Bornholm, Northern Europe - Circa 6th Century BC
Helga groaned as she saw the returning men, as yet faint indistinct forms outlined against the windy snow-covered landscape. In a few minutes they would be knocking on her door expecting some food. They invariably came to her house after each hunting expedition. If they had success, the mood would be upbeat and boisterous with stories of the hunt. If not, they would sit around sullenly as they drank deep from their jugs of brew.
Hans, her husband, was the smelter of the tribe. After they left the warm plains of the Rhine, the tribe wanted to move further northward. Helga wanted to go back, but Djork – The Elder, wouldn’t let them. Hans had to go where they went; he played a useful part in the tribe.
Although most of the things he smelted were misshapen; Helga found some way to put them to good use. Why, just a few moons ago he was inspired by the shell of a turtle which he had seen and attempting to make a battle shield, he produced this huge concavity which was too rounded and heavy for battle.
Helga was a practical woman, she hung this over the fire, slung over two sticks. In this she had poured some water and watched how it came to a boil. Back home, all the other women in the tribe thought she was strange and spoke of her in hushed tones as she passed them each day while collecting twigs in the woods. But she didn’t care for what they thought.
When she was alone at home, she would keep throwing stuff into the boiling pot, and watched excitedly as the colour of the water changed, and it thickened or thinned depending on what she threw in; yesterday it was some forest root, today it was pieces of meat. Each night after the fire died down, the pot would simmer and cool down, and by morning it would be coagulated into some semi-thick liquid, which she would taste with her fingertip. The freezing temperature prevented it from spoiling, and each morning when she relit the fire, she would see the pot steaming and wonder what she could throw in today.
This was really exciting for her, as she knew of nobody in the tribe or even neighboring tribes who had ever tried something like this.
And each day the liquid became more aromatic and richer in flavour, till at last one day she took a hollowed out walnut shell and dipped it in the liquid and took a deep sip. “Shhhrroop”, came the sound as she sucked it out of the shell.
That was 2 full moons ago, and now all her husbands friends would come over after a hunt each day to drink of this refreshing hot drink which Helga had begun making. She had refined the mixture of ingredients by now, and could recreate the same thing again and again.
Today, was going to be an important day, as she saw that Hans had brought along Fragn, the warrior chief. As they all settled down and began warming themselves by the fire, Helga poured out some of the hot liquid into a mug and handed it over to Fragn, who looked at it doubtfully. As he put it to his lips, the first sip scalded his tongue and made him wince, but as he took a second sip, he sucked in some air as he drank, to cool the hot liquid.
“Hmm Helga, this tastes good ! What is it ?”
She hesitated for a second, and then said - “Shoop”.
Because that’s what it sounded like, and that’s what she thought it should be called.
