Author notes:
I think it's time I guiltily crawl out of my hole. I knew I was busy that past year, moving house, attending summer school, general student's madness, extra hours at work, and then that nagging idea for an orginial story slowly taking form in my mind... but has it really been a year since my last hobbit story? I apologise. And although it doesn't look it, I have not forgotten my furry-footed friends, and for those wondering about Schicksalsjahre eines Hobbits, I have not forgotten that either. I'm just a victim of RL with precious little me-time left in betweeen. For those who still visit here, thank you for being so patient with me! 

Happy Holidays!

Title: The Smell of Yuletides Past
Rating: G
Summary: The Brandybucks enjoy an afternoon of baking and eating biscuits.
Year: 1409 (Foreyule)

Special thanks to Dreamflower.

Merimac shook from top to toe as he closed the front door behind him. He breathed into his hands and rubbed them for warmth, shuddering at the sound of the howling winds outside. Shaking snowflakes from his curls he walked down the corridor in long strides, stripping off his wet jacket was he went.

It was his nose that distracted him halfway to his room. Something smelled deliciously sweet and fragrant. Merimac would have recognised the smell of Yuletide baking anywhere and it had him shiver with something entirely different than the cold. Following his nose he headed towards the Master’s family kitchen, inhaling deeply after every few steps.

“Mmmh,” he hummed as he pushed open the door.

“I told you it was only a matter of time until he would show up,” Frodo announced by way of a greeting.

Merimac blinked only now realising that he had his eyes all but closed, and found his entire family gathered in the kitchen. Saradoc, Frodo and both Berilac and Merry sat around the table, sipping tea and tasting some of the finished and less successful results of the day’s ventures. Adamanta and Esmeralda busied themselves on a counter covered in flour, bowls of baking ingredients, dough, and trays of baked and unbaked biscuits. Among it all sat Bluebell covered in as much flour as if she were a Yuletide biscuit ready for baking herself. She grinned at him with sparkling eyes, waving a small star-shaped biscuit cutter. Merimac walked across to her and kissed her cheek while she explained delightedly about the Yuletide bakery that had so transformed the Master’s kitchen.

“I never doubted it,” Saradoc‘s agreement to Frodo’s earlier comment had Merimac distracted from his daughter’s accounts of the day’s work. “He was born a glutton.”

His brother took a sip of steaming tea and leaned back in his chair, an expression of amused contentment on his face. Frodo chuckled. “He certainly knows more about the whereabouts of the storage rooms in Brandy Hall than I could ever have discovered on my own.”

“You got that from him too?” Merry asked incredulously and when Frodo shrugged he rolled his eyes as if to say he should have known.

“He was quite gifted too!” Frodo went on oblivious to his presence. “The moment you even thought about food he would appear beside you.”

“Especially if you were thinking of mushrooms,” Saradoc agreed. “His pony, Minx, was exactly the same. Like master, like animal, I guess.”

Merry snorted into his tea and Merimac felt a grim feeling of satisfaction when his nephew burned his lips, although that did not stop the tween from laughing.

“Stop your teasing, boys!” Adamanta came to his rescue. With a flurry of sandy curls she turned towards him, wiping her floury hands at her apron. Merimac did not wait until she was done but wrapped her arms around her hips and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

“Oh, please!” Berilac moaned and made a face. “Do you have to embarrass me?”

Merimac ignored him and instead inhaled deeply the sweet smell of gingerbread and marzipan that lingered around his wife. “Thank you,” he whispered and kissed her again before turning a stern eye on his son. “You wait until you find yourself a girl and then tell me just how embarrassing you are.” He grinned a mischievous grin that spread from one ear to the other. “Did I ever tell you how embarrassing Saradoc was all his tween years?”

“Can we change the topic?” Saradoc piped in looking rather less comfortable than he had just a moment ago.

“It’s no secret you were smitten for years before Esme…” Merimac’s smug comment dissolved into incoherent mumbling as Esmeralda shoved an exceptionally large piece of gingerbread into Merimac’s mouth. Laughter and giggles erupted throughout the kitchen, but Esmeralda merely winked at her husband.

With the freshly-baked bread between his teeth Merimac was more than willing to let the topic drop. As he plopped onto a chair the conversations and laughter picked up again but he only half listened to his family. He allowed himself to sink completely into the warmth that had settled inside him. One of his first memories of Yule involved baking and somehow the Yuletide bakery had become a symbol to him of everything the Yule celebrations stood for. It was a time for family, of music and peaceful get-togethers, and baking provided the perfect excuse to spend a stormy afternoon in the kitchens, exchange stories and, of course, bake biscuits. The smell of all the spices and dried fruits was like a key that opened the door to every Yuletide he had ever experienced. Every celebration at Brandy Hall, every visit to relatives in the days before and after the feast, every content face and every delighted smile appeared before his eyes. He saw the fires of countless hearths, felt their warmth on his cheeks, and remembered the joy that even the long nights and days of preparation and decoration brought to his parents. He felt a twinge of grief tug at his heart at that. This was going to be their second Yuletide without Rorimac and yet, in many ways, it would be the first. Last year they were still numb with pain, unable to properly take part in the joys of Yule. There had not been a private bakery last year. This year was going to be different. That they sat gathered in the kitchen now was proof of that and Merimac could not help but be glad.

“The smell of Yuletides past,” he mumbled to himself his memories linked too closely to the smell of the Yule Bakery to separate.

A sudden lack of conversation had him look up to find Berilac, Merry, Frodo and Saradoc looking at him in confusion. Even the women had stopped in their work. After a long silence Saradoc shook his head. “You’re cracked”, he declared with a warm smile.

“Cracked? Cracking… cracking nuts!” Merimac exclaimed and pointed a finger at Saradoc making everyone jump in the process. “Yes, nuts, and almonds, and cinnamon…”

He got to his feet, grabbed a startled Adamanta around the hips and spun her around before he kissed her once more. “And clove and ginger…” he went on.

“And marzipan and gingerbread?” Bluebell asked adding to his list of scents.

“Exactly!” Merimac agreed and scooped her into his arms, cutting form, wooden spoon, heaps of flour and all. She squealed in delight and as Merimac planted a kiss on her flour-streaked forehead he inhaled again the fragrance he had come to associate with Yule so much. He buried his nose in his little daughter’s dark mop of hair delighting in her joyous laughter.

“I think the sudden change of temperature after being out in the stables didn’t do you any good,” Berilac said but the smile on his face betrayed the seriousness of his voice.

“Or maybe there is something wrong with the gingerbread?” Merry wondered and scrutinised his own gingerbread hobbit from every angle until his mother gave him a look that had him shove it whole into his mouth and praise its excellence.

Only Frodo did not join in the teasing. He sat with his eyes half closed breathing deeply, inhaling the various scents Merimac had listed. He smiled, an expression of peace and contentment on his face. Merimac could only guess Frodo’s memories, but he knew they must be of a similar nature as his. “I think you are right, Mac,” the boy finally said. “It’s the smells of Yuletides past that will make the Yuletides to come just as memorable.”

Merimac grinned. “I always knew you were a clever one, scallywag. Thank you for proving me right.”

“I’m clever too!” Bluebell told him and Merimac grinned.

“Yes, you are, my dear. You are the cleverest of us all.”

He kissed her again, feeling decidedly happy to have his family gathered around him even in this cold and dark time of the year. He did not doubt the truth in Frodo’s words and as he put Bluebell back on the worktop to have her continue her work he promised himself that he would make every one of his daughter’s Yuletides special for as long as he could.

~THE END~