While the Council of the North was taking place, another smaller council was underway to the South. High Chief Conn of Dunland, who called himself King, had called his advisers and vassal chiefs to his largest settlement, Galtrev. The settlement was situated not far off of the old North-South Road, a little less than a hard day of riding if one were in a hurry. As defenses go, it was not much, just a timber palisade around the majority of the homes and a large ditch in front of the palisade. The palisade was large enough to have a walkway around its entirety and watchtowers on all corners. For the usual raiding parties and armies of the tribal hillfolk, it was almost unassailable. For anyone else, however, it would not stand up for very long.
Since the settlement sat on one of the larger hills in the region, the Hall of the Chief stood at the very top, with another palisade and gateway surrounding it. The Hall was larger than any other occupied building in the whole of Dunland, and it was here that the council met. The sun had risen two hours before, but Conn had already been awake, and watched it rise from the walkway of the inner palisade, his oldest and most wisest adviser, Madoc, standing beside him. Madoc was interesting character, and no one save Conn's late father, Cathal, had known exactly where Madoc hailed from. He had the features of a Man and aged like one, despite seeming to be older than anyone else in the settlement. Conn suspected Madoc had some amount of Numenorean blood in him, like Conn himself did, but he could not tell for certain, for the man was short and stocky in stature, with dark features, like all of the Haladin, but he was a genius and had taught Conn in every subject during his childhood. Even when Cathal insisted on teaching the art of war and how to rule, Madoc had gone further in depth, so that Conn was not just a good soldier, but a good leader and tactician.
On that particular morning, Madoc had spoken first, which was unusual. "Your time is coming, young raven, but I fear I will not be there to see it. We will not be able to enjoy too many more of these sunrises together. Your father was a good man, who had his faults, as all men do, but you will be a better man. He and I both made sure of that. Today, you will begin to make your dreams come to fruition. Stay true to them and do what is necessary, even if some of these proud dimwits do not agree." At that last comment, one of the guards nearby shot a sideways glance at the pair, but Conn let it go. These particular guards were loyal to Conn and Conn alone.
With a deep sigh, Conn laid a hand on the shorter man beside him. "Thank you, Madoc. For everything you have done for my father and for me. I ask that you still stand by me while you can for this council, for I fear that the chiefs will not take kindly to what I am going to propose." Madoc knew for certain that they would not, and nodded his head. As the sun rose further and warmed them both with its light, they turned and headed back to the Hall.
Now, Conn sat in a large throne-like chair, raised up on a small dais at the end of the room. There were long tables running perpendicular to his own and at these sat fifteen chieftans. Most only could call upon a small band of twenty men or so, but there were also a few who ruled larger tribes with more land who could call up men in the hundreds. The smaller chieftans would generally do whatever Conn said with no argument, but the larger chieftans liked to try and test the young High Chief at times. With everyone seated and food and drink in front of them, Conn began.
"As some of you might or might not know, there will soon be war. The lands of Rhudaur to our North that are still settled by other hillfolk and Numenoreans who rule them have been controlled by a sorcerer king from even further North. I have been told that he is called the Witch-King and is far more evil than even the nightmares we use to scare children. He also is said to lead armies of Orcs and there has even been talk of him breeding orcs and the hill men of Rhudaur. I am telling you this because an emissary arrived two weeks ago, asking for our help. The emissary came from the Kingdom of Arthedain, one of the Numenorean realms. While I despise many of the Numenoreans as much as you, I despise Orcs and Half-Orc abominations even more so. I told the emissary that if they were willing to do some things for us, I would bring it before my chiefs. In return for fighting in this war, the Numenoreans would build greater roads for us to travel easier and faster on, they would equip our men with stronger weapons and armor and they would teach our smiths how to craft their armor." Murmurs erupted forth, as weapons and armor were generally very poor quality in Dunland, since there was not much iron that they knew of and trade with other peoples was almost non-existent.
Chief Aran was the first to speak, "We have little enough metal to make what we need to begin with, where are we going to get enough iron to even think about making that kind of armor?" Conn let a little grin cross his face, as he formulated his reply to the red-haired chief from the western areas of Dunland. "I have spoken with another emissary, this one much... shorter. The dwarves of Khazad-Dum, just to our North, have asked that we begin a new period of friendship and trade. We keep the peace here and do not raid their hobbit friends, who have settled in the plains North of the Glanduin, and in return, we get access to their market, which means more metal for us, and more cows and leather for them." A couple of the chiefs looked at Conn suspiciously, as they knew that dwarves did not like to deal much with men, and others because he had taken upon all of this business without first consulting them. The tradition was that all major decisions were voted on by all of the chiefs, not just the High Chief.
Chief Aran stood and faced Conn, raising a mug of ale as he did so. "You have my vote. I will follow your decisions." The red-haired chief controlled one of the larger tribes, being able to call up roughly four hundred men, a lot of them being light horsemen. Twelve other chiefs stood and pledged the same, vowing to follow Conn with whatever his decisions were. Conn looked at the two chiefs who had not stood. One was Chief Bran, his father's main rival, and also one of the strongest chieftans, and the other was Chief Cian, who came from a smaller tribe in the Northeast, but was known for being devious. Bran spoke his piece first, "They are Numenoreans," at that, he spat on the floor and continued, "and even if these half-Orc abominations are true, they'll never come this far South. They're only concerned with those damn Numenoreans. I say let them have their war and we stay out of it." Conn looked to Cian next, who stood as well. "High Chief Conn, in most cases, I agree with you and follow your decisions. However, do we know why there is going to be war? Do we know anything about the numbers of this alleged enemy? All you know is what that Numenorean told you..."
All of the chiefs turned to look at Conn, waiting for his answers. "Yes, they are Numenoreans, but as I stated, I believe Half-Orc, Half-Human abominations are much worse. And if you think they would be content with staying North, then you must not know much of anything about Orcs, especially when they are controlled by one of evil. Chief Cian, you may not know it, but we have eyes and ears around the borders and even across the borders. They have told me much the same tale that the Numenorean told me. There will be war, because that is the way of Orcs and their overlords. Regarding the numbers of orcs, we all know that they mass in hordes and I have no doubt there will be thousands of them." Both chiefs narrowed their eyes at Conn, but in the end nodded their heads and vowed to send men. Conn highly doubted it would be anywhere near the full amount they could call upon, but that was a situation to deal with at a later date. For now, he had to prepare for war.
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