It was a ragged band indeed that limped away from the battle. They had gone to a large communal cave, seeing to thier wounds and planning thier next move. Nephil had eased the arrow from his arm and tended the gaping hole, and then simply sat, examining the arrow itself.
A voice near the door alerted Nephil to the presence of his kinsman, who mad his social way over to Nephil, speaking to almost everyone in hushed, vehement tones. Corith sat next to Nephil on a rough bench, gently taking the arrow.
"Beautiful worksmanship," he said, surprised at the prowess that an outsider had shown at the forge.
Nephil knew that Corith was only making small conversation, but it was something that had been haunting Nephil since he had first set eyes on the strange creature.
"The oustider that it came from was...a rather interesting specimen as well," said Nephil, touching his arm where he had been wounded, "It moves like a wild cat, but it's eyes...are not that of a beast. Something... more than a man." he finished, staring off, remembering.
Corith looked thoughtful. "Perhaps..." he began, but stopped.
"No, go on,"said Nephil, interested in any information.
"I've heard some very odd tales, about creatures, Quendi, I think they are called, who were like men, but different, who could not die. It is said they were born before men, but that they do not seem to belong here, on this earth. If that makes any sense."
Nephil concentrated on something Corith had said. "They cannot be killed, you say?" a flutter of fear passed through him.
Corith shook his head, "I'm only telling you what I heard."
He stood to greet another, leaving Nephil to ponder Quendi and await new orders for battle.
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