It quickly became a routine to spend the early hours of the morning before the sun had even dawned with Raithon in the forges, learning how to properly care for weapons, sharpen, repair, and the likes.
He often sent me on my way with a knife or dagger to sharpen, gradually offering larger and more intricate weapons as I continued to prove that I was capable of sharpening weapons well, without damaging them.
This proved to be a wonderful distraction from the nightmares that constantly plagued me, and I ended up spending most of my nights reading and sharpening weapons by candle light.
Eventually he started showing me how to repair and care for various armors, a skill that my sewing skills oddly came in handy for, as much of the armor used leather strapping to keep it together, or was made entirely of leather.
As the weeks passed, I pushed myself progressively harder in all aspects.
The nightmares grew ever worse, to the point where I was lucky if I managed even an hour or two of sleep every night, in painfully short ten and twenty minute intervals.
Without the necessary rest to allow my body to heal from the beating I gave it, the trembling in my hands returned, having slowly faded from my hands as I healed and gained strength.
My strength and accuracy, which had been progressively improving, slowed.
I started having a difficult time focusing, often finding my attention fading into an almost unseeing blank stare.
The ever present looks of concern from everyone around me grew steadily as the time passed, and my condition worsened.
Two weeks went by, then three, then four, all with no messages, no indication that they were coming back any time soon.
I busied myself more and more, until the only free time I had was spent during meals, which were rushed, and occasionally even skipped.
Often I was joined by Bilbo, Arwen, or Athae, and the majority of the meal was spent with them trying to gently coax me into the hall of fire for some music, or into a relaxing walk in one of the many gardens.
I refused time and again, always finding something else to occupy myself with.
It was twenty eight days after they had left that anything changed.
A knife sank into the target with a satisfying thunk, followed by the remaining four that fit in the sheath.
My accuracy was fairly consistent now.
It wasn't terribly good, but the knives were now sticking quite nicely in the targets, generally around where I wanted them to be.
So if I did manage to hit a moving target, and it very conveniently didn't have any armor, it might die.
Maybe.
It would probably just be mildly wounded.
That was something, though.
I trotted forward, collecting my knives with lightly shaking hands.
I found that, oddly enough, in the moment of focus when I threw my knives or shot an arrow, the shake became diminished.
It also helped to temporarily block out the growing fear that Glorfindel and Erestor would not return, and that I was ruining Middle Earth, one important character at a time.
As I returned to my place a few long paces away from my target, I realized that the normal bustle of training elves were not here, only a few still present, cleaning and resetting the various targets.
A quick glance to the sky told me that it was nearing midday, and as if to further prove the time, my stomach gurgled.
I hadn't noticed them leaving.
Glorfindel was right, I still wasn't alert to my surroundings when training.
I would need to work on that.
It had gotten better for a time, before Glorfindel and Erestor left.
Now it was a struggle just to focus on the target, let alone pay attention to what was around me.
Stifling a sigh at my traitorous body and it's need for regular sustenance, I went about stowing my weapons and cleaning up so that I could go get something small to eat from the kitchen.
Maybe I could take it with me to the library, in the hopes that I might avoid the routine cajoling of the others trying to force me to socialize.
I didn't have time to chat or sing.
If I had messed things up, I would need to be prepared to attempt the journey alone, as it was unlikely that I would be offered much help when it was discovered that I had potentially destroyed the world with my meddling.
It was on my way there, that I was pulled from my morose thoughts by several unfamiliar, but incredibly enthusiastic voices.
The voices were jumbled, excited, and talking over one another to the point where I couldn't make out a single thing any of them were saying.
It was so completely out of the ordinary, such a break in the peace and serenity of Rivendell, that I couldn't resist the intense curiosity that overcame me.
Plus, I had to go in that direction anyway, so why not see what the commotion was on the way?
I turned to walk towards the voices, finding that they lead me towards the entrance to the gardens surrounding the main house.
Walking a bit quicker, I rounded the bend, arriving just in time to see a veritable parade of people, tall and small, enter the garden, seemingly heading into the hall.
I froze, eyes taking in the sight before me.
Four small, curly haired people were being herded into the main hall, busy staring at their surroundings in awe, and pointing things out to one another in the excited voices that had called my attention only moments prior.
They were a spectacle of colors.
Dressed in a myriad of bright forest greens, chocolate browns, sunny yellows, and maroon reds, all in fitted waistcoats and jackets, looking terribly out of place compared to the looser robes and tunics of the elves.
They each had a neatly packed leather bag slung over their shoulders, though from the easy way they carried them, I guessed the packs had been on horses for the majority of the trip.
Their heads were crowned with curly hair ranging in different shades of brown and blonde, faces young and joyful. Carefree.
Their feet were bare, and covered in curly hair, matching the hair on their heads.
I felt a little bit of warm relief bubble inside me at the sight of them.
They were so happy. None of them were injured, or scared.
They hadn't had to suffer this time.
I took a step forward, starting to open my mouth to call out a greeting, when I stopped again, stunned speechless once more as my eyes caught sight of the people herding them.
