<h4>Book 2: Chapter 45: A Month as the Dwarf Lives</h4>
<strong>4 Weeks Until the Octamillenail Brewing Contest</strong>
The sound of singing filled the Thirsty Goat, along with the creak of wood and metal. Two shirtless dwarves, one tall with ck skin and lean muscles, and the other of average short with a long blonde-and-pink beard and sculpted pecs, worked tirelessly under the gaze of a grumble of dwarves.
Strike your pick, move it quick,
In the length of a candlestick!
In the ck, watch your back,
Crack the stone with a mighty whack!
Heave! Ho!
Heave! Ho!
Dwarf be bold, search for gold,
Comb through the rock and moss and mould!
Specks of light, fight or flight,
Steel yourself for a bloody night!
Heave! Ho!
Heave! Ho!
Mortal coil, work and toil.
Dwarven life is a raging roil!
Swing and dig,zy pig,
Back at home, dance a merry jig!
Heave! Ho!
Heave! Ho!
Richter and Johnson finished grinding up the malt for our first batch of Liquid Gold. When they were finished, they carried therge sacks of grist up the catwalk and dumped them into the shiny newuter tun. At the same time, Mooney worked the pump to fill the boil kettle with fresh water while Markus stoked the fire.
Johnson leaned over the railing to catch his breath and called down. “Ya know, Pete. I’ve been wondering why we don’t use goat power for grinding the grist. Seems like Penelope could use the exercise. She’s been putting on weight with all the snacks Bran’s been giving her.
Penelope gave him a gimlet stare from where she was sitting in the corner, then continued munching on her bowl of treats.
“Hmmmm… you may have a point.”
*Maaaaaahh* [Tranted from primma donna goat] “You would insult ady’s weight!? For shame, my servant!” She turned to face away from us as we allughed.
“No, but more seriously, dat can lead ta health problems for tha princess.” Richter admonished. “Someone should take her out runnin’ each morning for exercise.”
“I can do it!” Aqua held up her hand, cheerily. “It can get a bit lonely on my morning walk.”
“Is that when you drink yer espresso?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Aqua flinched. “I don’t drink coffee, nobody drinks coffee, <i>you </i>drink coffee, who told you that, it’s a lie! I drink nothing but beer and the tears of my enemies!”
“I <i>do</i> drink coffee. No denials here.” I held up my hands. “I have it from a <i>most</i> reliable source that you’re a coffee fan.”
Aqua turned pink, then white, then red. “<i>JOEJAM</i>. That traitorous [Barista]!”
“We’re about to start a coffee-beer <i>empire</i>, Aqua.” Zirce tittered. “You can just say you were an early adopter.”
“She could add some hip tes to that shiny silver armour. Show off what a <i>hip - ster </i>she is.” I sniggered.
There was a pause as everyone considered.
“Dat one fell t, Pete.” Richter admonished.
“Weak. I give it a three out of eight.” Aqua added. “And what’s a hipster?”
“I liked it.” Zirce smiled. “Six and a half.”
“You have terrible taste, sister.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I give it a two.”
“Get back to work.” I hissed.
When the kettle had reached the required temperature, we opened the valve that sent the hot water pouring into our new tun. Richter moved to begin pumping the water through the recirction pipes. As the mash released its sweet, sweet, wort, it flowed down through the false bottom and into said pipes. They wrapped around the boil-kettle, providing a gentle reheat before emptying back into the tun. That was the RIMS, or Recircting Infusion Mash System in motion!
There was no need for step-mashing this time, so after 30 minutes of pumping, Johnsson moved in and Richter took a break.
"And now it''s time to [Basic <i>Spaaaarge</i>]!!" I gave the knife wheel a practice spin, and it ground through the mash in the tun. I switched the valve to send the wort back into the boil kettle, and began turning the wheel in earnest while Richter jumped onto the pump. The knives sliced the mash-bed, stirring any stagnant wort, and granting the sparge ess for spraying. Up on the catwalk above us, Zirce and Emma stood ready withrge wooden spoons. As the wort poured into the kettle, they began stirring to ensure the dark-brown liquid didn’t burn on the searing hot copper.
I began to hum, and then sing <i>You Spin me Round Like a Record</i> by Dead or Alive. Richter didn’t seem too enthused by my off-key baritone, but Zirce and Emma quickly picked up the words and began singing along in cheery soprano as they spun the Wort in circles above our heads.
And then theutering was done! I ran onto the catwalk, bounding up two stairs at a time. I took a deep breath, then peeked into the boil kettle. My breath released in a sigh; the wort waspletely clear. We’d done it. Not a single fleck of mash or <i>any </i>contaminant had made it into the wort.
I walked back down the stairs to an awaiting Annie and crew. Everyone clustered around as I announced:
“It worked <i>perfectly!</i> Operation Liquid Gold is a <i>GO!</i>”
Annie wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug. We were on the road to victory!
