Chapter Text
He arrives at the keep at the end of summer, like every year, and like every year there's only silence to greet him. The doors of Kaer Morhen are heavy, the joints rusted and creaky, the halls already cold as if the sun had not had the time to warm the stones of the walls. Vesemir leaves his cart in the courtyard, next to the main entrance, and leaves his mare to trot around and nibble on the sparse weeds that have grown on the ground. It's not enough, but he needs time and every year the Killer seems more difficult to vanquish. Vesemir wonders what will happen when he just can't climb it anymore, when his years will be too many. He's old, even for a Witcher, and if he only takes easy contracts these days and only for a season he thinks it's because his pups still need him, still need the security that is coming home for winter, and therefore he can't die on a job yet. Yet. The day will come, Vesemir knows, when he will be too slow, or too tired, or when his right shoulder will ache too much to wield his sword with enough strength. Still, it hasn't come yet, and Vesemir rejoices in this fact even if the sheer size of the work he still has to do is tiring as fuck.
First things first, he cleans the stable and settles his horse. Everything is exactly like he left it when he departed, so the task is quickly done and he can turn his attention to the rest.
The cart is heavy to move alone towards the kitchen entrance on the side of the yard, and his shoulders ache something fierce, but he goes on anyway. The awning over the big door is wide enough to cover the cart and its contents and protect it for the night. With a sigh, the old wolf enters the dark and silent keep, not bothering to light any torch or fire on the way, and goes to nurse his pains in his room full of furs and books and the good wine he keeps in there so the pups won't steal it.
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There is so much to do, like every year. Vesemir cleans the cellars, throwing away some moldy cheese and forgotten vegetables that have created life on their own.
Once that's done he empties the cart: the meats in the cold room under the mountain, the barley and the oats on the top shelves away from the humidity, the veggies and fruits below for easy access.
Geralt has sent word that he'll come with friends this year. Vesemir has no idea how Geralt managed to make friends if he's being honest, but there's a warm feeling in his chest when he thinks about it. His pups are a lonely lot, traipsing across the continent mostly in solitude. In his days, before Kaer Morhen and the other Witchers’ schools were destroyed, being a Witcher was not so lonesome; you met people on the path, traveled together for a bit, exchanged information, reveled in contacts that weren't polluted by fear or rejection. Now, though, his pups can travel all year without meeting another Witcher, without letting the mask they all wear to deal with people slip for even one second. They all deal badly with that, Vesemir knows: Lambert is angry, Geralt tries to suppress his emotions as much as he can, and Eskel tries to fade in the background. When they're here though, in the winters when they all come home, they let the mask slip and they are just themselves, which is not always better in a large sense but warms Vesemir's heart all the same.
He thinks about them while he cuts and salts the cabbages,the carrots, and the onions. He sets the vegetables aside to be dealt in a few hours and goes to retrieve the half pork he bought from the last village in the valley, and sets to prepare it too. It's a long process, dealing with that amount of meat. He cures the belly and the hams, ready to be dried in a few days. He chops the rest, setting the fat aside, and uses the entrails to make sausages. Maybe he'll smoke some of them once the smoking chimney is clean enough and the fires of the kitchen are going strong. In a few days, then, when he'll be done with the vegetables and the cured and dried fish.
He wonders who the guests will be. He hopes they will be capable enough to help: the east wall is in serious need of repairs and every set of hands will be welcome.
The vegetables are properly wilted, so he squeezes some water out of them before putting them in jars. He checks that they are covered enough with their juices, then seals the jars and leaves them outside, leaning on the south wall, soaking in most of the already fading heat of summer. They'll be ready when the kids come.
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The smell coming from the smoking meat makes Vesemir salivate, and he spares a moment to think that his boys are never grateful enough for the fact that he doesn't just eat it all by himself.
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The last round trip to the village is the one for the honey, flavor-rich of the end of summer, the butter, and the apples. Cider, mead and apple vinegar are his last fermentations to do before the weather is too cold to allow the work of time on the produce.
The wind comes up as he touches the ground on the yard, already biting. The sun comes up later every day and Vesemir needs more and more torches even during the day to work.