I vaguely noted that Glorfindel was among them, feeling a little of the anxiety that something had gone wrong, loosen.
There were a few of the elves that had ridden out with Glorfindel, though not all of them were there, and I resolved to ask after them at some point.
Those thoughts slipped away quickly though, as my eyes stayed fixed on the person standing next to Glorfindel.
He was tall, though not quite as tall as Glorfindel, and he appeared quite old, sporting a rather long white beard.
There wasn't really anything overly strange about him, nor attention calling, except that in his hand he clutched an old looking wooden walking stick, on his back he wore a long gray cloak over gray robes, around his neck was wound a long silver scarf, and atop his head sat a pointed gray hat.
"..Gandalf.."
Though his name was but a whisper on my lips, he seemed to hear nonetheless, and turned to look in my direction.
I took a short step back, not having expected his attention.
He said something soft to Glorfindel, though I couldn't hear what it was, it gained a responding nod from Glorfindel, causing Gandalf to start towards me with Glorfindel at his side.
Behind their advancing forms, I caught the curious glance of one of the brown haired hobbits, only for it to be cut off moments later when they entered the building, and passed out of my field of vision.
As Gandalf and Glorfindel crossed the short distance between us, I allowed my eyes to wander across Gandalf's face, taking in the small, almost grandfatherly smile, the curiosity and warmth in his sharp eyes, and the easy way he moved, not befitting of his apparent age at all.
I was startled from my inspection by his voice, low and almost a little bit grumpy, though not unkind.
"Am I right to assume that you are the young lady that Glorfindel has refused to tell me anything about?"
"I'm….I'm sorry, what?"
I turned my curious glance on Glorfindel, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.
He seemed to understand my question before I spoke it, and responded almost at the same time that he received the look of confusion.
"I thought it best not to speak of anything of great import outside of the safety of Imladris. After all, you never know who might be listening."
I let out a shaky breath at that.
Over the time he had been gone, it had started to finally sink in that I was truly and utterly in extreme danger of completely wrecking the entire world.
Nodding slowly, I spoke again, trying to keep the uneasiness out of my voice.
I did not altogether succeed.
"That's fair. Probably a good idea."
Gandalf watched this interaction with obvious curiosity, waiting until it was clear I intended to say nothing else before he spoke again.
"Well, it is clear that you already know my name. Perhaps I might know yours?"
I forced myself to take a deep breath.
It was Gandalf, there was no reason to be nervous.
Of course, I still ended up stuttering a little bit.
It was freaking Gandalf.
Oh my god.
"Ah, Al...Alyssa. My..my name is Alyssa. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mithrandir. Or, uh,Gandalf. Sir."
God, what was I supposed to call him?
He looked mildly startled at my use of his elven name, eyes taking on a more considering light as they watched me.
"Hmm..Yes, well, Glorfindel implied that you had something of import to speak of, and that you are the reason for the abrupt delivery of the four young hobbits to Rivendell? Shall we convene with Lord Elrond? You've spoken to him, I assume? T'would be a wise thing to do, if it is as important as Glorfindel suggests."
He continued giving me an assessing look as I nodded along to his questions.
"Yes, I've spoken to him. Should we go to his study, or his private chambers..?"
I addressed my question more to Glorfindel than Gandalf, but it was Gandalf who answered.
"His chambers. He is accessible in his study, we will have fewer interruptions in his chambers."
That seemed reasonable enough, and by Glorfindel's nod, he agreed, so we set off towards Elrond's chambers.
As we walked, Glorfindel fell in at my left, briefly putting a hand on my shoulder, clearly meant to reassure.
I kept my eyes trained on the floor, head tilted down, feeling walled in by the two very tall creatures on either side of me.
I couldn't run if I wanted to.
And I did want to.
A little bit.
Though, realistically, this was probably the safest I'd ever been in this world.
The silence lasted for a few minutes as we walked before Gandalf spoke up again, addressing Glorfindel more than me.
"Perhaps we could have a meal sent to his chambers? I could use some good food after all of that traveling."
I glanced up at him as he spoke, catching Glorfindel's bemused expression out of the corner of my eye.
"We did not lack for good food on the road, Mithrandir. T'was a short trip, and plenty of provisions were brought."
"Yes, yes, I know. It's always nice to have a nice meal when you arrive at your destination, though."
The next voice was neither Gandalf's nor Glorfindel's, but instead was the smooth velvet of Elrond's voice, his tone joking.
"You're starting to sound like the halflings you're so fond of, Mithrandir. I think you're spending too much time with them. Soon you shall shrink to their size."
Elrond stood at the doorway to his chambers, seemingly waiting for us, though I didn't remember seeing anyone sent off to alert him of Gandalf's presence.
"Ah, I had missed your humor, Lord Elrond."
Gandalf's voice was cheerful, and he offered a slight bow to Elrond as he greeted him.
"So, what is so important that warrants plucking four young hobbits from their homes so suddenly?"
The humor that was once in Elrond's face smoothed out, solemnity taking it's place, and his next words were directed to us all.
"Come and sit down. There is much to tell you."