The Woodcutter’s Yuletide | Christmas Incense Story

Throughout Emberlore, Christmas is celebrated in countless ways. Traditions change from one realm to another, recipes vary from village to village, and no two Yuletide celebrations look quite the same. Yet wherever Christmas is kept, there is one tradition nearly everyone shares: sooner or later, someone needs to bring home a tree.

That makes the weeks before Christmas particularly busy for a certain woodcutter from the Commonlands, whose quiet life with the Witch in the Woods becomes considerably less quiet once half of Emberlore begins looking for the perfect evergreen.

I. Woodland Snow

Long before sunrise, the woodcutter leaves his cottage and follows the familiar path through the forest, where fresh snow has covered the ground and settled thickly over the branches. His wife is awake before him, of course. The Witch in the Woods seems to possess an uncanny ability to know exactly when he intends to leave, regardless of how quietly he tries to slip through the door, and this morning is no exception.

She packs his provisions, adds an extra pair of wool stockings to his bag, and reminds him more than once that Yule Vale is considerably colder than the Commonlands. He points out that he spends most of his life working outdoors, but the look she gives him makes it clear that his experience with winter has absolutely nothing to do with whether he is taking the extra stockings.

By the time daylight begins filtering through the trees, the cottage is far behind him and the forest has grown wonderfully still. Mint and eucalyptus carry the sharp freshness of the winter air through juniper and cedar, while patchouli and soft spice bring the darker warmth of the woodland beneath the snow. There is a long road ahead and a great deal of work waiting at the other end, because Christmas is drawing closer and Emberlore needs its trees.

II. Mountain Pine

The forest changes gradually as the road climbs toward Yule Vale, where the gentler woodland of the Commonlands gives way to steep mountain slopes covered in towering evergreens. Snow weighs heavily upon their branches, but beneath it the needles remain brilliantly green, filling the cold air with pine, cedarwood, and juniper brightened by touches of citrus.

These are the trees the woodcutter has come to find. He knows which ones will stand beautifully beside a family hearth, which will hold their needles through the Christmas season, and which should remain exactly where they are. He has never believed that being a woodcutter means taking whatever happens to be growing in front of him, and so he spends hours walking the mountain slopes, choosing carefully and leaving far more trees untouched than he marks for cutting.

The work carries him well into the afternoon, until the trees are selected and arrangements are made to bring them down the mountain. By then his gloves are damp, snow has collected in his beard, and his stomach has been complaining loudly enough that even he can no longer pretend not to notice. Far below, the first village of Yule Vale glows against the approaching dusk, and curls of chimney smoke rising into the winter sky suggest that somewhere down there, someone has had the good sense to make something hot.

III. Winterberry Cider

He reaches the village just as evening settles across the valley, and after the quiet of the mountain, the streets seem almost impossibly alive. Evergreen garlands hang above shop doors, ribbons flutter from market stalls, lights stretch across the square, and families move between merchants carrying parcels, greenery, and the occasional tree that appears considerably larger now than it did when someone chose it.

The woodcutter has barely crossed the square before someone recognizes him, and news of his arrival travels with the peculiar speed reserved for small villages and useful people. Before he can finish discussing the first delivery, a steaming cup of Winterberry Cider finds its way into his hands. Orchard apple and tart cranberry mingle with bright citrus and warm spice, while a gentle woody depth gives the cider the sort of richness that seems perfectly suited to a village surrounded by snow and evergreens.

The first swallow warms him enough to remember what his fingers feel like, and by the time he reaches the bottom of the cup, he has decided that conducting Christmas business in Yule Vale has certain advantages. Another cup appears before he can return the first, and he sees no particular reason to object.

IV. Fireside Strudel

Snow begins falling again while the final arrangements for the trees are being settled, turning the streets white almost as quickly as carts and boots can disturb them. The woodcutter intends to begin his journey home before the weather worsens, but the village baker considers this an exceptionally foolish idea and tells him so while ushering him through the bakery door.

Whether her concern is entirely due to the weather or partly due to the pans of strudel she has just removed from the oven is difficult to determine. Either way, the woodcutter soon finds himself beside a warm fire with a generous slice of Fireside Strudel in front of him. Baked apple, cinnamon, and warm vanilla fill the bakery as trays move from the kitchen to crowded tables, and outside the windows the snow continues falling over a village that has no intention of letting a winter storm interfere with Christmas preparations.

He accepts a second slice with considerably less resistance than he offered the first and eventually remembers that there is someone waiting for him back in the Commonlands. His wife may be perfectly capable of conjuring up all manner of remarkable things in her cottage, but he has learned during their marriage that returning home from a bakery without bringing her anything is an unnecessary test of both magic and matrimony. Before he retires for the night, one entire strudel is wrapped carefully for the journey home.

V. Pecan Emberpie

Morning brings clear skies, freshly fallen snow, and an unexpected complication in the form of Pecan Emberpie. The woodcutter only enters the shop because he needs provisions for the road, but his sensible intentions begin deteriorating the moment he catches the fragrance of toasted pecans, buttery brown sugar, creamy vanilla, and warm spice drifting from the kitchen.

A freshly baked pie sits on the counter with a golden crust and a filling still warm from the oven, and after a brief internal debate that fools absolutely no one, he asks the baker to wrap it for the journey home. He is halfway through paying when he considers the length of the road, the contents of his appetite, and the likelihood that his wife will ever see an untouched pie if he brings only one. A second Pecan Emberpie is added to the order.

By midday, he is traveling back toward the Commonlands with his work finished, his bag considerably heavier with baked goods, and his original provisions considerably lighter than when he left home. Behind him, Yule Vale prepares for Christmas beneath mountains of pine, while ahead waits the little cottage in the woods and a woman who will undoubtedly notice that her husband has returned with Fireside Strudel, two Pecan Emberpies, and very few of the provisions she so carefully packed for him.

Across Emberlore, the trees he chooses will soon pass through doorways and take their places beside hearths, where families will cover their branches with ribbons, candles, ornaments, and memories accumulated over generations. Few of those families will ever know the woodcutter who walks through winter forests to find their Christmas trees, and fewer still will know about the witch waiting for him in a cottage far away.

He doesn't need them to.

For the woodcutter, knowing that Christmas has found its way into another home is reason enough to make the journey again next year.

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