The cursed Dourhands.  They ambushed a party of elves traveling towards the ships to leave middle earth and got away with the food stores of the party and a necklace belonging to Athreilind’s grandmother.  While her sister and the rest of the party continued on, Athreilind was selected to be part of a small group to follow after the dwarves to retrieve the necklace.

The party caught up to the dwarves just as the Dourhands were attacking a convoy of other dwarves.  Who attacks their own kind like that?  The elves conversed amongst themselves and decided that rather than wait for the cover of darkness to stealthily recover the necklace they would aid the convoy.

Athreilind notched her arrow and pulled back the bowstring, taking careful aim.  She waited and when she thought the moment was right she let the arrow fly.  Her target, the leader of the raiding party.  A moment later as she watched the goat crumple to the ground, she choked on her heart.  She looked around and realized there was a blind spot.  Maybe the dwarf had already been charging the leader she aimed for, or maybe he changed course.  No matter how it happened, she was responsible.

They recovered the necklace and with a heavy heart she sent the party on.  Her honor would not allow her to continue the trek to the ships until she helped the dwarf replace his goat.