All language subtitles for The Witcher - S04E05 - The Joy of Cooking

Why are you up?

We've lost too much time already.

If we're to stop Ciri's marriage to
Emile, we need to cross this river.

What's needed is rest.

We barely made it out of there alive.

Yes, your head.

And don't get me started on your leg.

The crossing's that way.

I'll scout ahead.

Whoever patched me up, thank you.

Regis could have done better.

That gherkin could have done better.

Call me a pickle again, all you nuts on
toast.

Casca, we need to mose.

The ride won't be easy.

I will not be what slows us down.

Steady.

Can't you see he needs to rest? Stay out
of this.

It doesn't concern you.

You and I have a lot more in common than
you think.

I sense theory too. Do not speak her
name. Dreams that feel portentous.

Cirilla dancing with death.

A mouth full of glowing worms.

You can take this and kill me now if you
regret your decision to spare me.

Like Cirilla did once.

Or you can listen.

Bad news!

The crossing's completely washed out.

We either wait for it to clear, or...

Retreat to the cluster of fucking armies
we just escaped.

Besides,

Jaskier needs to rest.

We should be at our strongest when we
get to Ciri.

At your trouble, Ted.

Erica Carney.

The

Nazarian.

No, no, please, no, please, please,
don't.

I'm told, please, I swear it.

Please, I can give you names, please. A
little late for that. Five years of

information about wizards.

Commander Bathgoing.

Either, for an unexpected pleasure.

Why don't we grieve him dry?

Then this fire fucker, Rhian, I think,
he was on the trail of a

witcher, Geralt. See, Geralt and this
old far jurist.

Codrow, uh, Fenno, uh, something.

They were having meetings in Dorian. All
I know is Rience killed them

frightfully.

He saved their cat.

If that matters.

It doesn't. But do go on. Well, uh,
Rience employed my professional help to

this lass, which weren't the easiest of
tasks since she was under the care of a

druid and a werewolf. But, you know, man
is still the same.

They're both corpses now.

I know something of this.

My lord.

Tell me more about this girl.

Ashen hair.

Green peepers.

Do you recall her name?

Oh, no, no. She was all our sorts.

Didn't speak all that much.

Is it getting hotter in here?

Sounds like Sweller.

But I happen to know she was on Thanedd
at that time.

What became of her? We handed the small
fire over to a wizard.

Terrifying fella.

Name escapes me. It's something like
Vil... Vil... Vilge... Vilgefortz!

Do you mean Vilgefortz? Yes.

What the fuck?

A parting spell from Vilgefortz.

His name was the trigger.

What do you think it means?

He's trying to cover his tracks.

It means Vilgefortz gave Amir a fake.

You sure?

Can we trust her?

For now.

At present, I'm more concerned with the
loose lips of the Redanian commander.

Any more pillow talk and everyone on the
continent will know the truth.

I'll handle him. Good.

You do that.

Your scheme.

To unseat the Emperor.

It wouldn't happen to hinge on this
particular information -staying secret,

would it?

We need more than cold nothing for a
soup, if that is our goal.

We can forage for what we need. I'll get
the salt we have left. Anyone have any

old family recipes they'd like to share?

Me gran used to have the finest Mahakam
vegetables.

Mahakam veg?

Yeah, right.

Everyone got scraps from that dipshit
Groover's mountain goat roast. Oh, but

it did more for the clan than you know.

Where are you going?

To look for another crossing.

Even your stubbornness won't bend
nature.

Right, Jaskier?

Right.

We should stay, Geralt.

Just for an hour or two.

Give us both some time to heal.

Sultan, who's this Bruver, if you speak
of? Alderman of Mahakam.

Good riddance to him.

Never going back.

Why's that?

Because a fucker can't. You don't know
what went down. Did you forget?

I was there.

Aye, and whatever you think you know,
it's all bullshit. Friends, please.

Tales whet the appetite, and this is one
I'm sure even Geralt is dying to hear.

You were there.

We were not.

Tell us what happened.

Back in Mahokam, everything we did was
for the clan, and Zoltan's forge was the

crown jewel.

I would deliver the weapons he forged to
Bruva, who shipped them down to the

dwarven front line.

