[samsmyhero]

Denegal had been quite overawed by the sight of Uien. For one so recently bruised by the capricious bludgeoning of love, he looked every bit ready to fall head over heels once more. He was barely able to stammer his way through a brief explanantion of his slippers, hoping in the dim light of the stables that the blush he felt suffusing his face was not readily apparent. Barely taking in the fact that Falowik and Uien themselves were offering to make new boots for him, he awkwardly turned, ramming his shoulder into the hay manger, as the three proceeded back to the inn.

Upon entering the common room, Falowik went in search of one of the servers, to settle his bill. Denegal stood uncomfortably at the elf's side, tongue tied and not knowing what to say. Sensing his discomfort, Uien gestured to an empty table nearby. "Why don't we sit at ease while we wait for Falowik? I'm sure he won't be long.”

Denegal slid gratefully onto the bench, and cleared his throat nervously as Uien sat beside him. “I’m sorry, . . . but, I’ve never spoken to an elf before. Actually, I’ve never even seen an elf before, that is, besides the queen, and then only from far off. I mean, it’s not as if I’d have spoken to her or anything . . . “ His voice trailed off. “What I mean,” he tried again,” is, what do I, er, call you?” Risking a quick glance at her face, he saw the various contortions one usually makes when trying not to laugh. Dismayed at his total inability to speak sensibly, Denegal returned his eyes to the table top and stared woodenly at a knothole in the surface.

“Please, friend, call me Uien, for that is my name.” The beautiful elf placed one of her slender, elegant hands on his arm, and immediately, a warmth spread out from the touch, calming the young man and quieting his nerves. Denegal immediately felt at ease with his new companion and finally found his tongue.

“Uien, then. I want to thank you and Falowik for your generous offer.” He reflected that probably not many men went shod in boots made by elven kind.” I hope I’ll be able to repay you somehow. You asked for a tale of Gondor, but any story I might be able to tell would surely be poor recompense for any favor. I’m afraid I myself have no skill in the weaving of a good yarn, although I do know a funny joke or two.” Here he paused, it suddenly occurring to him that said jokes were probably not of the sort to tell to a woman of any race. “ But I’m sure they would bore you.” He hurried on. “And of my own life, there’s little enough to tell; it’s been a quiet one for the most part.” Denegal recalled his earlier jest with Falowik, that he and Galither should recount their tales of love and allow Uien to judge whose was better. But now, in her presence, he felt a great reluctance to tell a tale that would surely paint him a fool.

Falowik returned to the table and sat down. “Well, that’s taken care of! Now, shall we have our payment first, or find some leather and get to work?” He looked inquiringly at Uien.