It would be another 3 years before the great battle commenced, during this time Ciryaher and his navy prepared for battle, conscious that they were being watched and their movements known by the spies of Khamul. Suddenly unlooked for in the dead of night Ciryaher led his armada down the coast of Middle Earth, away from their havens and began their assault upon Umbar. At first they did so with a small naval attack that was quickly repelled by the Corsairs and the Dark Numenoreans, yet in their zeal to capture or kill the King of Gondor they chased him northward leaving Umbar defenseless. From the south came a force of Khand ships, allied with the Seven Nations and these trapped the army of Khamul stationed at Umbar without access to food or supplies. The naval fleet of Corsairs and Dark Numenoreans was decimated by Ciryaher's armada and after a year-long naval battle the king of Gondor led his army victorious onto the soil of Umbar. Khamul in his rage called forth his Khand and Corsair mercenaries and a great sea battle was waged for the city of Umbar and for its coasts. On one side attacking from the South came the naval fleet of Khand and Dark Numenorean ships, light quick and small. Their sails were black as night bearing only a blood red image of a circle crowned with nine red stars; Ciryaher glimpsed them from a distance and noted their number,
"Two thousand…Mark them, two thousand come to make war upon Gondor."
The scribe noted it in his logs and trembled, though he sat upon a ship the size of a castle he feared the swiftness of the enemy's boats and the machinations and magic of Khamul that rode upon them. Ciryaher saw him tremble and placed a secure hand upon the scribe's shoulder and said smiling,
"Worry not young one, two thousand sail against us and two thousand shall we leave in our wake burning or sunk into Ulmo's depths."
He raised his sword and called out to his men,
"Prepare men of Gondor! The hour of our long preparations is at hand, the Great Battle commences. Send them into the depths of the sea!"
The armada of Ciryaher was a sight to behold, for the ships glistened like gold in the rising of the sun, they were like the size of a hall of men and upon their prow a great eagle was set in flight. Their sails were white as the clouds above and upon them was worked the insignia of the King, a white tree surrounded by seven golden stars and a crown high with the wings of a swan. As they floated upon the ocean's surface the waves beat against them and sounded like great drums or rolls of thunder. Amid the large ships sailed the light and low ships of the Khand, flying the banners of the Seven Nations, their banners and ships were gray and moved swiftly between the large ships, the sides teeming with agile archers and spearmen, ready to finish the work of the large ships that Ciryaher set sail from the Havens of Umbar. Ciryaher stood upon the prow of his ship, taking in a large breath of salty air he shouted,
"To the ending of the Darkness, let fly the warships of Gondor and of the sons of Numenor!"
At this the devices of Saruman let out a great booming sound, like thunder, and a flash of light erupted from the front of Ciryaher's ship. Immediately a Khand ship exploded into tiny fragments and so began the great sea battle for Umbar. The Khand ships were not unprepared and the machinations of Khamul proved useful for from the light ships large harpoons were fired and bore great holes into the ships of Ciryaher. And from these ships also flaming arrows stuck into the hulls of the ships and exploded on contact. Yet the mighty and strong ships of Ciryaher crashed into the smaller ships and broke them into many pieces, scattering their men into the churning waters of the sea, never to be seen again. Ciryaher led his ships down the coast of Umbar landing here and there depositing the infantry and cavalry within; as Ciryaher leapt from his ship onto the sandy shore he looked behind him as the ships of the Khand allied to him weaved this way and that among the enemy ships and destroyed them in their wake. Saruman and his ships had already surrounded the Haven and the garrisons from those ships would soon join him on the field of battle. All was going according to plan, until a fell horn filled the air and to the eastern horizon Ciryaher beheld the army that Khamul had mustered to meet him on the plains of Umbar. Towering Mumakil dotted the horizon and ground shook with their procession, at their feet rode thousands upon millions of Harad soldiers upon black steeds and hundreds of legions of orc infantry. In the center of the vast armed force, upon a large double tusked mumakil, sat a figure shrouded in black robes, wearing a golden necklace that held a blood red ruby. Khamul himself had come to meet them in battle; upon his great beast he carried a vast caldron that breathed unholy dark smog into the air blocking the sun. Ciryaher breathed in and ordered his men into ranks, their horses rearing ready to charge the massive creatures from the southlands. To the north the garrisons of Gondorian cavalry rode to meet their king but it was clear from the outlook that Khamul had brought forth the entire might of his empire to destroy Ciryaher then and there. Now caught between the burning ships of Khamul's army and the force of Khahalazul Ciryaher breathed deeply and uttered the following words to the sky,
"Charge!"