The heel -fud Zoltan here was holding
back a big shipment for bloody human!

In fact, I was on my way to confront you
when I thought...

Bruva told me you destroyed your own
forge so no one would find out.

You were arming humans, too.

Playing both sides for your own gain.
When our clan were dying in the field!

much? You don't know what went down that
day!

Tell us, then.

I poured my life into my work. For our
clan.

Until I found out Bruva was driving my
wares to humans.

Who are killing dwarves.

I wasn't about to tell it my own.

So I tells him.

He'll never take what's ours.

Bet you didn't know.

Groover paid me a little visit.

Guilt written all over his face.

Blaming you.

Blaming me.

Pointing fingers at everyone but
himself.

He started the fire.

Hoping to take me down. And his secret
with it.

The place was blue. I was trapped below.

It took hours to get out of there. And
in that time, Brewer spread lies that I

betrayed Mahakam.

He lied to us both.

And you believe him over me.

I lost everything.

My home.

My forge.

My friends.

If only I'd known.

I'm sorry, Brent.

I gave my chip!

Best ten dollars I ever spent.

Not sure the bird agrees.

He's free to make his own way.

Just like the rest of us.

Fucking vomit!

That didn't go exactly as I'd planned.

Look what I found to get us started with
our soup.

What the hell we're loving fucking this?

No human word for it.

It's a common tuber found in subsurface
dirt on every roadside you've ever

traveled. Maybe that means we shouldn't
be putting it in our mouth.

Learn to cook with it in Brooklyn.

It's getting late.

We should check the crossing.

Silver, you've never spoken of Brooklyn
or how you came to be there.

Would you like to share? No.

My stepfather made sure I knew fear.

In return, I made sure he knew
suffering.

The rage took me over.

And it was worth it.

I did whatever it took to survive on my
own.

And soon, I realized I could do the same
for others like me.

The Dryads offered me refuge after that.

I found a home a month in the Broccolon.

I helped by escorting Scoia'tael to and
from the forest to keep him safe from

humans.

But at times, I felt like death leading
souls to the afterlife.

They willfully lived in the present.

ignoring the darkness around them.

But I kept my distance. It was best not
to get attached.

Until that last mission, when I finally
understood what their fervor was

really about.

Connection.

Their search for joy, to forget their
circumstances.

They were ambushed the next day.

They all died.

Back in Brooklyn, I found a new task.

A witcher.

in need of healing.

You do now.

Anyone in favor of bending down for the
night? What a marvelous idea.

I, for one, could use a good... Oh, I'm
good.

I'm good.

Hey, no, wait, that is my...

Private work. If you've written anything
about me, I'll stab you in both ass

cheeks. Oh, you should be so lucky as to
be immortalized in the written word.

But you want to tell us what you're
writing, don't you?

You know he does.

Go on.

Come on, Bard.

I'm getting old.

And I've come to realize that I won't be
around forever.

But my stories might be.

Picture it, if you'll abide.

Oxenfurt, my collegiate pride.

Will the whole thing be in song?

Yes, bitch.

My head was mending from an ache.

An arietta gave my heart a break.

Not exactly how I remember our time in
Oxenfurt. Was on a stroll I oft would.

Funny how the world can feel the
opposite of what is real. My mood is

is no lie. Yet still the sun hangs in
the sky.

Yeah, look, I know this isn't really
your sort of thing, but, you know, just

sort of go with it.

I couldn't help but hear you down.
Perhaps you'd like a reach around.

I thank you, love. I shall abstain and
let the witch I'd like to go. She's very

good at saying no.

As for what would fill my soul,

an abstraction, hobby, or a goal.

Ladies and gentlemen, Valdo Marks. There
once was a man from Ebbing. Could that

be my answer there?

Where? Who had a problem bedwetting.
He'd lay down his head asleep in his

bed and await to find piss in the
bedding.

That lad may lack credentials, but I
cannot deny the potential.

Did I

offend? You did,

my friend.

Me don't do velvet.

Besides, being a bard is about so much
more than the trappings of fashion.

Next is my style of performance ship.
You craft a tale of truest wit. For some

it may be clothes or hair. Or how they
dance on air.

To quote a dear friend.

Pray tell me more. My hunger's deep. How
do you track which trends will keep?

