The captain packed his belongings for the caravan. The bulk of his packs were comprised of basic campaign supplies: yards of rope and canvas for tents, pots and pans for victuals, steel shoes and extra tack for the pack horses, and very little other things for himself.
It took some matter of debate in his mind to convince him to take two fishing poles. Despite having a reputation of being quite the angler in Bree-land, he at first did not see the practicality of taking his prized fishing gear, but he knew that rivers along the Blue Mountains and the Shire provided some of the tastiest fish outside of Laketown. He tossed his lute into his kit, convincing himself that a good tune would keep morale high.
The caravan would be the grandest yet attempted by the Company of the East Road, and the Company would need protection. The Company had less than a handful of capable fighters. And very few of them had experience in a battle or even a skirmish. The recent news of Harlaxton, one of their finest archers and scouts, had gone missing was heavy on his heart. He could not, however, allow guilt to deter him from his duty to the Company. Deorla was a far more reliable scout to the Company, even with the bounty on her head.
He spent the morning affixing his equipment to his pack horse and his steed. He suited himself in his mail and coat and strapped his weapons on his person. After leaving Dale disgraced he took to a life of peace. The people of Bree knew him as Altheric, the Fisher in the past decade. They knew little of his martial past. The Company had given him a new purpose, and had great need of his military knowledge and his prowess with both pole-axe and sword.
Before he took to Thorin’s Gate to meet with his companions, he tossed a fanciful feathered hat into his saddlebags.
