Saeril laughed heartily, as soon as he prepped himself upon her being, only being excited about the height of flying. She will gladly go that high, plus if she were to go higher, then her elf eyes would give her the navigation to go through the dark and, if possible, maybe even the clouds. 

It was an awkward piggyback position, and the she-elf kept him up with her arms hoisting his legs. In truth, he wasn't at all too heavy. Her strength was too great; Mahal, she took down a few orcs and wargs earlier today. So, there was no trouble. "At least one person, Young Durin. My strength may be impressive, but I can't lift more than two dwarves".

Carefully, Saeril perched herself onto the railing, looking down at the depth of the drop in the ridge. "Not bad?", she asked behind her, towards him. She didn't wait for him to respond, and the she-elf got ahead of herself: by already letting her body drop from the rail.