She is tall and slender, her presence marked by a captivating strangeness that sets her apart even among Elves. Her hair is not merely black, but an abyss of ink within which silvery glints dance, as if stars were trapped in eternal night. Her face, immortal in its beauty, bears a perpetually contemplative expression, fine features fixed in a melancholy as ancient as the world itself. But it is her eyes that hold Zac in thrall: grey as a storm-lit sky, seeming to contain shifting shadows and unfathomable depths where forgotten secrets of the world lie hidden.
"Estel," she says, her voice deeper and richer than Arwen's, carrying harmonics that evoke ancient, forgotten music. "That book contains knowledge not meant for impulsive young mortals. Return it to my sister, please."
There is no anger in her tone, only a quiet authority that touches something deep within the child. The boy hesitates, then, with a theatrical sigh, hands the book back to Arwen.
"Forgive me, Elrenniel," he says, his contrite expression vanishing in an instant as a new, mischievous grin lights up his face. "But you have to admit I got it without either of you noticing. My ranger skills are improving!"
Elrenniel. The name resounds in Zac's mind like a perfect chord, a harmony completing his own inner melody. The Music of the Ainur within him seems suddenly to swell, becoming clearer, more perfect, as if a missing part had just been found.
His breath catches. His heart, which had beat with a tranquil regularity since his rebirth, abruptly races in his chest. What he feels is not mere admiration, nor even desire, but recognition, deep, visceral, transcending ordinary experience. It is as if he spent an eternity searching for something whose nature he never truly understood, only to find it when he was no longer seeking.
Elrenniel leans down to tousle Estel's hair, a gesture almost experimental, as if testing the texture of tenderness. There is a hint of hesitation in her movement, suggesting that such displays of affection are not second nature to her. Then her gaze lifts, scanning the heights nearby, as if she senses a presence. For a dizzying moment, her eyes seem to meet Zac's across the distance.
A shiver runs down Zac's spine. Is it just his imagination, or did she truly pause, as if she too felt that inexplicable connection? Before he can be sure, she looks away, turning back to the child now attempting to climb a statue depicting an Elven warrior of old.
"Estel!" exclaims Arwen, hurrying to get him down. "Lord Elrond will be very upset if you damage the statues of Gondolin."
Gondolin. The name of the lost city strikes Zac like a blow. Memories flood back, not as pain, but as an undeniable truth. His vision of the city, the cruel illusion in the depths, his conviction of having played a part in its fall… all swirl through his mind. And now, before him, is a child named Hope, playing in the shadow of sculpted memories of a city he once believed he helped destroy.
Does fate weave a tapestry so intricate that even he, with all his knowledge of this world, cannot see the full pattern?
Gandalf watches Zac's face closely, noting the subtle changes that ripple over his features. The wizard is far too wise not to recognize the signs of a soul that has at last found its anchor in the chaos of the world. He says nothing, but his eyes narrow thoughtfully, adding this to the many questions he already carries about his mysterious companion.
"Come," Gandalf says softly, laying a hand on Zac's shoulder. "Lord Elrond awaits us. You'll have plenty of time to get to know the residents of Imladris."
Zac nods, tearing himself away with reluctance from his contemplation. Yet as they resume their path toward Elrond's house, he senses that something fundamental within him has changed. The emptiness that had persisted, even after his communion with the Music, feels filled at last. His quest, once vague and undefined, now takes on a clearer shape.
He casts one last look toward the garden, where Elrenniel now stands motionless, her silhouette outlined by the golden light of the setting sun. For the first time since his emergence from the depths, Zac feels something beyond peace and serenity, an impatience, an ardent desire to know this soul whose resonance so perfectly matches his own.