Wingbeats could not carry the child of stone fast enough! The 'desert-throat' beckoned, and the pocket-sized pegasus could hardly wait to see such a wonder. Stories had been told to him as a colt about the desert; dragons roamed there and so did varghests, basilisks and pheonix's!
If Pip ever saw one he would take great care to keep his distance, though would feel forever blessed to witness such a sight - perhaps he's even attempt to snatch away a souvenir! A Varghest's quill for good luck would trump the foot of a rabbit any day.
Fantastic beasts were a favourite topic of the hobbit's, though he had never actually seen any before. Vague descriptions, haunting tales that caused him to jump at every bump in the night, and old grizzly pictures from the bestiaries were the only encounters Pippigrin had ever had with any kind of vicious creature (other than the kind he'd met in the threshold).

Soaring clumsily over the canopy, Pippin had left his new friends Manon and Najya well behind - he could not afford to wait for them, time was wasting!
Right over fields the child of leaf and rock had glided, his wings lacking any kind of precision and his wingbeats heaving and heavy. Flying was new to the boy, something he had only recently caught the hang of. Getting up in the air was not a problem, staying up had it's qualms, but landing... that was a whole other kettle of fish.

While he dreaded the moment he would have to land, an unshakable excitement to see this wild sandy land was something overiding all other thought and emotion. His glassy eyes remained peeled, crooning out over the horizon in anticipation for his first glimpse at the sandscape.
Would it be all he imagined? Would he see warriors, other pegasi, or even dragons?

Like a map at his feet the desert began to unfold. Birdsong's mist drew back into the forest as his flight grew in altitude, his jaw agape and eyes wide as he beheld the sea of orange, yellow, brown. A sea he'd never sailed; unchartered by hobbits.

Nayja had not mentioned an actual sea, so when the sound of gulls and the woundrous beating of the tide filled his earth-coloured ears he could only kick with glee.
and then he spotted it. A great bridge with a fascinating gate, and inside the shadows of a structure. Civilisation! On the sea that was by the desert!
to say Pippigrin was overwhelmed would be a vast understatement.

It had come time to land though, and as his altitude rapidly decreased Pippin feared that it would become yet another crash landing. Flailing limbs and fluttering pennons were soon melded with the sand as the fly of a pegasus crashed right into a dune near-by the bridge.
OOOFF!

It took a few moments of great heaving to pluck himself from the great dune, though eventually the sand-spattered and scraped boy was standing upright on land at last. A grin struck wide across his face as the hobbit beheld the bridge, stepping fourth on bloody knees.

"I am ready for my adventure..." The little one uttered to the breeze, fluffing his feathers and striding with the confidence of a lion towards that great big bridge.

Pippigrin hardly expected what came next, though perhaps he ought to. While he had half-expected to find a dragon out here, another young boy was something he hadn't thought of for even a second.
The colt who landed before him was dappled in sunlight as if the sun shone only for him, and even when a pillowy cloud swam past the sparkles remained. How enchanting; Pip had never seen anything quite like it.
"You glow!" Pippin chimed soon after the grey goose of a colt gave his hallo. Feathers of his own billowing in the seabreeze, wingtips dragging along the sand, the small grey boy strode forwards to meet the other taller one.

His eyes met the growing muscles of the sun boy, the silver coat and detailed markings - though, still, he did not meet them with jealousy. Perhaps with awe and wonder, but never jealousy. Pippigrin was a lad who was at great peace with his appearance and the lofty wings he had been blessed with - an uncommon thing for Hobbits from-Over-the-Hill. Howver, until today he had never witnessed another equine over twelve hands tall; already his smallness was becoming a worry. Where were the other Hobbits?

"Okay!" The stone-boy tweeted in reply, lifting his wings and watching the silver one closely as he began strumming his wings messily and forcefully in an attempt to lift off.
Banging his wings against the wind, lifting his legs and strumming each feather, eventually Pippigrin managed to lift himself in his own wobbly way off of the ground. He was off!
When he was certain he wasn't going to crash into the sea and was gaining altitude, he spoke once again.
"My name's Pippigrin, what is yours?"

Wistling winds or a howling gale wouldn't keep the hobbit to ground; he had found a native! Wobbling knees and quaking feathers kept steady over the current of the air, careful not to bump into his new companion as he crooned curiously as the silver boy's remarkable stamps and tattoo-like marks. Were these tribal marks common among the natives of this land? Could he get some too!? Was it something won by warriors? What did they mean?

The grey goose introduced himself, and his name was Mathèo. It was the kind of name that sounded impeccably foreign to the curly-haired hobbit, so much so he needed to whisper it to himself a number of times until he was convinced he could say it right. It was only when they began their descent that Pippin realised the child had asked for his own name, even though he had already told him. His wings not angled downwards, plunging frightfully towards the red earth of the throat, A nervousness emerged within the stone-child's chest.
It was with a hiccup and any perseverance left within that the little one spoke. "I told you, silly! I am Pippi-WAAOH!"


OoOFF!

Once again nose-first into the sand he had landed, the back of his knees flat against his stomach and back hooves braced against the dune as his wings continued to flail and flutter.
Wrenching his head from the sand Pippigrin turned to face his companion with a quaking lip and furrowed brows.
don't you cry. they won't like you if you cry.
Puffing his chest out and sucking in a breath great enough to fill a giant, Pip wished the embarrassment away as he looked closely at the gilded eyes of the gosling he was happy to call his new friend. "oops" he uttered, a smile twitching upon his maw.

It was as he opened those grey lips, about to pose one more question when he saw the great figure behind his friend.
"Woaaahhh...."
The colt's slurr was breathless, his eyes full of naught but awe.
Pippigrin beheld a great statue lit by the fury of flame and sunburst. It depicted someone he knew nothing of, only that it was the most mighty thing he had ever seen. It demanded respect from any who looked upon it.
"Who is that?" Pippin murmured, still gazing endlessly at the statue of the former sultan.