Since here I keep my greatest work, my
precious dreams and unrealized sex. I'd

be all right deprived of guards.

Without these I'd be cursed.

This hesitation strikes my part.

Do keep your own heart well on guard.

I'll understand, respect your choice.

Some songs could use a second

voice.

Take this one about the chill of
winter's breath upon the hill. What

loss, what mighty quill I see in... You
a younger me, you'll get there, pray,

eventually.

God strike me down for caring.

What happened next?

The fucker stole his songbook.

Whenever will this feeling end?

Or are these symptoms of a... You don't
sit down from

over there.

You think he'll want to yet me there.

Consensually, mind, yes.

Ladies and gentlemen, Baldo Bar.

Around your house, now white and fast.

A box of ice and it flows.

Everything for me. Everything.

Go.

Val can keep his

stolen songs.

Stay haunted in his devious wrongs.

But my whole life.

The things I've seen, they are
chronicled in binding scenes.

It's this, this is what I meant to give.

Let's stake that fucker down.

That is but one chapter in what will one
day be

50 years of poetry.

I thank you very much.

I'll just be long enough to check the
poet's health.

Relax.

Poet, your blood smells good.

Let me rephrase.

I cannot detect the stench of infection.

I would like to put in a few stitches,
if that's all right.

Be brave, Jaskier. Oh, I am being brave.
I'm letting you touch me, aren't I?

I couldn't help but notice you're
lacking spices for your dinner.

My suggestion, basil, pimento, bay
leaves, and

sage, I think, will do nicely.

You may take what you need from my bag.

What's wrong with you lot?

If we added garlic to our soup, would
that repel you?

Tall tales from primeval campfires. He's
right.

Much of what humans associate with
vampirism are myths.

I overheard your tale, poet.

I have a suggestion, if you're open to
it.

Everyone's a critic. Go on.

Half a century might be a touch more
poetic than 50 years.

I don't know.

Terrible, I suppose. If you're finished,
you can go.

We both know he is not.

Fine.

Be quick about it.

God, Scarlet.

Looks worse than it does.

That is untrue.

I wonder, when you look at me, do you
see comrade or an enemy?

I haven't decided.

How high would the bounty on me have to
be for you to decide? Bloody high.

I'm not exactly an ordinary vampire.

I doubt anyone could pay it off.

An ordinary witcher wouldn't have
blinked twice before slaying me.

And me.

Curious.

Our Witcher is in a state of flux.

All his endless talk of risks, dangers,
the struggle with doubt, components of a

baptism of fire, if you'll permit the
turn of phrase. Tread carefully, Regis.

I meant no offense.

You are simply experiencing emotions you
are known for disregarding. You are

becoming something new.

I can relate, because as you've said...

I'm not an ordinary vampire.

I'll be on my way.

Aye!

We've trusted the Bat to treat us, break
bread with us, even fight alongside us.

Will not one of you ask him to tell his
story now?

I'm afraid of what it might be. You need
not fear me. I don't touch blood

anymore.

The reasons perhaps require a
reintroduction.

I am Emil Regis Rohelich Tertzif
Godfrey.

Presently, I am 428 years old according
to the human calendar.

A descendant of... post -conjunction
relics left to fend for themselves.

In vampiric society, our young are given
freedom of choice.

With their gift of immortality, many
choose to take what they want.

But if you don't partake, you risk
becoming an outcast.

I always try to avoid human blood, but
the euphoria you feel when it's fresh...

There's nothing like it.

Suddenly, nothing else matters. As long
as you have hemoglobin and a full moon.

Blood eases the pains of life. It
removes inhibitions. It takes away many

things, including civilized behavior.

It wasn't long before alarming symptoms
made themselves known.

But I ignored them all.

I had lost.

Until fate found me a moment of clarity.

One evening I was sent to fetch blood.
At that point I was constantly under the

influence, and so I had a little
accident.

The next thing I knew I heard the most
angelic voice.

Bethan.

The spark was instant.

The fire it ignited.

Devastating.

We lived in a fantasy.

I had cut off my friends.

I was off blood.

She had a green thumb.

She loved herbs.

Taught me her favorite recipes.

Many I still use to this day.

Then one day, She didn't return from the
market.

