The end of a year on the Shire calendar in Tolkien’s legendarium is celebrated in this series by a blonde ale loosely inspired by the old German Steinbier method, but flavoured with Christmas tree needles and fermented with an ancient Lithuanian farmhouse yeast – befitting the revival of old, local and often endangered yeast strains, a trend in which Alvinne can certainly play an important role, in view of their experience with wild yeast strains and sour ales. This ‘Christmas beer’ only in the loosest sense of the word produces a thick, frothy, beaten egg-like, mousy head leaving behind a thick layer of papery lacing, over a misty peach blonde robe with pale orangey tinge – rather than the dark robe one would classically expect from a Christmas or winter ale. The aroma is a bit challenging, with rather earthy, natural scents first catching the attention: petrichor (the scent of rain falling on dry soil), hot stones submersed in cold water, freshly fermented farmland, wet clay, a sulfuric whiff of a freshly struck match. Only after the nose gets used to these ‘elements of nature’, more subtle and alluring, yet still earthy and somewhat challenging impressions arise: freshly cut parsnip, cold French fries, dried apricots, cumin seed and indeed a subtle whiff of young spruce shoots from the Christmas tree, dried lemon peel, dry bread, cheese crust, hay. Opens with pronounced esteriness in the mouth: apricot, pineapple, butternut squash, but remaining restrained in sweetness, with a soft lactic sour edge; carbonation is spritzy and adds minerally notes, again reminiscent of stone, though this is probably autosuggestion due to the Steinbier premise. Very bready middle, rusk and old bread crust, with the sulfuric, petrichor and farmland effects making their return retronasally; fruity esters and spicy phenols linger, the latter briefly and subtly highlighted by a piney effect from the Christmas tree needles. A soft bready ‘bed’ fills the back of the mouth, with a soft sourish accent and a leafy, late hop bitter note. Lithuanian top fermentation seems not too far removed from our Belgian traditions, producing estery and phenolic effects in an almost farmland-like setting, albeit much more outspoken than most cultured Belgian yeast strains would. A saison-ish result, in all, not only unique in this series of Fellowship ales, but unique ‘tout court’, with a lot of things happening. A category of its own and likely the most challenging of them all: unlike a Yule feast, this will take the taster some time to get enthusiastic about, I think – but when it hits you, it does show off its full complexity.