Valdemere Scotc(H) - Adunian Lore

[Snake Plissken 637]

 

Nine days after leaving Ar’Galdor the small ship manned by the two Adunians along the Southern Coast of the Isle of Al’Ildic. They had named the boat ‘Farendal’ after the boat Elendil had sailed on his own voyage to Al’Ildic in the year 334, though this ship was hardly comparable with such a glorious historical vessel. The travellers stared in awe as they looked up at the towering mountains of Irthgard, dominating the coast, hiding the ancient city of Ekvol and the legendary Eldar Forges somewhere within.

 

As the mountains became hills and the hills became plains the ship sailed the passage between the old Marsh seafort of Raghnall and the port of Nairn on the shore. The fort’s crumbling stone walls and mossy turrets could still be seen, defying the ages in much the same way the Adunians had seen in Al’Amar. At noon the elderly man sat poring over his map of the isle, drawn up by his father’s uncle in 1255. Above him on the upper deck where the wheel was position, his companion sat chewing on a piece of bread, still marvelling over the sight of the Irthgards.

 

“We could continue round past Cape Gelbor, then come up the coast and land at Korveth”, stated the elderly one without really looking up, rubbing his muttonstache with one hand and tracing the proposed route with the other, “Or we could land here, trek up through the Ildician plains and then into Ar’Norian”.

 

“Wouldn't mind some walking for a change”, replied the scarred one, “Longer we’re on this boat the longer it’ll take to start walking normally again when we land”, he added before stuffing another piece of bread into his mouth, crumbs getting caught in his own mustache in the process.

 

“Id quite like to see Maroch, maybe see if the Last Pine is still growing”, the old one then turned his head and spat a gob of tobacco juice over the side of the boat. His companion nodded in agreement with the statement, and by the mid afternoon they’d made anchor on the Gold Coast and waded ashore.

 

“What province is this?”, inquired the younger of the pair after half an hour of trekking North through the open plains, grassland encircling them on all sides, the Irthgards only just visible on the horizon to the East.

 

“Well, I think we passed Muir in it’s entirety, and we’ve yet to hit the wastes of Umer Dul, so my guess would be Lomben.”

“Lomben?”

 

“Aye, home of the Valdemeres.”

 

“As in the drink?”, the scarred one frowned.

 

“Aye, as in the drink”, the elderly traveller replied with a chuckle. A few more minutes of walking passed before the old Adunian reopened the conversation, “You know much of the Valdemere drink?”

 

“Not really. Scotch, isn't it?”

 

“Aye, Valdemere Scotc. In the mid years of the Third Adunian Era, presumed to be around the year 480, a commoner clan by the name of Schote dwelled in the South Western region of Lomben. In return for two generations of loyal service as guardsmen of the region, the Schotes were granted a reasonably large property by Earl Daelion Valdemere that was to be used for barley farming. The barley harvested would be sold cheap to the Earldom, and then resold for double the price as livestock feed. The Schotes were happy with the agreement at first, but the second generation of barley farmers thought they should sell directly to the livestock owners at full price rather than only recieving half profit from the Valdemeres. When the clansmen proposed to end their bargain with Earl Daelion’s son, Earl Grifok II, he threatened to confiscate their farmland. Dissatisfied with the outcome presented to them, the Schotes decided that they would instead continue their trade with the Earl, but also store away a percentage of the harvest to sell on their own. At the edge of their fields was a rounded hill and beneath the hill a small cave.

 

“The first harvest after their talk with the Earl, the clansmen hid a percentage of their grain beneath the hill and left it there until Valdemere’s men had collected his share. Little did they know that a hot spring ran beneath the cave’s floor, keeping it warm and dry inside the cavern. When the time came to scoop out the barley and sell it to the neighbouring farms, the layer closest to the stone had malted. The Schotes discarded the malted grains, assuming it to be a disease in the barley or something of that sort. A year passed by and the clansmen repeated the process, hiding some grain in the cave and selling the rest on to the Earl. When they cleared out the cavern again they discovered the same process had occurred, once more with only the very bottom layer of grains malting. Puzzled by this transformation of their barley and seeing no way to stop it from recurring annually, the clansmen set about competing with each other to find a purpose for the malted grain as a sort of game. Two more harvests passed, the Schotes planning, evaluating and experimenting, each looking for their own use.

 

“Two brothers, the sons of Alud Schote, were convinced they could create or add to a drink with the malted barley. They tried to make teas with it or add it to wines from the North, but nothing seemed to work. One particular attempt involved grinding up the grains, adding them to water with some yeast, and brewing it all in a pot over a hot fire. When they first tasted the drink it was horrible to the point they didn't even finish their mugs. The drink was stored away in barrels and left to sit in the cave beneath the hill, and as neither of Alud’s sons could read and write properly, they incorrectly labelled the barrels “Scote” instead of Schote, and with their rather lacking handwriting it looked more like “Scotc” than “Scote”. Years passed and eventually the clansmen gave up trying to find use for the malted barley. Every year the bottom layer would be transformed, and every year they would discard it. A half century passed and the Schotes slowly began to hide more grain in their cave, the Earl receiving less with every harvest. It went unnoticed for a long time, but after a fight between the Schotes and a neighbouring cattle farm over grain prices, it was revealed to Grifok that the clansmen were selling barley on their own accord rather than honouring the agreement made with Daelion long ago. Enraged, Grifok gathered his men and rode out to the Schote homestead, arresting the clanspeople, confiscating the property, and looting the grain. The cave was discovered and the barley within brought back to Del Svor Keep, the “Scotc” labelled barrels among the loot gained.