The stampede of horses was immense and sounded like a great barrage of thunder claps rolling across the sky; the ground shook with their might as they rode to meet the great force of Khamul head on. The dark riders of Harad began their charge as well, wooping and yelling like mad spirits, the polished bone and precious stone encrusted armor they wore clinking as they rode so that it sounded like pellets of hail beating against the stone tile roofs of Osgiliath. Khamul did not move his great Mumakil cavalry at that moment, better, he thought to let the tiny sea-king crush his army against the might of his Harad force. He laughed a little sitting high upon his throne as the dark men of Harad, his pawns, advanced along the plain of battle and then his unearthly smile halted for the force of the Harad seemed to rear up as the cavalry of Gondor neared them. As they reared and in one unison force they turned and stood facing the wall of mumakil where Khamul moved his chess pieces. One amongst them reared his horse high into the sky, the sable steed kicking the air wildly as he put a horn to his lips and blew a resounding tenor-filled note that filled the dark soul-less being with dread. They dropped their red banners and lifted high a green banner, bearing upon it a crescent moon surrounded by seven mountains, the battle crest of the Seven Nations. The Dark lord Khamul let out a shrill cry as the horses of Gondor and the steeds of Harad became one and rode in a great thunderous roar toward his awaiting infantry of orcs.
"Kill the traitors!"
Shouted the Nazgul captain, knowing fear for the first time in many years, since that last great war upon the valley of Gorgoroth. The orc army advanced but began to turn as the many thousands of Harad and Gondorian cavalry advanced upon them intent upon mowing them down like pebbles upon the road. Khamul then began leading his force of Mumakil, at least his Southron army was still loyal to him. With a great trumpet roar the mumakil army began to advance their monstrous feet shaking the earth and the fell drums reverberating through the empty plains.
When Ciryaher met the Harad captain as he let play his horn he said in Alamb-Harad,
"How pleasant of you to wait for us!"
The Harad captain chuckled at this jest and said,
"If we had not there would be no sport left for you!"
With a wave of his cresent shaped sword the Harad Captain ordered his men to ride forth and destroy their slave-master. The clash and clamor of the iron orc armor being trampled by steel shoed horses filled the air as the orcs gave out a cry of dismay; yet as Khamul approached the shattering sound of bones breaking replaced them as both horse and rider were crushed by the immense and immovable wall of the great race of Mumakil from the southern lands. Ciryaher and his men weaved between their legs firing arrows at the bellies of the great beasts but they could not be stopped and the men of Harad scattered as their captain was crushed beneath the foot of Khamul's mumakil. He called all men to him as he saw the great towers of animal flesh move easily past him and head toward the great gleaming ships mounted on the shores of Umbar. The cavalry of Gondor and Harad circled around and began to attack from the sides trying in vain to bring down the mighty force as they tore through the cavalry and were headed straight toward the advancing infantry. Wide-eyed and calling out in a shrill voice he chased the force of Mumakil attacking from behind as the great Gondorian ships fired from their prow the great gleaming balls of flame and thunder that shattered the Khand ships.
To the East of that great battle, Harad soldiers patrolled the walls of Khahalazul some laughing and others making plans for the assault upon Osgiliath itself once the King of Gondor was killed. In one tall tower a short pudgy Harad man played a game of dice with another leaner of his countrymen, who stood tall and wore a black veil over his face, as was their custom in order to keep the sand out of their faces.
"How long do you think the battle'll last?"
Said the portly fellow, growing impatient in the heat of the day.
"Should be another five days or so I wager, for the Master to wage war and make his way back here victorious. Why you anxious to get home to your wife, or does your concubine wait for you with her legs in the air?"
