Áistan: Hard kit

“…Beorn did not appear to care for [gold, silver, jewels, smith-craft]: there were no things of gold or silver in his hall, and few save the knives were made of metal at all.” (TH 126).

With this quote in mind, I endeavored to make as much of my gear metal-free as possible.

First-line gear These first two items are always on my person—even when sleeping. =Zip bag= This pouch is my interpretation of a bag found in one of the Danish oak coffin burials (Hvidegard). I didn’t want anything that would be hanging from my belt on a drawstring, or flapping around and opening easily, and this bag has legitimate historical pedigree. The original was closed with a bronze rod, but for Beorning purposes I switch it out for a straightened stick of hazel.



My belt pouch contains: o four biscuits of ‘cram’ (spelt and acorn flour and honey, mostly); a roll of fruit leather in waxed paper; large hank of fine basswood cordage; firesteel and flints; ‘whetstone’ from a creek; several spare locust thorn ‘pins’; rivercane straw for drinking; a string of coyote (“Warg”) fangs; bear claw; piece of amber; piece of mammoth ivory on buckskin thong; a candle stub; some US&A coin wrapped in linen



=Belt knife= For now this no-nonsense Russell Green River blade does everything I ask of it—whittling, skinning critters, cutting food, &c. I received mine for free (required part of staff uniform for an 18th century living-history Boy Scout camp), but you can find a simple blade like this for about $10.



I plan on working with my blacksmith dad to make a proper hand-forged knife (based on a Dutch Bronze Age pattern, but in iron) with a handle of elk antler. While it may seem roundabout to copy a historically-bronze knife in iron, “a few fully iron knives identical to the bronze examples are known”! (Single-edged socketed Urnfield knives in the Netherlands and Western Europe. Butler, Arnoldussen, & Steegstra, University of Groningen, 2012).

=Pack=

The knapsack which I’ve elected to use for this persona is a copy in brown canvas of a 1940s Soviet ‘vyeshmeshok’ (I believe that’s Russian for ‘ridiculously simple backpack’). It is essentially a pillowcase with a drawstring at one end and a big U-shaped single strap at the other; this forms two shoulder straps by making a lark’s head ‘knot’. So, why use a 20th century design for a persona ostensibly 6,000 years in the past? The Middle-earth answer is something to do with Beorn and Russia both being associated with bears (in fact, Beorn’s name was originally ‘Medwed’—which is essentially the Russian word for bear, ‘medved’. However, the practical answer is merely that I know it’s an extremely simple, tried-and-true (if it can survive the Eastern Front, it can survive anything), design that can take a beating and is user-serviceable. Besides, making it brown instead of olive drab instantly makes it look *not* military.

My original Soviet ’meshok featured a sternum strap (pretty important when you’re carrying a fully-loaded pack), so I made up an ‘ancient’ equivalent for my pack. The straps are goatskin leather, the ‘buckle’—inspired by similar rings found in Bronze Age Britain—is deer bone, and it’s all held together with linen and nettle cordage.



=What's In the Pack?= Like the old Boy Scout handbook says, “a scout’s pack is a bag of bags!”, and mine is no different. (Protip: most of the linen (and some of the wool) which I use for small bags and such comes from cannibalized garments I get for supercheap at the thrift store. For example, you can get a yard or more of heavy earthtone 100% linen from a woman’s jumper!)

=Fire kit= While I do keep a steel striker and some flint chunks in my belt pouch, my main fire kit stays in the pack, in this bag I made of goatskin leather, closed with a deer antler button It contains: a spare steel striker (from my blacksmithing days) + a spare chunk of flint (from the source); charred linen or wood and some once-dipped candle wicks in a round tin (about $3); a linen bag of tinder (a bird’s nest (literally!), cedar bark, tow, ‘fatwood’ slivers, and birchbark); a ‘burning glass’ ($3) in a flannel-lined wool pouch.

To be used only for emergencies, I carry a cedar-handled modern firesteel/magnesium rod (popular consensus seems to picture Tolkien’s dwarves with access to higher technology; maybe I did a good deed for an Erebor dwarf somewhere along the way and he rewarded me with this?) and a few matches (which were known to Hobbits, but were never adopted by dwarves). I also have a beeswax candle stowed away somewhere else in my pack.

