Within the blue mountains, in one of the chambers build within the deeper layers, a song could be heard. Hilfar and his father Ullfar had temporarily returned to Thorin's halls for an old family tradition. Each winter they dedicated themselves to the brewing of ale according to the traditions of the line of the Ironhammer. The secrets to their brewing techniques were passed on from generation to another. They aim is to fill many kegs of their product, kegs for their brothers in Othrikar, kegs for selling on dwarrow markets and kegs for their own consumption!
Hilfar went back to his workshop after a two month absence, a rather small room cramped with dried herbs, plants and extraction equipment. When Hilfar entered the room he sniffed up the air and muttered "Ah, I missed this" as the scent of mingled herbs filled his nostrils. On the ground in the corner there lay a huge sack filled with dried hops. A few months back Hilfar harvested them in the Greenhouse and handpicked each of them, judging their size and quality, one by one.
He grabbed the sack of hops and walked down to the lower parts of Thorin's Halls where he met his father wearing a brewers apron "Ah, there ye are my boy, are ye ready!?". Hilfar lay the sack of hops near the sacks of yeast and barley grain and nodded content "Aye father, finally this day has come again!". Both dwarves were getting all the equipment ready for their annual brewing tradition.
And so they started, it was a process they knew well over the years so they hardly talked to each other. They operated like a team, each knowing exactly what to do without walking in each others way. In the first days the barley grain was malted in a huge round metal container, making sure the grains were ready for brewing. The stirring rotor was moving automatically driven by an waterwheel that was constructed at a nearby underground river. By the end of the week the malted barley was transferred to a large copper kettle with boiling water. Inside the kettle was another stirring wheel creating a whirlpool. Hilfar slowly added the hops to the kettle, he knew exactly the right amount to obtain the required taste. Meanwhile during the brewing process, they sang songs of old. One of these songs was dedicated to their brewing tradition. Hilfar and Ullfar used their deep voices to sing this song, some ending parts were bellowed loudly, echoing through the dark chambers. The rhythm sound like that of a marching song, the ones that military forces use. The main verses of this song were:
Sow, sow, Hop we sow,
earth and water we make it grow.
Each winter cold, traditions old
we turn this water into gold!
Brew, brew, merry brew,
we brew until the morning dew.
Bring the starch, bring the yeast,
a hundred kegs we fill at least!
Ale, ale, tasty ale,
we fill the kegs, a few for sale.
The best we keep, before we sleep,
we drown our troubles in the deep!
After the hop had incubated long enough, the contents of the copper kettle were transferred through a tube to another chamber, where it was nearly freezing. The tube was connected to a large metal closed container. After the hop brew was cooled off, yeast was added and the fermenting process was run for at least ten days. The final day of their work had come, empty kegs were rolled in the room, close to a 55 in total. Hilfar added a small amount of honey which was traded with a beekeeper in Combe. The sweet honey enriched the taste of the hops, creating a mighty fine ale. They smacked their tankards full of their new homebrew and cheered on their achievement. Many kegs were filled, should you see them on a market, Im sure you wish to taste the gold of the Ironhammer. Cheers!
