'a...hobbit?'
"Yap!" the child of stone had hooted, his fleeting heart beating in time with each swish and swoop of his wind-cutting wings. His altitude gained and gained with each slap his feathers cast against the current, treading in place as he waited for the gangly-legged man to follow.
While his invitation to the dragon-lady had gone without a second glance, the stone-coloured guardian hardly minded - she wasn't nice, and she reminded him of a thorny-tailed lizard with those gross spines.

The coo from his new travelling companion had rang with an introduction, not aimed towards the hobbit but towards that same woman they left un the abyss of the forest. Noitcerru was his name; a name so foreign it caused the halfling to screw his nose in uncertainty. Had he heard that right?  "What?" The little stag blurted, his crystalline irises tracing over the withered appearance of his companion's legs - how did that happen? Well, he supposed if he flew as much as he did his legs would grow reasonably weak too. How strong Noitcerru's wings were though; and they seemed about four times the size of Pippin's. The spectacle of controlled flying was one that the small one watched with awe, his jaw dropped as his eyes traced Noitcerru the whole way around the sky as he circled and flipped his way into the clouds.
He sure seemed glad to be out of the forest.

To answer the man's question, Pippin gave a slight giggle. He had already told him, hadn't he? Or perhaps he had not. Though, soon came another question, this time about the throat.
"Where we are going is a herd land full of of others like you and me! And some not" His mind wandered from Ampere, their Sultana, who like Pippigrin and his travelling companion was blessed with flight, and then to their Sultan who had neither horn nor feather. "Oh it has dragons, but they're only little, and they're friends! I've only seen one big, nasty one, and he wasn't in the Throat!" Again the hobbit's mind drifted, this time to the dragon that followed astarot, and the pair that always followed the Sultan, then to the fearsome black dragon he'd witnessed in the thistle meadow.

Straightening his neck and angling his wings, the halfling pinned his sights southward, a briliant cheer escaping his maw.
"To the throat!"