Word Count: 100
Characters/Work: Aragorn: FotR-ish
Adult Content/Pairing: None
Disclaimer: He spoke, I wrote, but JRR owns the stories.
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 Winter 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 edges of orc-knife rents trimmed away and repaired in much abused leather clothing. Aragorn sighed, with still bruised, stiff-muscled arms he pulled on his gear; content to do his job, keeping safe the Winter feast.