Strange and lovely, how alike father and son look at this moment, save for the darkness of Curufin's armor and the brightness of Celebrimbor's. There is something mythic about them, the father who espoused the darkness in his time and the son who belonged always to the light. And now they are together, and here they stand with their steeds in a moment of accord before the great battle.

"I will, my dear yondo. And you as well, strike with all of your heart and all of your power. We will prevail."

And into the fray they charge.

Curufin knows that his son must confront the Maia face to face, and be the death of him. It will be justice, and for this Curufin has planned and poured out his energies, and now it will come to pass. He rides swift and adroit by his son's side, and he guards him from all harm. No Orc or any other creature of darkness can get close to the shining figure who goes like an arrow from the string, a shot from the cannon -- straight to the cause of all the evil in Middle-earth. Curufin strikes down anyone who opposes this ride, and his black armor is splashed with gore. His face is luminous with love and with joy.