The despair I felt was awful.

But the horror was just beginning.

I was blinded by rage when I learned
Bethann's disappearance had been

orchestrated by my own coven. Punishment
for a relationship they called playing

with my food.

I owed them a visit.

But I arrived too late. And so I lost
it.

I don't recall much of what happened
that night.

But one thing has stayed with me.

Bethann's final moments.

Her face betraying her disgust, her
horror.

And what I'd always known resided deep
within my soul.

In all my bloodlust, I had failed to
realize that I had made myself known to

village.

They burned every vampire I had left
standing.

As for me, I was staked, decapitated,
and buried.

And here's one more vampiric myth
disproved.

It takes a lot more than that to
properly kill a vampire.

Alas. my victory was short -lived.

How long were you in the mud?

Oh, 50 years or so.

Half a century sounds better.

Yes, poet.

Half a century faced with The worst
mistake of my life.

I haven't touched blood since.

How can I trust someone constantly
battling their worst impulses? How,

How does the butcher of Blaviken fare?

Some days are better than others.

Aye.

Some decades, too.

I think it's a pike.

Nice cash for here.

Thank you.

Anyone want to say a few words?

No, let's eat.

Your bet, Cohen.

Go on.

Tell us what's going on in her head.

Just thinking of the quiet life I lived
before I met you lot.

All of our stories involve some amount
of regret.

And we've heard from everyone except our
fisherman friend.

Oh, I regret plenty.

I spent my time as a soldier following
orders.

Oh, you were following orders when you
terrorized my child.

Geralt.

Like the others, there's another side to
his story, too.

What's the harm of us hearing it?

Go on, Nilfgaardian. I'm not a
Nilfgaardian.

I'm from Vikavaro.

which we know is not Nilfgaard and is in
fact a place very near to Nilfgaard and

Ignorme. Continue.

In my youth, I just... I wanted purpose.

And working directly with the Emperor,
it's an honor where I'm from.

And my journey to where I am now started
with the very first mission for him.

That's a story I've never told anyone.

Gaze upon your brother.

The usurper has wounded us greatly,
Cahir.

I hate him. Hate like you mean it. I
hate the usurper. Your brother died an

honourable death in battle. That is a
destiny all real men strive for. Become

real man.

Cahir!

Cahir!

Shed this boyhood, weeper.

Cahir!

I didn't mean to scare you, lad.

Who are you?

I'm a man who needs a favor.

My sick friend needs providing for while
I'm away.

In a cave some paces from here.

Leave food and drink, but don't enter.

And don't come after nightfall.

I don't have money.

I'm more than enough.

And keep whatever's left.

For weeks, I returned, never seeing the
wizard's friend.

Until... What have you got there?

Nothing.

Give it.

I was saved by a monster, a face full of
spikes.

Thank you.

I should be thanking you.

You helped me keep up my strength.

Time passed and I put him out of my mind
But

then

Years later.

Not long after I joined the army.

I always thought my destiny was to be
even the smallest cog in the largest

gearwork. The fact is all mine.

If it weren't for your help all those
years ago, I wouldn't have followed

destiny to the north.

I've had my eye on you, son.

Since the moment my guards freed you
from the usurper's shackles, I know that

you're a far cry from Kalach.

Loyal.

Discreet. The right man to help me
embark on a very precious mission.

Leave us. Yes, sire.

You're the Hedgehog Man.

Now you understand.

What's wrong?

Go.

The Hedgehog Man.

Archie.

When I knew him, he called himself
Dooney.

Pavetta's ball.

Where it was revealed that she was...
Pregnant.

Yes.

Same man.

I need to sit down. You're ready.

Then I need to lie down. Can someone
explain?

If what Cahir says is true, who I knew
as Dooney... You saved my life.

...became M .E .F .R .M. Reese.

And he's marrying Ciri.

His own daughter.

Years ago, Vilgefortz convinced Ymir
that his destiny rests on the

of Ythleen's prophecy.

To have an heir with his daughter.

Ciri is my child of destiny.

If I had just claimed her at birth, none
of this would be happening.

I don't believe that.

Destiny involves choices.

You chose a path, not claiming her was a
choice.

I was created to kill monsters and
collect coin, that's all.