The men surrounding them laughed heartily and the stout Harad man laughed and his belly jiggled full of fat and wine. The tall Harad threw the dice and they rolled into the center of the circle showing an unfavorable hand, the stout man gave out a cry of joy,
"Ha! Looks like I'll come home with a necklace for the wife and a pair of cuffs for the concubines, all four of them!"
The tall one stood and opened his palms in surrender,
"You've bested me at dice, friend…But you've lost something else"
In a flash the tall Harad man drew out a brilliantly silver, crescent sword and sliced the head off of the stout Harad sergeant; the others surrounding him gasped in shock. As they advanced him the tall Harad removed his veil and reveled a grim smile and piercingly dark eyes in which were reflected the light of the ancient stars.
"Adle Kimana!"
"Now is the Hour!"
Shouted Celebrin as others in the tower drew their swords and slew the guards sitting beside them. Shouts rang out from the towers surrounding them, the battle for Khahalazul began.
Ciryaher and his cavalry rounded the Mumakil and hey slashed and cut their way through Khamul's orc infantry, trying to place themselves once again between the Mumakil and the Gondorian infantry who would soon be crushed by the massive feet of the giant beasts. Ciryaher drew as many of the Harad men to him as possible though others, seeing their captain slain rushed to his side as orcs began to hack and hew his corpse. Saruman was still hours away from aiding them, the cloud above began to dissipate as Khamul moved his force closer to the ships. Ciryaher lead a mighty charge maneuvering his cavalry between the legs of the Mumakil firing vainly again at their bellies, while the mighty devices of Saruman blasted at the charging gray wall. Suddenly a shrill horn filled the air and all seemed to pause for a moment. To the south stood another great wall of gray, a mumak let out a violently loud trumpet-like roar as the massive wall advanced upon the scene. Ciryaher gave himself up for lost; there was no possible way his army could withstand such a force of unstoppable power.
Celebrin ran along the walls of Khahalazul, as Harad soldiers came running out of towers brandishing their swords. His Utashtegu men had already ripped off their Harad garments, which they used to infiltrate the city weeks before and were fighting man to man with stone laced clubs, spears, bows and axes, as well as swords. Though they were not heavily armored for a siege battle, their advantage lay in the element of surprise and they were determined not to lose it. The guards along the wall were taken but a few feet of enemy fighters lay between Celebrin and his goal, the gears that secured the doors of Khahalazul.
Ciryaher sat still upon his horse for a brief moment, doubt beginning to creep into his mind; suddenly a memory crept upon him,
"Even from you the council keeps its secrets and it is not for you to know the true size of our power"
In his heart he knew hope was still alive for his cause, he stopped his horse and called out to his men to charge, and still the onslaught endured as Saruman and his infantry appeared on the Northern sand dunes, which lead to the road to Umbar. The Harad of the Seven Nations let out a cry of joy as well for upon the southern edge of the field of battle the horn cry that came from the Mumakil force was different than the horn given by the Mumakil riders that carried Khamul across the field of battle and they bore the banner of the Seven Nations.
In Khahalazul Celebrin pushed his Utashtegu warriors through the guards of the dark city determined not to lose their advantage. His eye caught the faint glimmer of silver steel in the darkening sky, upon the hills of fiery sand stood a legion of Utashtegu warriors and beside them the strong regimented lines of Hamadjon as well as the mounted garrison from Gondor led by Narmacil. Time was running out, if the Harad guards kept the gate shut then the army outside could do nothing but watch as he and his men were quickly over taken by sheer number alone. He was trapped with only 50 men under his command, scattered throughout the city. The lock for the gate lay only a few feet away, silence surrounded him as he and his men pushed against the Harad guards. With one deft movement Celebrin climbed over the back of one of his men and leapt over the stalemate, he ran to the gate lock and began to turn the wheel that held the gears in place. The Gate creaked and moaned as the iron and wood mechanism lifted from the rocky soil beneath it; a cry came forth from the army outside as Narmacil and the other captains led the charge stampeding into the city and running through the city streets to join the fight.
