Disclaimer: He spoke, I wrote, but JRR owns the stories.
Notes: I was looking for something else but found this, originally posted for 'preparations' December '04 - so in SSP I'm reposting [but if the Mods don't agree I'll take it down], as it's sparked inspiration for another.
Dried fruits, sweet and plump, candied peel glistening with sugar, brandy-wine, rich and heady, bittersweet molasses thick as river mud, bread-crumbs soft, white as first snowflakes – yes, he had everything to make the Great Pudding for the Yuleday feast. Barliman looked on his gear, content he could do his job well.
Knife-blade, honed keen, sword oiled and razor-sharp, quiver full of new-fletched arrows; the bloodied rents from orc knives repaired in his much abused leather clothing. Aragorn sighed, with still bruised, stiff-muscled arms he pulled on his gear, preparing to leave; content with his job, keeping safe the winter feast.