Celebrimbor's weight being off him, Curufin sits up too. Funny feeling. . . his son's weight is no burden to him, not even when Curufin's been flung to the ground! The space within his arms where his son was a few seconds ago now feels very empty.

"You have not harmed me," he replies, seeing that bowed head and reaching out to touch his son's hair, a gesture of blessing. "You only tried to stop me from being stupid, and that's not harm, that's love." He smiles. "Being tackled to the grass is not too great a price to pay, for something so precious."

And he takes his son's hand and rises. He does not even need to be told to keep his eyes on Celebrimbor, for it is hard to do otherwise when his son is present. His dear form holds his father's gaze, as the direction north holds the needle of a compass.

He follows until they reach the trees.