

Dandelion who, despite not being the focus any longer was there to help Triss up.

Dandelion, who is powerless and a simple human in the midst of everyone too strung up and in disbelief, was only one openly crying for Geralt. Mourning the loss of his best friend.

Dandelion, who took the initiative and carried Yennefer to the boat, witnessing glimpses of the rest of the Hanza at the same time.

And it was Dandelion Ciri said her farewell to, alongside Triss.

‘Farewell then, Triss Merigold. Farewell, Dandelion. Farewell all of you.’

=====

‘Something had ended,’ said Dandelion in an altered voice.

(The Lady of the Lake, Chapter Twelve)

And as Ciri had stated, he was also the people to attend the wedding of Geralt and Yennefer.

The end was rather vague, to be completely honest. The short story Something Ends, Something Begins is unfortunately not considered canon, so I intend to avoid talking about it here. Still, even though we don’t see much of the two of them towards the end, just the fact that Dandelion was there by his side till the end is enough. That he gets to see his friend whisked away into Avalon with the love of his life is enough.

That he was always addressed is more than enough.

A bittersweet but very fulfilling end to the Witcher Saga, and to the beautiful friendship of Geralt and Dandelion.

The whole purpose of writing this was to re-establish what is clearly shown in the books, to convince myself even further on how well the writer had written their dynamic. To not just explain, but also show how important their relationship is.

Amidst all the romance and everything destiny throws at Geralt, Dandelion is there because he likes him and Geralt likes him too—their unwavering loyalty and love to each other a staple in comparison to the many dramas that occur around Geralt. That kind of friendship gives a bit of reprieve for the readers, as well as provide some comedic breaks that Dandelion undoubtedly deliver.

Now, if I were to compare it to the Netflix series: I personally feel that the writers do understand how important their relationship is. The fact that they are shown to have a growth in their friendship, even leading up to a fight, is a sign that they have things planned for the two; and I choose to believe in them and let them set the pace of this development. Because so far, all the other characters and relationships in the book has been translated well into the show. It may stray away from canon events, but as long as they are given justice and treated as they should, I see no reason to demand anything else.

Before reading the books, I felt nothing wrong with the pacing of their friendship and how they explored it (other than Jaskier not physically aging, but we can all forgive that minor mistake), so I’m going to avoid comparing the events too closely with the novels, seeing as they have their own timeline/plans as well.

This has been a very long but fruitful rambling analysis on their friendship in the Book series, and I hope to return to this after the Netflix series is done so I can compare the Books and Netflix series properly. Until that time comes, I’ll just keep re-reading the books and maybe hunt down some more fanfics to accommodate the current lack of new content.

I hope this inspires you to read the books, because I naturally left out a LOT of things haha. It really is a good series, and very much worth the read. Thank you for reading till the end! And hit me up for any questions or points I might have missed—I’m always open for discussions :D

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