 

“The Schotes were kept prisoner in the Earl’s dungeons and told to await their executions while the seized grain was sold off by the Valdemeres. Soon enough, the “Scotc” barrels were discovered by the steward of the town and opened. The steward, Falsmir Ilian, curiously poured himself of mug of the drink and downed a few mouthfuls, studying the taste. The liquid had been distilled by the heat of the cave and aged during it’s long years underground, transforming into a drink with a wet, sweet and rich taste that dominated the mouth with flavour. Amazed by the drink that was nothing like any he had tasted before, Falsmir rushed to the Earl’s hall and presented him the barrel of “Scotc”. Reluctantly Grifok tasted the liquid and then quickly found himself ashamed to have been reluctant at all. The Schotes were summoned from the dungeon and brought before the Earl. Valdemere ordered he who had created the drink to come forth, and Vol, being the remaining of the two brothers (Fel, the other son of Alud, had died of a fever in the years since creating the drink), did as he was asked, only barely recognizing the barrel after so long.

 

“The Earl was quick to strike a deal with the clansman, promising his family would be released with their lives if he would stay and produce more of the drink. Without alternative, Vol agreed. The drink obtained the name written upon it, Scotc, pronounced “Scotch”. As time went by some started to write the drink as it sounded, creating a simple way to tell good Adunian Scotc apart from copies. It took several years for Vol to decide on the environment required to replicate the drink, but soon he began to produce a new batch with every harvest that went by, brewing, fermenting, distilling and aging the malt Scotc. Twenty five years after the first batch was made, the now dying Earl Grifok and his loyal brewer Vol Schote sat down and enjoyed the first mug of true Scotc ever made intentionally. Two nights later the Earl died and his youngest son Olyvar took up his land and titles. The old Schote began to work with the Valdemere traders, distributing his product across the small continent of Al’Ildic, selling it to the Earls and Clan Elders as a drink only attainable by the rich and powerful. Soon enough other brewers began attempting to mimic the Valdemere Scotc and sell it to the lower classes, but the wait required to age the brew meant many years passed before any sales were made, and even then none could match the original made by Vol Schote. The old brewer eventually passed on at the age of 158, having been born a simple farmer and died renowned for his brew all across the Adunian realm. Before he died he made sure to take three apprentices and teach each of them to brew as he had, this way even if one failed another two might succeed and continue his legacy.

 

“In the centuries that followed, right to the end of life on Al’Ildic, Valdemere Scotc remained a drink enjoyed by Adunians. It was present at the feast table of every Earl, and treasured like gold by the common clanspeople lucky enough to get their hands on it. Many other brews of Scotc from competing brands were readily available to the lower classes of the Adunian Isle, and exports were made to Northern Aegis and Oren after trade was opened in the year 1001. Human, dwarven and sometimes even elven brewers have been known to make their own versions of the Adunian drink, though the name Scotch rather than Scotc is almost always used in this case. Few bottles of the original Valdemere Scotc survive to this day, and it’s unknown if anyone yet remembers how to make it.”

 

“Ever drunk Valdemere Scotch?”, asked the scarred one at the conclusion of the story.

 

“Once”, the old traveller replied, “The day before the conquest of Al’Ildic began a shipment of Valdemere was sent across the sea to the North, and bottles from it have been floating around shops ever since. My father managed to obtain one some time after arriving in Asulon, and I eventually gave it as a gift to the church. The Pontiff insisted we each had a mug.”

 

“As good as your story says?”, the younger warrior replied with a smirk.

 

“Maybe we’ll find some and you can find out for yourself”. Two days later the travellers arrived at the ruins of Del Svor in the late afternoon. A ruined wall encircled a tall hill with the remains of a stone keep perched upon it. Around the keep the town had once stood, but only the foundations of buildings remained now. The pair ascended to the keep and looked out across the plains, the deadly stone hills of Umer Dul now visible in the West. Scattered trees littered the plains here and there, but for the most part only grassland was visible, the enormous flat space seeming to go on forever as it trailed into the North.

“Come now”, was what the elderly Adunian said to break the silence, patting the scarred one in the shoulder as he turned, bringing an end to several long minutes of simply admiring the landscape, “Let’s try find you some Scotc. If we’re going to find any on this continent it’ll be here”. With that the pair headed down into the castle cellars and began their search.

[yopplwasupxxx 5946]

Rymeul did have to admit, Scotc was a very good drink. Once Rymeul and his pa, Thorenir, made their way through the ruins of Del'Svor, Rymeul himself did not expect to find much. He had to the be honest, most the keeps before had either been destroyed or seemingly picked over years before. It was not like some ancient barrels of a drink brewed eons past survived  both looters and the Undead apocalypse.

 

Rymeul was luckily proved wrong.

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.