He sets a list of things the boys will do during winter: there's the east wall and the cleaning, of course, but some furs need to be changed, and the roof needs some work too: at the first rain there are puddles in the great hall and the humidity coming up from the floor gives the entire keep a smell that's nearly overwhelming for the old wolf’s keen nose. By chance the rooms and the kitchen seem to be unaffected, probably because of the fires Veremir stokes all day long to warm the stones before the winter sets in.
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The cellars are as ready as they can be: there's grain, krauts, mead, ale, wine, and nuts -lots of them-. There are still fresh apples, beets, turnips, leeks, and carrots. Several wheels of cheese wait in the more airy part of the room. The meats are back in the cold room, salted and smoked, as is the fish that received the same treatment. The lard and the salted butter are in there too, in tight little jars with cork lids. In the kitchen are the spices, a collection that always makes Vesemir proud: he doesn't just have the basics, like cinnamon and nutmeg, but his travels and connections allow him to have mustard seeds, mace, and even saffron. His collection of spices is probably the most valuable thing in the whole keep and Vesemir always takes great care in keeping it stocked, even if he needs to go without a good meal for a couple of weeks in the summer.
The first snow comes fast, almost two moons before yuletide. Vesemir spends his days hunting for meat and furs alike, enough to eat himself and something to salt still. The animals are the fattest at this time of year and the jerky he obtains by curing the meat of the majestic deer he just got is going to feed the pups once they leave again.
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Vesemir sometimes stops to think when his life ceased to revolve around the Path and started to revolve around the pups, but he can't put a finger on a precise moment. Maybe he was always like that? Maybe it was when all the others died? Maybe he's just fulfilling his destiny, by being the father his pups have never had, by being the lighthouse in the storm, the rock where they can rest. He surely hopes to be all those things, hopes that the care he puts into this tomb of a house that was never meant to be a home and into feeding his pups can help him atone for all the kids dead under his watch, for the ones he sent on the Path maybe too early, maybe too stupid. Nothing he can do to change the past, except hoping for the future to be better. What a strange thing, to cling to hope like that after three hundred years.
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Vesemir sees him climb the mountain in the morning and, without hurry, puts together a simple meal for his first son to arrive: some bread, cheese, dried fruits, and some preserved onions on a plate, the typical meal he offers him every year. He leaves it on the table, covered by a cloth, and goes about his day.
Eskel arrives when the sun is setting, his big frame made bigger by the furs of his heavy winter coat. He gets down from Scorpion and the two men hug tightly, big hands patting on shoulders and tentative smiles on each face.
"It's good to be home, Vesemir. What's for dinner?"
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-In the next chapters this addendum will be in the end notes-
Sauerkraut is one of the easiest (and most delicious) ways to learn about fermentation.
To make krauts you'll need cabbage, salt, jars, and time. The ideal jars (which are not the ones Vesemir is working with here because glass was very rare in the middle ages) are glass jars with an airtight lid (like that), but screw capped ones work too.
I use a proportion of 3% salt (1kg cabbage = 30g salt), but any proportion between 1 to 5 is good (more can prevent fermentation, less does not prevent molding). If possible use organic salt and untreated, coarse grey salt (the whitening agents in the salt act like preservers and kill the bacteria that create the fermentation).
Cut your cabbage into shreds, fine as you want. Salt it and massage the salt in the vegetable, then let it rest uncovered for 2 or 3 hours. After that time press it to extract as much liquid as you can (do not throw it away!) and put it in the jars, pressed tightly. Cover with the remaining juice, close the lid (if it's a screw cap leave it slightly unscrewed) and set the jars in a place with as stable temperature as possible (the ideal is 20°C-ish). The Sauerkraut is ready to consume after about a month and can keep for at least one year if you store it in a cool and dark place.
It can be eaten raw (that's the best way to enjoy the many benefits of fermented food) or cooked, with some smoked sausages, in pierogis, or soups. The same fermentation process can be used to ferment a lot of other vegetables like carrots, turnips, onions, even green leaves: the only thing that changes is the fermentation time and the use of brine instead of just salt (tip for the brine: use bottle or filtered water, because tap water contains chlorine which is a antibacterial agent and bacterias are what you're trying to breed!).
For more information:
I have no idea if this experiment of a fic will interest anyone, but it's mostly a self-indulgent way to nerd out about food in general and medieval cuisine in particular. Let me know what you think of it!