Disclaimer: I'm just a child playing in Tolkien's sandpit.
Author's Note: For the 'smell' challenge, though I've wandered a little into taste as well - it's so difficult to separate those two senses.
The smell was sticky sweet, recalling fond memories of childhood trysts with sugary confections in the kitchens of Imladris. Feather-light pastry had enclosed honey-rich berries, which exploded in his mouth with glorious, burning ecstasy. He'd had no words in the languages of Men or Elves to describe the perfection of a tongue scalded numb by sweet juices flowing from hot blackberries and currants freshly picked that very morning in the wild and fragrant woods of Eregion.
Those sweet memories were far away now, and long ago. Wearily, Aragorn washed his hands in Anduin's icy flow, turning crystal waters berry red.