While on the trail, I always keep my eyes peeled for tinder materials, which I can tuck into my tunic’s front section to keep them dry until I make camp.



=Maintenance= Even over the Edge of the Wild, an adventurer still needs to be able to maintain his gear. To this end, I carry a sewing kit in a wool bag tied with buckskin braid. It contains: linen (1-ply natural ($5), 2-ply brown, 3-ply natural); a cane needle case + needles; a ball of beeswax for waxing thread; an antique leather awl (gift from Master) with cane cover; a cane case of fine brass pins; and scraps of linen, wool, buckskin and thongs for laces. The one item in my sewing kit I cannot reliably document are my pair of small ‘Chinese’ scissors ($3). Scissors appear nowhere in Tolkien, but we know hobbits (at least) wore tailored clothes and so likely would have had them. I imagine that simple, functional tools like these could be of dwarvish make?

My other gear-maintenance items are a cut-down modern oilstone and a round tin of rendered deer tallow for waterproofing leather.

=Hygeine= To keep myself (relatively) clean while out on an adventure, I have a limited hygiene kit.



This linen bag holds a bundle of dried Equisetum (‘horsetail’—for scouring dishes or brushing teeth); a handmade wooden comb, a bar of plain lye soap, and two handwoven washcloths and a towel in woodsy colours (from Spencer’s Mercantile of Hamilton, Ontario). Although soap was known in the Shire (and I suppose possibly traded eastwards?), there’s no reason it couldn’t be made at home…the ingredients and process are simple enough.

When I’m out and about, I like to pick and keep a few fresh leaves of Mullein tucked in my tunic (nothing even comes close for wiping one’s arse in the bush, especially if you find some in the morning when it’s still damp with dew: Nature’s wet-wipes!)

Along the same lines, I keep a deer’s scapula in the top of my pack, which does tolerably well as a tool for digging ‘cat-holes’…because while Tolkien’s heroes may never have to poo in the woods, I do.



=Miscellaneous gear= My smoking setup is quite simple: when I head out on an adventure, I cut a slice of apple and loosely wrap it in waxed paper. I put this at the bottom of my tobacco pouch, and then add as much pipe-weed as I think I’ll use on the trip. (The apple acts as a humidor, adding moisture to the flakes of tobacco for smoother smoking.) Lastly I put in my pipe bowl (carved last Yule from applewood). I wrap the pouch’s drawstring around the neck and slip in the pipe’s rivercane stem. No need for matches (which probably weren't known to Beornings), I only light my pipe with twigs around the fire, or with my burning glass on very sunny days.

I also keep a linen bag of buckskin thongs, finished cordage, and raw materials—nettle, basswood/linden, milkweed, &c.—packed away. Rope, of course, plays a key role in several important episodes in Tolkien’s works (ex. Samwise laments that he packs no rope, and then is given ‘magic’ hithlain rope by the Elves), and any woodsman worth his salt should certainly know which natural resources could be utilized for making cordage, and wouldn’t be caught without some already made up.



For snowy winter travel, I pack a pair of birchbark birch snow goggles to prevent snow-blindness. While nothing of the sort is mentioned in Tolkien’s published works, I am certain that had the narrative ever spent more than a footnote near the Ice Bay of Forochel, the Lossoth would have been depicted wearing them).

How do I explain their existence in the Anduin area? We know the Snow-men would camp at the southern end of the Bay (near the northern end of the Blue Mountains—Appendix A, 351), so perhaps they met (or were at least observed by) some Dwarves of the area? These Dwarves could eventually have been helped by Aistan on their way east to Erebor, and exchanged knowledge of the indigenous ways of saving one’s eyes in the bright snow. (Likewise, Blue Mountain Dwarves are probably the vector to also explain how I wound up with a piece of mammoth ivory in my pouch). Snow goggles like these are extremely practical for scenarios in which I may be engaged in traveling to/from the High Pass in winter.

While 18th century trekkers carry pocket bibles or such reading materials, my ‘comfort item’ is a leatherbound journal of poetry from Middle-earth and later Ages, semi-illustrated with heraldry and an annotated map of my stretch of the great river Ohio.