Jinnaë felt a sudden relief. The sensation of the immaterial becoming material, of shattered essence becoming again whole. The bliss of being, the throb of power so prized by the maiar.
And then he stood, and he was again. There was a frantic looking human before him, sweeping at the remains of the infernal bird bath thathad housed him in his years of un-being. The mirror of Galadriel, torn asunder, its iridescent waters gracing the stone.
Jinnaë had experienced no better pleasure than seeing the accursed prison in pieces.
He took a material form, a man in a rugged, white jerkin, and eyes of jade. His waist receded into a wisp of the same colour, and the human staggered back.
"Oh god... oh god..." The boy stammered.
"You." Addressed Jinnaë, voice studded with cruel, uninviting joviality. "Are the one who freed me?" His demeanour was smooth, malleable, impeccable. Like a syrup that oozed from his very pores. A syrup slick with magical charms that addled the mind of the boy.
"Y-yes..." The boy was traumatised. This made Jinnaë smile. He seemed naive, gullible, easily manipulated.
"Well are you not a king among men?" Jinnaë contorted in the air, craning his neck back to look the boy in the eye. "You have a heart of gold, boy. Never have I met such charity among men."
The boy retreated coyly. "Well, I just work here sir... knocking over the mirror was just a horrible accident..."
"Accident? No, no, my dear boy. Destiny! It is destiny that a heroic soul such as yourself would be the one to free me!"
The boy's chest puffed out in pride. Jinnaë grinned. They always responded well to flattery. "So what's your name, boy?"
"Well, Animir, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Jinnaë's sickly-sweet smile concealed a repressed malice. The malignant, primal force within all divine things. You bet it was strong in a maiar like Jinnaë. He pressed his immaculately slender hand against his chest. "Jinnaë, the benevolent (he grinned at the humour of this) and powerful maiar, indebted to you. My power is yours. We'll make you a king, Animir."
Animir seemed to like the idea. He was oblivious to the deception. He thought he was the big boss. No, Jinnaë would pull the strings.