The menace from the treeline gave a great hoot, his eyes finding their gaze upon his victim's mud-speared face. A successful, smearing hit! Though it was when that victim turned upon his haunches, hooves demanding the ground to his aid as he boomed toward him, that Pippins ears flopped downwards in worry. This gentleman surely did not think he meant to hurt him did he? It was jsut a bit of mud!
With the great, scarred beast screeching to a halt before him, loose soil annd moss flew onto the hobbit's own face and soon he had a brilliant mask of mud to match. 'You have wings!?' the blokey stag had observed, though by now Pippigrin was already blabbering out any kind of consolation he could think of for dirtying the much-taller opponent's hide "I-I-I can wash it off your face if you like!"
Though soon upon registering the gentleman's remark, the halfling's worried frown began to twist into a smile. "yes!" He spoke in reply to the pale one's observations "do you like them?" Pippin asked, tilting his head to look toward one of his great, fan-like wings, stretching it out to give their admirer a closer look.

"Do you still need me to wipe that off your face?" the mud-spattered menace asked, chewing his bottom lip with a strange kind of nervousness; he did not want the stag to say no, though he didn't want him to say yes either. Not intent on waiting for a reply, the halfling strode out from his place in the bushes and into the glade, making his stature and presence known. It was only a number of seconds that passed before another made themselves know.
'hell of a way to invite someone to your home'

The witchy woman seemed to scold him, or patronise him - either way, she triggered the wariest of gazes to shoot from the hobbit's eyes. "I... wasn't?" The hobbit muttered. He couldn't recall asking the man to his nest? That would be strange, he wouldn't fit. Now that she mentioned it though, this stark white stag might enjoy the company of other warriors. With the witchy woman's introduction made known, a Mrs. Weaver from the Basin, Pippin added his own on.
"And I'm Pippigrin Littlefoot, Guardian of the mighty Dragon's Throat!" he declared, chest puffing with pride "We are a land of only the mightiest warriors, and you sir look like you know how to pack a punch!"

The gnetleman spoke in reply to the woman first, though his words were somewhat untranslatable. what was this strange language? Dunelands? Cahoots? Pippigrin remained silent and observed, eyes blinking like a cautious bird.