—
<strong>3 Weeks Until the Octamillenail Brewing Contest</strong>
“I’m surprised you called. I thought you’d be really busy with thepetitioning up.”
Amythestgemglow twirled her hair as she regarded me from beneath loweredshes. I caught her eyes and smiled, and she huffed. The gnomess was strikingly simr to Lillyweather, actually. She had the same small features and button nose. The biggest difference was that she had bright purple hair done up in pigtails. That, and the violent pink “Raspberry syrup on tour” tunic she was wearing.
“Well, I had to make time for my all important spokesgnomess didn’t I?”
“Hmmmm…” Gemglow regarded me beneath her fluttering eyshes. “We still aren’t pleased with this pivot to Barista Brew. We’d put a lot of work into the Liquid Gold preparations."
I shuffled nervously in my seat. That was the other big difference between the two. Lillyweather reminded me of my daughter, but Gemglow reminded me of my third grade English teacher. As the silence stretched, I was wondering what homework I’d forgotten.
“Well Amythestgemglow, let me tell you - “
The gnomess twitched. “Ah, Amethyst.”
I paused. “Pardon?”
“Amethyst. My family… did not approve of my job as Berry’s manager. I am no longer wee to use the Glow name.” The gnomess suddenly looked morose.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I felt a thought forming, something like: ‘their loss, then’, but felt my mind wrench away from the idea. I suddenly understood that insulting her family, even as a joke, would poison our rtionship.
Huh, that must have been [Friend of Gnomes] or whatever my new Ability was called.
My once-Canadian heart still forced out an, “I’m sorry.”
<i>AMETHYST - </i>took a deep breath and steeled herself. “It’s not your fault. What are your ns?”
“Copperpot is ready to release the Barista Brew. We were thinking ofunching it the day AFTER we win the contest. If not, we’ll see who <i>does</i> win, and consider bringing them on-board. The power to get a brewery in the capital and the title of ‘Best Brewer’ in Minnova can’t be overstated for our advertising campaign.”
“Will they really join you?”
“Based on our research, at least three of the winners would probably be willing to work with us. Including us, that’s half the breweries in the contest. Our odds are good.”
“If you’re <i>sure</i>.” Amethyst jotted some notes down on her notepad and hummed, reading over them.
“Are you enjoying working for Berry?” I asked into the somewhat awkward silence.
“Oh, I <i>love</i> working for her!” Amethyst’s eyes twinkled. “Berry''s an amazing artist, and mage, and everything else in between! I can’t imagine what my life would be like now without her. I thank the Gods every day that she chose me as her manager.”
“Well, congrattions.”
Amethyst resumed reading over her notepad. “Mhm. Alright, I can fit Berry in for the first of our contracted ‘endorsements’ on the day after the contest. What an interesting word…”
“Perfect! And sorry about the Liquid Gold thing, but I can promise that it wasn’t wasted time!”
I ran through our ns for the brewing contest and Gemglow nodded. “That sounds like it might actually work!”
“Are we good then?” I held out my fist for a fistbump, and my hand popped open into a handshake of its own volition.
Amethyst smiled and shook my hand.
—
<strong>2 Weeks Until the Octamillenial Brewing Contest</strong>
Four dwarves sat silently around a table. Annie, myself, Balin, and Aqua. We each stared deeply into the whistlemug sitting before us. The ss was filled to the brim with gleaming liquid set with sparkling bubbles. A pure-white foam floated on the top, a nearly-perfect inch of head. Balin reached over to poke the jiggly mass, much as Penelope had the first time she’d encountered it.
Aqua muttered. “I’ve never been so thirsty in my <i>entire life</i>.”
Balin gulped. “I donnae just <i>want</i> ta drink it, me soul is sayin’ I <i>need</i> ta drink it.”
Annie whistled. “It really does look like gold, and the <i>smell</i>!”
The three of them took deep breaths through their noses.Their nostrils red practically in unison.
“It’s <i>smells </i>like a mix of True and Light Brew.” Aqua purred. “My favourites.”
I rolled my eyes. They were almost <i>every</i> dwarf’s favourites.
“Aye, with a bit of an off-scent I don’t recognize.” Annie reached down and picked the whistlemug up. She held it to the light and stirred the liquid inside, examining it as it swished and burbled.
“Does this one have any magic effects?” Aqua asked. “Other than horrifying anyone who knows what went into it?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Balin moaned.
“No. I didn’t use my Ability on it, because I don’t actually want the isinss tobine with the beer. Just the opposite actually. Also, it isn''t magical so it probably wouldn''t do anything. It <i>should</i> improve the shelf life of the brew a little too; Isinss is a preservative as well as a magic haze eraser.”
“It certainly looks impressive.” Annie nodded. “If this isinss is what it takes to get that colour and rity it may well be worth it. It sparkles more than a gem.”
I tapped the ss, and watched bubbles rise to the top, then pop. “The biggest problem is that bottle fermentation with isinss is aplete pain, and putting it in the tanks early just isn''t working, so at the moment we can only put Liquid Gold in casks.”
