Five minutes later, Gimli, rope tied around his waist, stared glumly towards the mountains. Then he looked at Gwaihir. “Alright… just fly high enough to let me clear the mountains, right? I mean, don’t make me crash into the side.”
Gwaihir’s eyes showed his amusement. “Hadn’t thought of that… good idea though… hmm…”
Gimli stalked off, grumbling incoherently. Legolas just laughed, watching him. Gandalf talked to one of the other two Eagles for a few moments, then gathered the Fellowship back together.
“Gimli! Take that ridiculous rope off!”
Gimli brightened immediately. “You mean i don’t have to –“
“No, you don’t have to.” Gandalf answered, cutting him off before he finished. “Now, this is how it is going to go. Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam are riding with me on Gwaihir. Boromir, Merry, and Pippin ride the second Eagle, and Legolas and Gimli, you ride on the third.
“Mani?!” Legolas exclaimed. “What?! Me? Ride with… with… HIM?!”
Gandalf nodded. “We are a fellowship. We are supposed to be FELLOWS! THAT means,” he glared around at them all. “That Elf tolerates dwarf and man tolerates halfling. And it works the other way, too. Tolerance, my friends. Tolerance. At the very least.”
And so, grumbling noisily, the other members of the Fellowship climbed aboard their assigned Eagles.
With a rush of wings and a “whoosh,” they were off.