Clearly not.

You're evolving.

We all are, don't you see? I blindly put
my faith in Emhyr.

But when I saw Cirilla as Thanedd, I saw
the future.

I chose a new path to help her, and then
I met you.

It's not a coincidence, Geralt. The
dream you've both been having, it makes

sense. Makes no sense.

Do you know that your Yennefer saved my
life once?

If you asked her, I'm sure she'd have no
idea why she made that choice. But she

did. It's destiny, you understand, for
all of us, to get up to this very

No, this is both for me.

And me alone.

Then you haven't been listening.

Geralt, it's personal to us all.

The sun will be up soon.

Perhaps now is the time for rest and
reflection.

Humans, it turns out, are complicated.

Sometimes.

But in this case, his story, what drives
him, is actually very,

very simple.

Need some help?

I'd sooner ask Cohen.

Thank you.

Cohen doesn't have hair. My God, that's
a joke.

Ah, humor.

I remember that.

It may shock you, but I do know things.

Yennefer would train for hours.

You miss her, don't you?

As a boy, I would help my mother with
her hair when she was ill.

I'd struggle imagining you as young
anything.

When I was younger than you, I dreamt of
one day becoming a knight.

Geralt of Rivia isn't an honorific.

I gave myself that name to attract
better contracts, though it wasn't my

choice. Please tell me what was.

Geralt, Roger, Eric.

Two old spell cards.

Yes.

Bethemir had a similar reaction.

You could still be a knight if you
wanted.

If all this witcher malarkey crumbled to
the ground.

Although, a knight has to trust his
sovereign.

And you don't seem to trust anyone.

It's less about trust and more about
what it might lead to.

You mean emotions?

Of course, you witches don't have those,
do you? So they say sometimes

acting on the heart can lead to more
meaningful outcomes.

Well, terrible consequences.

Trusting people isn't that bad.

At the very least, there's glory in the
attempt.

See? I let a witcher do my hair, and it
turned out incredible.

Trust.

I knight you, the Geralt, Roger, Eric du
Hort.

Dressing. All lessons seem to evade her
grasp.

And which tactic have you employed?

The carrot or the stick?

I don't think the stick's big enough for
that one.

Let me have a word with her.

Be my guest.

Your Grace.

I haven't spoken to you much, have I?

And for that, I apologize.

Your treatment here must feel like
torture.

I prefer them closed.

Tell me something.

Are you familiar with mummery?

Acting.

Theatre.

Like play a truth.

Indeed. I did a touch of acting. It can
be very difficult.

Where to stand and what to say.

When.

There's really nothing quite like good
theatre.

Nothing worse than bad acting.

Do you follow my meaning, sir?

No, some of my best memories were when I
knew my role and the

part I was given.

And for what reason?

Until my worst.

When I resisted the part I was given.

When you were acting.

That is the secret.

I have never stopped.

I know my role.

My real question to you is, do you know
yours?

I'm a princess.

And do you know what becomes of good
little princesses?

They become queens.

If they behave themselves and take
direction.

And those who know better, like your
good friends Miss Stella and Mr.

And then all those things that felt like
torture can feel like what they really

are. A reward.

And instead of feeling like a queen,
you'll live long enough to actually be

a queen.

each other.

We do.

Good, very good.

I must be on my way.

I do hope that we can maintain this air
of trust between us.

Wouldn't that be charming?

Ah, a glorious day.

Okay. We're coming.

Gather your things.

We need to find a way across this river.

Did he say we?

You all right?

His leg's better.

It's like all he needed was a day of
rest.

Seems we all did.

Aye. What a company I've ended up with.

Two dwarves.

A nun.

A poet.

A half -dryad, half -woman.

An elf guardian who insists he is not an
elf guardian.

Well, I'm not.

I'm a vampire.

Fucking... Oh, that is not going to get
old.

Then leading our party, the witcher who
suffers pangs of conscience.

I wouldn't be here without you.

All of you.

Melva.

Think that crossing is possible?

I'm sure it is.

It was.

Yesterday.

Tell me where they're hiding.

Tell me.

Tell me.

Tell me.

Tell me where they're hiding.

Now did that have to be so hard?

Rest in peace.

He's coming.