“That’s… not ideal.” Annie frowned.
“No, but look at it this way! Anyone that wants some <i>has</i> to buy a full barrel! At least until we get get some secondary fermentation tanks!”
“But how does it <i>taste</i>.” Aqua said. “That’s what’s important.”
“Penelope liked it.” Balin said. “Shepped it right up.”
“Penelope’s a lush.” Aqua retorted. “We need a more partial goat.”
“You shut yer dirty mouth, she’s a PRINCESS.” I snapped.
“Is that why she keeps trying to kill Johnsson whenever he fits the armour for the contest on her?” Annie said dryly.
“It’s… unmaidenly. A princess shouldn’t be in a tin-can.”
“Figure it out. You''re closest to her recently.”
Balin scratched his head. “Why are we doin’ this in here, anyway?
I narrowed my eyes. “I still can’t tell how much of what happened to Richter in the library was an act, no matter what you lot im. He’s just not that good an actor. I want to make sure this doesn’t go sideways.”
“I’m drinking it first.” Annie took the opportunity to put the mug to her lips. She took an experimental swallow, and swished the beer between her cheeks. Her eyes widened and she began gulping it down. After an interminable moment, she gasped for breath and wiped her foam flecked beard.
“Sooooo…?”
“It’s so <i>smooth!</i> It’s like nothing I’ve ever drunk. It’s as refreshing as Light Brew but has the vour of True Brew. It’s easy to drink, and has a crisp aftertaste, like… like… nothing I’ve ever drank before. It feels like it sparkles in my mouth. Pete, this is going to be <i>huge</i>.”
“And the corpse guck?” Aqua asked.
“Who <i>cares</i>. I’m getting more!” Annie ran back into the brewhall. She tripped on Penelope’s bowl, which had been shoved in front of the door. Penelope baahed in protest as Annie rushed past her. Plus one to my suspicions about Richter''s reaction.
“I think we may have a sess!” I took a sip of the dregs at the bottom of the mug. It went down easy, and we’d finally achieved a rity I wasfortable with; no sticks in <i>this</i> brew. But the bittering agent was still awful, and the erdroot left a dry and filmy mouthfeel. All told, though? We were going to <i>win </i>this!
–
<strong>1 Week Until the Octamillenial Brewing Contest</strong>
“I’ve called you all here to announce two things.” Bran smiled widely.
We all looked up from the feast he’d prepared. He stood at the head of the table with Doc Opal on his arm. She’d been dropping around the brewery a lot the past few weeks. In between all the prep for the contest, and practice brews with Copperpot, I’d been too swamped to pay her any attention, though.
An entire roastmb sat on the table, the scent of clove and basil wafting from it. The meat was perfectly cooked, with a slightly pink colour and fall-off-the-bone texture. The tter was filled with its juices, which ran down into a bed of roasted erdroot. The vour was absolutely divine, with that spicy/tangy taste that could only be found in well-cooked mutton. Every single one of us had gravy dribbling down our beards, and Richter and Johnson paused in the middle of fighting over one of the racks.
“The first big piece of news is we’re getting married,” he announced, deadpan.
It took a beat, and then we all began mbouring at once, and bits ofmb sprayed around the room as we shouted. Tankards of Liquid Gold sshed as we raised them in a toast. We’d been drinking a lot of the stuff recently.
“Congrattions!!” “May Yearn Bless you two!” “Bran, you old goat!” “Huzzah!”
Opal and Bran basked in our cheers, then Bran put his arm up to catch our attention.
“I’ve been speaking to her father, Magistrate Benton. He tweaked Lady Sif’s arm, and they agreed to let me formally propose to Opal.”
Bran beamed. Opal beamed. The rafters beamed. Nyuck.
“When are you two gettin’ married?” I asked.
“It’ll depend. On a few things, actually.” Bran grumbled. “It’s…plicated.”
“Tell me about it.” Annie sighed. She and Balin were still nning their own wedding. Apparently it was quitemon for dwarves to have a ‘short’ courtship of a couple years or five. During that time they each got to know the other’s n, and then they would decide together which n was the better fit. In Balin’s case, it was easy - there wasn’t really a Roughtuff n. But there were still a lot of traditions to maintain and rites to observe to honour their respective Ancestors and the Gods.
Whodathunkit? Dwarves and tradition. I’d never run into THAT before.
“As for the second news…” Bran’s eyes became uncharacteristically uncertain. “I met some nobles at Opal''s. Then things got to movin’ and I made a few meals at her ce. Then some other stuff happened - “
“Get on with it!” Johnsson shouted, banging his fork on the table.
And so Bran dropped a bombshell. “Bah! Here’s tha short of it. The Grand Lord of Minnova has invited me to be his personal chef. He… he wants to hire me full time. It’s the highest position a chef can have! But… I’d need to leave the Goat.”