Ciryaher had rounded his men as the stampede from the Seven Nation s barreled down upon the field of battle the earth shaking from their advance. The great beasts of the south were painted in red and black designs and their massive ivory tusks glinted in the sunlight as they were wrapped in bronze. With a sudden crash and a thunderous roar the lead Mumak of the Seven Nation's cavalry collided with the side of Khamul's beast and mowed him down, the sound of breaking bones and shattered skin filling the air. The great urn sitting atop the creature fell to the ground spilling its contents onto the rocky ground of the battlefield and the black clouds above began to dissipate. Ciryaher called his men to him as the orcs began to flee the coming daylight; in one swift wave they fell upon the orcs and cruel men of Harad and Khand who had joined Khamul on this battle. The Dark creature, Captain of the Nazgul looked upon the field of battle and let out a great and harrowing shriek, like a wounded wild cat that strikes its last before falling into death. With a great flash of an eerie green light the Dark Emperor of the east vanished from the field of battle his great black cloak falling with a limp wet sound upon the ground. For a moment the great red ruby upon his neck hovered in the daylight before shooting up into the sky and gathering all the black clouds to it. Raging like a storm the dark cloud fled from the field of battle to the East, toward the city of Khahalazul; the men of Harad and the orcs chasing after it like abandoned children. Ciryaher let out a laugh of victory as he and his cavalry chased down the army of Khahalazul hewing them as they fled.
In the city of Khamul, Celebrin and his army rode and ran through the streets making war upon the dark city, burning and slashing as they went. The streets ran red with blood and fires dotted the great stone houses of Khamul's generals and their stables, the horses racing out into the streets. Celebrin stood now upon the hill of the city, where the burning tower of Khamul began to crumble; a heavy weight fell upon his chest as he looked into the sky, for a great black cloud hovered over the city. He felt it call to him, filled with anger and fear and resentment the black cloud seemed to open and a great fire resided within hovering above the place where the tower once stood. It seemed to mortal eyes that a great thunder storm hovered above them and great crashing thunder claps could be heard and their sound was deafening. Yet the elf saw a great orb of red flame flying in the midst of the cloud surrounded by 8 pale white wisps of light, hale and terrifying. A voice cried out from the hovering flames,
"Mark this day well, Slaves and Goat herders! It will be the only victory you shall have! Your days of peace which will be short and the men of Gondor shall be faithless to you."
Raising his sword to the sky Celebrin shouted,
"Your curses have no power hear, fallen one! Go into the shadow with what is left of your race and your Master!"
A great thunder strike filled the air around and a searing heat wave forced all to the ground, crushing stone and causing the fires to leap into the sky. Celebrin stood his ground as a shimmering figure stood before him; it looked like a man though wearing robes of silken white and upon his neck he wore a great golden necklace, within was set a flaming red ruby. A great axe he held and pointed it at the elf,
"And you, elfling! You I shall curse personally for your interference in this war… she will die a mortal's death and nothing you do can stop it; the breaking of your heart will be like the shattering of glass upon a stone. And you shall return home, but it will be as a ghost, unrecognizable to your kin and as though all the years of your life meant nothing."
In his heart Celebrin felt a grave darkness as though all that the shadow said was true and the weight of it began to tear at his soul. Breathing heavily the elf closed his eyes and felt the wet warmth of his tears and a silent drumbeat that was his heart. He relived the death of his father and of his mother, and of many others that he had witnessed in the times of the great wars ere the inception of the third age of the world. With a hale and thundering voice he raised his sword to the sky, tears streaming down his cheek, his heart filling with a hale and wise warmth and said,
"Your words mean nothing Shade of a forgotten and fallen realm! I was born and saw the stars of Elbereth before you were created and the light of Luthien Tinuviel shines in my heart. Bring upon me your woes and tragedy! I shall never rest nor let the breath of life leave me till you are nothing more and all that is left of you falls into the abyss!"
With the utterance of the name Elbereth and Luthien the shade of Khamul faltered and the blood red ruby seemed to cry out in pain; the man in tattered white robes vanished in a flash of thunder that left the place where he stood blacked and cracked. When the dust settled the dark cloud drew away and the light of the full moon shone brilliant and white upon the city of Khahalazul through the gray clouds. Sharp little pains began to pelt Celebrin upon the face, and at first he cringed for it was cold as ice or the sharpest of snowflakes. Small pattering sounds filled his ears and he suddenly realized that through all the years he spent in the desert he had forgotten the sound of rain.